Oliver can’t answer those questions, and I sure can’t, so I give up and we head into court. Steinkamp looks surprised to see Oliver; I doubt Steinkamp expected me to recall the cop that arrested Matt.
“Captain Oliver, an event took place the other night at the Maine Lighthouse brewery. Can you describe for the jury what happened?”
I imagine that most if not all of the jurors are familiar with it, since it was big news here.
Oliver describes the raid, emphasizing the substantial nature of the drug operation that was taken down.
“Did Peter Charkin work for the Maine Lighthouse brewery?” I ask.
“Yes, until not long before his death.”
“And there was testimony earlier that the toxicological report on Charkin showed a substantial level of opioids in his system?”
“That’s correct.”
“Were they synthetic? The same type as manufactured at the Maine Lighthouse brewery?”
“Yes.”
“There was also evidence that Charkin had been receiving cash in large increments, and had five thousand in cash in his apartment when he died. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did he have a job at that time?”
“No, he had already left the company.”
“Do you know the circumstances under which he left?”
“That is unclear.”
“Could he have had a falling out with his employer?”
“Certainly possible.”
“Over drugs?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Could he possibly have been blackmailing them, threatening to expose their operation?”
Steinkamp objects that it is speculation, and Pressley sustains. That’s fine; I’ve planted the possibility in the jurors’ minds.
“Is there an organized crime connection to this case? Were the drugs being distributed as part of a larger criminal conspiracy?”
“That is under investigation, so I can’t get into details. But there certainly is such a connection.”
“Are these people, in your view, capable of murder?”
“No question about it.”
“Are you familiar with the name Henry Stokan?”
“Yes. Mr. Stokan was an enforcer who did some work for that criminal organization.”
“A hit man?”
“I prefer the term enforcer,” Oliver says.
“Was there a connection between Mr. Charkin and Mr. Stokan?”
“Yes, though in our original investigation we were not able to determine the significance.”
“Is Mr. Stokan here today?”
“No, Mr. Stokan was recently murdered. His body was found in the river with a bullet in his head.”
“So in your original investigation you were able to connect Mr. Charkin to a number of very dangerous people?”
“Yes, that’s safe to say.”
“Was Mr. Jantzen one of them?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
Steinkamp starts by saying, “That’s quite a story, Captain. Congratulations on your successful operation the other night.”
“Thank you.”
“You mentioned some dangerous people, and you alluded to others. Do you have any evidence at all that one of those people killed Tina Welker and Peter Charkin?”
“No.”
“Not a shred?”
“We have no such evidence.”
“Did any of these evil people leave their blood and DNA at the murder scene?”
“No.”
“You said that there is an organized crime connection, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“In your experience, when hired hit men kill someone on behalf of organized crime, do they take pains to make it look like a home invasion?”
“Not in my experience.”
“Do they generally frame someone else with forensic evidence?”
“Not in my experience.”
“Of course not. Their victims are, like Mr. Stokan, found in the river with a bullet in their heads. No further questions.”
I am not going to question our DNA expert.
I spoke to her briefly the other night on the phone, and that was enough for me to make my decision. Charlie Tilton knows this stuff much better than me, and he’s willing to do it, so I’m going to let him.
It’s basically an act of self-preservation. The subject matter is so dry, and the likelihood of anything being said to sway the jury is so small, that my brain would explode if I had to participate.
And like I said, Charlie will do a better job.
So I’ll half listen to the testimony with my unexploded brain, since I know what each of them are going to say. With the other half of my brain I’ll take the time to agonize about the many things that are bugging me. It feels like a puzzle with pieces missing, and the ones I have don’t seem to fit.
Our expert is Ruth Kennedy, a criminology professor at Boston University, who makes a nice living doubling as an expert witness, with a specialty in forensics.
Charlie takes her through her curriculum vitae, which I am sure would be impressive if I were listening.
The FBI being concerned about this case is bugging me. They are involved in the militia side of things, and I have obviously helped them in that regard. But why would they be worried about Captain Oliver’s potential testimony about Charkin and Mitchell and Donnelly and the drug side of Charkin’s life?
“So the DNA in this case was partially degraded?” Charlie asks.
Kennedy nods. “No question about it. That’s why PCR was necessary to get a type.”
The name that has started to emerge from the deep recesses of my mind is Henry Stokan. Stokan was stalking me for no particularly good reason. He wasn’t going to scare me off, and he didn’t make an attempt to kill me.
Killing me, or even beating me up, would have been illogical and counterproductive. It would have drawn more attention to Jerry Donnelly, and a person with Donnelly’s experience in matters of this kind would have known better.
“Could the high temperature that day have caused the degradation?” Charlie asks.
“Certainly, if the sample was exposed to it for any length of time. There is no way to determine that either way from the notes, and Sergeant Rojas is unfortunately not here to explain his actions.”
