Send in the Clowns Ch. 04

"Hold on." I said. I led the way to my office. As we stepped inside, but did not sit down, I said "Okay, from the beginning. What happened?"

Claire said "Just after one o'clock, Nadine Hall came in and said she had been hired to represent Vanessa, and she wanted to talk to her and then to you, Commander, about a possible plea deal. So we took her to I-1 and brought Vanessa in, and they're talking now."

Claire: "And then Savannah Fineman and Miriam Walters were shown to my office. Fineman demanded to talk to Vanessa, and I said that Fineman was not allowed into the Interrogation Rooms to talk to suspects. Miriam went off on me, and said she didn't give a damn what Donald Troy said, and that I was to lead Savannah to the suspect immediately. That's when I gave her her own personal copy of the written order signed by the Sheriff and the Police Chief."

I turned in astonishment to the Sheriff, whose mustaches were twitching merrily as he said "Oh, I'm sorry, Crowbar. I must have forgotten to mention that to you in my old age."

"I'm glad you didn't forget to tell Captain Michaels." I replied with a grin.

"Nor Commander Croyle, sir." said Claire. "And she was very eager to carry out the Sheriff's orders."

"Where are Walters and Fineman now?" I asked.

"They're in the Main Conference Room." said Claire.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"How dare you prevent ADA Fineman from doing her job and talking to a suspect?" Miriam Walters yelled as the Sheriff and I entered the Main Conference Room. The Sheriff was still greatly amused at having gotten one over on me, and Miriam's tirade was not dampening his enthusiasm.

He replied "I dare because it's the right thing to do. Especially after letting Davalos off the hook, then trying to again," (Author's note: 'Price No Object', Ch. 03-05.) "I agree with Commander Troy that Fineman is just too much like Gil Krasney to trust. So I took matters into my own hands."

"Then I'll see you in Court." Miriam said. "I'm going to sue you and the Police Department over this."

"I look forward to that." I said coldly. "I look forward to a Court trial, to expose what you've been doing to help your crony pad her résumé for future elections, as well as her decisions helping the criminals and hurting Police investigations."

I continued: "But right now I'm going to talk to this suspect about a plea deal in exchange for information that will nail your crony's Federal cronies to the wall. Do you want to join me in I-1, D.A. Walters?"

"No." said Miriam, equally glacially. "I'm going to be talking to the Sheriff... without you in the room."

"And without your crony in the room, either." the Sheriff said. He was really playing the game, and playing it well, I thought to myself. And I was loving it.

Miriam turned to Savannah and said "Watch from the Monitor Room..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I went into I-1 with Captain Michaels. Nadine Hall, partner of Virginia Madison and Tina Felton of The Women's Law Firm of Dewey, Burnham & Winn, was sitting next to Vanessa at the table. I sat down, re-introduced myself and Captain Michaels, re-read Vanessa's rights to her from the card, and asked her if she understood the rights. She said she did.

"I'd called D.A. Walters and asked for an ADA." said Nadine Hall. "Someone who can negotiate a plea deal for my client." That answered how Miriam and Savannah knew to come in, I realized.

"I can do that, as a Principal for the Public Safety Office and an Officer of the Court." I replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"Probation." Nadine Hall replied. "Three years max. And she's too poor to make any kind of financial restitution."

"I'm willing to grant a plea deal, and three years probation sounds reasonable." I said. "But let's not kid ourselves: I can show she threw that smoke grenade, and that means she was paid to do it. She will have to truthfully tell us how much she was paid, and she'll be paying that plus a hundred extra in restitution. And she'll have to answer my questions, and with truthful answers, and be ready to testify in Court."

Vanessa agreed to the deal. I asked "Did you throw the smoke grenade?"

"More like dropped it." Vanessa said. "But yes, it was me that pulled the pin on it."

"How much were you paid to do that?" I asked

"Two thousand dollars. Cash." said Vanessa. "It's in my book bag in my room."

I knew Detectives would be scrambling to get a warrant and confiscate those green dollar bills. I asked "Who paid you that money?"

"One of the supervisors with the Food Services company." Vanessa said. "He's not my normal supervisor, but was in charge of service for the Museum that day." She named a name.

"How did you know when to throw, or drop, the grenade?" I asked.

"I got a call on my cellphone." Vanessa said. "There was no one on the other end, but the caller ID said 'Now'. That supervisor had said to drop the grenade when I got that call."

