by Don Potter
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand all too well. The murder was committed here in Indiana where the death penalty is still in force, so your trial will be here. And, if you were to be exonerated here there’s a double-murder charge waiting for you at home but no execution. Do you understand that?”
“What are my chances of acquittal? I’m innocent.”
“The prosecution has a strong case and this is an election year so the DA will be pulling out all the stops to convict you. And a death penalty will make him appear to be tough on crime. The outcome is not looking good,” the attorney said.
“You’re my lawyer, can’t you do something?”
“It’s a little late for that; the jury has the case and we’ll know your fate soon.”
“If you had done your job I wouldn’t be in the predicament I’m in now. It was your job to plant reasonable doubt in their mind. But you didn’t do it. Like the fire; I was long gone when it started.
“Your pants had gasoline on them. This was what fueled the blaze. And an explosive device with a timer got the whole thing going. That explains how it started and why you were not on the scene when it did.”
“No one person could have done all this in the short period of time I was there.”
“Unfortunately no one can confirm when you were there. The police know when you were picked up. So you may have had the time to do the work of several men. Besides there is no evidence that anyone except the victim and you were in the building.”
“The bullet. Why didn’t the police find the bullet from the other gun? The man who killed Jinky must have found the bullet from his gun and used the one I dropped to fire off another shot and make it look like it came from that weapon.”
“Let’s say that happened. Your finger prints were on the murder weapon. There were no others except for the dead man’s. And tests show you fired a gun recently when you told police you didn’t.”
“I left that part out when I described what happened. Anyone would if they were in the situation I was in.”
“Nobody bought that. The faces on the jurors expressed their disbelief when this came out at the trial. In fact, since the gun was used to kill two drug dealers in Detroit, rather than help your case it hurt you. The van had little damage inside and drugs were found too. This gave the appearance that you and Jinky went around murdering people who got in the way of your drug dealing activities.”
“The system is working against me.”
“No, you’ve been given a fair trial and I presented your case to the best of my ability. The evidence, however, is against you.”
The discussion ended when the bailiff came into the defendant’s waiting room. Since the jury had not been out long, Rollo knew the verdict was not going to be to his liking.
That night Rollo had difficulty sleeping. He was devastated by the ‘guilty of murder in the first degree’ verdict and asked the public defender to file an appeal, which the lawyer would have done as a matter of course.
“Do you know where the crossroads were?” A voice asked? It was Michael, the man from the cell and the one who came to Rollo in his times of need.
Rollo had no recollection of what was yet to come, but he did recall earlier dreams. So it seemed perfectly natural to have a conversation with this invisible voice.
“My life started to go down hill when my father died. And got worse when my brother was killed. Then everything fell apart when mom was taken from me. But the frosting on the cake was when I got hooked up with that damn Jinky.”
“The situation that got you in here was simply the result of not accepting life on life’s terms. People are born and people die. It’s human to morn your losses but no one has the right to use them as an excuse to do whatever they want, particularly when these actions harm others.”
“What is this, a sermon or something?”
“No, this is a review of what happened in your life, how you reacted to events, and what you must do to find peace.”
“Get me out of here and I’ll have peace. If you can’t do that why do I need you?”
“You have lost your way. Let me help you find your moral compass, rebuild your faith and discover the path to redemption.”
“Start by taking the death penalty off the table. Get that done and we’ll talk again.”
“I’m not Santa Claus. Do you want salvation or a get-out-of-jail-free card?”
“Start with getting me out of jail. Salvation can come later.”
“So be it. But you’re short changing yourself.”
There was silence.
“Your lawyer is here,” the guard said when he woke Rollo. He was ready to put the handcuffs on the prisioner before opening the cell door.
“Let me brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face. Seems like I just got to sleep.”
“Go ahead. I ain’t got nothing to do for the next couple of hours. Not until the boys in the drunk tank get released. Otherwise, weekends are pretty quiet around here.”
