One of the four men was nattily dressed in a charcoal gray three-piece suit. He sat on the picnic bench opposite the Parlows and as Troy began to speak, held up a hand to stop him.
“Stand up, both of you,” one of the bodyguards said.
The brothers were quickly searched for weapons then the same bodyguard pointed a finger at Gene Parlow and said, “You, shed those clothes including pants and underwear.”
“What the hell is this…” Troy sputtered looking at the man in the suit.
He returned the look and again silenced Troy this time holding an index finger to his lips.
Gene Parlow quickly stripped and proved he was not wearing a wire. While this was taking place, the fourth man did a search of the two motorcycles looking for tracking devices.
“I’m a careful man, Mr. Parlow,” the man in the suit said. Gene had put his clothes on and the two of them were again seated at the picnic table. “That’s why I’ve never spent five minutes in a police station.” The man’s name was Sandy Baker and he was the head of the meth business Troy Parlow worked for.
“I understand Mr. Baker…” Gene began to say.
“I don’t think you do,” Baker interrupted him. “Troy asked me to meet you about a job. I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, you’re still very toxic.”
“What do you mean?” Troy asked.
Baker turned to Troy and said, “The fact you don’t know tells me everything. The cops are all over both of you. I’m surprised they don’t have a tracking device on your motorcycles. They will after today. Did you know you were being followed today? You lost them south of Lakeville. I had a car on them following you. I have it on good authority they’re still on you and this Aaron Forsberg guy because of this serial killer business in the Cities.”
“They arrested someone for that!” Gene protested.
“Tell that to the police,” Baker quietly replied. “Until the heat’s off, I can’t use you.”
“How do you know this?” Troy asked.
“That’s irrelevant, Troy. I know it and that’s all that matters. In fact, you’re out too.”
“You can’t do that!” Troy yelled as he started to stand. “This is bull…”
One of the burly men standing behind Troy hit him with a quick, sharp shot to his right kidney. The pain spread up to his neck like a flame and Troy dropped quickly back down on the bench seat.
“Yes I can and I just did,” Baker replied. “And you’d be well advised to keep your mouths shut.”
As instructed, the brothers waited fifteen minutes after Baker and his thugs departed. While they waited, they discussed what could be done about it.
“Forget it, Gene. You’ll never get close enough to him. You saw his guys. I’ll piss blood for a week after the shot I took. My kidney still hurts like hell.”
“We’ll see,” Gene said. “You know where he lives and where his businesses are?”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you, you’ll never get close enough.”
Gene looked at his younger brother and angrily said, “Who’s this asshole? We could run the business. Let’s go.”
While the two men walked back to their bikes Troy said, “I might know a way. I know he makes trips to the Cities. Maybe then.”
Aaron Forsberg was seated in the reception area oblivious to the very attractive female receptionist working on her computer. He was alone for this meeting with Glenda Albright. It was a meeting she requested.
When he first arrived, the receptionist informed him that Albright was on a phone call. That was ten minutes ago and Albright was apparently still on the call.
Forsberg stood and walked the few steps to the window overlooking Seventh Street. He looked across the street toward Second Avenue and saw the car he expected to find. It was a dark blue Chevy sedan with a man and a woman sitting in it. What should have annoyed him, and did when the surveillance first started, now brought a smile to his otherwise dour countenance.
He heard the receptionist inform Albright that he was waiting. She ended the call and pleasantly said, “Ms. Albright will be right out.”
Forsberg perfunctorily thanked her and went back to his chair. Two minutes later Albright appeared.
“I was able to convince them that you deserved more money than the others,” Albright told him when they were seated in her office. “They’ve upped their offer, just for you, to one point eight million. And,” she continued by handing him a one-page document, “I’ve agreed to reduce my fee to twenty percent. This is a new agreement spelling out the new fee arrangement,” she said referring to the document in her hand.
“My net, after fees, would be a little less than a million five, all of it paid up front?” Forsberg asked.
“Yes, all of it up front.”
“When do you need to know?”
“There’s no deadline yet, but soon.”
Forsberg slid the unsigned retainer agreement across the desk to her and said, “Give me a couple of days to think about it. It should be ten times that much for what they did to me.”
“It’s up to you,” Albright replied hiding her disappointment. “I don’t think we’ll do any better dragging this out any longer. You can look into getting the conviction expunged from your record and get your security licenses back.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Forsberg agreed. “We’ll see.”
As he was leaving her office Albright said, “Aaron, you need to get some counseling. This anger you’re carrying around is only hurting you.”
Forsberg paused at the door, looked at her and said, “I’ll think about it. Right now, this anger is exactly what I need.”
Forsberg drove the exact speed limit and went directly back to his uncle’s. It was mildly amusing to watch the two cops maintain their distance while the traffic went past him. They were having a difficult time staying back and keeping one or two cars between them.
He parked the van in the driveway and walked the front sidewalk to the door. When he reached the door he turned, looked across the street at the empty house and waved at the surveillance team inside.