"How'd you smuggle in the smoke grenade?" I asked.

"It was in the box of snacks I was handed, that we unpacked and put out on the table." Vanessa said. "I put it under the table, then reached down and got it when I got the phone call."

"And neither Security nor the Feds checked that, huh?" I asked, mostly to myself as Teresa Croyle came in with some papers and handed them to me. They were the printed plea deal.

Teresa leaned over and whispered "Savannah's bitching about the plea deal to Miriam. She wants to throw the book at this girl." I nodded, and Teresa went back into the anteroom.

"Okay, here's the plea deal." I said. "You'll pay $2100, which the $2000 you were paid will count towards once we secure it." Vanessa and her attorney signed it, as did I.

"One other question." I said. "Did you see the Greuze being exchanged for the other painting, and the woman Beth Morris take it into the Gift Shop?" (oops, that's a leading question and a no-no...)

"No." Vanessa said. "In fact, I didn't know what was going on. I mean, yeah, it obvious there was a reason for throwing the grenade, but I thought it was to clear out the Museum so the thieves could come get it...."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, Miriam Walters and Sheriff Griswold were having it out in the Main Conference Room, elected official to elected official.

"I object to Troy making these deals unilaterally." Walters said. "He's not even consulting with the D.A.'s Office on them, and he's really abusing the privilege of making contracts as a Principal when he does that!"

"And I'm sick and goddamned tired of Fineman sabotaging our cases!" Griswold growled. "I support the Iron Crowbar totally boxing her out of anything to do with his MCD cases; he's trying to make good cases and get Justice for the victims. What Fineman did letting that wife-beater Davalos go was inexcusable, and her accusations about my Police Officers this morning was beyond the pale."

Miriam said "I tell you what. Why don't I just sue you, the Public Safety Department, and Troy, and get that crap about making unilateral plea deals stopped."

"Go ahead. Make my day." growled Griswold. "We'll ask why you're supporting Fineman's outrageous decisions, why she's helping the Swamp Frog Feds that the Iron Crowbar is about to prove planned and conducted this painting theft."

Griswold: "And I'll also ask why you're not letting your best ADA, Paulina Patterson, work with Don on MCD cases, especially when he's requested her specifically... and I will suggest that your actions are racially motivated discrimination against Paulina."

"That's bullshit!" Miriam yelled. "How dare you insinuate that! That's actionable slander!"

"Is it?" barked the Sheriff. "Why else would you be favoring Fineman so much? Cronyism? Or is that your excuse to keep the black ADA down? Not to mention preventing her from helping the Iron Crowbar nail these bastards he keeps catching committing crimes in our Town & County?"

"That is really beneath you, Sheriff." Miriam said sincerely, though clutching at straws. "I know Don Troy's a dirty-dealing son of a bitch, but I didn't think you would stoop to that level."

"Why don't you go to the cemetery, to my son's grave, and tell him that." Griswold replied. "My son died while doing what he could to help the Iron Crowbar take dirty Swamp Frogs down. And my son is who I think of when I see your (air quotes) 'dirty-dealing' ADA Fineman helping those Swamp Frogs cover up their crimes!" (Author's note: 'Fathers and Sons'.)

"I'm sorry your son is dead, Sheriff." Miriam said levelly. "But that gives you no right to dictate to me which ADA I assign where, nor my motives for doing so------"

She was interrupted by the door of the Main Conference Room opening, and Dr. Laura Fredricson coming into the room, ready to drop a serious knowledge bomb on the the Town & County District Attorney. And an ultimatum...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The dominos started falling. Vanessa's fellow food server, Steve, now had Gibson Stelling of Succup & Payne, P.C. representing him, and I offered Steve three years probation with no jail time in exchange for a nolo contendere plea, and truthful answers to my questions. He took it.

"Yes, I saw Vanessa take out the grenade from the snacks box and put it under the table, then reach down and throw it. And I yelled 'FIRE', though someone else did, too. And I was told to use the extinguisher on it to put it out."

"How much were you paid?" I asked. "And by whom?"

"Five hundred dollars." Steve said. "By the Food Services guy who was in charge of catering the art auction on Saturday." He gave the man's name.

"Did you see the paintings being exchanged, and the Greuze being taken into the Gift Shop?" I asked.

"No." said Steve. "I didn't know they were going to do that. I really was trying to put out the grenade with the fire extinguisher..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"But Miriam! Whyyy?" whined Savannah Fineman, who'd been called into the Main Conference Room by a text from Miriam Walters.