Rollo quickly got himself together and did not pay attention to the patter from an obviously lonely man. He placed his wrists through the slot in the door and heard the distinctive click as the cuffs were secured. The final step in the process was hooking up the handcuffs with the belt leading to the leg shackles. Once accomplished, the convicted murderer was ready to take half-steps or slide his way to the meeting with the public defender.
“You’re one hell of a lucky fellow.” The PD smiled for the first time since the trial process began.
“Did you find something to help with the re-trial? Better than that, the guys that killed Jinky and tried to burn down the building have been caught.”
“How do you know it’s them?”
“They confessed; that’s how. Seems the local police busted the three of them with a bunch of drugs. They were sampling their own merchandise and were higher than kites. During the individual interrogations two of them got scared and turned on the one who did the deed. They confirmed your story about using the dead man’s gun that you dropped and shooting a bullet from it into the victim’s skull. And they admitted to starting the fire. So you’ll be walking away from these charges very shortly. That’s the good news.”
“Any bad news?”
“There’s that little matter of two dead bodies found in a drug house back in Detroit. Jinky’s gun was used and his prints as well as yours turned up at the crime scene. With no previous record, you might have slipped by; but both sets of prints were sent through the system. So, while the death sentence is off the table, you have to answer to these two murder charges.”
“That’s not bad news. Damn, it’s terrible news.”
“There may be a ray of sunlight coming through those dark clouds.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Give me the straight scoop.” Rollo felt as if his life had become one gigantic roller coaster ride, and he was at the top of the climb about to drop into another gut-wrenching fall. He did not want to watch the attorney bask in a moment of glory, to which the man had not contributed or affected the outcome in any way. Nor was he prepared to hear a bunch of lawyer-talk. Rollo was looking for solutions to his ongoing problems.
“The Detroit cops think there may be a way you can help them get to the top dealer in the city. They believe he was pissed at Jinky for trying to muscle his way into the drug scene and may have arranged for the assassination here. I don’t know any of the details, but a couple of detectives are coming to Michigan City to talk with you. I strongly suggest you listen to what they have to say. It could lead to reduced prison time for you.”
“When will this happen?”
“They’re driving, so I’d say around lunchtime.”
“Are you going to sit in?”
“No. It’s a different case in another state. My participation is over except for the paperwork.”
“That’s it?”
“You get what you pay for. And in this instance, you received my services free, thanks
to the good people of Michigan City, Indiana. I wish you good luck, because you’re going to need it.”
“You’ve got yourself in a load of trouble.” The Detroit homicide detective wasted no time getting to the point. “A double-homicide like you were involved in means back-to-back sentences. So you’ll be spending the next fifty years as a guest of the state in a not-too-friendly prison if you get consecutive terms.”
“But I had no idea what Jinky was up to. I didn’t have a gun or anything.”
“Problem is the jury won’t believe that story. Maybe the judge will be lenient in his sentencing and give you concurrent terms. That way you’ll be out while you’re still in your forties.”
“Of course there might be another way,” the narcotics detective said.
“What might that be?” Rollo replied.
“Well, it’s kinda dangerous.”
“Tell me.”
“Here’s the deal. Your pal made a big mistake by taking out the nephew of Detroit’s drug kingpin.”
“I had no idea. Neither did Jinky, I’m sure.”
“Be that as it may, we’ve been trying to get someone on the inside of the ring. So far no good. That’s where you come in.”
“How’s that?”
“You might be able to have the charges dropped if you agree to help us get the goods on Mr. Big and send him away for a long, long time. Swap your two twenty plus year sentences for him, so to speak.”
“What am I supposed to do walk in and say ‘I was with the guy who killed your nephew’ and offer him my services?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Seriously, if you do this we could have your case thrown out do to lack of evidence,” the homicide cop said.
“All you have to do is put the word out that you hid some of the dope from the Michigan City debacle and want to make things right by turning it over to Mr. Big.”
“He’ll contact you. Then set up a place to do the drop. For the occasion, we’ll provide a car with drugs. It’ll be wired for sound, and we’ll try to get video of the transaction too. If we can’t nab him at the scene, you’ll have to convince him that you had nothing to do with what Jinky did and you’re ready to work for him.”
