No One Is Innocent

by Gayle Tiller

  There was a clipping dated November 16, 1982 that Mama had been investigating the San Jose Fire Union for possible involvement with Bill Roberts' disappearance. Another clipping showed that the union had been cleared after Mama's death.

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  So the union had been cleared like my father said. What did my mother have to do with Bill Roberts' disappearance?

  I needed to talk to someone who I could trust.

  When I arrived at George Stone's office, he was in the lobby. He said,

  "What can I do for you?"

  "I want to talk you about Bill Roberts."

  "Bill Roberts. I already told you that I did not know who he was."

  "He was Chuck Roberts' father."

  "Oh him. I remember him vaguely. He was before my time."

  "Is there anyone who I can talk to?"

  "There's a couple of old timers I know. But they are no longer working with the department. In fact, one of them just passed away and the other is retired."

  "What's his name?"

  "Barry Brown. I remember he told me a long time ago that he was a part of the union that got investigated. He definitely would be a good source for information."

  "Is he here locally?"

  "No, he moved to Scottsdale, Arizona a few years ago. He met a teacher there and married her."

  "Do you have his address and phone number?"

  George typed "Barry Brown" on his computer and pulled up his last address and phone number. He handed it to me. He said, "Jasmine, I hope this helps you."

  "So do I."

  * * *

  A few hours later, I was in Scottsdale, Arizona. Scottsdale was a tourist stop for millionaires. Galleries had $68,000 statutes and $2,500 Hopi Indian dolls for sale. Virtually all of the Indian trading stores were white owned. Native Americans were relegated to a few stores where they earned pennies compared to their white counterparts. I knocked on the door of Barry Brown's home. An older man with a paunch and a head full of white hair opened the door. I introduced myself and asked for Barry Brown.

  He answered, "I am him. Are you with the Attorney General's office?"

  "No. Why?"

  "They are investigating the school district and the union."

  "Oh."

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  "You're not from around here."

  "No, I am from California. I am investigating the disappearance of Bill Roberts."

  "Bill Roberts. That was over twenty years ago."

  "You were involved with the union back then, weren't you?

  "Yeah, I was. And we were cleared."

  "I have a few questions."

  "Look miss, I don't know why you are here. And I don't understand why you are asking me about Bill Roberts."

  "My client is being charged with the murders of three firefighters. She is innocent. They're somehow linked to Bill Roberts."

  "Yeah, I heard about the murders. But what does Bill Roberts have to do with anything?'

  "Just before Ralph Woods was killed, Richard Carpenter e-mailed him a note telling him to stop investigating Bill Roberts' disappearance or he would be hurt by the chief investigating officer. I believe that this man ordered the deaths of Ralph Woods, Richard Carpenter and killed Dan Fulton as a cover up."

  "Then you should to go the police with that."

  "I can't, because he is the police chief."

  "Ron Myers is the Chief now. I'll be damned."

  "No, Mark Lindsey is the Police Chief and he was the chief investigating officer for Bill Roberts' disappearance."

  "No, you are wrong. Ron Myers was. I know that as a fact, because he personally interviewed me. Now what did you say that your name was?"

  Shit, Dad had lied to me. What did he have to do with Bill Roberts' disappearance? I couldn't tell this man my real name.

  I answered, "Jasmine. Jasmine Rawlings."

  "I thought you said Myers when you introduced yourself."

  I could feel the heat rising to my face. I looked at him straight in the eyes and said, "No, I told you Rawlings."

  "Hmm. Sometimes I hear things wrong. I am getting old you know."

  "Anyway Mr. Brown, can you tell me anything about Ron Myers?"

  "Lady, have you got all day? Ron is a lying sonabitch. He would do anything to screw anyone over."

  He had just insulted my father. I wanted to scream to leave my father alone. But I knew better. Instead, I said, "Really."

  "That bastard made it his business to know everyone's business. He knew about crooked cops who sold drugs and who the politicians were 184

  screwing, and just about everyone's personal business. But in the end, it hurt him."

  "How?"

  "He found out that his old lady was screwing the Mayor."

  My heart had just been ripped out of my chest. I already had gone through enough emotional pain. I couldn't believe that Mama had slept with Chuck's father. How could she? What the hell was wrong with her?

  I swallowed hard and asked, "What did he do?"

  "Myers had shit on Bill Roberts. He was a quadroon- 1/4 black who was passing for a white man. Back then for a black man to be over a city with almost no black people was almost unheard of."

  "What about Tom Bradley? He was elected to Mayor of LA back in the seventies."

  "There's over 20% blacks in Los Angeles. But in San Jose, there were less than 5% blacks. And racism was common as the flu. No, if that information was revealed, Bill Roberts' career would have been over."

  "Did Myers reveal it?"

  "No, because the union was pissed off at Bill for stacking the Civil Service Commission with non-union commissioners. Myers was hoping that the union would push him out during the election. But Bill won and a week later he disappeared."

  "How come this didn't come out during the investigation?"

  "Because like I said before Myers had shit on everybody. No one wanted to mess with him."

  "What do you think happened to Bill Roberts?"

