Five Stories

This I would like to thank Francois101 for the editing, and Lastman for his advise and initial impression. Both were a tremendous help in finally getting this out.

Right when I published Without a Whisper, I started a new position at work, and you can tell how much that pulled me away from writing. I'll be done with that position in June, so hopefully the job that follows allows me more free time.

For newcomers, this is the 9th installment of what I'm calling the Criminal Affair Series, which started with the ten-part Criminal Affair. Order of stories for continuity is as follows.

Criminal Affair (ten-part series)

The Sorority

The Irishman at the End of the Bar

A Shoulder to Cry On

A Perfect Match

The Second Booth at Horseshoe Diner

If You'll Believe In Me

Without a Whisper

--

Wednesday - September 9, 2020

-Chase Kramner-

On the fifth of May earlier this year, Oliver Spencer was killed two hours after a bar fight. His body was found the next morning in an alley two blocks away from the bar in question. He was killed when an assailant shot him once in the side of the head when he was standing, and again when he was already dead face first on the asphalt. There were no direct witnesses of the event or the shooter, but people did report they heard two gunshots in quick succession. A puddle of his own urine was found inches away, and his fingerprints were on the brick wall above the puddle. His blood/alcohol was .28%.

All that information makes me assume Oliver stumbled out of the bar and needed to relieve himself. He went to the nearby alley to piss and held himself stable by placing his hand on the wall. While doing so, someone snuck up behind him and shot him with a 9mm pistol. The location of the shell casings tells us the shooter was about eight yards away when they fired. The first hit him in the side of the head, killing him instantly, but the second hit the wall he was pissing on.

54 days later, on June 28, a suspect was arrested in connection with the murder of Oliver. Deshawn Vickers made the mistake of talking to police without a lawyer when initially interviewed on May 6. Deshawn openly admitted he was the man Oliver had gotten into a fight with. His girlfriend Leia pulled him away, and they left together two hours before the estimated time of death. Deshawn hurt his hand when he punched him and went to get x-rays the next morning. He had fractured two fingers. Deshawn thought that was the end of it, until June 28 when five police officers kicked down his door and arrested him at two in the morning.

The prosecution's case hinges on three pieces of information.

Deshawn's confession of the bar fight.

His cellphone being traced to a nearby cell site.

He owned a firearm that chambered 9mm.

His attorney called me on July 20 to help investigate the bar fight and interview witnesses. Since I took the case, my investigator Jo Zielinski and I have interviewed eleven witnesses who were at the bar, an additional seven who lived nearby, and the hospital staff who treated his hand. It's no wonder the prosecution didn't want anyone from the bar as a witness. They all said Oliver started the fight. Patrons and staff.

Oliver was belligerent and tried to get grabby with Leia. Deshawn got between the two of them, and Oliver sucker punched Deshawn as he started to turn away. Dashawn hit him once, and only once, and left with Leia. No one called the police, thinking it wasn't worth the trouble. One witness filmed part of the altercation, but the cellphone only started recording after the sucker punch, removing the context when the prosecution played it to the jury.

One of the servers, Camila Chambers, had her own problems with Oliver in the past. His hands inappropriately touching females was not an isolated incident. Oliver's hands often found their way up women's skirts, on their breasts, and on their butts. Camila tolerated him because he was a good tipper the drunker he got. Oliver was always drunk.

Did any of that mean Deshawn was, or was not, his killer? No.

Did any of that suggest Oliver had possibly pissed off more people than just Deshawn? Yes.

That's not even getting into the peculiar timing of the arrest. Why did the police wait 54 days to arrest him? Five officers were sent to arrest a suspect with no criminal record who had already spoken to them on his own volition.

After the interviews, my employees and I got to work on answering that question.

Lance Portman is my researcher who lives in Pennsylvania. I met him earlier this year when a small-town Sheriff threw me in the trunk of a car and pushed me off a cliff and into a lake. That's a long story. Lance helped me gather information to go after the Sheriff who committed suicide by cop. When my wife Jenn and I started the firm, Lance answered the ad for a researcher, and I gave him the job.

