Seventeen years after the stabbing case, former prison guard Charles Wolfe, 50, met with Jason Lewis at Mill Creek. Mr. Wolfe admitted that he witnessed fellow guard, Damon McCloud, 48, facilitate and allow the attack against Mr. Lewis, which led to the death of Duane Griffith. Mr. Wolfe offered to testify on Jason Lewis’s behalf. With new evidence, Mr. Lewis enlisted help from the Innocence Project.
Despite the new evidence, the appeal was denied. The dedicated lawyers and law students at the Innocence Project continued to work on Jason Lewis’s behalf.
Almost two years later, they had an unlikely break in the case. Braylon Samuels, the inmate who had also been stabbed by Mr. Lewis but survived, recanted his original story, which painted Jason Lewis as the aggressor. Mr. Samuels admitted that he and his two fellow inmates had initiated the altercation with Jason Lewis. He admitted that Mr. Lewis likely feared for his life and acted in self-defense. Mr. Samuels also corroborated the accusations made by former prison guard Charles Wolfe.
After Mr. Samuels came forward, over one hundred inmates made formal complaints of abuse and impropriety suffered at the hands of Damon McCloud.
With the additional evidence, Judge Cummins overturned Jason Lewis’s involuntary manslaughter conviction. Mr. Lewis had recently completed his original twenty-year sentence. Consequently, he is due to be released from The State Correctional Institution at Mill Creek tomorrow, July 3, 2020.
Damon McCloud’s employment at The State Correctional Institution at Mill Creek has been terminated. He is currently under investigation.
Chapter 78: Faded Memories
The next morning April sat at her desk, thinking about her mother’s reaction, when April had asked if her father had cheated on her. She said no, but she looked away. Then, when I asked if it was Jason who had cheated on her, she said that it didn’t matter. If it was Jason, why wouldn’t she say so? She hates him. If it was some other boyfriend, why not say that? April grabbed her phone and typed a text to Becky with her thumbs.
April: Did my father ever cheat on my mother?
A knock came at her bedroom door.
April swiveled in her desk chair to face the door. “Come in.”
Her father entered the room, wearing his Loganville Township Police uniform. His short sleeves barely contained his muscular biceps. He was clean-shaven, with a crew cut. His brown hair was mixed with gray. “Hey.”
“Hi, Dad. What’s up?”
He walked toward April, stopping a few feet away. “I heard about Travis, and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
April shrugged. “I’m okay.”
He wrung his hands. “You’re better off, if you ask me. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
April narrowed her eyes at his hands. “I know.”
“Well, I should get to work.” He leaned over and kissed his daughter on the crown of her head.
April forced a smile. “Have a good day, Dad. Be safe.”
He smiled back. “Thanks. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
Danny left her bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Her phone buzzed with a text. April grabbed her phone, thinking it was from Becky.
Travis: I’m sorry about what happened. It was nothing. I swear. I don’t love Kyra. I love you. Text me back. PLS
April thought about her father’s comment. Once a cheater always a cheater. Was he speaking from experience? April blocked Travis from her phone. Then she tried calling Becky, but her call went straight to voice mail.
April grabbed her keys and her purse and left her house. Outside on the driveway, her brothers played one-on-one. Neither boy wore a shirt. They both had mild sunburns on their shoulders.
As April walked past, Dylan stopped dribbling and said, “Hey, April.”
April turned to her brother.
Dylan mimed passing the basketball to April, causing her to flinch.
Dylan and Lance laughed.
“I owe you two for flinching,” Lance said.
“Shut up,” April replied, with a scowl.
April drove a few miles down the road to Becky’s neighborhood. Pleasant Hills was an upper-middle-class neighborhood of colonials, ramblers, and Cape Cods on quarter-acre lots. Many houses had Trump 2020 yard signs. Biden signs were less common. A teen boy pushed a lawn mower in front of a redbrick rambler, but nobody else was outside. She parked along the curb in front of Becky’s Cape Cod. The house had gray siding, dormer windows, and white columns holding up the front porch. April remembered when Becky bought the house. She was only eighteen years old, but Aunt Susie and Becky couldn’t live together anymore. They fought like cats and dogs.
Becky’s lawn was overgrown, and her flower beds were filled with weeds, which wasn’t uncommon. Three cars were in the driveway, which also wasn’t uncommon. April put on her mask, grabbed her hand sanitizer, and walked to the front door. She pressed the doorbell.
A minute later, a shirtless man opened the door. His hair and beard were disheveled. He leered at April and pumped his eyebrows. “Are you a dancer?”
“Becky’s my cousin. Is she here?”
He grinned, blocking the doorway. “Yeah, she’s here. You gotta pay the cover to get in.”
April frowned. “Would you move please?”
He tapped his lips. “One kiss. You can keep the mask on, if you let me grab your ass.”
April put her hands on her hips. “If you won’t let me see my cousin, I’ll have to assume that you did something to her.” She removed her phone from her back pocket.
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Calling my dad. He’s a police officer.”
The man stepped aside. “I was just kidding. Damn. You don’t have to be such a bitch.”
