“We only have one witness: Dr. Brown.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all there is. Everyone that was tied to your life before the shooting has been called by the prosecution. Don’t worry, though, Dr. Brown is going to provide some valuable insight that we can work with.”
“It seems weird for them to have over 100 witnesses and we only have one person?”
“I understand your concern, but there really are no other options. We could’ve asked your parents to testify, but the jury would just see that as a bias ploy. Besides, we’ll need them to testify on your behalf should the verdict come back as guilty. Then we can have them create some sort of sympathy for you, to spare your life in the sentencing phase.”
Spare my life?
“I don’t understand why I can’t testify,” Jeremy asked, something that had been on his mind for the past couple days. “This is my trial. Why can’t I defend myself?”
“Jeremy.” Linda replied, clearly trying to hold her composure. “This is a fragile case, we can’t afford to take any gambles. Geoff Batchelor would eat you alive on the witness stand. I’ve seen him do it. Five minutes with him will get you the needle quicker than you know.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“It’s not about fear. I’m sure you could debate him on the principles of psychology and win, but this is the courtroom—his home turf. He has years of experience. He’ll bait you into saying things you don’t want to say, make your story fuzzy. All he has to do is plant a little doubt in the jury’s minds and you lose. Dr. Brown is your best chance of getting out of this alive.”
Dr. Brown was an intense woman, and Geoff’s intimidation tactics wouldn’t work on her. She was also “by the book” and would stick to the facts. This would be Dr. Brown’s fifty-fifth trial serving as an expert witness, so she had plenty of experience on the witness stand.
Jeremy sat in silence. He wanted to tell her everything: the meetings with Dr. Siva asking him how he could change the world, Shelly and Mark fucking with his career, his decision to change the world at their expense.
But he couldn’t. She’d never believe it, and if she did, having that knowledge could throw a wrench in everything she had done so far to prepare for the trial. Can’t take any gambles. She could easily drop him as a client after learning of his twisted plans, leaving him back at square one, with no attorney wanting to work with him. If the news spread that he had knowingly done his crime in the name of science, any chance of a stay at an asylum would go out the door.
“You’re right, Linda. I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes. “You know what you’re doing. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
“Thank you.” She sat back in her chair and let out a deep exhale. “I still feel that something is not adding up in your story.”
“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“You’ve conveniently forgotten anything that had to do with the shooting. You remember walking into the office, but not opening fire?”
Why the fuck did I say that? He wished he could go back to his first meeting with her and start again. He had been caught off guard when she showed up, instead expecting to see the nervous public defender the court had assigned to him.
“Why did you buy an AR-15 as your first firearm purchase?”
He decided to leave Ricky out of it. If Ricky wanted to admit being the one who introduced Jeremy to the weapon, then that would be his choice. “I’d shot one at the range and loved it. Wanted one of my own.” He assessed her reaction; she didn’t believe him. “I thought you were on my side. What’s with the attack?”
“Attack? Don’t you know what’s coming? The district attorney is going to attack your very existence. He’s going to make you out to be a monster, as scum of the Earth. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get sentenced to death. Don’t you ever question whose side I’m on. You better think long and hard about telling me the truth. If not, well—it’s your ass.”
Linda hung up her phone and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she shouted as she stormed out of the visitation room, inmates and their visitors staring at her, and then at Jeremy.
He hung up the phone slowly before the officer arrived to take him back to his cell. I need to tell her.
14
Chapter 14
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Across the country, Ricky Heston sat with his feet in the sand, at a private resort in West Palm Beach, Florida. When the news broke about Jeremy, he wanted to get as far away as possible, unable to come to terms with what his nephew had done. His brother had changed irreparably, as a result of Jeremy’s actions. Speaking with Robert was like talking with a depressed teenager: one-word answers and shoulder shrugs.
Ricky had originally escaped to his cabin a couple weeks after Jeremy’s shooting. Getting into nature always brought him back to his senses. Snow had dumped in the mountains the weekend of the shooting, leaving him to wait it out and allow some of it to melt before making the drive.
When Ricky parked his car in front of the cabin and stepped out, gravel crunching beneath his shoes, across the patches of snow spread across his driveway he noticed a gleaming light lodged in the muddy ground.
He approached and bent down to pick up the hollow gold casing. He knew what it was right away. “Fuck,” he said. The news reports had given great detail about the type of gun and ammunition Jeremy had used in his rampage, and the empty shell casing in his fingers was an exact match.
He rolled the cold metal between his forefinger and thumb, then stuffed the shell into his jeans pocket and hurried toward the trees in the distance.
Examining the surface of the bark, the words “Jesus Christ” fell out of his mouth. At least a dozen holes spread across the surface of the tree, and they all matched the caliber of bullet Jeremy had used.
He didn’t even bother entering his cabin before jumping back into his truck and returning to the highway. His mind raced as he drove faster and faster, wanting to put some distance between himself and the cabin.
“What the fuck, Jeremy?” he shouted in his truck. “Why the fuck did you drag me into this?”
