“She and I have always had an excellent connection and yet somehow I’d missed the fact that some walls were being built between us because of our crazy work schedules. The vacation make us both realize that while work may be critically important to our sense of ourselves and our places in the world, without stepping away once in a while, we could lose our perspective.
“And while I don’t think you’re quite at the point I was when my boss kicked me out for a few weeks, I can confidently tell you that if you don’t go, your self-confidence will take a major hit when your productivity starts going to hell and you find yourself making more and more mistakes.
“So, just like my boss did for me, I’ll make the decision for you. I don’t want to hear from you until you get back. The paper will survive while you’re away. Set up an out-of-office response on your email which copies me, and refer any callers to me on your voicemail. I guarantee the Sentinel will still be here when you get back and that you’ll still have a job.”
George was a bit skeptical. The story was heating up and something different was about to happen. He needed to be here for that. He paused in his thinking and realized that ‘needed’ was the wrong word. He just ‘wanted’ to be here. Morris was more than capable of handling anything that came up and George had nothing to fear from Morris, unlike some of his friendly but competitive colleagues. No. Morris had been his mentor and George had to trust his judgment on this. Janey would be happy.
2
Janice Livingston, formerly Janice Johansen, pulled her Mercedes SUV into the garage of one of the famous Painted Ladies. She still couldn’t believe her luck in buying one. It had been decades since one of the historic Victorian houses next to Alamo Square Park in San Francisco had been on the market and when she saw it, she jumped. Not just to buy, but out of her tedious marriage with Mark.
Her house was world-renowned. As part of ‘postcard row’, it was seen in movies, television shows, and of course postcards depicting the most beautiful parts of San Francisco. From her Victorian, the views of the City were spectacular and now, all of her friends envied her.
She had the perfect life. Since the divorce, she’d become part of the rather exclusive elite social circle usually reserved for the old-money families in San Francisco.
With the settlement she’d received in the divorce, she had quit working. Actually, she had quit working before the divorce, and now, she was on the boards of several fund raising organizations, helping the less fortunate.
It was a shame about Julia Lewis. Janice had always appreciated Julia. Like Janice, Julia had left her technologist husband and had stepped into a very unique social circle. Both of them had the courage to get what they wanted out of life. Unlike many of the other technologists’ wives, they had decided not to take a back seat to their husbands’ obsessions, ridiculous working hours, and lack of social ambition. They had taken control and had created the lives they wanted.
And while she didn’t know all the details in Julia’s life, she knew that Julia had gotten out of her marriage at a good time while her husband and his company were worth something, and before he drank himself to death. Ironically, she was the only beneficiary of his multi-million dollar life insurance policy. Yes. Julia had done quite well. To some degree, Julia had inspired her to leave Mark. They had all known each other. Julia’s husband Marshall acted as sort of a mentor for Mark, Richard, and their friend Jack. When Julia left, Janice knew she could one day do the same thing. And once Mark had become successful and started to give away their fortune, Janice knew it was time.
Mark had come from a lower-class family. For him, having more money than they or their kids could spend in a lifetime was more than enough. He wanted to become a philanthropist and like many of the billionaires on the front pages, give away most of his fortune. He said they had enough money. More than enough. And no matter how much she encouraged, argued, and finally screamed, Mark was set on giving it all away. Janice couldn’t convince him that you could never have enough money. Money was the key to the next level and more money to the level after that.
Ultimately, if you really wanted to make a difference in the world, as Mark and his cohorts claimed, you needed to move into the upper echelons where real money meant real power. Mark would never get there.
So before he could give it away, Janice took her half of their fortune (a bit more than half if truth be told), and left. This house was her first major purchase and her first major statement about who she was and where she was going. She had no regrets.
Janice stepped inside the renovated Victorian and made her way upstairs into her bedroom.
It was really too bad about Julia. At least she’d lived the life she wanted.
Janice stepped into the walk in closet off her luxurious bathroom and kicked off her shoes. Entering the bathroom, she turned on the water in the free-standing curved tub that she’d special ordered from England. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but admit that she was getting older. Sure, she still looked good to the outside world, but makeup and clothes hid wrinkles and skin that was beginning to sag. You could only do so much with cosmetic surgery.
She was still attractive, and she’d used that to seduce several much-younger lovers soon after the divorce. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was probably time to marry again. She could certainly find someone older and wealthier who wouldn’t impact her freedom, who could take her to the next level, and ultimately leave her his fortune. She started running through the list of potential targets from the attendees at that last fundraiser. She was sure they’d be sympathetic to the loss of her friend Julia.
Janice was suddenly startled by a dark movement behind her. She started to turn but was seized from behind. In the mirror, all she could see was a figure in black. She could now feel that he was wearing a wetsuit, complete with booties, gloves and a hood. It took a moment for her to recognize him. But she knew those eyes.
“What are you doing? Let me –“
But she never finished her demand. She felt steel against her wrist as he pulled her right hand towards her head. In an explosion of sound and light, the bullet pierced her brain and killed her instantly.
