Chapter 5
Dangerous Confinement
We parked in front of the police station. I killed the engine and then looked at Sarah. The memory of my arrest at Quantico came rushing into my mind. I knew how Sarah must be feeling, helpless and alone.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
"Terrified," she said, forcing a smile. She was a tough young woman. But I guess that only figured given the life that had been dealt her.
"I am sorry we have to go through this drill,” I said, “but unfortunately there's no way around it. Why don't you leave your purse in the car? They'll just take it away from you inside if you take it with you."
"Okay."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, let's just get it over with."
We got out of the car and walked inside. At the counter I asked for Lt. Meadows. We were told to have a seat. After a short wait Bernie Meadows appeared with an attractive young women in a charcoal striped suit. She was a slender woman with cold grey eyes.
"Mr. Turner?" Lt. Meadows asked.
"Yes, and this is Sarah Winters."
"Hello Miss Winters,” he said. Pointing to the grim lady he said, “This is Margie Westcott from the DA's office. She'll be assisting Mr. Hudson in the case."
"Nice to meet you," I replied.
She nodded without smiling.
“I guess we better get this over with," I said.
"Okay, Miss Winters, come this way please," Lt. Meadows said.
Sarah was led down a hallway to the intake room where she was read her rights, photographed, fingerprinted and taken to a holding cell to await her court appearance. While she was being booked, Miss Westcott and I talked.
"Can I get a copy of the indictment, Miss Westcott?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Yes, you’re entitled to it. I'll give you a copy at the bond hearing."
"Thanks. I'd like to take a look at your evidence as soon as possible too."
She sighed as if annoyed. "We can arrange that with Lt. Meadows after the hearing."
"Fine," I said, giving her a smile. She didn’t reciprocate. She looked all bottled up as if she was going to explode. There was an uneasy moment of silence and then I found out what was eating at her.
"I've heard you plan to plead Miss Winters innocent," she said.
"That's correct."
"Innocent by reason of temporary insanity?"
"No, just innocent."
She frowned and let out another sigh. "You’re joking, right? You'll never convince a jury that she's innocent with the evidence we have.”
"Well, after I see your evidence, maybe I'll change my recommendation, but right now our plans are to plead her innocent."
"Do you honestly think she'd tell you if she were guilty?"
"Yes, I'm her attorney. I'm on her side. There's no reason to lie to me."
"Right, and you're going to tell me with a straight face that you think she's innocent?"
"Yes, I do."
She shook her head. "I guess that's what you get paid to say, right?"
"Excuse me."
"You know the people around here don't like baby killers. It takes a pretty sick person to kill an innocent child. The fact we had two killed in one day is disgusting. The jury's not going to have one ounce of mercy for your client.”
“If she’s guilty, I don’t expect them to, but I don’t think she is.”
“Drop the act, Mr. Turner. We both know she’s guilty and that you are obligated to recommend she do whatever is in her best interest. Obviously it would be in her best interest to plead guilty with the understanding, of course, that the DA's office would recommend a certain amount of leniency at sentencing."
"I appreciate that, but my client is innocent, so unless your office is prepared to drop the charges entirely then we have no other choice than to try the case."
"This trial is not going to be much fun for you or your client. There's going to be a lot of press coverage and adverse publicity for both of you. We could avoid all of that if your client would just confess to her crime and accept a moderate sentence."
"I'll communicate the offer to her but I wouldn't get your hopes up."
"I'd hate to see such a young girl spend her entire life behind bars. We could live with a plea of manslaughter. That would bring a sentence of twenty years and with good behavior she could be out on the street in six or seven."
I looked intensely at Miss Westcott. She was really giving me the hard press. I wondered why but a different thought popped into my mind. "What do you think it would be like for a confessed baby killer in prison?"
Ms. Westcott turned her head and thought for a moment. I knew I had her on that one. She held back a smile. "Probably not too pleasant but we could arrange special security."
"She wouldn't make it five years, hell, she wouldn't make it one year for that matter, if people think she intentionally killed her child. Her only hope is to be acquitted and that's what I intend to see happen."
"Well, I just–"
The door suddenly swung open and Lt. Meadows quickly walked out.
"Okay, they're transporting her over to courtroom two right now, so we should go ahead on over."
Miss Westcott and I got up and followed Lt. Meadows down the hall to the connecting hallway between the courthouse and the police station. We went through security and then took the elevator to the second floor. As we entered the courtroom, I noticed the reporters that had accosted us at the hospital were seated in the gallery. Joyce Winters was there too, seated in the front row. She waved at me as I walked into the courtroom. I smiled and went over to her.
"I see you were able to extricate yourself from the press finally," I said.