"What do you know about cell sites?" I asked him last month. I worked with cell sites extensively during my time as a Special Investigator. I just need someone to do the research so I can compile it. In my professional opinion, I always thought their use in court was junk science in the microscale. It's one thing if you ping in a different city, it's another thing entirely if you ping around the block.

"Is this you telling me to become an expert on cell sites?" Lance then became an expert on cell sites in a month's time.

The prosecution made its opening statement on August 17. The defense attorney Charles Winters decided his opening statements would be made after the prosecution rested. Not a common strategy, but I see what he's doing. The prosecution's case is so weak, he doesn't need to front load the reasonable doubt. Half of the prosecution witnesses help us all on their own. Most of his opening statement is just restating what those witnesses said.

"Your honor, members of the jury, good morning. I am representing Mr. Vickers, an innocent man wrongly accused," Charles begins. It's a mostly white jury formed from a pool of middle-class conservatives. He left out his first name on purpose. He had attempted to have the use of his name in court be inadmissible, referring to him only as the defendant, but the judge allowed it.

"You've heard the government lawyers make their case against my client," he continues. The prosecution in pre-trial attempted to convince the judge to rule they couldn't be referred to as government lawyers. Referring to the prosecution as an arm of the government to a conservative crowd is ripped straight from the playbook of Thomas Mesereau. Mesereau believes trials are won in jury selection, and Charles and his partner are no different. You get to say Deshawn, we get to say bureaucratic assholes. Win some, lose some.

"Mr. Vickers has no criminal record. He's never even received a parking ticket. Yet they'd have you believe this man shot Mr. Spencer twice in the head in an alley. They showed you a video of the two men in an altercation and made no attempt to contextualize that video. What you see is Mr. Vickers striking Mr. Spencer. That's all. You don't see Mr. Spencer placing is hands inappropriately on women, as testified by many of the state's own witnesses. You don't see Mr. Vickers defending his girlfriend from a deeply inebriated man..."

"...objection your honor," the prosecutor says from his chair without standing.

"Counsel, we've been over this. Do not interrupt opening statements," Judge Stephen Birkin says from his bench. Part of waiting to go after the prosecution rested, is that this prosecutor gets more anxious the longer a trial goes. It's almost like he forgot what part of the trial we were engaged in. There is a brief pause, and Charles continues.

"...from a man who was heavily intoxicated. Just last week, one of the government witnesses attested to the fact Mr. Spencer was nearly four times the legal limit to drive. That is highly drunk. Mr. Spencer attempted to sexually harass Mr. Vickers's female friend, and he stepped between them. That's not my opinion, that's the testimony of the government witnesses. When the situation appeared diffused, Mr. Vickers turned his back and was struck in the side of the head. He was attacked from behind. That is what we call a sucker punch. It is here the video begins. The first blow has already been carried out. Mr. Vickers, well within his right of self-defense, struck back once, and only once. He only needed one because his opponent was in no condition. Once the fight was over, Mr. Vickers paid his tab with a generous tip, twenty percent, and went home. That's where his night ended.

"I will have witnesses show you the past behavior of Mr. Spencer at this drinking establishment. His frequent alcohol infused harassment of women. His bombastic behavior after he had too much to drink. How Mr. Vickers is far from the first man he's had an altercation with." Oliver having a long history of pissing people off is that seed of reasonable doubt being planted. It's risky talking about the bar fight, because that could stick DeShawn with a motive too.

"Now the prosecution has told you they can place Mr. Vickers in the area with his cellphone. His phone is pinging on a nearby tower that placed him within the general area. As revealed during the government's witness's testimony, when he stated general area, that is an incredibly broad estimation. I will present my own witness to explain what is meant by general area. And why it took law enforcement 54 days to execute an arrest warrant. Keep that in your minds as we move forward. 54 days.