On the drive home he realized there might be a way to get the cops to back off. Once inside the house he went right to the phone and dialed information. He received the number he wanted then placed the call.
“Marc,” Sandy said when Marc answered the intercom. “There’s an Aaron Forsberg on the line and he says it’s urgent.”
“Put him through,” Marc replied immediately recognizing the name.
“Mr. Kadella, my name is Aaron Forsberg, I’m one of the men who was wrongfully convicted with a doctored DNA report…”
“I know, Mr. Forsberg. I recognized the name. What can I do for you?”
“I thought you might be interested to know that the police are still following me. And I think they’re following Gene Parlow as well.”
“Really?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, and since they arrested Howie Traynor, I’m wondering why? Why continue to follow us if they think he did those killings?”
“Good question,” Marc said. “Are you sure?”
“Do you have something to write with? I’ll give you the license plate number of the car they were using today.”
Forsberg told it to him while Marc made a note of the plate number, make and model of the car.
“And there’s a team of cops still set up in an empty house across the street,” Forsberg told Marc the house’s address and Marc made a note of that as well.
When he finished, Marc thanked him for the call then thought about the best way to use the information.
FORTY-TWO
It was almost two weeks since Marc Kadella received the call from Aaron Forsberg. During that time, he had made up his mind about what to do with the information that Forsberg was still under surveillance. Clearly the police were still uncertain that his client was guilty. Instead of confronting the prosecution with this information and giving them an opportunity to correct it, Marc decided to keep it t
o himself for now.
Marc and at least twelve other people got off the overflowing elevator on the fourteenth floor. The mob headed toward the hallway and Judge Koch’s courtroom. Marc went to the inner hall security doors and pressed the buzzer to notify a deputy. A few seconds later a deputy opened the door and let him in.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kadella. Come in,” the deputy said.
“Hello, Shirley. Big crowd today?”
“Full house,” she replied.
Marc went into the courtroom through the judge’s door then placed his briefcase on the table nearest the jury box. Knowing the trial would take place here, he wanted to stake out his claim to that table. A few minutes later he sat down at the table in the juror’s room across from Howie.
“Did you talk to Father John about the gloves?” Howie asked.
“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago, why? I thought I told you. He backs up your claim that you told him they’d been stolen and he told the police.”
“Sorry, I’m nervous. I couldn’t remember if you told me that,” Howie said.
“It’s okay. Relax. This is not the trial. It’s a hearing to look at probable cause, some evidentiary problems and a couple motions.”
“What if the judge decides they didn’t have probable cause?” Howie asked.
“Then you walk. Don’t hold your breath. She won’t second guess the grand jury,” Marc answered. “But it’s also an opportunity to look at their evidence. They’ll have to put a couple people on the stand to testify.”
“Who?”
“I’m guessing the lead cop, Owen Jefferson, the medical examiner and someone from the BCA to testify about the hair.”
There was a knock on the door, a deputy looked in and told them Steve Gondeck had arrived. Marc and Howie went into the courtroom and a slight buzz went through the crowd. Because Marc knew the media would be in full attendance he made sure Howie looked presentable. Marc again provided him with tan khakis, a blue-button down dress shirt, clean socks and brown loafers.
Marc had filed pleadings to support the motions to be decided today. Gondeck had also filed his pleadings to counter Marc’s requests and to argue for an aggravated sentence in the event of a guilty verdict. Gondeck wanted the judge to go way beyond the prison time the sentencing guidelines recommended in the event of a second-degree murder conviction. If there was a first-degree conviction, Traynor would receive an immediate sentence of life without parole.
Owen Jefferson was the first witness. He was called because Marc wanted the evidence obtained from the roof of Howie’s apartment excluded. Jefferson testified about searching the janitor’s closet and how he found the stairs to the roof.
When Jefferson finished, Marc argued the search of the entire building was illegal. First he argued the search warrant for Howie’s apartment was not obtained by sufficient probable cause. This was quickly dismissed. He then tried to convince the judge that the search warrant did not cover the janitor’s closet.
Attached to his pleadings was case law he found to support his argument. Gondeck had submitted more accurate case law to validate the search. It came down to the fact that the police were legally in the building. Given that fact, the unlocked closet was a common area in which Howie Traynor had no personal expectation of privacy and the search was valid. Judge Koch quickly dismissed Marc’s argument.
The rest of the hearing was spent with testimony from the M.E., Clyde Marston and a tech from the BCA. Marston testified about the autopsy results of each victim and the cause of death. The BCA tech told the judge about the hair samples and the likelihood of a match to anyone other than Howie Traynor, roughly one in twelve million. Marc watched and quietly listened to the strength of the prosecution’s witnesses and evidence. When his turn to cross-examine them came, not wanting to show the prosecution anything, he passed on both.