“Yeah, he’s going to let me waltz right in there and become part of his gang.”
“Hey, you’re going to be giving him back something he’s already written off. He’ll be making pure profit with the drugs you bring to the party. Nobody on his payroll has ever delivered such easy-money to him.”
“And the downside to this?”
“If you get caught you could get killed.”
“Or worse,” the other detective said.
“When do I have to give you my answer?” Rollo asked.
“Now would be good.”
Having made the decision to go ahead with the plan mapped out by the police, Rollo found himself back in the old neighborhood living near his old house. He made contact with the local pusher that replaced the one wiped-out by Jinky. Within hours a cell phone was delivered to him.
The messenger stood by the front door when the call came in. Rollo told the story he had rehearsed with the police. Mr. Big agreed to meet him that night at an old garage not far from downtown. Rollo needed to get final instructions from the police, so he went to the pre-arranged place being careful no one was following him.
“No one followed you.” the cop said.
“I don’t think so.”
“That was not a question. It was a statement of fact. We have a couple of tails on you, and I was just radioed that no one followed you. Except us.” The detective’s tone indicated that Rollo was a real novice.
“What do I do?” Rollo asked.
“Just do what you’re supposed to. No more, no less.”
“You guys will be close by, right?”
“Don’t worry. We want this guy and we want him bad. So you can be sure we’ll be nearby.” The support was obviously there in an effort to get the drug boss more than to protect Rollo.
“How close? I mean this is a whole new thing for me.”
“You won’t see us, but a taskforce will be shadowing you all the way. So relax. As soon as we load the drugs into your car it’s off to your little rendezvous with the big, bad daddy.”
“Okay, buster, hold it right there,” the armed sentinel said as Rollo pulled up to the garage. The man signaled for him to get out of the car.
As he complied, Rollo could not help but wonder why these kinds of activities occurred in places that all looked the same – dark and deadly. The thought disturbed him.
“He’s clean,” the man spoke into the walkie-talkie after frisking Rollo.
The doors opened to reveal a half-dozen men standing alongside a black Lincoln Town car. Rollo was directed where to park, asked to pop the trunk, and to step out of his car. He was frisked again. Then the door to the shinny car opened and a tall, heavy-set man stepped out.
“Whatcha got for me?”
Rollo pointed to the trunk.
“Nice work. We’ll check out the quality to see if it meets our standards. If it does there may be an opportunity for a young man like you in our organization. But there’s no freelancing and no Wild West crap. That incident with my nephew was both bold and stupid.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“If you say so. Problem was he was skimming off the top and the bottom. Cutting the dope and holding back on the extra money. He would have been out of the picture soon anyway. So go home and wait until you hear from me.”
The door flew open and cops came rushing in. One of the dealer’s men shot at Rollo. He was hit and crashed to the floor. The police opened up and put the man down. No more shots were fired. The rest of the gangsters offered no resistance. They were cuffed and loaded into a waiting police van. Rollo would have noticed how simple the entire operation was if he had been conscious.
“Welcome back to the real world,” the voice said as Rollo came to.
“Where am I?”
“You’re safe and sound in the hospital,” the doctor said. “The bullet you took shattered your knee. You went down, hit the concrete floor, and split your head open. You were unconscious for quite a while. The fractured skull is already on the mend. I’m sorry to say your football playing days are over. You should have no problem walking but may be left with a slight limp. Other than that everything will be fine.”
“How do you know I played football?”
“I know a lot more about you than you may think.”
“Don’t I know you from someplace?” The slender body, sharp features, the eyes, and that voice - the strong yet soothing voice. All these seemed familiar to Rollo.
“Have you been to this hospital before?”
“No, but I’m sure I know you. Maybe it will come to me later.”
“Let me know if it does. Now get some rest. If things continue to improve you’ll be going home soon and be able to start a new life.”
“By the way, what’s your name, doctor?
“Name’s Good. Michael Good.”