Alibi

by Teri Woods

  “Watch out!” yelled Chambers as he pushed Lang into the safety of a doorway that was two feet inside the hallway, body pressing her away from harm. He peeked around the tiny corner of the cubby entrance. The coast was clear.

  “Come on,” he said, nodding to Lang as gunshots could be heard from outside. Tommy had given strict orders that there was to be no exchange of gunfire that could hurt his star witness. An FBI agent, using a bullhorn, was offering fake assurances to Ray J, who was hiding behind a tree and using Daisy as a human shield. Ray J quickly took out his clip and replaced it, fully loaded and ready.

  “I got him, I got a clear shot,” an agent could be heard through the headpiece plugged into Delgado’s ear.

  “Take him,” he said, believing the kid would make the shot.

  But as his aim was off by two inches, and there was a sudden movement by Ray J himself, the sniper hit dead on his shoulder bone, shattering it into a thousand pieces inside his flesh.

  “Aaahhh!” Daisy screamed for help as Ray J took the hit to his shoulder, letting her go, screaming in pain. He reached for his arm, and another bullet pierced his chest cavity, knocking him back onto the ground, where he crawled against the tree. The sniper from the roof zeroed in on Ray J, looking through the scope of his rifle. Ray J no longer had Daisy to use as a human shield. He was outnumbered and he knew it. He lifted his gun and pointed it at Daisy. The gunshot seemed surreal. Tommy Delgado fired it right above Daisy’s head, taking the chance she wouldn’t interrupt its path. Daisy turned around to see Ray J with his gun in hand, pointed at her, and a bullet hole right between his eyes, before he fell back onto the ground right beside her.

  “It’s my favorite shot,” he shouted, looking at Daisy, who looked as if she was about to faint. “Daisy Mae Fothergill?” he asked.

  Unable to speak, she shook her head yes. Delgado held out his hand, helped her up.

  “I’m Detective Delgado, do you remember me?”

  Daisy softly shook her head yes again.

  “We talked a while back. I’m here now and I’m going to take care of you. Everything will be all right,” he said as a broken and frightened Daisy Mae began to cry in his arms. “It’s okay, we’re going back home now.”

  BANKING BUSINESS

  Bobby DeSimone entered CFCF on State Road. Politely, he held the door for a young black girl pushing a baby stroller. I would never want my kids to come through the door of this place, even if it were to visit me. And he meant it. This was no place for children. No place at all for them. He bypassed the waiting line, walked over to a desk, and spoke with a corrections officer who politely escorted him to a private waiting area.

  “Probably be about twenty minutes. They just finished up count. I’ll let the CO on his block know you’re here.”

  Within fifteen minutes, Bernard Guess was being seated at a table in a room where DeSimone was waiting for him.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, as he placed his handcuffed wrists on the table in front of him.

  “Me neither, kid, but something’s come up. The police got the girl.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Nard.

  “I called Sticks and his girlfriend claimed that him and some guy named Ray J—do you know him?”

  “No,” responded Nard, unfamiliar with the name.

  “Well, they were both killed in a shootout with the police down in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.”

  “What were they doing there?” said Nard, as he thought of the consequences of Sticks’s death. Damn, not Sticks, that was my man.

  “I don’t know, but one of my sources claims that the girl was taken into custody after the shootout with the police.”

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “Well, it means that I can’t speak to her. It means that I can’t confirm that she’s giving us an alibi, and then this morning, I get a call from the DA’s office. They took the case down to manslaughter and offered you a plea bargain of fifteen to twenty years, eligible for parole in eight.”

  Is he insane, I’m not taking no plea deal. The girl got the alibi for me. What’s wrong with him, is he trying to hang me? He just don’t want to do the work.

  “Hell, no, is you crazy. I’m not doing no fucking eight years,” said Nard, pounding his hands on the table. “I got an alibi, the girl told you, she told the investigator, it’s done. Sticks told me not to worry.”

