When We Were Married Ch. 06C

"You came very close."

"I just lost it for a minute but I didn't want to kill her."

He could have been discussing the weather, or the last Jaguars game.

"You know that you're a very dangerous man, don't you?"

He shook his head.

"We're all dangerous."

"You nearly kill your wife. You send two big bruisers to the hospital, one with life threatening injuries. You nearly tear a jail officer's shoulder off. That makes you more dangerous than most. That makes me wonder if I should do anything I can to keep you off the streets and away from other people you could hurt."

He looked at me for a moment, dropped his eyes and then looked back at me and I almost jumped out of my skin. Whatever it was that he was hiding flashed across his eyes for a moment.

"I guess you're probably right, Mr. Maitland. I probably shouldn't be let out of here. I'll make it easy on you. I'll plead guilty to aggravated battery and attempted murder. That should put me away for a while."

I just stared at him for a moment. I wondered what was going on behind those blank screens of eyes. I still had the certainty in my gut that he was a very dangerous man, but I just didn't get the vibes that he was a bad man, and yet he had nearly murdered his wife. Forget the two thugs, they'd deserved whatever they got, but he had nearly strangled the mother of his two college age children.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"Would you mind - are you going to raise legal hell with us if we keep you here a few more days investigating what happened - before you go in front of a judge? You could get out quicker if you ask to see the judge."

He shook his head again.

"No, I'm fine here. It's good for thinking, no distractions."

"I'll be back, Paul. Is it okay if I call you Paul?"

"Why not? It's my name. You mind if I call you Mr. Maitland?"

I shook my head. How the hell could I like the guy, and not want to be in the same cell with him?

I stood to leave. He looked at me again and I didn't see the darkness in him.

"You ever think, Mr. Maitland, how we wound up like this? Me in here with a wife I love more than life itself and want to strangle until her heart stops, and you out there with a wife that you gave your life to, and she threw you away. How do things like that happen?"

"I wish I knew, Paul. I really wish I knew."

I was walking across the street and back to the courthouse when I saw Debbie walking in from the Bay Street entrance. She carried the briefcase she'd started using since she'd started with the Public Defender's Office and as always she looked good. She also looked like she'd lost her last friend and it was plain she'd been crying.

I kicked myself, but there was always the possibility that something was wrong with the kids. I knew that's what I told myself but I knew it just kept her thinking that I still cared about her and, of course, I didn't - I really didn't!

I cut her off and it was an indication of how deep in her thoughts she was that she didn't see me until I was standing directly in front of her. She had to stop abruptly.

"Bill. I didn't-"

"Is everything okay, Deb? The kids alright?"

"The kids? Yeah - they're both fine, I think. Haven't talked to Kelly in a couple of days. BJ's back in school and seems to be doing okay, if I can stay on him to do his homework."

"Then?"

"Clint...just flew out of JIA."

I couldn't help feeling a little twinge of, something, but I had liked the guy.

"I'm - sorry, Deb, I know you liked the guy. Is he coming back soon, or at all?"

She clouded over and I knew I'd said exactly the wrong thing.

"Why are all men such fucking macho idiots?"

"To give women something to work with?"

She looked at the big clock on the wall of the entrance to the courthouse and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to check in with Johnny. You're looking good, Bill. That head wound cleared up nicely."

Then she walked away. Something felt odd about that encounter and then I realized she hadn't been the one pushing for us to talk. She must have really developed feelings for the guy and, again, I didn't know quite how that made me feel.

When I got back to my office there was a blonde guy in the waiting area who looked vaguely familiar, although I wasn't sure where I knew him from. Cheryl said, "This is Mr. Tucker, Mr. Maitland. Do you have a moment?"

I headed into my office and told her to send him in.

He folded his long, lanky frame -- he had to be about six foot three or four -- into the chair opposite me and said, "It's Gil Tucker; we met on the Bonne Chance. I could see you trying to place me. Remember, at the Captain's Dinner."

I remembered. I was surprised that Ms. Stein hadn't eaten him alive but he looked none the worse for wear.

