False Justice

by Larry A Winters

  “There's more to it,” Kelly said.

  “I'm listening.”

  “I have reason to believe the president of the company, a man named Douglas Shaw, knew about the risk, but continued to distribute the toys anyway. He intentionally put his company’s profit above children’s safety.”

  “You can prove that?”

  “I’m not sure how much I should tell you, Jessie. I don't want to put you in danger, too.”

  “I’m an assistant district attorney. I'm not an easy target.”

  Kelly nodded and took a deep breath. “All I’ll say is that someone within Shaw’s company reached out to me, a person with a guilty conscience. This person told me that Shaw knew about the danger. This person assured me that the evidence is there. I guess we’ll find out during discovery, but I believe this person.”

  Jessie absorbed the information. “If that’s true, Shaw could face criminal charges.”

  “Exactly. No amount of insurance will protect him from that. So he does have a reason to come after me. Self-preservation.”

  Jessie watched the woman. She looked genuinely afraid.

  “I hate to impose on you,” Kelly went on, “and ask a favor like this, but you're the only person I know connected with law enforcement. Can you talk to some of your friends in the police department? Get them to help me? I don't need a full-time bodyguard or anything, just someone to look into this, see if I'm being targeted. I'm thinking any police involvement at all might be enough to scare off Shaw.”

  “Of course,” Jessie said. “I'll make a call. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Kelly shifted her gaze away, and for a second Jessie thought she might actually answer the rhetorical question. “Look, I didn’t go into public service like you. Most of what I do—it’s like a game. Someone will come to me claiming an injury. Half the time, it’s made up or exaggerated. But if I think I can sell it in court, I’ll take the case.” She seemed to watch Jessie’s reaction closely, and although Jessie struggled to hide her distaste, it must have shown. “I know that sounds bad, but the insurance companies are even worse. They’ll happily collect their premiums, but the moment someone makes a claim, they’ll use any excuse to avoid paying on a policy. My job is to negotiate with them—sometimes even begin a trial—and eventually there’s a settlement payment. It’s how the system works.”

  Jessie thought of her elevator chat with Randal Barnes. He’d said something similar, and similarly unconvincing to Jessie.

  “But the Rowlands’ case is different,” Kelly said. “Do you understand? The Rowland case is a chance for me to actually do something good. I know that sounds stupid. Naïve.”

  “Not to me,” Jessie said.

  Kelly nodded. “You’ll help me?”

  “I’ll help you.”

  3

  The walk from the Criminal Justice Center to Police Headquarters took about fifteen minutes. Jessie spent most of that time in her own head, thinking about her conversations with Randal Barnes and Kelly Lee. By the time the distinctive, curving edifice of Police Headquarters loomed above her—the building was called the Roundhouse because of its shape—she barely remembered the walk.

  She entered the Roundhouse and exchanged smiles and hellos with half a dozen cops before reaching the Homicide Division’s bullpen. She found Detective Emily Graham sitting at a computer.

  When she’d first met Graham a few years ago during a school shooting case, the two hadn’t exactly hit it off. Graham seemed to think of the DA’s Office as a necessary evil her job forced her to deal with, rather than as a partner. But while working together on that case, they’d discovered an unlikely friendship. Now, Jessie considered Graham her best friend, and was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

  Graham looked up, saw Jessie, and smiled. “What's up, Legal Eagle?”

  Jessie leaned against the desk. “You sound uncharacteristically upbeat.”

  “What are you trying to say? You don't think I'm an upbeat person?”

  “You're a very upbeat person.”

  “Yeah, well, I just closed a major murder case. So that helps.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Another killer off the street. Assuming the lawyers don't screw everything up and render my months of dedicated work worthless.”

  Jessie knew better than to take the comment personally. “Now that's the cynical Emily Graham I know.”

  Graham laughed. “What's going on? Aren’t you supposed to be in court for that Alvarez case?”

  “The judge granted the defense a continuance.”

  Graham made a face. “You’ve been prepping for that trial for weeks. On the bright side, I guess you’ll have some free time.”

  Jessie nodded. “I was thinking maybe a last-minute vacation, if Leary can get away. Did I tell you we’re going out to dinner tonight with my dad? Since it’s restaurant week, I made reservations at a nice French place.”

  “Good idea. Is that your dad’s style, though?”

  “I’m hoping he’ll like it.”

  “Well, tell them both I said hi.”

  ”I will.” She paused. “Emily, I’m actually here to ask a favor.”

  Graham rolled her swivel chair away from her computer. “What’s up?”

  “There’s a lawyer, a friend of mine from law school. She’s involved in a case against a big company and she thinks someone might be following her.”

  Graham’s eyes narrowed. “Did she go to the police?”

  “She says they brushed her off.”

  “Really? That doesn’t sound likely.”

  Jessie shrugged. “I agree, but that’s what she says happened. I was hoping you could throw your homicide detective weight around, get someone to look into it.”

  Graham seemed to consider the request. “I am very powerful around here,” she deadpanned.

  “You’re practically the commissioner.”

  “Okay, give me the details. What’s this lawyer’s name?”