  “Yeah, but Sticks is dead now and I can’t talk to this girl. I just think that if there’s a chance—”

  “Man, look, I’m not taking no plea deal. Fuck fifteen to twenty. What kind of deal is that anyway? There’s no chance I’d make parole in eight years. I’m stuck. Naw, I know for certain what my man Sticks said, and he said we had nothing to worry about. He said the girl was straight and he took care of her. She’s definitely going to do the right thing.”

  “You’re willing to take that chance?”

  “What choice do I got? That plea bargain shit you got ain’t no option.”

  “It’s just that I think—”

  “No, I think you need to realize I’m not doing no prison time. Listen, I got an alibi. I got the girl. She’s going to do the right thing, trust me. Her testimony is in the bag, Sticks told me not to worry.”

  “So, you want me to turn the deal down.”

  “Fuck that deal, I’m not going to jail. Watch, everything is going to work out.”

  Bobby DeSimone looked at Nard and even he himself began to believe in his confidence.

  “You’re right, if you got the alibi then why plead out anyway, right?”

  “Right.”

  Daisy was taken into police protective custody where she would remain. The police, after what had happened in Tennessee, felt it better to be safe than sorry. Daisy had returned with Agents Lang and Chambers and was under their protection. It turns out that the bank error she thought was a bank error wasn’t an error at all. She was a cohost in the biggest counterfeit check scam that the banking industry had seen. Over $70 million in counterfeit checks had been passed over the last five years and here finally was the missing link.

  “Hi, Daisy, can I get you some coffee, juice, soda, water, perhaps?” asked Agent Lang as she closed the door behind her and seated herself at her desk.

  “Um, no, I’m fine,” said Daisy. “Thank you, though.”

  “So, Daisy, what happened to the fifty thousand dollars you took out of the bank.”

  Daisy was completely caught off guard. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to give it back. She needed that money so she wouldn’t have to strip or dance again.

  “Well, I spent it, I guess.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars, you spent it, in less than two months?”

  “Mmm hmm,” she said, lying through her teeth.

  “What did you spend it on?”

  “Well, I sort of spent it on a bunch of stuff.”

  “Do you know whose money that is, Daisy?” asked Vivian, curious to hear her answer.

  “Well, I guess it belongs to the bank.”

  “Where did the check come from?”

  “I don’t know, I never saw no check.”

  “So, you just woke up one morning and decided to go take fifty thousand dollars out of the bank that you knew wasn’t yours.”

  “Well, I thought the bank made some kind of error and yeah, I woke up and went on down to the bank and got the money. I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “Have you ever seen this check before?”

  “No,” said Daisy, staring at a check in the amount of fifty thousand dollars.

  “Is that your signature?”

  “No, ma’am, not mine.”

  “This check is counterfeit.”

  “Well, if it’s counterfeit, why’d the bank give me the money?”

  “At the time, they didn’t know. I want you to do me a favor. I want you to look at the bank’s video surveillance and I want you to tell me if you recognize anyone in the bank.”

>   Vivian Lang walked around her desk to a television that was sitting kitty-corner in her office on a steel rack. She grabbed the remote, sat on the corner of her desk, and pressed play. Daisy watched patiently as an old woman walked into the bank, with Reggie Carter, her missing man.

  “Oh, my God, that’s Reggie, and that’s his… his mom.”

  “His mother?” questioned Lang.

  “Yeah, his mom.”

  This case was getting weirder and weirder by the second. They finished looking at the tapes and Daisy just couldn’t believe it. Reggie and his mother had a counterfeit check they put in her account. She watched the tape of the old woman coming into the bank trying to take the money, and leaving rather hastily on finding out the account was frozen.

  “They must have gotten scared and left after hearing your account was frozen,” said Lang, throwing the possibility out in the air to see Daisy’s reaction. Truth hurts, and the look on Daisy’s face said she was in agonizing pain.

  “Must have,” said Daisy, shocked and embarrassed that Reggie was a bank thief, not the businessman she thought he was.

  “When is the last time you saw him?” asked Lang, marking the date on her notepad. It was actually the same day he made the bank deposit. Poor girl, I wonder does she get the picture like I do, thought Lang. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out. He was only using her.