"Because, Savannah," said Miriam, "they got to Judge K.M. Landis first. He's enjoined the Feds from taking custody of Beth Morris, Walter Corning, and Dr. Nadler, as well as Federal jurisdiction of their cases. And Judge Watts did the same thing to us at the State level."

She then lowered her voice to a whisper and said "And it was no less than Dr. Laura Fredricson that went to Judge Landis. On that, we were beaten. Soundly beaten."

"God damn Donald Troy!" spat Savannah.

"It's not Donald Troy's doing." Miriam said. "It's at a much higher pay grade than his... and ours. Anyway, I've called Paulina and told her she will be handling the arraignments tomorrow."

"And why let Troy make those plea deals?" Savannah asked. "I was going to go all out on them, prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law, make an example of them."

"And I wish I could let you do that, for several reasons." Miriam said. "I hate it, but Troy has that trump card; he's a Principal and an Officer of the Court. He can make those binding deals... and Judge Watts and Judge Washington are going to accept them. But don't worry, Savannah. I'm going to stop Donald Troy. Whatever it takes, I'm going to stop him..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To my surprise, U.S. Attorney John Jones had arrived at TCPD Headquarters. Laura had asked him to come up after she talked to him and Federal Judge Landis.

We brought Nicholas Mancini into I-2, and Chip Blake came in to represent him. I introduced the U.S. Attorney, then I re-read Mancini his rights from the card, and he nodded his acquiescence.

"We're giving you one last chance to cop a plea." I said. "Mr. Jones, what are you prepared to offer him at the Federal level."

Jones said "You'll resign your Marine Corps commission, and you'll be dishonorably discharged from the Marine Corps. And there will be no further Federal charges against you, nor will you be taken into Federal custody."

I said "At the State level, you'll plead guilty to theft-by-deception and theft-by-taking, and you'll get six years probation. No jail time, as long as you tell us everything you know, and truthfully testify if called upon."

Mancini whispered something to Chip Blake, who then asked us "How much jail time would my client get if he goes to trial? And how much jail time if he deals and there's no probation?"

"You don't want to do that, Mancini." I said. "You may think you're a tough Marine, but it's ugly in prison, and they don't fight fair. Six of them with shivs, just one of you. And you have to fall asleep sometime."

I continued: "Anyway, to answer your questions: you lose in Court and you'll get consecutive sentences, and on more charges than the two you would be pleading to. Easily at least twelve years."

"And the Federal deal will be off the table, too." said John Jones. "You're looking at Leavenworth, and that's hard, hard time."

I said "And it's the same problem if you do plead... consecutive sentences. I get it that you don't want probation, but for you it's not worse than being an Enlisted Marine; they can go through your stuff just like the Probation Officers can go through your stuff at home."

After ten minutes of conferring with his lawyer, Mancini took the deal. John Jones and I put together the paperwork, and we all signed.

"Okay," I said when that was done, "take me through it. What was your mission at the Museum?"

Mancini said "I was told that someone would throw smoke, and when that happened someone was going to come up behind me and give me a painting. I was to take the Greuze and pass it behind me as I put the other painting on the easel. And I did."

"Did you practice doing that before Saturday?" I asked.

"Yes sir." Mancini said. "Two days before, I met with my handler, who was there... he was acting like a Secret Service Agent while he was there, but I don't think he was really in the Secret Service. He and I practiced the exchange a couple of days before. And before you asked, I never knew his name."

"He'd have given you a fake name, anyway." I said, very sure. "Was the painting you practiced with the same as the one you exchanged for the Greuze at the Museum?"

"No sir, it was different." said Mancini. "It was a clown painting, but not the same faces."

"Interesting." I mused to myself. "So how much were you paid to do this?"

"A thousand bucks." said Mancini. "It was deposited into my account, and showed up on my pay statement as a bonus."

"Your Marine Corps pay statement?" I asked.

Mancini affirmed that, then said "And I'm supposed to get another thousand next month."

"And what else?" I asked. When Mancini and Blake looked at me with surprise, I said "Oh, come on. There has to be more. You were putting what might've been an excellent Marine Corps career on the line. What did they offer you that made you accept this deal?"