Ricky felt his mind spiraling, creating wicked thoughts of being arrested as an accomplice. If the police had found what he’d just found, Ricky would have a lot of explaining to do. And yet he’d had no idea what had occurred on his property.
“It doesn’t have to be Jeremy. It could have been anyone. Someone from the Wells cabin. They shoot AR’s.” He tried to assure himself that everything was fine. “Who am I kidding? This is Jeremy’s shell, and those are his bullet holes.”
I need to get rid of it. Get it as far away as possible.
He stayed on the freeway, passing Denver and continuing toward Denver International Airport. He had frequent flyer points thanks to his travel for work, and he could work remotely. He’d already had his suitcase packed in anticipation of a week’s stay at the cabin.
When he arrived at the airport he stuffed the empty shell in his suitcase, planning to check the bag to get it through security and onto the plane. A flight was departing in two hours to Fort Lauderdale, so he rushed to the airline counter to buy a one-way ticket and check his bag. Everything went smoothly despite the panic surging through his veins.
What would happen if they pulled his bag and searched it? If they found an empty bullet casing with Jeremy Heston’s fingerprints on it, his life could completely flip. How would he explain himself?
Despite his disgust toward Jeremy, his natural reaction was to protect his nephew. He decided that he wouldn’t tell the police that Jeremy had gone to his cabin. He wouldn’t tell them about the holes in the trees. And he certainly wouldn’t mention the empty shell.
If Ricky were questioned about anything, he would tell the truth: he hadn’t seen or spoken to Jeremy in a few months, and he was as shocked as anyone when he saw the news.
Ricky waited for night and chucked the shell as far as he could into
the moon’s massive reflection in the blacked-out sea. He stood still for several minutes, the waves whooshing at his feet.
* * *
Ricky saw no urgent reason to return home.
Florida was fun. He was able to work from the beach after setting up a wireless hot spot through his cell phone. Watching beautiful twenty-somethings in bikinis made the days a little better. There were even women his age, in much better shape than himself. Maybe he would even start exercising and pursue one of them.
A Colorado native, Ricky missed the snow. It was December and snow would surely be falling soon if it hadn’t already. If Jeremy hadn’t poisoned his cabin with evidence, Ricky would probably be there, happily trapped by a foot of snow, doing nothing but drinking whiskey and listening to a Sinatra record.
Instead, Ricky was soaking in the rays on a cloudless eighty-degree day. His phone rang: a 303 area code, Denver.
“Hello?” He’d had a couple of piña coladas and tried to sound his sharpest.
“Hello, Mr. Heston, my name is Geoff Batchelor, district attorney for the eighteenth judicial district of Colorado.”
Holy shit, Ricky thought, and dropped his empty glass into the sand. He recognized the name. He’d kept an eye on the trial online and knew Geoff Batchelor was the intimidating blond prosecuting attorney.
“Hello, Mr. Batchelor. What can I do for you?” Alcohol mixed with fear in Ricky’s belly.
“I was hoping you might be able to stop in for questioning about your nephew, Jeremy. It’s been brought to our attention that you and he used to frequent the shooting range.”
“I’m actually in Florida for work.”
Dead air filled the phone line, and Ricky checked his cell to make sure the call was still connected.
“That’s okay, Mr. Heston. If you have time right now, we can record our conversation so that your statement may be used in court. Just be aware that you’ll be asked to show up to the trial in person once it begins.”
God damn it, Jeremy.
“Yes, of course. What sort of questions did you have for me?”
“When was the last time you saw your nephew?”
Ricky flipped through his mental calendar, thinking back to their day at the shooting range. “I think it’s been a little over a year now. I haven’t heard from him since then.”
“How often would you and he go to the shooting range?”
“The shooting range specifically, not too many times. Maybe a couple times a year. Most of the time we would go golfing, or to Nuggets and Broncos games. We always watched sports together.”
Ricky caught himself speaking of Jeremy in the past tense and the thought pierced his heart.
“I see, and during your visits to the shooting range did he ever use an AR-15?”
“No.” That was the truth. It was an M-16 that Ricky had let him use, which likely led to Jeremy’s interest in an AR-15.
“Is there anything else you might like to inform us about that pertains to this case?”
Ricky felt his heart pounding in his head. He knows nothing about the cabin, hasn’t even mentioned the cabin.
“No, sir, I don’t believe so. Like I said, I haven’t heard from Jeremy in a long time. I was as shocked as anyone when I saw the news.”
“Fair enough. Please stay near your phone, my office may be in touch with more questions, and we’ll also let you know when you’ll be expected to appear in court. Thanks for your time today and enjoy the sunshine—we’re getting a dumping of snow tonight.”
Thanks, dick.
“Sounds good, Mr. Batchelor, please let me know how I can help.”
They hung up and Ricky’s heart continued to pulse in rapid bursts. It reminded him of the Edgar Allen Poe story “The Tell-Tale Heart,” when the guilty man keeps hearing the heartbeat of his buried victim underneath his floor.
“You’re okay. They didn’t ask about the cabin. They may not even know about the cabin. You’re okay.” Two high school boys gawked at Ricky as he spoke to himself.
