Rita shook her head vehemently. “I don’t believe it. You’re not a killer. I didn’t raise you to be no killer.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. You didn’t cause me to be this way. I made my own choices. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it’s true.”
“No! No! No! No! No!” she cried. “You couldn’t have! You look into my eyes again and tell me that, Ben.”
He had never looked away from her, and again he repeated: “I killed the bastard – lyin’, cheatin’ Jackson Cunningham. I sent him straight to Hell!”
Rita couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head as she listened in disbelief to her own son.
“They say I’ll be leaving here soon. Taking me down to the prison.”
Rita didn’t shed a tear, but inside, her heart felt like it had been ripped in two.
“I love you, Mom.” Ben touched her hand through the narrow-spaced bars.
“Oh, Ben!” The tears now gushed from her eyes.
“Ma’am, you have to leave now.” An officer appeared.
“Remember that I love you,” Ben told her. “And don’t cry for me. I’ll be good. I’m a national hero now!”
She looked back as the officer was leading her away from the cell. For the first time in her life, she didn’t recognize her own son. It certainly could not have been the jolly young man behind those bars confessing to murder – and immediately she had an idea for his defense. When the time came, she would have to share her thoughts with his public defender.
TWENTY
Ben Benjamin spent his first night in prison. As promised, he boasted about his deeds and quickly gained exuberant fans, but simultaneously unexpected enemies as well, who lashed out with death threats. Concerned for his life, prison guards swiftly removed him from the general population to solitary confinement.
The following morning, Rita watched two police officers escort her son into the courtroom. He was bound in shackles — hands and feet.
“He’s not guilty!” she responded to those who’d hurled insults at Ben as he inched forward.
“Wake up, lady!” one man shouted. “He’s as guilty as sin. He killed our good Prime Minister!”
“Innocent until proven guilty!” a woman in the crowd hollered back.
There were opposing opinions being tossed around and Rita found the entire situation overwhelming. Standing alone in support of her child, she could not believe she was actually living that nightmare.
Ben was strangely poised amid all the crowd, cameras, police officers and lawyers. He also seemed contented that he’d grasped the attention of so many people.
Nick and Steve were not present. Everything needed for the charge from their end had been provided by way of written documents.
Subsequent to the initial formalities, Ben was made to listen as Magistrate Cora Stevens read the charge to him. “At this time, you are not required to enter a plea, Mister Benjamin,” she said. “And as this is an indictable offense, I do not have the jurisdiction to grant bail. You will be held at the Haston Department of Corrections and within fourteen days, the Office of the Attorney General will serve you with documents pertaining to this matter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” he replied.
* * * *
Nick knocked at the door before entering the Commissioner’s office. Fox was just finishing up a call at his desk.
He politely gestured for him to sit.
“Detective Myers…” he stood up after ending the call, “I just want to say thank you so much for everything you’ve done to assist us with this most disturbing investigation. We’ve finally got our guy! Didn’t imagine he’d walk in and confess, but I guess he couldn’t take the heat out there, as we were surely making progress.”
Nick crossed his legs. “I’m glad to have been of any assistance, Commissioner, but…” he hesitated for a moment as he knew what he was about to say would likely wipe the smile completely off of Fox’s face, “…I don’t think we have the right guy.”
Nick was right — the smile quickly faded and Fox sat down again.
“What are you saying, Detective?”
“I expressed my concern to Steve from the very beginning. I don’t believe that kid had anything to do with the Prime Minister’s assassination.
“So, you think he made up the whole thing? That his confession was a hoax?”
“I believe so.”
“But why?”
“For attention, just like his mother said.”
“Nah!” Fox scoffed. “Parents usually say their child is innocent even with all the proof of the child’s guilt staring them in the face.”
“You’re right about that. Only, in this case, we don’t have any proof of Ben’s culpability. We basically just have his word and that’s why I don’t understand how the Attorney General’s office even allowed this guy to be charged,” Nick said.
Clearing his throat, Fox was taken aback by Nick’s assertions. “Well, I can’t say I see the matter the same way that you do. We have very skilled and competent attorneys in the AG’s office who would have reviewed what we sent to them and made a decision to prosecute. We’re not completely incompetent here in Haston.” He grinned to cloud the fact that he was deadly serious.
Nick knew where he was coming from. He had stepped on the Commissioner’s toes. That wasn’t going to prevent him from letting him know how he felt about Ben’s case.
“If he did it, why don’t we have the murder weapon right now?” Nick asked.
“Because he clearly told you and Detective Davis he ditched it, and so far we haven’t been able to locate it yet.”
“I’d think if I ditched a gun used in a crime I’d have some idea where I tossed it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Detective, it’s now out of our hands. Unless something surfaces that disputes what Ben Benjamin has said pertaining to his guilt, there’s nothing we can do.”
“So, what you’re saying is he’d have to prove his innocence instead of us actually proving his guilt?” Nick asked.