  “Kelly Lee.”

  Graham seemed to flinch at the name. She looked away. “I just remembered, I need to meet with the medical examiner.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.” Graham rose from her chair.

  Jessie tried to make sense of the sudden change. “Are you okay?” She watched as Graham grabbed her suit jacket from the back of her chair and shrugged her arms into the sleeves.

  “I lost track of time,” Graham said. “Sorry. I need to run.”

  “Will you help with my friend?”

  Graham continued to avoid eye contact. “I’ll call you.”

  Graham started walking away from her desk. Jessie pursued her. They navigated between workspaces in the overcrowded bullpen. “Emily, look at me.”

  Graham stopped. “What?”

  “Obviously I said something that upset you.”

  The detective looked like she might deny it. She seemed to study Jessie for a second, then let out a breath. “You know how I feel about lawyers.”

  “Me excluded.” It was an old joke between them. Jessie said the words almost automatically.

  “Kelly Lee isn’t some heroic lawyer fighting for justice,” Graham said. “She’s a liar who will do anything to make a buck.”

  “You know her?” Jessie could not mask her surprise.

  “Not personally. But I know she’s brought a ton of police misconduct suits against the PPD. Did you know the city pays out nine-million dollars on average every year to settle claims against police officers? Do you know how much the city has to pay for reinsurance premiums alone because of all these claims?”

  Graham’s voice rose. The squad room was mostly deserted, thankfully, but the few cops in the room had turned to watch the confrontation. Jessie could feel the weight of their stares.

  “I didn’t know Kelly was involved in police misconduct litigation.”

  Graham tilted her head and offered a big, fake smile. “Well, now you know.”

  The intensity of Graham’s response surprised her
. Jessie could almost feel the heat of her friend’s anger radiating from her body. “I didn’t realize this was an issue so close to your heart.”

  “It should be close to your heart, too. These settlements come out of a tax-payer-funded city budget. And lawyers like Lee tarnish your profession.”

  “Maybe you’re too close to this to be objective.” Jessie regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

  “I’m completely objective.”

  “Don’t you think the police should be held accountable if they abuse their authority?”

  Graham rolled her eyes, a mannerism Jessie had found infuriating during her first interactions with the detective. “These cases aren’t real, Jessie. They’re cooked up by greedy lawyers.”

  Against her will, Jessie found herself remembering something Kelly had said to her. Most of what I do—it’s like a game. She mentally shook off the voice in her head. “All of the claims? You can’t believe that.”

  “Look, if Kelly Lee feels scared, she can use some of the money she took out of our pockets and hire a security guard. I’m not going to help her, and I doubt you’ll find anyone in the department who feels differently.”

  Jessie watched, stunned, as Graham strode out of the Homicide Division, leaving her to wonder what the hell had just happened. And why the hell Kelly Lee hadn’t warned her about her reputation with the PPD.

  4

  Mr. and Mrs. Mark Leary, he thought, savoring the words in his head.

  “Leary, are you even listening?”

  Mark Leary jumped. He had no idea where the conversation had gone, or even who had been speaking. He looked from Jessie to her father and felt his cheeks redden. “Sorry, I've got work on my mind.”

  Jessie's father shook his head. “The two of you, always thinking about work. It was your idea to take me to this hoity-toity place. You could at least be mentally present.”

  “Hoity-toity?” Jessie said, arching an eyebrow.

  Her father shrugged. “You prefer fancy-schmancy?”

  “How about elegant?”

  Watching the two of them banter, Leary couldn't suppress a smile. It had occurred to him that Harland Black might not feel at home in a French restaurant full of well-dressed people sitting at tables covered in spotless white tablecloths, speaking in subdued voices against a background of classical music, clinking silverware, and decanting wine. But he'd kept the thought to himself because Jessie was excited about the idea. It was Restaurant Week in Philadelphia, and Jessie wanted to take her father out for a nice dinner. That was sweet, and he knew her father would appreciate the gesture even if he didn’t appreciate the “hoity-toity” ambiance.

  Even better, it dovetailed beautifully with Leary’s own plans.

  Under the table, he forced himself to stop tracing the circular shape in his pants pocket. “I’m mentally present now. What did I miss?”

  “I was just telling Dad how great it is to work together, now that you’re a detective at the DA’s Office,” Jessie said. “Walking to work in the morning, seeing you in the halls, that kind of thing.”

  “And you thought combining our work lives with our private lives would be a recipe for disaster,” he reminded her.

  “I did think that. But now that it's happened, I have to admit it's really nice.”

  “Better than nice. It's great.”

  “I was just kidding about the restaurant,” her dad said. “The food looks pretty good. Even if I can't pronounce any of it.”

  “Next time,” Leary said, “we'll let you pick the place.”

  “Deal.”

  “Excuse me,” Jessie said, rising from her chair. “I'll be right back. I need to use the ladies' room.”

  Finally, Leary thought. He waited until Jessie disappeared through the doorway to the restrooms, then turned to her father. The man stared back at him and an awkward silence descended. Leary fought the urge to spout small talk about the Phillies or the Eagles. He didn’t know how much time he would have before Jessie returned.