“Go back to school,” he barked at them, and they shuffled away.
Guess I’m going home sooner than planned.
15
Chapter 15
Monday, December 12, 2016
With all evidence submitted and approved, the judge set a date of July 17, 2017 for the trial to begin. With a set date, it was now time to prepare for a plea bargain. When Linda took on the case, she believed getting Jeremy a life sentence to be the best possible outcome. As time progressed and more money was thrown into the trial by his parents, she had talked herself into a realistic possibility of getting Jeremy a ‘not guilty by reason of insanity’ verdict.
Linda had stressed over this day, anxious about how the district attorney would react. If Batchelor accepted the guilty plea in exchange for life in prison, they would have achieved her original best possible outcome. How realistic was an insanity plea?
While there were holes to fill in the insanity narrative, she still couldn’t find a single detail that pointed to Jeremy planning out his slaughter. She knew she should just believe his claim that he had blacked out the night prior and the day of the shooting, but she still suspected something bigger was at play, and Jeremy was hiding it.
He had to have planned everything, she was convinced—but she decided to keep her mouth shut about it going forward. He was her client: she was paid to protect him, not persecute him.
“Batchelor won’t accept the plea. There’s not a chance,” Wilbert told her. They met in her office before driving to the courthouse. “Then we can move on and prepare for trial.”
They left the office and drove together in Linda’s BMW, not speaking one word to each other. They both knew that the decision made at today’s hearing would drastically affect the next several months of their lives.
Jeremy still gave her the creeps when they met, so she wouldn’t be opposed to it all ending now, yet she sensed the universe had a different plan in mind.
They entered the courtroom to find Geoff reading over some papers. He looked up at them as they sat at their table. “Good morning, Linda. Wilbert.”
“Morning, Governor,” Linda replied without looking at the district attorney. She could tell from his voice that he had no plan to accept the plea. This case was just something to hang his future campaign on. Every day she saw him she hated him a little more.
A handful of cameras snapped behind Linda, and she looked up to see Jeremy entering the courtroom, dragging his shackles, an officer close behind him. He appeared dazed, likely high off his ass from the pills they had prescribed. Jeremy nodded at her and Wilbert as he sat down, not saying a word.
“All rise!” the bailiff called from the corner of the room as Judge Zamora entered with his black cloak flowing behind him.
“Good morning, folks. Today should be quick. The defense team will offer a plea bargain should they choose. We’ll discuss some clerical matters, and then we’ll reconvene tomorrow morning for the prosecution’s decision on the plea bargain.”
“Your Honor, we have one final piece of evidence to submit. We sent it to the defense yesterday as well,” Geoff said.
“Okay, what is it?”
“Exhibit 1972. These are copies of the 911 calls made the morning of March 11, from within the office building where the crime occurred.”
“Ms. Kennedy?” the judge asked.
“No objections, Your Honor.” The calls made to dispatch were standard evidence.
“Perfect. Thank you.” The judge paused while he made a note.
“Okay. Ms. Kennedy, will your team exercise a plea bargain today?”
“Yes, Your Honor. We offer to plead guilty to the charges in exchange for a lifetime prison sentence.”
Jeremy cringed at the words and his legs started to bounce underneath the table. He looked in Geoff’s direction to read his reaction, but there was none: the D.A. was taking notes of his own, with an expressionless face.
“Mr. Batchelor, you will have an a
nswer for us tomorrow regarding the defense team’s offer.”
The judge proceeded to discuss questions that had arisen regarding some exhibits of evidence, before adjourning for the day.
* * *
December 13, 2016
Jeremy didn’t have his pills on a day he wished he did. His entire experiment could be flushed down the toilet this morning, and his body shivered nervously in anticipation of the decision. The courtroom felt warmer than usual, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Those in attendance were quieter than they had been the previous days.
Linda noticed her client rocking beside her and whispered under her breath, “We’re okay.”
Jeremy had no way of knowing if she said this because of a gut feeling or if she actually knew something. She had assured him the day before that the plea bargain was simply a posturing move to give the district attorney some additional paperwork to do, and to potentially stall the start of the trial. “I can say with certainty he will not accept the offer,” she had told him.
Still, Jeremy sat at the defense table, guts bubbling in anticipation. There’s no such thing as a sure thing. He could accept the offer and this all ends today. Off to prison I go.
Judge Zamora entered the courtroom. “Good morning. Mr. Batchelor, does the prosecution accept the plea bargain offered by the defense?”
Geoff rose from his seat and buttoned his suit before speaking. “Your Honor, the prosecution declines the plea bargain.”
The tension left Jeremy’s shoulders in an instant and he could sense the same from Linda.
“We believe Ms. Kennedy simply made the offer to delay the start of trial. We absolutely do not accept the plea.”
Linda shook her head.
“Mr. Batchelor, does this mean that you will pursue the death penalty?”
“Yes, Your Honor, we intend to pursue the death penalty for this case,” Geoff said without hesitation. The words had less of a punch than Jeremy expected, partly because he knew they were coming.
The Burden Page 6