The killer placed the gun in her hand and closed her fingers around it. He double checked to make sure there was no blood dripping from his wetsuit, then verified that the note he’d put on the bed was still there. He drained the tub, left through the side door off the garage, walked casually to the Audi Allroad parked half a block away, and left the scene.
3
George was sound asleep next to Janey when his cell phone buzzed loudly enough to wake him.
“This is George,” he answered sleepily.
“We’ve got him George,” replied an excited Mike McKensey.
“Got who?”
“The killer. I can’t believe he was this sloppy, but there’s no doubt. We have a witness, evidence in his car and at his home, and his computer has emails that he sent to you. Come on down and I’ll fill in the details.”
George hung up and Janey asked. “Who have they got, George?”
“Well, I don’t know how they did it, Mike says they have the killer. He sounded both happy and puzzled. He said something about the guy being sloppy in leaving evidence, but he was also convinced that they had the right guy.”
“George, I’ve never asked this before but I know I’m not going back to sleep, so could I tag along?”
George thought about it for a second and couldn’t see any reason why not.
“Sure. Can you be ready in five?”
“I’ll be ready before you are!”
And indeed she was.
At four am there was no traffic as George and Janey raced up highway 101 to San Francisco. Driving at seventy-five miles an hour, they made it to the Hall of Justice in less than forty minutes. Mike McKensey came out to greet them at reception, clasped George’s hand warmly and threw his arm around his shoulder.
“Thanks for comin
g up so early, George. I wanted to be sure you were the first with the story. I assume this is Mrs. Gray? Mike McKensey,” Mike said offering his hand to Janey.
“Call me Janey, Mike!”
“George has told us a lot about you. He says you’re quite the hacker.”
“Actually, Mike, while I do know my way around the Net and most systems, I like to think of myself as a software engineer, not just a hacker. But let’s not get into the difference now. I’m just here as George’s ride. I hope you don’t mind if I sit in.”
“Not at all. I would, however, ask you to keep our discussions confidential, aside from George, of course.”
“Absolutely!”
“Okay. Let’s get started. I can’t give you all the details because the investigation is just starting. Forensics is going to take a while as is our examination of the suspect’s computer. But here’s what I can tell you officially for your story.
“Last night around eleven pm, Janice Livingston was murdered in her home – one of the Painted Ladies up on Steiner. It was set up to look like a suicide and the suspect did a pretty good job. There was gunshot residue on the victim’s hand, and what appeared to be a hand-written suicide note. From the initial forensic collection, not much was found that wasn’t the victim’s.
“If it weren’t for a neighbor who was walking her dog, we might well have concluded that it was a suicide. Or at least it would have taken us a while.
“She reported seeing a flash and hearing what sounded like a muffled gunshot inside an upstairs window of Janice Livingston’s house, then seeing a man dressed head-to-toe in black - she seemed to think he was wearing a wetsuit – coming out of Ms. Livingston’s property – the side door next to the garage. You’ve seen these houses, right? They appear to be butted up against each other, but actually have a small side yard separating them. There are doors leading into those yards and she saw him coming out of one. She saw him get into a dark Audi station wagon and actually got a plate number.
“Patrol officers knocked on the door and getting no response, popped open the side door, entered the unlocked garage and then the house and found the victim dead with a gunshot wound to the head.”
“We traced the plate to the victim’s ex-husband. His name is Mark Johansen. He’s the CEO of Johatchen Software.”
“I’ve met him,” Janey interjected as Mike paused. “He’s a brilliant guy. I wouldn’t have taken him for a killer. Didn’t he have some kind of mental breakdown a few months ago?” Then looking at Mike and a stunned George, Janey apologized, “Oh! Sorry about that. It’s just that this case has been driving George crazy. I’ll just listen. Sorry.”
“No problem,” Mike replied warmly. “I’m kind of excited about it myself. George is not the only one going crazy over this case.
“Anyway, we got a warrant, and woke the suspect up at about one o’clock. He seemed genuinely surprised and said he’d been home and in bed since ten pm. He said his medication made it almost impossible to stay up any later. We arrested him and he called a lawyer. He’s in custody and will be arraigned this morning.
“Forensics got to work, and as I said, this is only preliminary. One of our techs found what he called a secondary email account in a hidden folder and found emails that he sent to you. At the same time, they started a search of the premises and the surrounding area but so far, no wetsuit has been found.
“So while we don’t have a complete case, it looks like this is going to be pretty solid. His mental health issues may be a complication, but that’s for the courts to figure out. I did find out that the focus of his mental breakdown was rage at his ex-wife. So it’s looking pretty good. He also knew both of the other victims.”
“Why the wetsuit?” George asked.
‘Yeah. That one bothers me a bit. We see this with pros – professional killers. It’s a great way to stump our forensic teams as the perps don’t leave any trace evidence. I was surprised to see it in a case like this.”
“And you said something about a hand-written note?”