"Well, I answered all their questions as best I could. I'm going to be on the six o'clock news, I guess."
"What kind of questions did they ask you?"
"Oh, all about Sarah's childhood, what kind of girl she was, you know."
"I should have warned you not to talk to the press. They have a way of twisting everything you say and taking words out of context."
"Oh, I don't think they'll do that. They were so nice to me."
"I guess we'll see tonight, won't we?"
"I guess we will."
As Stan and Joyce were talking, the side door of the courtroom opened and Sarah emerged with a female bailiff by her side. I got up and joined her at the defense table. Lt. Meadows and Miss Westcott stood in front of the prosecution table. After a few seconds the rear door of the courtroom opened, a bailiff walked out and said, "Please stand for the Honorable Albert B. Brooks."
The judge quickly entered the room and sat down on the bench. He motioned for everyone to be seated and then the bailiff announced, "The 877th District Court of Grayson County, Texas is now in session."
"Well, I understand the state and the defense have reached an agreement on the amount of bail. Is that true Miss Westcott?"
"Yes, your honor. We've agreed on $50,000."
"Well, due to the heinous nature of this crime I’m not sure that's the figure I would have picked. . . . But I'll respect your agreement and set bail at $50,000. The defendant is remanded into the custody of the county sheriff until the bond has been posted."
The judge got up and left the courtroom. I put my arms around Sarah and gave her a few words of encouragement. The bailiff then led Sarah out of the courtroom. Miss Westcott, agitated by the judge's remarks, complained, "I don't know how Snake talked Howard into a $50,000 bond anyway. I would never have agreed to that."
"It beats me, I guess Snake has a way with people.”
"Is your client going to be able to post it?" Miss Westcott asked.
"I think so, I'm expecting the bondsman any minute."
"Well, if you want to see the evidence this afternoon come by my office when you're done and I'll show you what we have. I'll warn you though, I leave promptly at 4:30."
"I'll be over there in a few minutes, thanks," I said.
"Bart, you made it," I said.
"Yeah, I've got your bond right here."
"Lets get on over to the jail and post it so Sarah won't have to be put in a cell," I said.
“You go on ahead,” Joyce said. “I’m going to the ladies room. I’ll catch up with you.”
Bart and I left the building and headed across the street. Before we got inside, my curiosity got the best of me.
"What did he give you as collateral, some cars?"
"No. He gave me two dozen fine black diamonds."
"Black diamonds? You're kidding?"
"No, apparently they belong to his wife and she doesn't know he's using them as collateral."
"Oh God, if Joyce finds out, we may have another murder on our hands."
As we got into the reception area of the jail, I noticed Margie Westcott talking to one of the jailers. When she saw me, she nodded to the jailer and left. I took the bond up to the counter and waited for someone to help me. There were several clerks working on paperwork but none of them jumped up to help me. Finally I hailed one of them. She reluctantly got up and came over. She looked the bond over and commented, "You'll need to get the prisoner to sign it."
"Yeah, she should still be at intake. They just brought her in there a few minutes ago."
"Okay, I'll go check."
We took a seat while we waited for the clerk to return. A minute later Joyce walked in and we motioned her over. After a few more minutes the clerk came back. I got up and went to the desk. She said, "It's not your lucky day, they just took her back to a cell."
"Damn!" I said. "How could they process her so fast?"
"I don't know, but she's gone."
Seeing me upset, Joyce and Bart got up and joined me at the desk. "What's wrong?" Joyce asked.
I turned around, looked at her and frowned.
"I'm sorry. It's going to take a little longer to get Sarah out than I thought. They've taken her back to a cell. All we can do is go sit down and wait. It could be an hour or two."
We went back to our bench and waited. The seats were hard and I couldn't get comfortable. I crossed my legs one way and then the other. After a minute I began thumping the seat with my fingers. I kept asking myself how they could have processed her so fast. It didn’t make sense. I got up and walked over to the window and stared out at the cars traveling down the busy street. Suddenly it occurred to me. I could be looking at the evidence instead of sitting there wasting time.
Looking at Joyce, I said, "I think I'll go over to Miss Westcott’s office now since we have to wait awhile for Sarah. You two can stay here in case they let Sarah out."
"Okay," Bart said. "I'll stay here with Joyce until Sarah is released."
"Thanks, I'll be back."
I walked across the street to the District Attorney's office, checked the directory and took the stairs to her floor. When I walked inside her office, a secretary was busily typing. She ignored me and continued to type. I waited patiently awhile until she finally stopped and looked at me.
"Can I help you?" she said.
"Yes, I'm here to see Miss Westcott. She's expecting me."
"Your name, please?"
"Stan Turner."
"Okay, I'll tell her you're here."
