by David Grace
“No!”
“Ms. Hamilton, at some point on the drive from Salome, Arizona to Los Angeles did Mr. Crocker give you the drug Ecstasy?”
“He forced me to take it!”
“And that’s why you had Ecstasy in your blood when it was tested at the hospital in Los Angeles?”
“Yes.”
“Because he forced you to take it?”
“Objection. Asked and answered,” Odermatt called out.
“Move on, Mr. Fitch.”
“At some point during the drive to Los Angeles did you ask Mr. Crocker for money?”
“No.”
“Specifically, did you ask him for $5,000?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him that you had read that escorts get $5,000 for a weekend of their time?”
“No.”
“Did he make you a counter offer of $1,000?”
“No.”
“Did you and he have an argument over how much money he was going to give you for your time?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you that you weren’t pretty enough to be worth $5,000?”
“No.”
“Did he get angry at your demands and at some point did he call you a ‘cheap whore’?”
“No,” Carrie said, on the edge of tears.
“Did you tell him that if he didn’t pay you that you would tell the police that he had kidnapped you?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him that if he didn’t pay up it would cost him a lot more than $5,000 to keep himself out of jail?”
“No.”
“Did he then pull over and attempt to throw you out of his car?”
“No.”
“Did you then tear off your clothes, smash one of his windows and jump out of his car at a stoplight, shouting, ‘Help me! Help me!’?”
“He took my clothes off! He raped me! I pretended to be unconscious and I got free and that’s when I jumped out.”
“Your Honor!” Odermatt called out. “I object to Mr. Fitch’s browbeating the witness. She’s the victim of this kidnapper and now she is being made to endure these accusations. It’s . . . unfair in the extreme.”
“I get the picture. Mr. Fitch, unless you have something else I think we’re done.”
“Just a couple of questions, Your Honor.”
“You’ve got two minutes.”
“Ms. Hamilton, have you ever been arrested for possession of a controlled substance?”
“Objection. A witness may only be impeached by a felony conviction.”
“You’re on the edge. Mr. Fitch. Overruled. The witness may answer.”
“Pot once,” Carrie said softly.
“And also cocaine once, correct?” Fitch asked.
“It wasn’t mine. It belonged to my boyfriend. I wasn’t charged.”
“Move on, counselor,” the judge ordered.
“Were you ever arrested for prostitution?”
Odermatt stood to object but the judge waved him back down. “You can answer,” he told Carrie.
“I was eighteen and the case was dismissed.”
“You plea bargained it down to disorderly conduct, correct?”
“It wasn’t like that. He was my boyfriend’s boss and–”
“That’s enough,” the judge broke in. “You’re done, Mr. Fitch.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Odermatt stood but the judge waved him back to his chair.
“You don’t need to cross examine this witness, Mr. Odermatt. I think she’s been through quite enough, more than enough, for one day. I’ve been doing this a long time. I get the picture. You may take a seat at the prosecutor’s table, Ms. Hamilton. Mr. Fitch, you’ve got one minute to sum up.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Simply put, the Government’s entire case is based on the testimony of this one witness, and Mr. Crocker’s version of events is at least as credible if not more credible than hers. Since the Government has to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt that means that it is highly likely that Mr. Crocker will be acquitted of these charges, if in fact he is even bound over for trial in the first place. That indicates that it is highly unlikely that he will fail to appear as required. In light of those facts, all we’re asking for is reasonable bail, specifically, that the current bail of $2 million dollars be reduced to a more reasonable $100,000.”
“Mr. Odermatt?”
“Your Honor, this is a vicious crime and I would remind the court that the police found a veritable abduction kit in the defendant’s vehicle – rope, duct tape, a plastic tarp, a stun gun, drugs, a hand gun, and a knife. The defendant was not an average guy out on a date. He’s a predator and as such a danger to the safety of the community. So far we’ve only connected him to this one crime, but given the sophistication of this attack we believe that–”
“Your Honor, I must object to any claim that my client is guilty of some other unspecified and, frankly, unspecifiable crimes. This is speculation of the rankest sort. We only have one case before us and–”
“Sustained. Anything else Mr. Odermatt?”
“The defendant is a man of substantial means and therefore a serious flight risk. Substantial bail is the only thing that will keep him from fleeing the jurisdiction.”
“Your Honor, if I may,” Fitch began.
“You may not.” Wilkington frowned. “I find Ms. Hamilton’s testimony credible, but I’m not the jury that will hear this case.”
“Oh, shit!” Odermatt muttered.
The judge gave him a sharp look then moved on.
“Mr. Crocker may well be convicted but based on what I’ve heard today it would be unrealistic to assume that he doesn’t also have a material chance of securing an acquittal. All defendants are presumed innocent, but the likelihood of conviction has to be factored into the equation that calculates how likely a defendant is to flee. Defendants who believe that they will likely be acquitted are more likely to show up for their trial than to make a run for it. Therefore, it seems to me that the defendant is not a strong candidate as a flight risk.