  Daisy sat still, thinking to herself, unable to believe that Reggie Carter was just a lie. But I thought he loved me. Once the bank said the account was frozen, he had no choice but to roll out; he thought the FBI and the bank were on to him. But Reggie thought wrong. The FBI and the bank weren’t on to him. They were on to Daisy. The only reason Daisy’s account had been frozen was that she had been cashing Abigail’s Social Security checks. The problem was Abigail was dead. When the government finally did receive the death certificate, they immediately credited that money back to the government, charging the bank. The bank then went after Daisy for the money, freezing the account and marking her in the hole. So, when Reggie came along and got her banking information, and then deposited the check, the check cleared, but the account was frozen. Once Daisy realized she was fifty thousand dollars richer and went into the bank, the freeze was lifted, and she was given the money minus her debt to the bank. Agent Lang’s video surveillance showed it all.

  “That’s Reggie Carter,” said Daisy. “That’s him right there.”

  It would be proven later that his name wasn’t Reggie Carter at all, but Jackson Fontaine. The woman who she thought to be his mother, the one he had introduced as his mother, really wasn’t. She was the “check maker,” the actual key to the entire operation. Reggie’s talent lay in knowing how to target the unsuspecting. He knew all along what she did for a living—that’s why he targeted her; he wanted sex. He wasn’t lacking in mental acuity by any means. He robbed banks and got away free, clean, and clear—until Daisy Mae, that is. She was the first real link to a name and a face that Agent Lang had throughout the entire database.

  And with all the information that Daisy had on him, she would prove to be a valuable resource for Agents Lang and Chambers. It was a long, sordid, ugly scenario, and once Daisy looked at the videotapes and got a full understanding of the situation, she was overwhelmed with grief. I really thought he loved me. When she told her story to Agent Lang, how she quit her job, was house hunting, and really thought he was going to marry her, even Agent Lang felt remorseful.

  “Listen, this is a lesson. You live, you learn. Don’t beat yourself up, okay. I just need you to do one more thing for me, Daisy.”

  She sat Daisy in a room with a piece of paper and a pen, cameras secretly rolling. “I need you to sign this paper for me one hundred times, okay?”

  “Just my mother’s name?”

  “Yup, that’s it, just your mother’s name.” Agent Lang smiled at her as she closed the door. She walked no more than a yard away, opened a door, and stood next to her partner as they watched Daisy signing her mother’s signature through a mirrored wall.

  “If this girl fails the stenography test, I will put her in the penitentiary myself,” said Lang.

  “Yeah, I’m hoping she didn’t sign that check too. I sort of feel sorry for her, so far her story pans out and everything she’s told us about this Carter character has been right on point. She was the missing link,” said Chambers.

  “We’ll see. I hope so,” Lang added, watching Daisy through the glass wall.

  Lang rushed the signature pages to be analyzed by a team of handwriting specialists. Tommy paced up and down the floor.

  “I’m telling you, Viv, she’s telling the truth, I can feel it. She didn’t know what that scumbag was doing. He was just using her, that’s it.”

  “You bet on your gut, I’m strictly science and what can be proven,” said Vivian. “But I do hope you’re right this time, Tommy Delgado,” she said, placing a call to Chambers to see if he’d heard anything yet.

  Sure enough, the finding was that Daisy did not endorse the counterfeit check. Had that been the case, Daisy would have been going to prison for a really long time. Be that as it may, the fact that she cooperated with Agents Lang and Chambers and helped them in their investigation freed and cleared her and the debt of fifty thousand dollars that was owed to the bank was mysteriously wiped out of the system and marked paid. By the time Agents Lang and Chambers were ready to release Daisy from their custody, Detectives Tommy Delgado and Merva Ross were patiently waiting for her.

  “You ready, kid?” asked Tommy.

