by Joe Conlan
It wasn’t often the Chief Federal Prosecutor tried a case from start to finish. On the average, he didn’t step foot inside a courtroom more than two or three times a year. That digging in the trenches type of labor was left for his Assistant Federal Attorneys. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy litigation. He was born to argue in front of a jury. Anyone who had observed him performing in a court of law would agree he was a master. It was his time to shine. He had tried more cases as a young attorney than most trial lawyers handle in an entire career. At this stage in his life, it was a time to be selective. He was a man with ambitious political aspirations. His ultimate goal was to be a Justice of the United States Supreme Court. The first order of business on his agenda was to be appointed to the Federal Court of Appeals for the Southeastern District of the United States in Atlanta. It was a necessary stepping stone on his way to the highest court in the land. One of the Justices had already announced his intention to retire. There was a lot of talk that a second Justice was considering leaving shortly thereafter. Dallas planned to have one of those seats. The way he would get there was by choosing to try only those cases that would give him media attention and national exposure. To have the Falcone case come his way at just the right time was a Christmas gift from heaven.
Norman Dallas was a tall, slender man with a full shock of cotton-white hair, bright green eyes and a wise, handsome face. When he walked into a room, he commanded it. If he spoke, people had a tendency to listen. He met Daniel Falcone for the first time more than five years ago. At the time, Daniel was just a rookie agent, wet behind the ears. Dallas wasn’t fooled by his inexperience. Falcone was going places. He helped round up and then prosecute to conviction a band of organized crime leaders in the Greater Miami area. When the story began to get national attention, Dallas pulled the file from his Assistant United States Attorney and tried the case himself. Both Dallas and Falcone were congratulated in person by the President of the United States for their work in the case. Just this year, Daniel was responsible for the downfall of a powerful South American drug cartel for which he’d received a Presidential award. Heroin, cocaine and marijuana valued at a total of three hundred million dollars had been confiscated. Eight crime lords who had been avoiding arrest for decades were now behind bars. Dallas didn’t hesitate to get a piece of the action, trying the case to conviction and also receiving national acclaim.
There weren’t too many federal agents who impressed Norman Dallas more than Daniel Falcone. That didn’t mean the Special Agent in Charge was above being used as an instrument for Dallas’ climb to the top. The U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of Florida was sure he would be making headlines with the talented agent again. This time, Falcone would be a means to an end. It was just yesterday Dallas was told the President would soon be disclosing to the media his short list of candidates to replace the retiring Justice and Dallas was on it. If he could get a conviction in the cruise ship triple homicide case, it could seal the deal.
Falcone had maintained his innocence from the very beginning. As far as Dallas could tell at these early stages of his preparation, Daniel’s primary defense was that a known serial killer had framed him. There were several major holes in this theory. Besides the fact that there was no physical evidence found to prove Isaac Jefferson was on the Joy of the Seas, Lee Andicoy, who was the steward responsible for cabin 9-476, controverted Daniel’s allegations it was occupied the week of the murders. In Andicoy’s deposition taken just two weeks ago, he testified that every day of the cruise, he entered this one of fifteen rooms assigned to him to perform his housekeeping duties. Each day, he found it untouched and in perfect order. There were no clothes hanging in the closet. Once, he peaked under both beds to check if there was any luggage and saw none. He wondered several times during the week whether there was actually someone staying there, but didn’t think it important enough to check the passenger list. He didn’t actually verify it until asked by the FBI agent investigating the murders. It was at that point he discovered the cabin had been vacant for the entire week.
The forensics team did a complete and thorough sweep of 9-476, including the balcony. When all the analyses were interpreted and DNA results were in, there was not one shred of proof that Isaac Jefferson or Damien Drysdale ever stepped foot in that cabin. The cherry on the cake was the text message sent to Falcone by Special Agent Robert Leland with the picture of Drysdale attached. It would probably be one of the more powerful proffers of evidence. As far as Norman Dallas was concerned, Jefferson was a creation of Daniel Falcone’s imagination. It was his obvious plan to murder his family deliberately replicating the style of the serial killer.
Demonstrating motive and state of mind was often one of the more difficult elements of proof in a murder trial. Falcone might as well have handed Dallas his evidence on a silver platter. The Chief Federal Prosecutor had several different forms of evidence at his disposal that would illustrate the defendant’s marital woes. While searching the wife’s house, the investigators found photographs of Daniel having sex with Annie Bryan. He knew from the defendant’s own admission and statements of his colleagues that the Falcone couple was separated for months before the cruise. Dallas couldn’t have written the script any better. It was one of the oldest motives in the book. Get rid of the wife to be with the mistress. There was no better way than proof of infidelity to rile up a jury, especially the women.
In addition to the pictures, the investigators located a videotape of a heated argument between Daniel and his father-in-law at the Tyler home. Dallas assumed one of their neighbors recorded the incident and gave the Tyler’s a copy. No one from the neighborhood who claimed to have witnessed the incident would take credit for the tape. Dallas figured it was most likely a matter of not wanting to get involved. He would do everything in his power to get the video-maker to come forward. One way or another he would get it admitted into evidence. It would be very useful to establish a strained relationship between the defendant and his father-in-law.