Mancini said "They were going to transfer me to a new unit. Intelligence-gathering. Off-books. I'd be sent to Embassies and do intel work against the country I was in. I'd asked specifically for Israel, so I could spy on the filthy Jews. And I would be part of an elite team that had Navy SEALs and Marines in it, that would interdict subversive Jewish groups in this country."

I said "Did you know the person who handed you the clown painting?"

"Not by name." Mancini said. "But she was a Federal Agent, maybe CIA. She recruited me. We were dating and having sex, and then she asked if I wanted to be a part of something big, something good. I jumped at it. All I had to do to prove myself was this painting thing, and I was in like Flynn."

Mancini didn't know anything more, at least not anything he was prepared to tell us...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As John Jones and I were walking down the hall, he said "You think we gave him too much?"

"Hell yeah, you did!" Savannah Fineman yelled as she and Miriam Walters all but ambushed us as they came out of the Monitor Room.

"Yes, this is why you shouldn't be giving plea deals unilaterally." Miriam Walters said.

"And we should be turning that guy over to the Feds!" Savannah yelled. "He's a threat!"

"The only threat around here is to my eardrums." I said. "Listening to the shrill rants of this stupid idiot Fineman, who doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground, but she still shows her ass whenever she can."

"Why you------" Savannah started.

"Ms. Walters," I said, interrupting Fineman's tirade, "everything he said in there was crap. Diane Langdon seduced him, poured a lot of shit into his ears about being part of an elite Jew-hating group, and got him to be part of the team to steal the Greuze. He probably would've been found dead in a ditch in a couple of weeks, or court-martialed over that money in his paychecks."

John Jones said "That was an interesting point. How is it possible they funneled that money through his Government pay?"

I said "They did the same thing with Dr. Nadler... he got a U.S. Government check, too. And that says a few things, too, doesn't it?"

"Like what?!" Savannah spat.

"Like how stupid you are to not see what is going on." I said as Sheriff Griswold walked up to us.

"Okay," Miriam said, "how could you possibly know all that?"

"I'll bet the Sheriff knows." I said with a grin.

"Har!" barked the Sheriff, his mustaches twitching merrily. "But in this case, I think I do. If that guy were real, like Diane Langdon is, he wouldn't have taken that plea deal."

"Close." I said. "Verrrry close. The full answer is that Chip Blake would not have let him take that plea deal. But he did, and that means that they're going to throw Mancini to the dogs... literally... if and when they catch him. Notice that Chip Blake did not ask for Witness Protection for his client."

"Har!" the Sheriff barked again. "The Iron Crowbar is right, Miriam. And Fineman is totally out of her depths here."

Miriam turned her beady black eyes on Griswold and said with ugly hatred: "She wouldn't be if Commander Troy was doing his job and helping her."

"It's not my job to help your dirty ADA Fineman harm my cases." I replied.

"I'm going to sue you for that!" Fineman yelled, her face contorted with hatred.

"Is that a threat to be ignored, or a promise I can expect you to keep?" I fired back. "Please take it to Court..."

Our repartee was interrupted by Captain Claire Michaels coming up the hallway. "Commander! Sheriff!" she said. "Dr. Nadler is in I-1. His attorney, that 'Riddler' guy, is with him, but Nadler said he wants to fire him and cut a deal with you. He specifically asked for you, Commander Troy..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I went into I-1, and brought Lt. Jerome Davis with me, giving him some of the experience of interrogations and plea deals. The Uniformed Presence was Officer Taylor Hawley of the TCPD SWAT Team.

On the other side of the table were Dr. Nadler and the attorney from Gresham & Mason, P.C., Edward N. Parker. I had to restrain myself from laughing. Claire had been right; with his narrowing, jutting chin, Edward N. Parker did indeed look like The Riddler from the comic books. The movie? Not so much.

I re-read Dr. Nadler his rights from the card, and he nodded to acknowledge he understood them. Then I said "I understand you want to fire this man as your attorney?"

"Yes." said Nadler. "I've told him------"

"Don't speak; you've invoked." interrupted Parker. "And I'm staying here to make sure you don't abuse his rights, Troy."

"Say it out loud, Dr. Nadler." I said. "And if this man tries to interrupt you again, I'll tape his mouth shut... or shove my crowbar so far down his throat he'll be coughing up nails for the rest of his life."

Dr. Nadler said clearly: "I have told him that he is no longer my legal representation, and I'm telling you now that he is no longer my representation. I want to talk to you about a plea deal, and he refuses to to that."