After the testimony was finished and the judge found sufficient probable cause, the lawyers argued about Marc’s change of venue motion. At times the exchange even became a bit heated. Due to the media coverage Marc had a strong argument to make. But he also had the burden of proving to the judge that his client could not obtain a fair trial in Hennepin County. Gondeck argued successfully that finding twelve jurors and several alternates who had not followed the case would not be as difficult as it seemed. In the end, Koch ruled against the defense.
Finally, the hearing concluded after the argument about an aggravated sentence. Gondeck wanted an upward departure and consecutive sentencing on each charge. He argued the exceptional cruelty clearly backed him up.
Judge Koch told the lawyers she would take it under advisement and did not rule on it. Gondeck didn’t seem to care. He got what he wanted. A little more publicity about the exceptionally vicious nature of the murders and the suffering the victims went through.
“Is your client willing to waive his right to a speedy trial?” Judge Koch asked Marc.
“No, your Honor, he is not,” Marc replied.
“Very well. I’ll see the lawyers next Thursday at 10:00 A.M. for a scheduling conference. Will that work for you?”
Both lawyers answered affirmatively and the hearing concluded.
While the media hurried out to file their reports and the crowd dwindled, Marc met with Howie in the jury room again.
“We didn’t do too good today,” Howie glumly stated.
“About what I thought we’d get,” Marc replied. “We did better than you think. I got some information today I didn’t have before and some statements made under oath that we can use. This is just round one. We have a long way to go.”
“Why didn’t you want to waive a speedy trial?” Howie asked.
“You like sitting in jail?”
“No, you’re right. I was just wondering.”
“Mostly because I didn’t want to give them more time to find more evidence. Some of these charges are weak. If we can convince the jury they overcharged hoping something would stick they might get pissed at the prosecution. Who knows? We’ll see but we might as well get at it.”
They rose to leave, shook hands and Howie ruefully said, “At least I’ll get back in time to see that woman on TV, Melinda what’s-her-name…”
“Pace,” Marc said.
“Yeah, her. I’ll get back in time to see her slander and convict me on TV some more.”
While Owen Jefferson was on the witness stand the phone in his pocket vibrated. In fact, it went off four more times before he finished testifying and was dismissed.
When he reached the hallway he checked it and saw the same number for all five calls. He put the phone to his ear, listened to the message and returned the call.
“What’s up, Scott?” Jefferson asked the man who had made the calls, Detective Scott Brown.
“We got a homicide here you’ll want to see.” Brown gave him a quick description and the location. Jefferson assured him he would be there as quickly as possible.
Jefferson took a minute to call Marcie Sterling to tell her about what he had been told. She agreed to get their department-issued car and pick him up. Less than twenty minutes after speaking with Detective Brown, Jefferson and Marcie were at the scene.
Marcie parked on the south Minneapolis street a half block from the crime scene. They passed through the yellow tape at the mouth of the alley and quickly walked to the small crowd of cops and forensic techs.
“Hey, Owen. Hi, Marcie,” Scott Brown greeted them.
“Scott, Aaron,” Jefferson said in return to Brown and his partner, Detective Aaron Hernandez as he and Marcie snapped on protective gloves.
“Recognize this?” Hernandez asked while he held up a man’s driver’s license.
Jefferson and Marcie read the name and Jefferson said, “Eugene Parlow. Your vic is Eugene Parlow? The Eugene Parlow on our whiteboard?”
“Take a look, you tell me,” Brown suggested.
Jefferson and Marcie went over to where a CSU tech was kneeling in between two dumpsters. The CSU saw them and stood to g
ive the two detectives an unobstructed view of the body.
Lying on his back, his dead eyes still open staring blankly at the sky, was an obviously dead Eugene Parlow. There were two bloody spots on his gray T-shirt and a hole in his forehead with a trickle of blood leaking from it.
“That’s him,” Marcie said while Jefferson knelt to examine the body. “That’s our Eugene Parlow.”
“Three gunshot wounds,” Maggie Dayton, the M.E. on scene said. “Two in the chest, one in the forehead. They appear to be nine millimeter.”
“Professional,” Jefferson said as he stood. “This was no gangbanger.”
“And he wasn’t killed here,” Dayton added referring to the lack of blood at the scene.
“No, he wasn’t,” Jefferson agreed.
“Owen,” Scott Brown said, “I need to show you something.”
Jefferson and Marcie followed Brown a few feet across the alley.
“This,” Brown said pointing at a heavy canvass bag, the size of a gym bag, lying on the ground. “Look inside.”
The two detectives knelt next to it, Jefferson unzipped and opened the bag. They looked inside at the objects it contained and Jefferson softly said, “Jesus Christ. What the hell…”
They continued to kneel while Jefferson moved a couple of the items in the bag to examine the others. A minute or so later he stood up.
“Scott, Aaron,” he said to his fellow detectives. Jefferson took a deep breath while Marcie continued to check out the items in the bag he said, “Treat this like any other homicide. Bag and tag this,” he continued pointing at the canvas bag and its contents. “But keep quiet about it, for now.”
“Owen, we have to put it in our report…” Hernandez started to protest.
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