The most damning DNA evidence of all, in Dallas’s opinion, was the discovery of Falcone’s semen, proving he had sex with his wife at or after the time of the murder. Even his closest colleagues at the Miami field office were stunned by the news. They were fully expecting the results would match those found at the Damien Drysdale murder sites. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Falcone was found covered in the victims’ blood holding both murder weapons. Lab tests revealed the gun was discharged four times. A member of the ERT was able to collect gunshot residue from Daniel’s hand while he was still unconscious in the ship’s brig. The results confirmed that the gun in his possession was, in fact, the murder weapon. The fourth cartridge was never found. That didn’t concern Dallas. He didn’t think it was enough to create a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors. If the balcony doors were open, a miss could clearly have ended up in the ocean. Bad aim was certainly not out of the realm of possibilities considering that Falcone was using heroin that night.
There were two potential stumbling blocks that Dallas felt could conceivably cause a jury to acquit Falcone. First was the drug issue. Dallas had his support staff conduct a thorough investigation into Falcone’s past. The defendant’s relatives, close friends, college buddies and even some enemies were interviewed during the process. No evidence surfaced proving the defendant ever used or abused any type of narcotic ever in his life, not even marijuana. He was squeaky clean when it came to drugs. The investigators’ discovery of almost fifty grams of heroin hidden under the mattress of Falcone’s bed at his studio apartment was big. At the very least, it opened up the door to making the argument Falcone turned to drugs due to his marital problems. All of his colleagues agreed he was distraught and depressed over his separation with his wife. When all was said and done, Dallas was confident enough in his skills of persuasion to prevent this issue from having a significant impact on the jury’s verdict.
The second problem was the Terry Smithson disappearance and the possibility it could len
d credence to the defendant’s contention a serial killer was on board. The absence of the security officer’s body would not help the defense. Even though, by most accounts, she was a responsible employee, it was a frequent enough practice for cruise ship employees to disappear at a given port and never return to the ship. With the lack of a corpus delecti, the prosecutor could reasonably argue that any testimony concerning the Smithson woman had no probative value whatsoever.
All things considered, Norman Dallas was feeling quite secure about his chances. He would put his talents up against the best defense attorneys in the country even under more dubitable circumstances. The mountain of evidence still building against Falcone would surely bring victory. Best of all, Dallas’ performance would have an international audience. According to his sources, the trial would be broadcast in over one-hundred and fifty countries around the world.
The television blared in the background with Kiran Chetry anchoring the morning’s headline news on CNN. Shem Chassar was scrambling eggs for breakfast as he listened carefully for updates on the “Blood Boat Butcher” story. Chetry was reporting that the attorneys would begin jury selection the following Monday then segued to a clip of an interview with the agent’s lawyer. He was estimating jury selection alone could last up to two months. Shem was fine with it. The longer the process lasted, the better. It would give the agent more time to fester in his cell and suffer the torturous pain of knowing his cheating ways caused the death of his beloved wife leaving his children motherless.
His plan had truly worked to perfection. The tranquilizer he chose to spike the drinks worked as he had expected. By the time the investigators drew blood from the victims, it had completely metabolized. The toxicology reports were released to the press and there was no mention that any of the victims were drugged before they were murdered. Even if this was a piece of evidence the FBI was holding back, it didn’t worry him. A prosecutor worth half his salt should be able to convince a jury it was the agent who drugged the family. The important thing was that they found no sedative in Daniel’s test results.
Shem was very pleased with the United States attorney who was prosecuting the case. He researched his background online and discovered that Dallas had never lost a murder trial. The man was obviously a mover of mountains with very impressive credentials. With the help Shem provided, he was certain the prosecutor would have no trouble securing a conviction. He handed the investigators a few gifts to assist them in building a rock solid case against the agent. While the authorities were busy concentrating on analyzing the crime scene and searching the ship for him, Shem broke into the in-laws house and the agent’s studio apartment. At the Tyler home, he slipped the DVD of the argument between the agent and his father-in-law into their DVD library. He placed the left-over heroin under the agent’s motel mattress.
Before twenty four hours had elapsed from the time of the last murder, Shem’s bags were packed and he was on his way to Memphis. Being a fan of the King of Rock and Roll, it was a city that always fascinated him. It was where he chose to bide his time while the tortoise-paced American justice system plodded through completing his masterpiece. He knew it wouldn’t be long now before his Job-like patience would render its just rewards. He sat in his favorite recliner in front of the TV and kept his attention pealed on the screen as the clip of Norman Dallas announcing he would be vigorously seeking the death penalty was replayed for the fifth time in the last hour.