  "The obvious. When Myers couldn't kill Roberts politically, he did it the old-fashioned way. Myers is one cold hearted calculating sonabitch."

  "What did his wife do for a living?"

  "She was the star deputy district attorney."

  "Didn't she know about her husband's plan?"

  "No. She knew nothing. She was too wrapped up with Bill."

  "Myers must have confronted her about Bill."

  "He might have. But in the end, he had nothing. His wife died a few months later of cancer. It's too bad, because they had a little girl. I wonder what happened to her."

  I wanted to blurt out; she just died learning the truth about her parents. Instead, I coolly said, "I don't know what happened to her. Anyway, if Myers killed Bill Roberts, where is the body?"

  "It is buried six feet probably under Myers' house."

  A dead man buried under the house. Dad had said the same thing.

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  Brown had to be lying. There was no way that Dad was a killer. I said,

  "So how come after all of these years, you never went to the police?"

  "I told you Myers had shit on everybody. I wasn't about to lose everything. I had fought my way out of the Indian reservation and had made a name for myself. But I was no angel. I had taken bribes that I should not have taken and screwed whores like they were going out of style. No, I was not innocent."

  "Why are you telling me this now?"

  "I just don't give a shit anymore. I am 66 years old and my liver is shot to hell and I have been diagnosed with emphysema. At most, I have a couple months left.

  Besides the same shit is happening to my wife who is the president of the teacher's union at school district. They are trying to pin shit on the union and I can tell you that my wife is one honest lady. She follows the book to the very last rule."

  "Okay, so if we need you as a witness, can I call you?"

  "Sure, if I am around."

  I drafted a declaration and handed it to Mr. Brown. I said, "Just in case you're
not, can you sign this?"

  He reviewed the declaration and signed it.

  "By the way can I have your card?"

  I thought about lying and telling him that I didn't have one. Instead, I swallowed hard and said, "I need to tell you something. My name is not Jasmine Rawlings. Rawlings is my ex-husband's name. My name is Jasmine Myers."

  Mr. Brown looked at me and said, "I know that kid. You look just like your father, but you have your mother's integrity. I am sorry that you had to learn the truth."

  "So am I."

  He then shook my hand.

  * * *

  I drove to Old Scottsdale and parked in the parking lot on Main Street. I got out of my rented car and walked around aimlessly.

  My head felt like it ready to explode. Dad had killed not one but six people. He had bugged my briefcase and lied to me. But how did he know about my meeting with the Chief? I hadn't told him. He must have bugged me after that. Maybe somehow he was innocent.

  I called Lydia Ramirez and identified myself.

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  "I was calling to see my father had spoken the Chief after I called."

  "Yes, I remember he did. He called right after you called that day."

  "Do you remember what the Chief told him?"

  "I wasn't in the habit of eavesdropping on his conversations, but the Chief did mention to me after your father's call that he had told your father that you had called and that you had scheduled a meeting with him."

  Her words made me feel queasy. That call had tipped my father off.

  He knew if I spoke to the Chief, I might have learned the truth. He had no choice but to kill the Chief. He then killed Dan to cover up his tracks.

  And once I started investigating about Grady's drug dealing and the fabricated probate, Dad had to kill again. Or the truth would come out that he had been blackmailing Grady for years. He first threatened to expose Phillip Meeks' sexual orientation. He knew that Meeks would rather kill himself than risk that kind of exposure. He then killed Grady and his wife so that Chuck could be framed. And with each killing, Dad knew that no one would link him to anything, because everyone was afraid of him.

  God, I wanted to throw up right now.

  I took a deep breath and said, "Why didn't you tell me this initially when I asked you if anyone knew about my meeting with the Chief?"

  Lydia replied, "You asked me did I tell anybody. I answered it truthfully that I hadn't. Besides, I assumed that because your father was in homicide that you would have told him about it. Why are you asking me these questions?"

  I lied, "Sometimes Dad and I compete on who will solve a crime first."

  She said in disgust, "Well, good luck to you."

  She then hung up the phone.

  God, my head was pounding and my stomach was hurting to the point where I could barely breathe. The murderer was my father and he would get the death penalty. Or if he were lucky, he would be sentenced to the rest of his life in prison. Why should he spend the rest of his life with rapists, murderers, and other criminals? But he had killed six people and that was wrong.

  But Bill Roberts had an affair with Mama. Dad couldn't help himself. It was a crime of passion.

  That might be true for Bill Roberts' murder. But he had killed three other people to cover up his tracks. Three innocent people who had done nothing to him. How could anyone with a sense of morality let him get away? Then he killed two other people. A drug dealer and his wife.

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  Kristal was not innocent. She had slept with my husband. She was an evil woman. But did she deserve to die because of my father's actions?

  But Chuck had not done anything to me. And Dad had killed his father. That was wrong. Chuck deserved justice.

  Yes, Kristal had destroyed a part of me, but not all of me. Dad had done the rest of the destruction.

  I thought I knew who Dad was. Wasn't he a kind and loving father?

  Hadn't he always been there for me?