"The government has also shown you Mr. Vickers's personally owned firearm. Mr. Vickers's legally owned firearm. The one Mr. Vickers did the background check for, like every other legal firearm owner." Repetition to associate the name Vickers with legal. "Mr. Vickers will proudly tell you he owns a Taurus G3C. A ten round weapon that chambers 9mm Luger, also known as Parabellum. Could the government prove this gun had been fired? No. They'd tell you it couldn't be known because the arrest was made nearly two months later. Their answer to this deficiency in their case? He used a different gun he hid or destroyed. Any evidence to support the existence of this ghost gun? None was heard." Only allowed to be suggested because Charles didn't object to it. He's letting them argue something they can't prove beyond a reasonable doubt, and then burying him with it.

"It goes even deeper than that. Two shell casings were discovered at the crime scene. Both were 9mm, and both were of an ammunition manufacturer that did not match the ammunition Mr. Vickers owns for his self-defense purposes. The government cannot link my client to the gun used, or the ammunition it was loaded with."

Charles presented the opening statement in the same order of the prosecution's case. You can drive a truck through the holes in their case. Charles wanted to do his opening statements when the defense began because the case was so weak, he could use the prosecutor's case against him.

Our first witness is Camila. She goes into details of her experiences with Oliver Spencer. Hands on her thighs, sexually charged comments or requests, and his frequent drunken behavior. On the cross she admits to having gone on one date with him, but it went badly, and they never had a second date.

Next witness is the shift manager of the bar. Multiple complaints against Oliver, and how he had personally requested to the owner Oliver be permanently banned. On the cross he's accused of overblowing the complaints because the owner must have kicked him out if they were true. He has no better reply than having no idea why it never happened, and the decision was above his station. On the re-direct, he states if it was left to him, Oliver would have been banned years ago.

Another witness is the woman who filmed the tail end of the altercation. She was previously called as a prosecution witness so they could play the video, but Charles reserved the right to call her back so he could control the line of questioning. She contextualized the video, and stated Oliver struck first. She also stated Oliver wasn't seriously injured and continued to drink for another two hours shortly before the shooting. The prosecutor asks why no one called the police, she replies the situation was over, and there was no further hostility. Oliver merely continued to drink.

Next was the doctor who treated Deshawn the morning after the altercation. His x-rays were presented as evidence, showing he fractured the proximal phalanx of his right index and middle fingers. He states Deshawn couldn't make a fist because of how swollen his hand was. It's hard to shoot a gun with a broken trigger finger and a hand so fat you couldn't grip the weapon properly. Prosecution has no questions for him. That one testimony sparked a lot of looks of curiosity in the jury. We just turned most of them.

After the doctor's testimony, we break for the day. The jury leaves the room, and we start packing our bags. I start going over my testimony for tomorrow in my head when the prosecutor requests a meeting with the Judge. They're about to offer a deal. Charles disappears into the chambers as I make my way to the front of the courthouse. I call Jo as I step outside with my bag over my shoulder, having to stop on my way down the stairs because I don't need to fall with a below the left knee prosthetic.

"You testify today?" Jo asks the moment she answers.

"Didn't get to it. Our three main witnesses just did. I think the prosecution is offering a deal. Dropping to a lesser charge," I say, leaning against the railing on my elbow to assist with balance.

"It's a garbage case," Jo says, and I hear her turn signal. There is also a light echo, so I know she's using hands free speaker in her car.

"The cops are looking for close rates rather than actual criminals. It's a numbers game. Someone had a bad rate of closure last quarter."

"Jenn is talking with someone about a new case. If you're not done within the week, I'll start it if that's fine by you. She told me to run it by you first."

"That's fine, just get me updated when I'm done," I say, and we hang up. I tuck my phone into my pocket and continue down the stairs to the sidewalk. One of the detectives of the case is at the bottom waiting for me.

"All it takes is a little money to change what side of the room you sit on," the detective says as I reach the street. Detective Walt Burton is middle aged with a sunburnt bald spot so perfectly circular, you'd be excused for thinking he was wearing a red yarmulka. Wore his best suit for court, which isn't saying much. The jacket has two buttons, but only one is capable of being secured without snapping.

"Is this witness intimidation?" I ask in case he forgot I'm a witness tomorrow.

"Couldn't handle doing real police work, or was your best qualities in your leg?"