"Thanks."
I sat down and began flipping through some magazines on the coffee table. Since they were all several months old, I didn't bother picking any of them up. Then I noticed a book of Bible stories like I used to see at my dentist’s office when I was a kid. Seeing it amused me so I picked it up and looked at it curiously. After a few minutes Miss Westcott emerged from her office and greeted me.
"I've got the evidence in here, come on in."
Miss Westcott turned and walked into her office. I got up and followed her. As I entered, I noticed a half dozen or so paper bags lined up neatly against the wall.
"Can I get you some coffee or a cold drink?"
"A Coke would be great."
Ms. Westcott turned to instruct her Secretary to get me a Coke but she had disappeared. She let out a little groan and then went off looking for her. While she was gone I scanned the room for insights into my adversary. Her desk was cluttered, but it was kind of an organized clutter. There appeared to be four or five cases Miss Westcott was working on and the files relating to each were in separate piles. A hand written list of phone numbers was taped to the right side of her desk and she had a "To Do" list taped to each stack of files. She apparently was a well organized and a methodical worker.
I looked at the walls and noted her law license and diplomas from St. Mary's Law School and New York University. There were a few plants, a flower arrangement to give the room a feminine touch and on her credenza the Texas Criminal Justice Code, Texas Rules of Criminal Procedure, and the King James Version of the Holy Bible. After a minute Miss Westcott returned with her secretary who had two Cokes and two glasses of ice. The secretary poured us each a glass and then left the room.
Miss Westcott turned to me and said, "Here you go, you may need a shot of Bourbon after you get a look at this stuff."
"That bad, huh?"
"Well, take a look. Here's State's Exhibits 1-6."
"Can I take them out of the sack?"
"Yes, but be careful please."
I walked over and looked into the first bag. It contained a bed sheet stained with blood. I pulled it out and examined it.
"That's the sheet that was taken off her bed," Miss Westcott said.
I nodded, placed it back in the sack and then went to the second bag. It contained some blood-soaked towels.
"That's some towels that were found in the dumpster in the same bag as the baby. Exhibit number three contains the yellow bag in which the baby was found."
I looked in the bag and then went to exhibit number four.
"That's a blood stained bathroom rug. It has both the blood of your client and the baby on it."
I closed the bag and went to the fourth one. I was beginning to get a little nauseated from the smell of blood.
"Exhibit number four is a series of pictures of the dead fetus."
I pulled out the photographs and looked at them. They were quite grotesque so I quickly returned them to the bag.
"Have you seen enough?" Miss Westcott said.
"No, I want to see everything," I replied.
"Okay, exhibit number five is the pillow that was used to suffocate the baby."
A chill ran down my back as I pulled the pillow out of the sack. In my mind I tried to picture Sarah suffocating her baby, but I couldn't see it.
"The medical examiner found tiny particles of feathers in the baby's lungs," Miss Westcott said.
I returned the pillow to the bag and went to exhibit number six. Inside were a single pair of rubber gloves. I looked up at Miss Westcott curiously.
"So much for your temporary insanity defense, huh?" Miss Westcott said.
"Do these have Sarah's fingerprints on them?”
She replied, “No, they were washed, but they still have traces of your client's and the baby's blood on them."
"Where did you find them?"
"In a trash can in the laundry room that services your client's apartment. Her roommate, Michelle, has identified them as belonging to Sarah."
"I imagine a lot of people have rubber gloves like these and one size fits all, right?"
"Maybe so, but your client had some in her apartment the day before the murder and they're now missing."
"Hmm, interesting."
"You want to rethink our offer now?"
"No, I don't think any of this is conclusive. It proves somebody killed the baby, but not necessarily my client."
"You must live in a dream world, Mr. Turner. If a jury sees this stuff, they're going to be so outraged, your client won’t have a prayer."
> "Well, we'll see. Thank you for showing me all of this. You said I could get a copy of the indictment, didn't you?"
"Yes, I've got one for you."
Ms. Westcott went over to her desk and picked up a single sheet of paper.
"Here it is," she said as she handed it to me.
"Thank you, I think I'll go see if Sarah's been released yet. I've never seen them process a new inmate so quickly, I thought for sure we'd get her bond posted before they took her back into the main population."
Ms. Westcott smiled and replied, "That's too bad, I guess it just wasn't her lucky day."
By the time Sarah was released I had taken a seat next to Joyce in the jail waiting room. Finally the door opened and I saw Sarah standing there. She appeared wobbly. A jailer was partially supporting her.
"What in the hell," I said and rushed over to her. "What happened to you?"
"They tried to kill me!" Sarah yelled and then began crying. "They tried to kill me!"