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it is, Commissioner — in so many words.”
Fox was struggling to conceal his agitation. He glanced at his wrist watch. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I’m afraid I have a meeting I must get to in just a few minutes, so if you don’t mind…”
Nick nodded. “I don’t. Thanks for your time, sir.”
He walked back to his office feeling slightly deflated. He’d been sent there to bring the police force up-to-date with leading techniques which were integral for crime solving. However, in his mind, they chose only to implement certain phases that didn’t require too much in-depth investigative work. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the mounting pressure the entire Department was under to solve the murder of the country’s leader or if they were just all a lazy bunch.
Steve bumped into him as he was leaving another office, just off the corridor.
“Hey, bro. You all right?” he asked, after noticing the expression on Nick’s face.
“No, I’m not.”
“It didn’t go well in there, huh?”
“Not really,” Nick admitted.
“I told you not to bother. Although I do see your point and I agree it’s valid, we all just want this case behind us. Like I told you, bro, I personally believe the young man is guilty. So, for me, my conscience is clear.”
“Good for you,” Nick commented while continuing to his office.
TWENTY-ONE
The fourteen days leading up to Ben Benjamin’s arraignment seemed to crawl by. Within that time and against Ben’s wishes, Rita managed to hire an attorney named Walter Hayden. He was just a couple of years older than Ben and if this case went to trial, it would be his very first murder case since passing the Bar exam two years earlier.
“You must convince him to plead not guilty!” she told Walter at his little two room office. “And when the time is right, change the plea to ‘temporary insanity’ because that’s the only
thing that could possibly explain my son’s actions if he is guilty like he said.”
“I understand,” Walter replied. He was a light skin young man with short, brown hair and narrow features. He stood at five feet six inches tall, was of slim build, and wore clear, thick-framed glasses which gave off a sort of nerdy look.
“I will meet with Ben,” he assured her, “and will do my best to get to the truth. I must say though that if I am unable to get him to change his mind about how he intends to plead, whether or not I am convinced of his guilt or innocence, I will still appear in court at his arraignment.”
Rita was satisfied with that. Inwardly, she also shook her head in pity for her son’s future as she realized what type of representation he had — someone who, in her eyes, was just a baby himself, inexperienced and bound not to be taken seriously by the Court. But she couldn’t find anyone cheaper. And figuring that some representation was better than none at all, she was elated when Walter took the job and agreed to allow her to pay him in installments.
“But I’m pleading guilty, Mom. I told you that,” Ben said to her during a visit the day after she hired the attorney. “You just went ahead and wasted the little money you had. Now, how are you gonna manage?”
“Well, maybe if you were at home, I’d manage fine. Have you thought about that, Ben? Or is this revenge game you’re playing more important than everything else in your life?”
He was quiet for a minute. “You’ll manage all right, Mom. At least, with me behind bars getting three square meals a day here, you won’t have another mouth to feed. You’d only have to take care of yourself and you can do that. Uncle Edgar will help any way he can. He couldn’t help us save our house, but he’d never let his sister starve to death.”
“You amaze me, boy; you really do.” Rita shook her head, hopelessly. “I pray you catch yourself and go into that courtroom day after tomorrow and do the right thing.”
She then got up and walked toward the exit gate.
“I love you, Mom!” Ben shouted behind her as the prison guard was escorting him back to his cell. “Remember that, ya hear?”
“I love you too,” Rita whispered, keeping her eyes straight ahead as the gate opened.
Finally on September 9th, Ben appeared in court where, unflinchingly, he entered a plea of “guilty as charged”.
“I’m guilty, Your Honor, and that’s all there is to it,” he remarked.
Walter Hayden, when asked, confirmed for the judge that this was, in fact, his client’s plea. Bypassing a trial, sentencing was reserved for a later date.
* * * *
Thirty minutes after Ben Benjamin entered his plea, Nick’s cell phone rang. He’d been sitting at his desk sipping a latte and thinking about Ben’s arraignment. Flipping open the phone, he saw that it was Cleaver.
“Good day, sir,” he answered.
(Moments later, Nick spoke again…) “No, I’m not satisfied with the status of the investigation. We don’t seem to be on the same page here.”
He listened for a few moments more, then calmly said, “Yes, sir.”
The conversation lasted a little more than a minute.
Nick then looked at his desk and started gathering a few of the files. He grabbed his briefcase, opened it up and placed his documents into it.
“What’re you doing?” Steve walked in.
“It’s time to go, buddy,” Nick replied.
“Where?”
“My work here is done. Washington just informed me that I’ve been booked for the first flight out in the morning.”
“Just like that?” Steve was surprised.
“Yep. Everything I was assigned to do here is complete or well on its way to completion, so there’s no reason for me to stay on any longer. You’re gonna give me a lift back to the hotel?”
“Sure thing. Whenever you’re ready.”
There was a knock at the door and Commissioner Fox walked in.