"Yeah, it's good to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you about Paul Donnally and see if I can get permission to see him. The officer on duty down there said he was being kept away from the general population and not receiving visitors."

"How do you know Donnally?"

"We used to be next door neighbors, for years, and I'm his best friend."

"What kind of guy is he? Did you have any idea he was going to try to strangle his wife?"

"No. Not that she didn't deserve it. Actually, that's kind of strong but, anyway, Paul is the last person on earth anyone would ever expect to do ANYTHING violent. It's not in his nature, or it wasn't. I don't think I've ever seen him get really angry in all the years I've known him -- until recently."

"What happened?"

"Too long to go into. She's been cheating on him for years and he was blind. She's the...the kind of woman...I'll tell you the kind of woman she is. Paul is my best friend. He pulled me out of Hell when my own marriage fell apart. Even knowing what she's done to him, if she showed up at my apartment at 3 a.m., I don't know that I wouldn't fuck her. That's the kind of woman she is. Anyway, he found out what she was up to, the kind of woman she really is, in the worst possible way. I had to scrape up what was left and try to put him back together again. He might have been able to walk away, but the bitch wouldn't let him alone. He tried to avoid her but....and when he met her....he snapped. That's all I can figure. I still don't understand it."

He was silent for a moment, then said, "I need to talk to him. I can get him the best defense attorneys around. I have a little money, actually, a lot. I worked for Bell Labs and I have a few patents. I'd like to get him out of the jail."

"He doesn't want to get out. I was just down there and he's in a single cell for the safety of everybody else down there. He put two inmates into the hospital and nearly put one of the jail officers out."

"Paul? Paul did that?"

"There's things about the man you obviously don't know."

"Obviously. It's like finding out that the world is flat. But I'd still like to see him."

"Sure, I'll call down and let them know to let you in. Do I need to remind you not to bring in any files or hacksaws?"

He smiled back.

"Attorneys are much more effective."

As he stood to walk out, he looked back at me and said, "He's not the kind of man you think he is, Maitland, he really isn't, no matter what it looks like."

I watched him as he went out the door, thinking that everybody deserved one friend like Gil Tucker, or Lew Walters.

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October 6, 2005 -- Thursday - 6:30 p.m.

I was in my Escalade heading for Baymeadows, where the woman with the biggest, or at least the sexiest, tits in the world was waiting to go out to dinner with me when my cell rang. I saw that it was an SA number.

"What is it, Mitch? DO NOT SAY an emergency has come up."

"An emergency has come up."

"I told you not to say that. What is it?"

"We've got a lady here who apparently is a cousin of Wilbur Bell. She's doing her damnedest to talk old Wilbur out of testifying against Sutton. I've got the room bugged so I could hear what was going on and she's telling him he's wasting his time because they'll never convict Sutton. Also, Wilbur's daughter might 'come into some money' if Wilbur conveniently develops amnesia about the whole thing."

"That asshole and his mother never quit. Let me get over there and see if I can convince the cousin to roll over on Sutton and momma. It would be nice to put them away for jury tampering even if we never get him on murder charges. Get her out of there but don't let her get away. Wilbur is too far gone to even let him be disturbed by shit like this. Sutton will get the same benefit if she precipitates a heart attack and kills him off."

It was a gamble because we couldn't use the information obtained by the bug if the cousin turned stubborn on us and refused to admit she was trying to tamper with a witness. However, it gave us a shot, and that made it worthwhile to leave the biggest tits in the western hemisphere unexamined for another few days.

I punched in Myra's number.

"Hello, Bill. Please tell me this is to confirm that you're on your way over here. I got dressed up and this one has buttons strong enough to hold me in but it's low cut enough to be....interesting."

"I wish, Myra. Something has come up. I've got to go. It's important or I'd be over there in 30 minutes. Is there any chance that, maybe, we could get together for drinks later tonight?"

"Tomorrow's a work day Bill, you know that, and some of us need our beauty sleep. Besides, you show up on my doorstep at 11 p.m., we get to drinking and we're liable to do something we'll regret."

"You might, I won't."

"I don't think so. Besides, it's not like you're dying for - relief, is it?"

"That means.....?"