“Yeah, if we hadn’t thought it was a murder, we probably wouldn’t have looked more closely. According to our techs, there are now apps available where you can scan someone’s handwriting and then you can write using that handwriting. They’ve even gone so far as to introduce normal irregularities since no one writes a character exactly the same each time. With close examination, our guys quickly determined that it was printed. Not sure how they did that so fast, but isn’t technology wonderful?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” George replied thoughtfully. “But what do you really think? Is this the guy?”
Mike took a deep breath and shook his head before responding.
“Officially, I have to say yes. He was the victim’s ex. His car was spotted at the scene. He’s had psychological problems and has had issues with his ex. Emails to you for this and the other murders were in his Sent Mail folder. It seems pretty open and shut.”
“Off the record, I have to wonder why he would set himself up like this. It seems like he was much smarter with the other murders. Plus, why try to hide it as a suicide? He didn’t do that before.”
“Officially, all I can say is that we have a suspect. We have evidence. I think the DA will be happy with what we have so far and I’m sure we’ll have more soon. You can go with that for your story.”
“And off the record?”
Mike looked hesitantly at Janey.
“My lips are sealed,” she stated solemnly.
“Okay. Off the record. Ah. It doesn’t feel right. All the evidence is there, but it feels like a set up. It’s too easy, and you’re right. From the emails and the previous murders, our perp was much smarter. And I’ve gotta tell you. When I confronted Mark Johansen, he really didn’t have a clue. I may not be perfect at spotting liars, but with more than thirty years on the job, I’m pretty good at it. This guy was completely surprised by what had happened. So unless his psychological problems include some kind of multiple personality thing, I have my doubts. Officially, he’s the one. Bob’s convinced. The chief is happy. But me, I’m going to continue digging behind the scenes.”
“I know I said I’d be quiet,” Janey began tentatively. “But do you know if the emails or the folders were encrypted? Do you know if there was special encryption code on his systems?”
“Ah. No. I’ll ask the techs. Is there something I should know about this?”
“Not yet,” Janey replied enigmatically. “I’ve been chasing something for George regarding the emails from both the killer and from the Internet bad guy informant. I have a lead but I need to confirm it and unlike your guys, what I’m trying is going to take a while. If I find something interesting, George can get it to you.”
“I definitely will,” George responded nervously. “In the meantime, I’ll get a preliminary story out based on the official facts as you’ve given them to me. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up. But as you know, I’m leaving in a few days on vacation. “
Mike raised his overly bushy eyebrows. “Vacation at a time like this?”
“Boss’ orders. Morris will be filling in for me.”
“God! I haven’t had a real vacation in years. Don’t tell me. It’s Hawaii, right?”
“Tahiti!”
“You guys are killing me. Get out of here!”
4
Sharon Katell waited in the conference room on the second floor of the Hall of Justice in San Francisco. She’d just entered two pleas on behalf of Mark Johansen. The first was not-guilty and the second was not-guilty by reason of insanity.
In California, the State had to prove the accused was guilty, and if they succeeded, there would be a separate hearing to determine if the defendant were legally insane.
Sharon had only spent a few minutes with Mark before the arraignment and she felt this was the best strategy. It didn’t admit guilt of the crime itself and put more pressure on the State to prove all of its case.
But then, just before entering the
courtroom, she bumped into Marcia Burke, the Assistant DA who had been assigned the case. After hearing all the evidence against Mark and being told that in a few days, she’d be adding charges for the murders of Ashima James and Julia Lewis, Sharon wondered if she should have saved everyone time and money by skipping the not-guilty plea and just pleading insanity.
No. She’d have plenty of time to change the not-guilty plea if she needed to. For now, it was important she spend some time with Mark. The deputies had promised they would bring him right in, but she’d already been waiting nearly twenty minutes.
Sharon had been practicing law in San Francisco for over twenty years. Initially working for the DA’s office, she had decided to leave to open up her own defense practice. Some of her coworkers thought she had left to escape the ridiculous pressure, work hours, and case-frustrating politics. Others were sure she wanted to capitalize on what she had learned to get rich off scumbag defendants. And almost all who remained believed she had gone over to the dark side.
But the truth was that it wasn’t the hours, the low pay, or the politics. No. After successfully prosecuting dozens of criminal cases herself, and assisting in dozens more, Sharon saw that many defendants were just chewed up by the system. In spite of limited budgets, the DA’s office had too much power. Add in the police, investigators, and a juror’s initial belief that when a defendant’s case actually went to trial, where there was smoke, there was fire. Innocent until proven guilty was a nice theory, but for average citizens and particularly for indigent defendants, the System was stacked against them. Once caught up in the juggernaut of police reports, forensic science that could baffle even the most educated, and the prestige of the State, these defendants were ill-equipped to get a truly fair trial.
After law school and years of practice, Sharon had begun to question the adversary system. It worked fine if the two adversaries entered the courtroom on equal footing. But that just wasn’t the case in criminal courtrooms.
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