“Detective, I understand you’ll be leaving us tomorrow,” he said.
“News travels fast. Just got the directives myself,” Nick replied.
“I wanted to say, on behalf of the government of Haston that we appreciate all of your most invaluable assistance these weeks you’ve been here. The knowledge you’ve shared with us has been most insightful and we look forward to having you come down again soon — if only for a visit.” He grinned.
“Thank you, sir. Maybe I’ll come back for vacation.”
Leaning against the desk, Steve chuckled.
There was an awkward lull in the room, then Fox said, “Well, let me know if you need anything before you leave, Detective Myers. Again, thank you for everything and we wish you a safe trip back to Los Angeles.”
“Thank you, Commissioner. I appreciate that.”
The men shook hands.
“How about we go out for a few drinks tonight, then maybe grab something to eat?” Steve suggested, after Fox left the office.
Nick looked his way. “I’d really like that, Steve, but I think I’ll just go back to the hotel and get an early night tonight. I’m beat!”
“I know what you mean.” Steve nodded. “You wanna pick up something on the way or you’re gonna have something at the hotel? Just making sure you’re covered, bro.”
“I’ll get room service later, or I might go down to one of the restaurants for a quick bite. Thanks,” Nick said.
He checked to make sure he had everything. “That looks like it.”
“So, you’re ready now?”
“Yep.”
* * * *
That night, Kevin and Sheri sat together on the couch and watched the seven o’clock news. Ben Benjamin had been televised, shackled and smiling, as he entered the courtroom for his arraignment that morning.
With his arm stretched across Sheri’s shoulder, Kevin took a deep sigh.
“Really sad, isn’t it?” Sheri glanced at her husband. “He’s so young.”
Rita Benjamin had been spotted on TV standing near the doorway as her son and the officers escorting him were about to enter the courtroom. Her eyes were light red and it was clear she’d been sobbing.
“I feel sorry for his mom,” Sheri continued. “I couldn’t imagine going through anything so distressing with my own child.”
“I know what you mean,” Kevin replied, keeping his eyes glued to the television set.
She looked back at him again. “How’s the atmosphere at the office since this all happened?”
“People still can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t believe he’s gone. You know... nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“How do you feel about it? You never really expressed that to me. You just seemed to distance yourself from it altogether, although I don’t see how you could. You’re working with the new PM and talk of Cunningham’s murder stays on the news.”
“I just choose not to focus on it,” he replied, wearily. “Regardless of how the man treated us, I never wanted anything like this to happen to him.”
“I know, honey. Neither did I.”
* * * *
That night, Nick needed to be alone with his thoughts. Somehow, he felt like he’d failed at what he’d been assigned to do – particularly where it involved Jackson Cunningham’s murder.
Strangely, he also felt he’d failed at saving Ben Benjamin, perhaps, from himself. He could not fathom what could possess a young man to throw away his life on account of mere notoriety. More and more, he was convinced Ben had innocence written all over him — a good kid that had lost his way after life handed him a raw deal. He’d left poor Rita to live with the stench of having given birth to a child whose name would be forever synonymous with the words: assassin and murderer.
As he stretched out in bed with his hands tucked behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. Through the open curtains, he could tell that dusk was settling in and in a few hours, he’d be off that little rock and back to life as it was before Haston ever came into the picture.
In
a way, he was looking forward to going home, but on the other hand, he felt like he’d be bringing along with him some unfinished business. This was the first time in his career he felt he’d closed a case that shouldn’t be. And for the perfectionist he was, realizing this was like a cancer cell eating away at his bones. He knew if he had his way things would be different, but he was not in charge this time; his hands were tied.
His eyes slowly shut as sleep crept in. The curtains would remain open for the night. He was too exhausted to care.
TWENTY-TWO
Like a shadow in the moonlight, a woman with a head full of curlers and wearing a light blue house coat clutched her purse and hurried over to the phone booth in the center of the park. The lampposts emitted dim lighting onto the area beneath, and she struggled to see the digits on the battered phone. With her heart racing, her fingers trembled as they set out to punch the digits she viewed from a piece of scrap paper. Then her purse dropped. She hastily bent down to pick it up and shoved it under one arm as she again focused on dialing the number.
“Oh God! Oh God!” she cried softly, tears streaming down her soft cheeks. “Please let him be there.”
What she’d heard earlier that night had emotionally slaughtered her. It had taken a spear to her heart and ripped it clean in half. For a time she felt her spirit had even freed itself from its fleshly shell as a means for her to cope. Otherwise, the shock of the news would have surely killed her.
“Please!” she muttered as the phone started to ring.
* * * *
As if shot clear out of the belly of a volcano, the loud ringing of the telephone drove Nick out of a deep sleep. In complete darkness, he turned, felt for the handset and quickly picked it up.
“Hello,” he answered sleepily, noticing the time flashing on the little, black alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed: A quarter to ten.
Dangerous & Deadly- The Nick Myers Series Page 25