"That's why it took you two months to make an arrest? What were you waiting for exactly?" I ask, and he gives me a dismissive head shake with a grin.

"The guy did it. You know it and I know it."

"See you in court," I say and walk past him. Any conversation of length with this man won't go anywhere healthy. Plus, I believe he's trying to create difficulties in court by merely talking to me the day before I testify. They're desperate.

The parking lot for the courthouse is across the street, so I wait patiently for the traffic light to change. The sign tells me to walk, and I make my way across the street. I enter the parking lot and sit in my car. The parking stub is on my visor, and I hand it to the attendant who directs me out without payment because I'm on a list.

On my way back to the hotel, I swing by a drive-thru for some coffee, and then make my way to the hotel. The defense team has two adjoining hotel rooms as our little headquarters, and I use my keycard to enter our makeshift office. Charles's partner is reading over documents she pulled from several boxes stacked in the corner. The paralegal is sitting at the desk, highlighting portions of another set of papers. Three computers are open on the bed, two have black screens from not having been touched in some time, and the third is displaying the interrogation when they arrested him 54 days later.

"You r-r-r-ready for tomorrow?" Lois Kennedy asks from her reading. Charles's partner Lois is the first name you see on the law firm Kennedy & Winters. Lois is a better lawyer in the academic sense, but Charles has a more dominant courtroom presence. Lois has a lisp and stutter, so doesn't present herself as articulately as Charles can. She's the woman behind the curtain, the real brain of the two. Charles is the oratory muscle.

"Maybe we get lucky and there isn't a tomorrow. Opening statements and the first witnesses went so well I think they're offering a deal," I say, placing my bag on the floor next to the bed. One of the laptops is mine, and I tap the keyboard to wake it up.

"Likely r-reducing to voluntarily manslaughter r-ather than aggravated mur-rder," Lois says, and I agree that was the offer being made. "We're taking this all the way to a verdict." She can say verdict just fine.

My laptop hums to life, and I open my relevant document I have saved to a PowerPoint presentation. The cell site analysis I had Lance compile. I made several tweaks to it, so it presents to a layman audience.

Charles arrives an hour after I've gone over my presentation twice. He loosens his tie and drapes his coat on the back of a chair.

"Voluntary," Charles says, confirming our assumptions. "Told them to go fuck themselves."

For the next four hours we go over the case strategy. I get called to the stand first to dismantle their cell site argument. Depending on the length of the direct, cross, and re-direct, this could take the entire day. Regardless, the next witness is an expert on firearms we've retained to destroy the prosecution's gun argument. I would have rather spent more time searching for who committed the crime, but that's not the reason I was hired. There is a second investigator working on that, but I've never met him, and he's come up short thus far.

Charles sits me down and works on his direct examination, and Lois works on possible cross scenarios. Attacking my credentials, the fact this is the first time I've testified in this specialty, etc.

"Get some sleep, see you tomorrow," Charles says to me when we're done. I pack up my bag and retreat to the adjoining room.

Before I get ready for bed I shower. My stump is cleaned, and I put on my lotion to help with itchiness. I dress in shorts and a tank top and sit on my bed with my tablet to call the wife. Jenn answers after a few rings. She put her device leaning against an object on the table and is gently rocking Krista back and forth. She's only two months old but I got this case three hours away. I try to go home on the weekends, but until this case is over this is where I'll be.

"She just fell asleep. Good thing I had the phone on vibrate," Jenn says. Our daughter makes mumbling sounds in her sleep, and I smile.

"How's it going there?" I ask.

"We're fine. Nathan cried for like two hours today when he realized you two wouldn't be doing yard work," Jenn says.

Our son Nathan is a few months short of five-years-old and likes to do yard work with me. I do the work, and he follows me in his motorized toy lawnmower. Regardless, it's our time together.

"You testify yet?"

"Tomorrow," I reply.

"Well, get some sleep then. Call me when you wake up. Love you."

"Love you too," I say, and end the call.

--

Thursday - September 10, 2020

"Your next witness," Judge Birkin says after some brief comments.