The Usher

by Will Pettijohn

  Chapter 9

  Young sat in his cell and waited … He waited for nothing at all, and yet he was impatient all the same. The hours crept by as if they were days; the days passed as if they were months.

  As he sat in his cell on one dark late afternoon, he heard the door next to him open and, after a couple of moments, close again. He lay back on his slightly mildewed cot and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and thought back on the events that had landed him in this place. He couldn’t believe he’d been caught. It had seemed like a foolproof plan when he thought it up. He even believed that his partner was in as deep as he was at the time, but things soon changed.

  As Young thought back, he realized that Archer had never done anything any other special agent wouldn’t do if he were working on a sting. Archer had all the information and knew exactly how to use it against him. Young remembered that when Archer performed a task, only small things were illegal.

  Archer’s hands weren’t as dirty as his in the eyes of the law. There was no proof at all that Archer had done anything wrong. If he had had Archer there with him when he committed the murders, Archer would have been just as guilty as he was. On the other hand, looking back now, Young would have probably been dead or prosecuted for attempted murder if he had included Archer in his plans from the beginning. Archer was an eternal enemy now. And his efforts to land Young in prison wouldn’t go unpunished if he had anything to do with it.

  Young heard a rap on his door; he lifted his head and listened. “Young … Keep away from the door and face the opposite wall—we’re coming in,” a guard shouted. He opened the small food door on the front of the solid door to the cell, and then closed it after him.

  Young did exactly as he was commanded; he sat up and got to his feet, faced the wall, and stood perfectly still as he had done each time before. The door opened and the guards looked at Young. As the guards entered the room, they surveyed and inspected Young’s bunk and clothing to ensure that he had nothing that wasn’t prison issued.

  “I’m gonna place these shackles on your legs—you know the drill,” one of the guards said as he knelt down to Young’s feet.

  “Yes, sir.” Young complied, as he didn’t dare move. “Where are we going?” he asked as he stared at the wall in front of him.

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Really? It’s only been a few days. I guess someone misses me already.”

  The guards didn’t reply and continued restraining him before they stood up. They placed handcuffs on his wrists and placed a large brown belt with a big silver loop positioned horizontally for the chain to be run through. The guard ran a small chrome chain through the shackles, through the belt, and finally to his handcuffs. They secured the chain with two small locks to prevent it from loosening.

  “Okay, turn and follow me. As we walk, just keep our pace and don’t move away from us,” the lead guard said. They opened the cell door and made their way into the hallway. The guards took a right out of the cell and Young followed. They walked through three doors before stopping at a room. The lead guard looked up at the camera and nodded.

  A long buzz was followed by a sharp click, and then the guard pushed the door open. As they entered the room, Young looked around in anticipation to see who had come to see him. In the middle of the room, at a small-stainless steel table, sat a short gray-haired man in a black suit. Young knew in an instant that the man was his attorney.

  “Just stand still now until we remove the chain,” the guard said as he bent over to take it off. Young again did as he was ordered, and the chain was removed. The guards walked him over to the table. “Sit here and do not move. Your back has to face this direction,” the guard said as he pointed to the wall. “You have thirty minutes, no more.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you,” Young said as he took his seat. The guards all exited the room after a brief look around. Young looked at his attorney and nodded. “How are things looking, James?” he asked.

  “Well, I have good news and bad news, Mr. Young,” the attorney said in a slow, deep southern accent.

  “I’m always interested in good news these days, James.”

  “You will probably not be as happy as I am over this, but the FBI didn’t have a warrant at the time of the recording in the Bennigans’ residence,” James said as he placed his briefcase on the table.

  “Hell, that’s awesome news, James!” Young said sarcastically. “Is there anything else?”

  “Mr. Young … I don’t know how this will affect our case, but without the tapes being admissible in court, the things that were recorded that day will disappear, in the judge’s eyes.”

  Young straightened in his chair, raised his restrained hands to his nose, and scratched slowly. “So, what you are saying is … I may not be stuck here in this hellhole for very much longer?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all, Mr. Young. My point is simply that you may not be as guilty as you were when you were arrested.”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here, James, and say I think my confession is the least of my fucking worries!”

  James looked up at Young and closed his mouth tightly. “And I’m going to agree with you, Mr. Young, as the judge has denied our request for a change of venue,” he snapped back.

  “What?”

  “Yes, sir! The judge denied the change-of-venue request, which means that your case will be heard in the Dallas County federal courthouse.”