When Marcus dealt with Stokan that night, Stokan gave up Donnelly’s name easily. That’s another strange thing: Why would he do that? There was certainly a chance he could end up in the river. In fact, he did.
He also said that Charkin did not get drugs from Donnelly or his lieutenant/dealer Carmody. Why say that? Why make something like that up if it wasn’t true? How would lying about that help Stokan?
It wouldn’t.
“What about the lengthy period of time that it took between the sample being taken from the victim’s hand and when it was checked into the lab?”
Kennedy nods. “Again, it all depends on what happened during that period of time. But I assure you, a delay like that runs counter to accepted procedures, here and everywhere.”
We know that Stokan had done some enforcer work for Donnelly, but in trying to scare or hurt me, could he have been working for someone else?
And where did Charkin fit into all of this? Was he a bit player, on the fringe of these criminal worlds? Or was he somehow at or near the center?
“Have you studied the storage procedures that were used in the van and at the lab?”
“Yes, and there is a great deal that concerns me.”
Furthermore, I do not understand why McCaskill was killed. If he was an FBI informant who had turned on the FBI and was working for Darrin Jeffrey and the militia, why would they have killed him?
“What are some other ways that blood DNA could become degraded in the way it was in this case?”
“Besides temperature and a long period of time, certainly ultraviolet light could do it, or simple irradiation.”
; Charlie responds with another question, but I don’t hear it. I need to get out of this courtroom.
But I can’t, at least, not right now.
I tell Charlie during the afternoon break that he needs to use up the rest of the day questioning the witness.
“Are you nuts? I ran out of material ten minutes ago. The jurors are so bored they have a bridge game going.”
“I don’t care what you say, but we can’t adjourn our case today. Tell the judge we’ll have more witnesses on Monday. I need the weekend.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later. Meanwhile, I’ve got to get out of here.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. Can’t be helped. If the judge asks what’s going on, tell her that I have full confidence in you. No, she’ll never believe that. Tell her I’m not feeling well.”
“Wiseass.”
I look at my watch and see that only five minutes remain until the end of the break. I want to be out of here by then, but first I have to talk to my client, who is still sitting at the defense table.
“Matt, something’s come up. We only have a few minutes.”
“What is it?”
“You told me that when you left Maine originally, it was because things were not going well. You said you had a friend who died of cancer.”
“Right. Carl Blanchard.”
“Right. We need to talk about Carl Blanchard.”
My first call is to Laurie to run it by her, to give her a chance to tell me I’m nuts.
She doesn’t; I can tell by the excitement in her voice that she thinks I’m right. I’m heading for the hotel, so I ask her to get the team together for a meeting in our room in a couple of hours.
I have two important calls to make to enlist help for what I need. The first one is to Ginny Lawson, Tina Welker’s friend and coworker at the hospital.
I get a message that the department is closed until Monday, so I try her on the cell phone number she gave me. “Ginny, I have a big favor to ask you.”
“What is it?” She sounds wary, which is not surprising. I am, after all, still representing the person she thinks killed her friend.
“I need you to go to your office at the hospital.”
“It’s closed. They’ve been renovating each weekend and they’re turning over the machines tomorrow night.”
“What exactly does ‘turning over the machines’ mean?”
“Replacing the cesium cores.”
“Even though the office is closed, can you get in to retrieve something? It will just take a few minutes.”
“What do you need?”
I tell her, but it doesn’t reduce her skepticism. “What will that accomplish?”
“I believe it will help me prove who actually killed your friend.”
There’s a pause. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you. Can you email it to me?”
She promises to do that, so I give her my email address.
One down, one big one to go.
My next call is to Captain Oliver, who groans when he hears that it’s me. It’s a reaction I have heard many times in my life.
“What is it this time?”
“I’m sorry, but is this the guy I turned into a state hero? The guy who because of me will likely be promoted to a position way above his level of competence?”
“You called to insult me? I testified for you. What do you want me to do now, arrest the members of the jury before they can deliberate?”
“What I am about to do for you will make the raid at the brewery feel like just another day at the office.”
“I’m listening.” The change in tone in his voice is clear. I delivered for him the first time, so I have legal street cred.
“But there are things you have to do for me.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And the whole thing has to be done on my terms; I am calling the shots. Otherwise I turn it over to the FBI, and they get the glory.”
“You going to get to the point anytime soon?”
“My terms?”
A beat, and then, “Unless you’re asking me to do something illegal.”
“I’m not. If you have any weekend plans, cancel them.”
Bail was set at $2 million in the Mike Mitchell case, which is why he is currently sitting in county jail.