April replaced her phone in the back pocket of her shorts. She stalked past the man without a word.
“She’s in her bedroom,” the man called out to April’s back.
The house smelled like marijuana. The television was audible from the living room down the hall. The kitchen was a mess, not unlike Susie’s house. Mail was strewn about the counter. A few of the envelopes were adorned with red lettering that read past due.
She walked past the kitchen and dining area to the stairs. April climbed the carpeted staircase to the second floor. Snoring came from one of the guest bedrooms. The door was open. April peeked inside. Three bodies were in the bed. Two women were under the covers. One man lay facedown atop the comforter, his hairy butt on full display. The smell of cigarette smoke, sweat, and sex wafted into the hallway. April continued to the end of the hallway, stopping at the double doors to the master bedroom.
April knocked.
“Come in,” Becky called out.
April opened one of the double doors and stepped into the master bedroom. The large room was dominated by the king-size bed. Becky sat up in her bed, tapping her phone, still wearing her pajamas.
Becky looked up from her phone and said, “Princess Perfect. You don’t give up.”
April approached her bedside. “I’m assuming you got my text.”
Becky frowned. “Leave it alone.”
April held out her hands, like a beggar. “Please, Becky. I feel like everyone’s lying to me. I know you—”
“Don’t give a fuck?”
“You’ll tell me the truth, even if it hurts.”
Becky pursed her lips. “You can take off that mask.”
“I’m trying to be safe.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “You sure you wanna know the truth?”
April nodded. “I’m sure.”
Becky sighed. “You know that your parents were together in high school and college, right?”
“Yes.”
“They were engaged right after college, then your dad … cheated on your mom with her best friend.”
April winced. “Ouch.”
Becky arched her eyebrows. “Told you.”
April sat on the edge of the bed, feeling woozy from the bombshell. April
turned her head to Becky. “What happened after that?”
“Your mom broke it off and moved to Villanova to work at some school.”
“Is that where she met Jason?”
Becky stared through April.
April looked down. “I’m sorry I brought him up.”
Becky shook her head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. Maybe it’s because he’s out.”
April made eye contact with her cousin again. “Are you afraid of him?”
“No. It’s funny. I don’t even remember what happened anymore. The only thing I remember about Jason is that I liked him. I remember him playing Ice Cream Shop with me. I had these plastic ice creams and bowls and fake money. You probably played with them too. They’re in Grammy’s basement.”
April nodded.
“I remember giving him the ice cream and him acting like I did something so great. He got my trust and took advantage, but I only remember the good stuff about him.” She let out a heavy breath. “How fucked up is that?”
April leaned toward her cousin. “You don’t remember when he …”
“Molested me?”
April nodded again.
“I remember pieces of it, but it’s not clear. My shrink says it’s my mind’s way of protecting myself. I used to have this nightmare, where Jason came into my bedroom at night while I was sleeping, put his hands around my throat, and choked me. I would wake up actually choking. It was terrifying.”
“You don’t have that nightmare anymore?”
“No. That was years ago.” Becky hesitated for a moment. “My mom’s so freaked about him getting out, but I feel nothing. I know I should feel something, but I feel nothing. Sometimes I wish he would come here and choke me to death.” Becky chuckled, her eyes still.
April wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not.
Chapter 79: The Dirty Secret of the Legal System
April drove home from Becky’s, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. She thought about her mother lying about her father cheating. Is she lying about who my father is too?
April went to her bedroom and opened her laptop. After the icons loaded, she went to Google and typed how to get court transcripts. After reading several articles, she realized that the court likely has an audio recording but no transcripts, unless someone had already paid to have the trial transcribed. Either way, it would likely take at least thirty days to obtain the recording or a transcript.
She typed Norman Tuttle Attorney Loganville into the search bar. His website appeared as the first search result. Tuttle and Associates. She clicked on the site. On the home page was a smiling group of lawyers, paralegals, and administrative assistants. April checked the address. It was located in downtown Loganville on Sixth Avenue. Then she found the phone number, grabbed her cell, and dialed the number.
A woman answered. “Tuttle and Associates, how may I direct your call?”
“May I speak with Norman Tuttle please?” April asked.
“He’s not in at the moment. Would you like his voice mail?”
“Could I set up an appointment to meet with him?”
“Are you a potential client?”
April hesitated for a beat. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Tuttle isn’t taking any new clients these days, but we have five very good attorneys in this office. If you tell me what this is regarding, I can schedule you a Zoom appointment with the appropriate attorney.”
“I’m actually a former client of his—or at least this matter is related to his former client.”
“What’s your name?”
April hesitated again. “April Gibbs. My mother used to be married to Jason Lewis.”
“Could you hold please?”
“Of course.” April sat at her desk, her knee bouncing, waiting for the receptionist to return.
Several minutes later, the receptionist said, “He’s in tomorrow from ten until three. He’s available at 10:30, if you’d like to meet with him via Zoom.”
“How much, um, does it cost?”
“Consultations are free. If Mr. Tuttle retains you as a client, he will inform you of his fees.”