“If the Government had been able to tie Mr. Crocker to any other similar crimes or to present any evidence that he might be a serial offender who would be capable of committing other offenses while he is out on bail I would be inclined to deny Mr. Fitch’s motion. In the absence of any such evidence I have no choice but to reduce the defendant’s bail to $250,000. Mr. Crocker will surrender his passport and he will wear an ankle monitor.”
BANG, Wilkington rapped his gavel and nodded to his clerk.
“The Government versus Mantigo,” she called out and two more attorneys scurried up to the bar.
Chapter Six
“They’re letting him out?” Carrie said in almost a shriek when the three of them were back in the hallway. “I’m the only witness against him. What am I supposed to do, go home and wait for him to come and kill me?”
“He’ll be wearing an ankle monitor,” Odermatt told her in the voice a parent uses when speaking to a frightened child. “If he goes more than five miles from his home we’ll know it and we’ll move you to a safe house.”
Carrie shook her head and placed her back against the safety of the courthouse wall. “And what happens when he cuts his monitor thing off? Then what?”
“The anklet sends out an alarm if it’s removed. If that happens or it goes dead we’ll know long before he could get within a hundred miles of the Arizona state line.”
Carrie rubbed her palms over her face and looked wildly down the corridor as if expecting to see Crocker striding up the hallway toward her.
“Carrie, I’ve been protecting witnesses a long time,” Virgil told her in as calming a voice as he could manage. “I’m telling you that he can’t get to you. He’s stuck here three-hundred miles away from where you live and he wouldn’t have enough time to even get out of L.A. before we could have the Arizona State Police at your door. If anything happens they’ll put you in a cruiser and take you
to a safe location.”
“What if he escapes? What if he runs and you can’t find him? Are you going to keep me in this safe house of yours for the rest of my life?” she demanded, her eyes round and moist, her face pale.
“He’s not going anywhere without a passport,” Odermatt said, trying to sound confident, “and if he does try to run every cop in the country will be looking for him.” The A.U.S.A. put his hand on Carrie’s shoulder.
“His lawyer pulled this stunt because he wants a plea bargain. He tried to shake you up because he’s hoping you’ll get cold feet and refuse to testify and that then he’ll be able to push me into giving his client a deal. He did this to frighten you in the hope that you’ll give up and I’ll have to let Crocker go.”
Carrie looked from Odermatt to Virgil and then back to the A.U.S.A.
“This was all just to frighten me into refusing to testify?”
“It’s a common tactic,” Odermatt told her. “We see it all the time. The question is, is it going to work? Are you going to let him get away with it?”
Carrie looked at Virgil.
“Hell, no she’s not,” Virgil said. “Crocker picked the wrong woman to mess with.”
“Carrie?”
“Hell no,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Quinn. Then her jaw stiffened and a tinge of anger flushed her face. “He’s not going to beat me.”
“Good.” Odermatt patted Carrie’s shoulder. “Good. . . . Could you give me a minute with the Marshal? We need to go over some paperwork details. It won’t take long.”
Odermatt smiled and led Virgil ten feet down the corridor.
“Something’s very wrong here,” Odermatt said in a low voice, making sure to keep a smile on his face for Carrie’s benefit.
“I’m guessing you don’t mean the judge reducing Crocker’s bail.”
“Did you ever watch those old, black and white Perry Mason TV shows? They still run them on some of the cable channels.” Virgil shrugged. “Lawyers hate that show because Mason always put on a full defense at the preliminary hearing, and real lawyers never do that. You always save your best stuff for the trial. You don’t want the other side to know what you’ve got up your sleeve, and you don’t want to give the other guy’s witnesses a preview of how you’re going to go after them.”
“You’re wondering why Fitch laid out his strategy today.”
“No competent attorney would give me a blueprint of his defense that way and Fitch is a damned good lawyer, so I have to ask myself, why?” Odermatt frowned and glanced at Carrie.
“You think Crocker’s planning on coming after her?”
“The prelim is in two weeks. When she testifies she’ll be subject to cross examination which means that it won’t matter if something happens to her after that. Her prelim testimony will be admissible in evidence against him at trial if she’s unable to testify.”
“But if she disappears before she testifies at the prelim,” Virgil said, “the case against Crocker disappears with her.”
“If she doesn’t make it to the prelim, he walks.” Noticing Carrie’s nervous expression, Odermatt gave her a little wave and held up one finger, as if to say, ‘Just a minute longer.’
“You think he told his lawyer to shoot his whole wad, whatever it took, to get him out on bail so that he could make sure that she won’t be around to testify against him?” Virgil asked.
“I’m not sure of anything except that there’s some really big reason why Crocker is so desperate to get out of jail right away. Can the Marshals’ service get her another place to live for the next two weeks, someplace where Crocker won’t be able to find her?”
“I’ll talk to my boss. I can at least keep her in L.A. for a couple more days while we see what we can do.”
“Thanks,” Odermatt said, then forced a smile for Carrie’s benefit. He shook Virgil’s hand, then gave Carrie another wave before heading to his next appearance.