According to Charlie Tilton, Mitchell is arranging for the money to be posted, but it takes time because the value of some houses and property he owns has to be assigned. That is expected to be accomplished on Monday, but since this is only Saturday, he’s still sitting there, exactly where I want him.
When I arrive at the jail, the director is waiting for me. “Good morning, Mr. Carpenter. We’ve been expecting you.”
“I assume you spoke to Captain Oliver?”
“At length.”
“And you’ve set up the interview?”
“I have. It’s quite unusual for Mitchell not to have the option of having his lawyer present.”
“He can refuse to talk to me or ask for the lawyer.”
“Very well. Mr. Mitchell will be brought into the interview room momentarily.”
“Does he know he’ll be talking to me?”
“I don’t believe so, no. Was he supposed to be so informed?”
“Doesn’t matter; he’ll find out soon enough.”
The director brings me into an interview room, and a guard brings Mitchell in a few minutes later. He is handcuffed and in prison garb; this is a guy who has experienced a fall from grace.
“Shit. What do you want?” Then, “Actually, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“You think you don’t, but you do. Because I’m here to make your situation better. Not great, but much better.”
This seems to get his attention. “You’ve got five minutes.”
I shake my head. “You’re the one running out of time. And you’ve got one chance; don’t blow it. Right now you’re charged with a major drug offense. It’s a big deal, but it’s not mass murder. So you can be on the right side of this, or the wrong side. Because I know everything.”
I’m lying about this. What I have are suspicions. Strong ones, but suspicions. I need Mitchell to confirm it all.
“You don’t know anything.”
“Really? Let’s start with this. I know that Tina Welker was the target that night.”
I watch his facial expressions and body language go from surprise, to surrender, to trying to figure out the best course for himself.
Finally he nods. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“No, Mitchell. I’m the one listening. You need to start talking. You testify to what you know, and I can promise you that Captain Oliver will go to bat for you. You’ll plead it out, serve a few years, and spend the rest of your life sampling craft beer.
“You keep quiet and you’ll go down as a mass murderer. Either way we’re breaking this up, and your partners will sell you out in a heartbeat.”
He thinks about it. “Okay.”
“How did Tina Welker get involved?”
“Charkin brought her in. She needed money; her mother was sick.”
“What did she do?”
“She told Charkin the layout at the hospital; where all the machines were. They were supposed to be changed out, something about the cores being made with cesium. It’s radioactive stuff.”
“This was for the militia group? Darrin Jeffrey?”
“Yes, they did everything. But they got to Jerry Donnelly through Charkin … offered him big money to be a part of it.”
“What was Charkin’s role?”
“He was at the center of it all. He knew Donnelly because of the drug operation; we were making the stuff for him. And he knew the militia guys through McCaskill. He brought everyone together.”
“So why was he killed?”
“That wasn’t us; that was the militia guys. They’re crazy. They want to start a civil war.”
“T
hat doesn’t answer my question. Why was Charkin killed?”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Jeffrey got Henry Stokan to handle it; Donnelly supplied him. He was supposed to kill Welker that night, but Charkin was there. Stokan didn’t even know him, so he figured he couldn’t leave a witness when he killed Tina.”
“Why did they want to kill her?”
“She stole the blood … Jantzen’s blood. She did it because Charkin asked her to; she didn’t know why. She didn’t realize she was using it to frame someone for her own murder.
“But they killed her because she figured out why they wanted to know about the machines and the cesium, that they were going to make bombs. It freaked her out. She talked to Charkin about going to the FBI, and he ratted her out. He knew that if she went to the FBI, he’d go down with everybody else.”
“Did Donnelly know the militia’s plan?”
“You mean about the bombs? I guess he must have, but I didn’t. At least, I didn’t know about the radioactive stuff. Not until it was too late to do anything about it. I swear.”
“Why did Donnelly go along with all this?”
“Are you kidding? They paid him huge money. Those guys were loaded; I don’t know where they get it.”
“Why did she steal Matt Jantzen’s blood?”
“They checked him out. He had no DNA on file anywhere, no military, no police record, nothing. They didn’t want him to get caught, they just wanted to shift suspicion away from them.”
“So my client, Matt Jantzen, did not kill Tina Welker and Peter Charkin?”
“He did not.”
“We’re going to have this same conversation on Monday, in front of the jury. See you then, Mitchell.”
At 3:00 P.M., Corey, Marcus, Laurie, and I arrive at the radiology building of Augusta General Hospital and Medical Center.
Two state police officers accompany us. The building is closed, and the only person present is Carla Levante, the director, who was installed two years ago.
The officers take her into custody, allegedly for questioning, but really to get her out of the way so that she cannot make a phone call and abort what is about to happen.
The building has been under surveillance by Captain Oliver’s people for six hours, in case events moved faster than we expected. But my expectation was that it would be done at night, and it seems as if that is the case.
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