  “No, not really,” said Daisy, knowing that she was about to testify and then go into police protective custody. Her life would never be the same. She thought of everything that had happened, all because she gave the alibi. I miss my family, I miss Tennessee, she thought, wondering if she’d ever see either again.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be a piece of cake,” assured Merva, placing her hand on Daisy’s shoulder, escorting her out of the federal building and into the back of an unmarked police car with tinted wondows.

  STANDING OVATION

  Daisy looked around the courtroom at the rows and rows of people as she was led in from a private back room. It would be the same room that she would be escorted back to before being transferred out and relocated into police protective custody. She had been rehearsed for countless hours by the district attorney’s office. And she had grappled with herself for days about what in her heart she knew she had to do. For her it was do or die. And at the rate she was going, she would be dead, if not for Tommy Delgado and Vivian Lang. After the shootout at the Shalat Apartment Homes, Daisy really feared for her life. And why should she not? Right now, she was the target, she was the alibi, she was the one being put on display, and she was the one most sought after. The judge had refused to allow the use of cameras or video and ordered all media to stand outside. Even newspaper journalists were barred from his courtroom. When faced with testimony from those in police protective custody, the judge always used precautions. Today’s testimony would be made of record and dispersed to the media by the judge’s law clerk after the stenographer transcribed it.

  Daisy was led to the stand, her eyes bouncing around the courtroom, desperately trying to find a focus. She was so nervous she had tears in her eyes. She didn’t know if she could go through with it, but she was yearning for it to be over. She was nervous, so nervous she felt her stomach churning, and her mouth began to water as she climbed the steps and sat in the chair. She remembered what Detective Ross had said to her.

  “Don’t look at him. Don’t make any eye contact with him. Stare away from him. I don’t want him looking at you all crazy, trying to intimidate you, right, Tommy?” asked Merva as they were prepping her one last time in the tiny courthouse room.

  “Yeah, she’s right, this guy is a creep. Don’t look at him at all, okay, kid?” he said, realizing that she was just a kid, a twenty-two-year-old kid, who had gotten herself in the worst trouble imaginable.

  “W
ill you stand and place your hand on the Bible?” And of course she did, glancing over at the rows of jurors, twenty-four eyeballs all glued on her.

  “Is the testimony that you are about to give today the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” The question rang in her mind as her hand lay on the Bible. She had not seen a Bible since her days at the Trinity Spirit Worship House, and she thought back to all the peace and solace she had found in Tennessee.

  “Yes, it is,” she said assuredly.

  “You may be seated.”

  Daisy sat down as the district attorney who had briefed her walked over to the podium where she was seated. Daisy chose to make the sheriff standing at the back door her focal point. She would look at the door, the sheriff, and the district attorney.

  “Would you state your name for the record, please?”

  “Daisy Mae Fothergill,” said Daisy as she glanced over at the jurors once again.

  “Okay, on the night of November 5, 1986, where were you?”

  “I believe I was working that night,” said Daisy, her apprehension subsiding.

  “And where did you work at?”

  “At the time, I was working at the Honey Dipper.”

  “What kind of work did you do at the Honey Dipper, Ms. Fothergill?”

  “I was a stripper and an exotic dancer.”

  “On the night of November 5, 1986, do you recall seeing this man, a patron at the Honey Dipper?”

  Daisy paused as her eyes met Nard’s, which were fixed on her in a silent plea. Daisy quickly turned her head, remembering what Detective Ross had said.

  “No, I do not recall seeing him there,” she said, poised and composed.

  It was at that moment, it was those words, it was unbelievable, to say the least, but all Nard’s hopes and dreams escaped him, there was a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t think. This isn’t supposed to be happening. That’s not what the fuck that bitch is supposed to be saying. What the fuck is she doing? What part of the game is this? What the fuck, Sticks, this bitch is drowning me. She’s selling me the fuck out! His eyes drew small as he watched her breathe every word she spoke against him. How can she? Sticks said it would be okay. What is she doing? What the fuck is going on? His head began to spin and his heart began to pound. He couldn’t believe everything he had been told was a lie. He thought he had an alibi. He thought he was walking out of the courtroom. He thought he was straight.