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward, struggling to remember the words he’d thought up the night before. It would mean so much to me to receive your permission. No. Your blessing. No. Your—

  “You watch the Eagles game last night?” Harland said.

  Leary cringed inwardly, but nodded with what he hoped looked like enthusiasm. “Close game.”

  “Hell of a close game. If I had money on it, I think I might've had a heart attack. But I don't bet. You?”

  “No, I'm not a big gambler.” How the hell was he going to segue from gambling to asking this man if he could marry his daughter? He took a deep breath. “Mr. Black, there is actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Don't call me Mr. Black, Mark. I'm Harland.”

  “Okay, Harland. Anyway, I was hoping we’d have some time to talk because—”

  Jessie’s father looked up. Leary followed his gaze and saw Jessie returning to the table. She sat down, replaced her napkin on her lap, and smiled at both of them. “Did I miss anything?”

  “We were just talking about the Eagles game,” Harland said. “And Mark wanted to ask me about something.”

  Jessie looked interested. “Ask him about what?”

  Leary tried not to squirm, but the evening was not going according to plan. When it came to romance, nothing ever seemed to go according to his plans. Sometimes he considered it a miracle he was in a relationship with Jessie at all. “Just sports stuff,” he said lamely.

  It looked like Jessie might push for a better explanation, but at that moment, the waiter arrived with their entrées. The plates were distributed on the table and the focus shifted to the beautifully presented dishes. Lamb for Leary, beef for Harland, and Mediterranean sea bass for Jessie. Jessie leaned over her plate and inhaled, smiling with anticipation. Leary picked up his knife and fork and made a show of busying himself, hoping the conversation would be dropped.

  “This is so nice, having dinner with both of you,” Jessie said. “Especially after the day I’ve had.”

  “Jessie’s murder trial got postponed,” Leary explained to Harland. “She spent the last month obsessively preparing for it.”

  She shot him a look. “I wasn’t obsessed. I was diligent.”

  Her father nodded. He forked some food into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He smiled and said, “Good steak.”

  “And that’s not why my day was hard. I got into an argument with Emily, and—” There was a buzzing sound and both Leary and Jessie reached for their phones. He saw Jessie’s father smirk knowingly. Leary’s phone was still, so it was Jessie receiving the call. She looked at her phone's screen and her face scrunched up in a way that Leary knew meant she was about to reluctantly excuse herself.

  “Work?” Leary said.

  “No. It’s Emily.” She glanced at her father, and Leary saw the indecision in her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll call her back.”

  “No,” Leary said. He couldn’t let another chance to be alone with her father slip by. “You should talk to her.”

  “You sure?”

  Both Leary and Harland nodded. “It’s fine,” Harland said. “Just don’t let your food get cold.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

  Leary watched her walk away, then leaned toward Harland, not wanting to waste a second this time. “What I wanted to talk to you about is…” He hesitated. “I need to ask you…. Damn, this is awkward.”

  Jessie’s father stared at him with an amused expression. “It's starting to be.”

  “You know Jessie and I have been together for almost five years.”

  “You make my daughter very happy.”

  “Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. The reason—”

  Jessie returned before he could finish his sentence. The distraught look on her face drove all other thoughts from his mind. He jumped up and rushed to her side, almost knocking over his chair. “What's wrong?”

  She looked into his eyes. Her ga
ze was watery, stricken. “I need to get to Walnut and 17th Street. Can you drive me there?”

  “In the middle of dinner?” her father said. He had risen from his seat to join them. The three of them stood together in the middle of the dining room. Everyone seemed to be staring at them.

  “I’ll make it up to you, Dad. I promise.”

  Her father waved away her words. “If something’s wrong, don't worry about me. Do what you need to do.”

  Jessie looked relieved. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “But I'm taking your food home with me. I'm eating well this week.”

  “It's a deal,” Jessie said. She smiled, but Leary noticed her smile failed to reach her eyes. She tugged his arm, and they hurried out of the restaurant and into the night.

  5

  Burnt plastic. Gasoline. Smoke. She smelled the accident before she saw it.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Leary said. He pulled to the side of the road where a police barricade cut off access to the intersection of 17th and Walnut, the address Graham had given Jessie over the phone.

  Jessie couldn’t answer him yet. Feeling nausea rush up her throat as she climbed out of his car, she put her hand over her mouth.

  Rescue workers milled around the remains of a Volkswagen Jetta. Smoke billowed from the misshapen husk. The car had apparently slammed into the brick wall of an apartment building—narrowly missing the glass entrance to a pizza place next door—colliding with enough force to crumple the vehicle like an accordion. The impact must have caused an explosion, because the car and the shattered wall were singed black. There were no flames now, but the remains of the car were charred and dripping with the water that had been used to douse the fire. The air stank.

  Leary put an arm around her, but she gently pushed him away.

  “I think I knew the person in that car,” she said.

  He looked at her, eyes wide. “Who?”

  Emily Graham made her way through the police officers and rescue personnel to Jessie’s side. Seeing her was a relief, despite the recent tension between them.