***
The next day at precisely 10:30 a.m., April sat in front of her laptop and clicked the link for the Zoom appointment with Norman Tuttle. The old attorney had a full head of white hair parted to the side and beady eyes. His face was pulled tight as a drum, multiple face lifts eliminating his wrinkles but making him appear unreal, almost plastic.
“Hello, Ms. Gibbs,” he said. “I’m Norman Tuttle. What can I do for you?”
April smiled nervously. “Hello, Mr. Tuttle. I’m April Gibbs.” She frowned. “You know that already. Sorry. I’m looking for transcripts or a recording of the trial for Jason Lewis. My mother used to be married to him.”
“Your mother …” Norman placed his fingertip to his temple. “Don’t tell me. Let me see if I can remember. Everyone says I forget things, but my mind’s like a steel trap. Her name was … Mandy.”
“Michelle.”
Norman snapped his fingers. “Close but no cigar.”
“Do you have the transcripts from the trial?”
“I’m sure they’re in storage. If my memory serves me correct, there was a civil trial after the criminal trial, and we made transcripts for our defense.”
Michelle leaned closer to the screen. “Would I be able to borrow them?”
“The courthouse has copies too. You’d have to fill out a form, and it might take a few weeks.”
“I looked into getting them from the court, but it might take thirty days.”
Norman paused for a second.
April thought Zoom froze.
Then he said, “Why do you want to see the transcripts?”
April tried to think of a lie, but the truth was better. She took a deep breath, then said, “Jason might be my father. I’ve heard what he did, but I’d like to see for myself.”
Norman was slack-jawed for an instant. “Well, I suppose I could let you look at our copies, but I don’t think I should let you take them.”
“When can I come by?”
“Anytime. I’m here until three.”
April smiled again. “Great. I can be there in forty minutes or so.”
“I’ll have someone bring the files up from storage.”
***
April drove into downtown Loganville, past gothic churches, bars, offices, and apartment buildings. She parked in the small lot in front of a five-story office building. April put on her mask, grabbed her hand sanitizer, and walked across the parking lot to the building. Thankfully, it was overcast and cooler than the day before. She wore slacks and a blouse for the occasion, figuring she should dress up for a lawyer’s office. She took the elevator to the top floor.
The elevator doors opened. April stepped out and walked to the reception desk. A woman was on the phone, her mask pulled down. April waited a polite distance away.
The receptionist hung up the phone, raised her mask, and asked, “May I help you?”
“I’m April Gibbs. I’m here to see Norman Tuttle.”
She nodded. “One moment.” She picked up the phone, dialed, and said, “April Gibbs is here to see you.” She paused. “Okay. I’ll bring her back.” The receptionist hung up and stood from her chair. “I’ll take you back.” The receptionist led April down a hallway with offices on either side. Norman’s office was at the end of the hall. The door was open. She gestured to the open door.
April stepped inside Norman’s corner office. The furniture was dark wood and black leather. It smelled faintly of old books and cologne. Thick legal texts adorned the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. He stood from his desk with a grin and no mask. His posture was slightly stooped. He held out his hand to shake. April didn’t budge.
Norman glanced at April’s mask and retracted his hand. “Sorry. I forgot.” He waved and said, “It’s nice to meet you in person.”
“You too,” April replied, smiling under her
mask. “Thank you for helping me.”
Norman gestured to the round table beyond his desk. A box sat on the table. “Those are the transcripts. They’re in order by date. You’ll start with the arraignment and then the preliminary hearing.”
“What’s a preliminary hearing?”
“It’s a hearing to determine whether there’s enough evidence to require a trial.”
April nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Tuttle.”
“If you need any help, let me know.”
April went to the box and opened the lid. It was filled with file folders and documents, all dated and labeled. She sat at the table, opened the file, and began to read about the arraignment. This file was small. The charges were announced by the judge, and the attorneys argued over bail, but that was about it.
While April read, Norman worked on his laptop.
The preliminary hearing was much more interesting. The file was also ten times as thick. She read about the DNA evidence. Jason’s semen was found on the victim’s underwear. They never used Becky’s name during the hearing. She read her grandmother’s testimony. Ruth had found the bloody underwear and asked Becky what had happened. Becky had replied, “A man hurt my pee-pee part.”
Norman snored. April looked up from the file. Norman slumped in his chair, sleeping.
April went back to the preliminary hearing. She was shocked by the testimony from Jason’s half-sister, Lori Grasso.
District Attorney Greg Elliot had asked her, “How long did you live in the same house with the defendant?”
“Until I was fifteen and he went away to college. So, I guess fifteen years,” Lori had replied.
“How much older than you is the defendant?”
“Three years and a few months.”
“Did he ever molest you as a child?”
April thought, Holy shit. He did it before.
“Objection, Your Honor,” Norman Tuttle had said. “This is extremely prejudicial. What Mr. Lewis allegedly did as a minor has no relevancy in this case. This is pure character assassination.”
Elliot had said, “It’s very relevant, Your Honor. It’s the exact same crime. It establishes a prior pattern of deviant behavior.”
Redemption Page 21