“Is everything all right?” Carrie asked uneasily as Virgil led her to the elevators.
“Just housekeeping details, how we’re going to coordinate your testimony between the U.S. Attorney’s office and my people.”
“What kind of details?”
“Money, mostly,” Virgil lied. “We need to figure out if it will be cheaper to fly you home to Arizona and then bring you back here again or if it might be easier to just keep you in L.A., and whose budget the money is going to come out of. Nothing you have to worry about. My boss will talk to Odermatt’s boss and they’ll figure it out.”
“You’re saying that I might not be going home?”
“You could get lucky and stay here, spend some time in the big city. Like I said, it’s kind of a money and resources thing. If they decide to keep you here we’ll get you a car and you can play tourist for a few days.” Carrie slowed and parted her lips to ask another question but Virgil didn’t give her the chance. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I. . . uh–”
“I’m starving. I didn’t get any breakfast. I know a nice place, right down the street. The Government’s buying,” he said and hit the remote for the Cadillac’s doors. Two hours later he had Carrie checked in at a different motel.
“Why are you moving me?” she asked as Virgil pulled her bag from the trunk.
“We never leave a witness in the same place too long. It’s standard procedure.” The lie came easier this time. “Besides, if they decide to keep you here until the prelim I thought you might like a little nicer place.”
“Thanks,” Carrie said and gave Virgil a little smile. For a moment he almost thought she believed him.
* * *
“What’s wrong?” Virgil’s partner, Brian Pignataro, asked late the next morning. “Is the boss sending your witness back to Arizona?”
“No, the A.U.S.A. twisted Andrew’s arm into letting her stay here where we can keep an eye on her.”
“Then what?”
“I’m missing something,” Virgil said and pushed back from his desk. “Crocker’s up to something and I don’t know what it is.”
“You’re thinking he’s figured out a way he can get to your witness?”
“I moved her to a new location. She’s not using her credit cards. We got her a clean car. . . .” Virgil raised his hands in frustration.
“Maybe he wants out because he’s going to run.”
“His prelim’s in two weeks. If he gets lucky he’ll probably be able to make a sweet deal. He might even get it kicked. He’d be a fool to run now.”
“Unless he knows he’s going down the crapper,” Pignataro said.
Virgil shook his head. “It’s a ‘he-said-she-said,’ her word against his. He’s got a shot and that’s not going to change in the next two weeks.”
“Well,” Pignataro said with a shrug, “maybe he thinks something else is going to change in the next two weeks.”
“Like what?” Virgil snapped, then stopped.
“What?”
Virgil didn’t move for a full five seconds.
“Are you having a stroke or something?”
“The rape kit,” Virgil muttered.
“What?”
“The rape kit. They found a whole God damn rape kit in his car when they grabbed him.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, he’s no amateur. He knew what he was doing. The only random part of his attack was which victim he grabbed. It was just his bad luck that he got one who fought back.”
“None of that is exactly new information,” Brian said, pulling up a chair.
“At his bail hearing his lawyer made a big deal about Crocker having a clean record but everything about this guy tells me he’s done this before.”
“Meaning he’s good at it, or he’s lucky.”
“What if he’s not?”
“You’ve lost me,” Brian said.
“What if the big hurry to get him out of custody doesn’t have anything to do with his prelim? What if there’s some other reason he needs to m
ake a run for it now?”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe some other jurisdiction is looking at him for another crime. If he gets popped for something else he can kiss bail goodbye and if another victim turns up with a similar story that will kill his ‘he-said-she-said’ defense. What if he’s got to run now before it’s too late?”
Pignataro shook his head. “If there were other cases pending the cops would have found them when they arrested Crocker and ran him through NCIC.”
“Not if he hadn’t been charged.”
“If someone else was looking at him our case would have popped up on their computer search and they would have called us.”
“How would they know? He grabbed Carrie in some two-bit town in the Arizona desert. What if he used the same M.O. on his other victims?” Virgil asked. “How is some county sheriff out in the middle of nowhere going to know that we’ve arrested Crocker down here in L.A.?”
“He’d know because the first thing they’d do when they started looking at Crocker is run him through the system.”
“What if it’s an old investigation? What if they ran Crocker’s pedigree before the LAPD grabbed him?”
“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’ and even if you’re right, how would Crocker know they’re getting ready to charge him?”
An image of Martin Fitch telling the judge that Crocker had a clean record and that there was no evidence that he had committed any other crimes popped into Virgil’s head. If Crocker was about to be arrested someplace else wouldn’t Fitch know about it?
“We’ve got to get out an alert to every police and sheriff’s department in California, Nevada and Arizona.” Virgil said. “We need to ask them to check their open cases for any mention of Miles Steven Crocker.”
Brian hesitated a moment, then rolled his chair over to his own desk. “You write it up and I’ll set up the list of recipients.”
The first call came in a little after three that afternoon from a Detective Sandra Torres from the Nye County, Nevada Sheriff’s Department.
“I’m calling about your info request on Miles Crocker,” Torres said when Virgil took her call.