"What kind of a jail is this!" I screamed to the jailer.
"I am sorry,” the jailer said, “we didn’t realize the inmates knew she was a baby killer. I don’t know how they found out. We would have put her in an empty cell.”
"I want the names of the women who attacked her. We're pressing charges and I'm filing a complaint with the county commissioners, this is inexcusable, this is a disgrace!"
"Honey, are you okay?" Joyce asked.
"I think so," Sarah replied.
"Let's get out of this place," I said. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here."
I escorted Sarah and Joyce out of the building and back to Joyce's car. Sarah was still shaking and crying when they got to the car.
"I'm so sorry, Sarah. This shouldn't have happened. Are you all right? Do you want to go back to the hospital?"
"No, I'm okay," Sarah said.
"I need to know exactly what happened so I can file a complaint. Do you feel like talking about it now or should we do it later?"
"I don't care. I'll tell you now."
"Okay, good."
Sarah explained, “After I left you and Joyce, they took me to a room where they started to do some paperwork. They asked me a bunch of routine questions. I thought they were about to fingerprint me but then Miss Westcott came in and whispered something to one of them. When she left, they stopped what they were doing and one of the jailers immediately took me down a long corridor to the main cell block. Once inside, she led me down a hallway until I got to a second door. She took a ring of keys off her belt, unlocked it and motioned for me to enter. I reluctantly walked inside the small cell.”
“So Margie wanted you back in the main population,” I said. “She must have made sure the inmates knew you had been charged with killing your baby. I can’t believe it. The woman tried to have you killed.”
“What can we do about it?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to give that some thought. Go ahead and finish your story.”
“Okay, well . . . the cell had two sets of bunk beds, a sink and toilet. Two young white women were at the far end of the cell talking and a third, a black woman in her mid-thirties, was on one of the top bunks reading a magazine. After the jailer slammed the door shut, I got really scared. The three women were glaring at me. They weren’t the least bit friendly.
“I said, hello, but they didn't respond. They just stared at me. I figured I needed to keep talking to establish some rapport so I introduced myself.
“Then the black lady asked me if I killed my baby. I told her no and that I was innocent, but they didn’t seem to hear me. They just kept asking questions like I was on trial. I told them I didn't remember anything.
"One of the girls said she had two boys and loved them very much. She couldn’t understand how anyone could kill their own flesh and blood. I denied killing my child again but they paid no attention. Then the black lady sat up and jumped down from the top bunk. She walked over and stood directly in front of me. The two white women also came over and got up really close.
“They said they heard I had suffocated my baby with a pillow. They wanted to know if it was true. I denied it but they obviously didn’t believe me. One of the girls said, ‘I think we should give her a taste of her own medicine. Hand me a pillow.’”
The short white girl picked up a pillow and tossed it to the black girl. Then the two white girls grabbed me by both arms and threw me on one of the lower bunks. The black girl took the pillow and put it over my face and pushed down as hard as she could. I screamed and struggled to get free, but I was no match for them. The other women in the cell block began to yell and scream with delight at the altercation. They wanted me to die. But the commotion got the attention of one of the jailers who came running in to see what was happening. She yelled, ‘Let her go! Get away from her now!’
The black lady didn’t respond so the officer pulled her gun, pointed it at her and told her to back off. The rest of the inmates went wild, screaming and throwing things out into the hall. The officer repeated herself, ‘Let her up, now!’ she said. Finally the black lady threw the pillow onto the floor and stepped back. I coughed, gasped for air and then sat up.
“The second jailer escorted me from the cell but was intercepted by the intake clerk. She told us my bond had been posted.”
"That's a disgrace," I said. "I can't believe they did this to you. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I'm going–"
"It's not your fault," Sarah said.
"I know, but it just pisses me off. . . . Well, you better go home and rest. You'll feel better tomorrow."
"Okay."
"She'll be fine," Joyce said. "She's just scared, I think."
"I don't blame her," I said shaking my head. We started walking toward the door. Before we parted I said, "Hey, I'm going to need you to come see me in a few days, okay?"
"Why? I've told you everything I know," Sarah asked.
"I've got to really dig into your life and try to make some sense out of what has happened. We've got a tough battle ahead and you and I will need to spend a lot of time together to get ready for it."
"When should I come?"
"Just call my office and talk to Jodie. She'll fit you into my schedule, okay?"
"All right."
After watching Joyce and Sarah drive off, I went immediately to the Sheriff's office to complain about what happened. Unfortunately the Sheriff was out so I vented my anger at a deputy who was in command while the Sheriff was gone. On my way home I prayed this wasn't a bad omen of things to come.
Second Chair, A Stan Turner Mystery, Vol.4 Page 6