"A little birdie told me that Celestial Madonna was grinning ear to ear when you left her in New York this past weekend, and it wasn't just because you give good interview, was it?"

"Myra, you think I'd mix business and pleasure?"

"I think you're a man."

"It was an interesting weekend."

"You'd have had more fun with me, but that's too catty. I'm glad you had a good time. Let's try to reschedule."

"I'll call you tomorrow or come up and see you. I don't know about this weekend, but we will get together."

"I'm looking forward to it. Right now I guess I'll get out of these clothes, lay down naked on my satin sheets and rub lotion where I need it. Bye."

I ALMOST kept going to her apartment, but the ghost of my father whispered in my ear and I did the right thing. I drove to Baptist Medical Center, made sure Wilbur was still breathing, spent a frustrating hour trying to threaten or cajole the cousin into rolling over on the Suttons but finally gave up. She was either too stubborn, too stupid or too greedy to be rollable, but I made sure the nurses and staff knew this lady was never to be allowed in or anywhere near Sutton's room again.

Then I went home and for the first time in a long time jerked off to a porno about a huge breasted nympho on one of the better computer porn sites. It helped -- a little bit.

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October 7, 2005 -- FRIDAY - 9 a.m.

I stood up in front of Judge Larry Martin, a young black judge only a few years older than myself, and watched Paul Donnally being walked by bailiffs to the defendant's table from the area where prisoners were kept before they were called. Johnny August stood at the table waiting for him. That alone was enough to raise a stir among the knowledgeable courthouse watchers. The Public Defender never appeared on first hearings before a judge. The newest and lowliest of the low did this scut work, but not today.

Before Donnally had even gotten into place, August turned his nearly sightless eyes toward me, then looked back at the judge and said, "Your honor, I want to formally protest the action of Assistant State Attorney William Maitland. The bond he is requesting is an affront to decency,"

Martin looked at me and asked, "Mr. Maitland, do you have anything you want to say about this matter. Not that I have any doubt that you do."

Before I could answer, August in his best tone of feigned outrage, interrupted, "Your honor, how can there be any justification for a million dollar CASH bond in a case that -- at worst -- might involve attempted first degree murder and will likely be pled down to a much less severe offense. Serial killers and terrorists don't face million dollar CASH bonds. It is unheard of, unless Mr. Maitland thinks we're dealing with a multi-millionaire cold blooded murderer who will run to a country without an extradition treaty as soon as he walks out of here. My client is a public relations professional at a local university, a white collar worker of limited financial means, who has never been guilty of even a traffic infraction, much less a serious crime. I am more of a flight risk than Mr. Donnally."

Martin let August make his spiel, then directed his attention back to me.

"I'll grant that a million dollar cash bond is unusual, your honor, but I do think it's justified in this case. First, the defendant is charged with attempting to murder his wife by crushing her throat with his bare hands and almost succeeding. His wife sent a letter to my office begging us to keep her husband in custody because of her very real fear that the next time he sees her, he will complete the job. She has hired private security preparing for the possibility that he might make bond.

"Secondly, while in custody, he became involved in a disturbance with fellow inmates that left one in a coma and the other with serious injuries, both of whom are still being treated at University Medical Center. In the same incident he ripped a jail officer's arm literally out of its socket. He attempted to aid the officer afterwards and it appears the officer might not suffer permanent damage.

"To sum up, while in custody and being overseen he did serious bodily damage to three grown, good-sized men, with his bare hands. I leave it to your imagination what he might do to a five-foot-four, 120 pound woman with those same bare hands. Also, we are dealing with a domestic situation here. You and I are both aware that some of the most heinous violence we see comes in exactly such situations. Finally, the bond is appropriate because Mr. Donnally has requested and agreed to such a bond."

August must have been warned because he quickly said, "It's clear, your honor, that Mr. Donnally is under severe emotional pressure and quite honestly feels so guilty about the attack on his wife that he feels being kept in custody is an appropriate punishment for what he's done. Nonetheless, bond is not our system's way of punishing people for what they've done. Mr. Donnally has friends and family who will stay with him and monitor his behavior to avoid any recurrence of such an incident."