Chapter 21
The Federal Detention Center in Miami was located east of the downtown area in a high-rise building that housed over seven-hundred cells. The weekly population of inmates could vary from as low as a thousand to as many as fifteen hundred. The cells were exclusively reserved for prisoners who were sentenced to less than a year in custody or those awaiting trial for various federal offenses, including defendants accused of capital crimes. Fearing for his safety as an FBI agent, the warden granted Daniel a private cell on the tenth floor. Jails and prisons didn’t exist in a vacuum. The inmates were well aware of Daniel’s story. Although the detention center was a minimum security facility, there were several prisoners who were previously convicted of serious felonies. In fact, there were over fifteen residents of this jail that Daniel had a hand in arresting.
For the first few weeks after his arrest, Daniel was in a state of total despair. The depression over his wife’s death combined with the idea that his children might believe he was a murderer was almost impossible to overcome. He blamed himself entirely for Deborah’s and her parent’s murder and felt it was only justified he should pay the price. His life was over anyway. If one were to add all the deaths of family members he had a hand in, he could compete with some of the most infamous murderers in history. He had spent his entire life trying to regain the love and respect of his father after his brother’s demise. The only thing he managed to accomplish was to confirm he deserved the label his father placed on him so many years ago. He was a murderer. His failure to prevent the massacres on the ship was inexcusable. He might as well have been the one who wielded the knife that slaughtered Deborah and her mother and fired the gun that blew Jack’s brains out.
Rick Suarez, his brothers, his mother and Annie seemed to be the only people who believed him. It took Annie to convince him he was worth the effort of defending himself. She reminded him he still had two beautiful boys to think about. They already lost their mother. They didn’t need to lose him on top of it all and live the rest of their lives with the unthinkable burden of wondering whether their father murdered their mother and grandparents. Only a coward would concede defeat and leave his children to wallow in the aftermath with no support.
Annie’s words could never convert Daniel’s sense of hopelessness to one of promise for the future. But, he was no coward and had never sloughed his responsibilities off on anyone else. It was just enough to give him the kick in the butt he needed to at least do the bare minimum and find himself representation. With Annie’s help, he hired one of the best criminal lawyers in the country. Alan Shipman was glad to take his case despite Daniel’s inability to afford his exorbitant fees. The publicity the attorney would get from the international coverage was payment enough. Over the ensuing weeks, Annie together with his new lawyer were able to light a small flame in Daniel’s heart, nothing more than the beginnings of a desire to avenge his wife’s murder, not only on his own behalf, but more so for his children. Things would never be the same. At that point in his life, Daniel saw no peace of mind for himself. That didn’t mean he was absolved of fighting for his boys’ happiness. Even if he was convicted of the murders, he decided he would work from inside the prison to pursue his revenge.
He knew he would always have an ally in Annie. She felt just as bad, if not worse than he did about the death of Deborah and her parents. She took it very hard coming close to resigning her position with King Cruise Line. For an entire month after the incident, she didn’t leave her apartment. With time, her depression turned to anger and now her new purpose in life was to make sure the monster was punished. She offered to assist Daniel with attorney’s fees and costs, but that turned out to be unnecessary. She devoted her time instead, working closely with Alan Shipman in preparing his defense. After the murders, she hired a private investigator, at her own expense, to try to identify and locate Damien Drysdale. To date, he was no more successful uncovering any significant information than the FBI.
Daniel had never encountered anyone in his law enforcement career that was as illusive, obscure and unidentifiable as this evil demon that was making his life a living hell. The murderer was always at least two or three steps ahead of everyone else. There was no uncertainty in Daniel’s mind it was going to take an intellectually herculean effort on their part to trap him. For the boys, he would begin to do his part.
Daniel tried to shut out the echoed shouts of prison guards spouting off instructions to the newest group of inmates being processed for admission to the federal jailhouse. He was in his cell studying his note
s in preparation for a meeting with his attorney, Alan Shipman scheduled for later that afternoon. It didn’t seem to matter a whole hell of a lot that he was having problems concentrating. The trial was coming up in just a few days and the prognosis couldn’t possibly look more bleak. Feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to get much accomplished, but maintaining any semblance of his newfound willingness to put up a fight was going to take a real effort considering all the evidence overwhelmingly pointing to his guilt. His lawyer was telling him his best chance of being acquitted would likely depend on his own performance on the stand. How he was going to get a group of twelve strangers to believe him when his own colleagues and friends doubted his veracity was a disturbing proposition to say the least.
At times, Daniel even wondered if Isaac Jefferson were a figment of his imagination. It was beyond comprehension how a person could spend a whole week on a cruise ship, slaughter three human beings and not leave a single trace of his presence behind. The past weeks had certainly threatened his sanity, but Daniel was of sound enough mind to realize those moments of doubting Jefferson’s existence were not logical. He couldn’t be more certain the monster murdered his wife and in-laws. The problem was getting twelve jurors to believe it when neither the authorities nor his lawyer had uncovered any evidence that would corroborate his testimony that Drysdale was on the ship.