  And if it hadn't been for Mama's affair, he never would have killed Bill Roberts. Wasn't it Mama's fault? If she had honored her marriage vows, Bill Roberts would be still alive and maybe even Mama too. She might have gotten the cancer as punishment for her adultery.

  But Bill Roberts didn't deserve to die and neither did Mama. How many people had broken their marriage vows? Had they all been punished?

  Wouldn't James find out this anyway? But Barry Brown was in such bad shape, he might not even live to testify.

  But that was ridiculous, the trial was only a few weeks away. And if he testified, Kristal's life would be spared. If not, she would be sentenced to death and when they found Chuck so would he. Even if Barry Brown didn't make it, I still had his declaration that could be produced as evidence.

  Of course, I could destroy it. If I didn't, Dad would get the death penalty. How could I do that?

  I was sick with pain. I had no idea what I was going to do.

  I drove by the store and picked up a few items and checked in a local hotel.

  I pulled out the bottle of whiskey. I stared at the bottle hard. This was the second time this week that I would be drinking. I wanted to say "no,"

  but I couldn't. Whiskey had seduced me like an old lover.

  I was in so much pain that I needed him now. One sip would be okay.

  That's all I needed. I just needed to taste it. I pressed my lips to the bottle and took a sip. God, it tasted good. I looked at the bottle and it beckoned me to take more. With each sip, I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. Within fifteen minutes, the bottle was gone.

  I wanted more and a stared at the second bottle. Yes, I had bought two bottle, because tonight was a special night. One hadn't been enough. I just needed a sip of whiskey again. That's all I needed. But it tasted so good, I couldn't stop. I wanted to finish. But I couldn't, because everything turned black.

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  25

  Chapter

  New Chapter

  When I opened my eyes, I was laying in a bed with an IV needle in my right arm. Sheila was standing over me with bloodshot eyes.

  I grumbled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "The hospital called me."

  Sheila was listed on my emergency card identification card. I didn't list Dad, because I didn't want him to know about my problem. This hadn't been the first time that I had been in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I had been in the hospital at least three other times.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry? Jasmine, if the maid hadn't found you, you would have been dead. Girl, what is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing," I lied. I couldn't tell her that Dad was a murderer.

  "Jasmine Myers, don't give me that bullshit. I didn't fly my ass all the way from San Jose to hear this bullshit. Girl, you need to come clean with me."

  "Look, it's personal."

  "It's personal my ass. Jazz, whatever it is, you can tell me. You don't need to kill yourself with alcohol. I love you like a sister and I don't want to lose you."

  "Sheila, I can't tell you. It's between me and God."

  "When did you start believing in God?"

  "Sheila, just leave me alone. I am going to be fine."

  "That's bullshit. I am not leaving until you check in a rehab center."

  "I am not going to rehab. It is a waste of time."

  "Jazz, you're going to wind up dead if you don't get help."

  "I don't need you to lecture me. I can stop if I want to."

  "That's what you always say. So what happened? Was it Keith? Me?

  Or someone else?"

  "To be honest, it was you and Keith earlier this week."

  "What? You drank earlier this week. Why didn't you tell me?"

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  "Because I didn't want to. And besides, I thought I had recovered until I… "

  "Until you what?"

  "Nothing, I can't tell you."

  "I am staying here until you tell me."

  I wailed, "Sheila, it's none of your goddamn bus
iness. Just leave me alone."

  "I am not going anywhere."

  I screamed, "Leave me alone. Get out here now."

  "Jasmine, I am not leaving."

  "I am going to call the nurse to remove you."

  "Go ahead. I am not leaving."

  I rang my buzzer and a tall heavyset woman in her mid-forties dressed in a white nurse's uniform appeared at my door.

  I said, "Nurse, I want this person removed."

  Sheila protested, "Nurse, she doesn't know what she wants. I need to stay with her."

  I said, "I don't want to see her. I want her to leave now."

  The nurse turned to Sheila and said, "She wants you to leave. My only choice is to ask you to leave."

  Sheila turned to me and said, "Jasmine, I'll be waiting for you in the lobby. You are not going anywhere without me."

  I said nothing. Sheila left.

  I looked around my bed and saw my briefcase and purse. At least, the motel had sent my belongings to the hospital. Or Sheila might have picked my things up.

  I got out of bed and took my briefcase with me to the bathroom.

  I sat on the toilet and opened my briefcase and pulled out the declaration.

  I stared at it for a long time. I wanted to flush it down the toilet, but I couldn't.

  I felt sick to my stomach. I had never really known Dad. Everything had been a lie. I wanted to confront Dad, but that would be too dangerous. If he had killed six people, he might even kill his own daughter.

  But I also knew if I did nothing, Dad would be fine until the next time he felt the need to kill again.

  I knew I needed to make a decision soon. I felt like the Unabomber's brother who had turned him into the authorities. But the Unabomber had been a deranged, sick man who killed professors and others for the hell of it.

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  At least, Dad had a reason to kill. He first killed for passion and then to cover up his tracks. But did that make Dad any better?

  No, like Barry Brown said, Dad was a cold hearted calculating sonabitch.

  And two people were depending on me to come forward. But at what price?

  I took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. I wanted to get rid of the pain that I was feeling. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.