"Ask Mr. Donnally," I told Martin. "Ask him what he thinks."

Martin looked at Donnally, in handcuffs and leg chains unlike any other inmate brought over from the jail. Both his bailiffs were carrying police-issue Tasers as well.

"Mr. Donnally, is what Mr. Maitland says true? You asked for and agreed to a million dollar cash bond?"

"Yes, your honor?"

"Why?"

"I asked for a high cash bond so I couldn't be bonded out. My wife and I, are having serious problems and she will not leave me alone. I am afraid that, if I wind up in close proximity to her again, I will kill her, and we have two children. I'm doing this to protect her until it's safe for me to be free again."

"You realize, Mr. Donnally, that we are not running a free hotel and recovery unit in our jail? It wasn't designed to give individuals such as yourself a place to get your emotions under control before venturing out again."

"We are, as are his friends, in the process of obtaining psychiatric counseling for Mr. Donnally," I told Martin, "The state has no intention of turning the Duval County Jail into a recovery facility. This is a short term strategy to prevent a tragedy, your honor. No one will be served if Mrs. Donnally is murdered, her husband becomes a murderer, and their children are deprived of their parents. We merely ask that you let this bond remain in place for a relatively short period of time."

"The state might have the best of intentions, your honor, but this is not the proper way to go about it," August said.

Martin thought about it for a half minute, then said, "I tend to agree, but in the interests of public safety and with the understanding that this will be brought back before the court shortly to be changed, I'll set the bond at this time."

October 7, 2005 -- FRIDAY - 3 p.m.

David Brandon, one of the other two ASAs equal to me (on paper) in the State Attorney food chain walked in without knocking. There were only three people in the department who could do that. Even though I carried the most weight in the office, Brandon had been here longer, had taken my leapfrogging him to head the office under the Big Man with good grace, and basically was an all-around nice guy.

"Hi, guy," he said, extending a letter to me across my desk.

"Hey Dave, what is this?"

"Read it and be astounded."

I opened it and read.

------

"Mr. Brandon,

"I wish to formally rescind my previous request that my husband, Paul Donnally, be held in the tightest custody possible. I would like to request that he be released as I am formally withdrawing my complaint against him.

"I know that formal charges have been filed against him for assault, but those charges are not valid. We had a fight and I attacked him with a knife and he was defending himself. If anybody should be in jail it should be me, not him. He took the blame for the assault because that is the kind of man that he is. I accused him of choking me in anger over a fight we had and faked the injuries. I had a friend choke me after my husband left our home to leave marks and he accidently choked me harder than he realized.

"I will not testify against my husband, regardless of what action the State Attorney's Office decides to take against me. I regret the actions I have taken and am ready to take responsibility and any legal punishment that may result from this letter."

"Sincerely, Paula Donnally."

------

"Are you believing that crap?" Dave said, shaking his head.

"Not really. I wonder if she knows that he's already shown how dangerous he is and that there is no way in hell anyone is going to believe her story about her faking those injuries."

"I know. I talked to the officer who took the call. She was terrified when they showed up. She could barely breath and she was trembling and hyperventilating. The officer is a veteran and he said no way was she faking. She was scared shitless."

"So why would she try to retract her testimony, get the husband who came within an eyelash of killing her out of jail, and face prosecution for faking an assault and a criminal charge? Does any of this make any sense at all to you?"

He shook his head.

"No, but you know that at this point if Donnally wanted to walk, I'd probably suggest that we let him. If she's serious about retracting her accusations, even if we have physical evidence, we'd have a hard time winning a case. It's hard to overcome a weeping wife testifying that she lied to get her husband in trouble after a fight. As to the jail, hell you know that we'd face liability there. I think the Big Man would tell us to let him go before we piss him off enough to take us to court."

I couldn't argue with his conclusions, but something in me rebelled at the thought of turning Donnally loose on the world. I needed to look into the attack on the wife try to figure out what was going on before I did anything I couldn't take back.

"Anyway Bill, she called about an hour ago and asked to come in to talk with us about the case. I figured we could work something out and maybe make this whole thing go away."