  “Why would they deny it?”

  “They don’t ever say … They only sent this notice to my office this morning,” James answered as he opened his briefcase and removed a sheet of paper.

  “So we don’t even get to speak to the judge about it?”

  “No, not in federal court. The only time we get to see the judge is in actual court. We will—should I say, I will—be present and help decide on a jury. If it even goes to jury, that is, if we don’t take a plea.”

  “What the hell do you mean, if we go to trial? Of course I want to go to trial! I won’t take a plea. I don’t want to go to prison, James!”

  “Mr. Young … you are in prison now. I’m simply saying … if we go to trial, the consequences will be even harsher and the federal prosecutor’s office will be after the death penalty. I have been in court with her. She will ask for the maximum punishment in this case, Mr. Young.”

  “I don’t think it will go that far. I think that without the tape, I’ll be okay. I think we can fight the witness’s testimony and win. After all, I have an impeccable record. I say let the bastards bring it on. I can be pretty convincing when I need to be. I was tricked into a confession by the police and the FBI as well. Archer … ah, Archer … I thought we were friends, and he lured me into that house and held a gun to my head and forced me to make those statements,” Young defended himself quickly.

  “Okay, I’ll let the prosecutor know we will take our chances in court. We will select a jury and try to get things started. But as you well know … federal court moves at a snail’s pace, and it could take more than a month to even sequester a jury.” James closed his briefcase.

  “Do you have a pen and paper in there?” Young asked.

  “No,” James answered. “The guards searched it and removed everything other than the manila folder with your case file in it and a couple of other sheets of paper. By the way, how are they treating you here?” James folded his arms and placed them on top of his briefcase.

  “I’m completely secluded, and I don’t even have a blanket or anything to cover myself with at night. I don’t have any communication materials. I feel like I’m an animal.”

  “I understand, but until we talk to the prosecutor’s office, I don’t think you’ll have much contact with the free world.”

  “I can’t even have a pen and paper?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”
>
  “Isn’t that a violation of my constitutional rights?”

  “Mr. Young … you know how this all works, for goodness’ sake. You have been an FBI agent for many years now, and you have been around prisons and inmates as well. You are being held and accused of committing very vicious multiple murders. You are considered to be a flight risk, and you are suspected of being very violent. Two of those prevent you from having any materials in your possession that may be used as a weapon.”

  “Yeah, yeah … I know the drill. But when I visited the prisons and saw the inmates, it didn’t look quite so dreary. So I’m just supposed to sit here until this is over?”

  “Afraid so. I’ll talk to the prosecutor and see if we can’t make some arrangements to help ease the torment. Maybe we can get you some writing material and I can guarantee that you will have the necessities to survive in here.”

  Young lowered his head and didn’t say anything. The door to the room opened and the guards entered. “Okay, Young, your time is up,” one of them said. “Stand up and we’ll get you ready to go back to your cell.” Young stood up and let the guards place the chain on again.

  “Okay, let’s get you back to your cell for the night,” the guard said as he gave a gentle tug on Young’s arm. Young turned and they walked out of the room.

  Chapter 10

  Rick had T-Bone help him gather all the evidence in the Bennigan murders and the other murder case of Vinnie as well, they realized that Young had killed Vinnie to cover his tracks. The fact that Young had Vinnie plant the evidence at the Bennigans residence had to be covered up. Young knew that Vinnie would have squealed as soon as he was pinched for another crime and he couldn’t have Vinnie spilling the beans about what he had him do They included the extortion and false evidence that Young had had Vinnie plant at the Bennigans’ home before Young had killed him. Then he placed it all into his briefcase. He rarely used it, but on occasion he would pull it out from under his desk and dust it off. As the two detectives looked at the evidence, they began checking things off an imaginary checklist.

  “Okay, we have the voice recording of Young, the photos of the Bennigan house, the photos of Vinnie’s body, the captain’s report, and the notes for the case. Do ya think that’s gonna get it done?” Rick asked.

  “I would imagine that just those pictures will be enough, but it will all help the judge, partner.”

  “All right. I’m gonna drop this stuff off and then head home, Bubba. Wish me luck for tomorrow,” Rick said as he closed the briefcase and stood up from his chair.

  “Good luck, Bubba. Let me know as soon as you hear something, okay?” T-Bone replied, and shook his partner’s hand.

  Rick put his coat on and entered the elevator. He pushed the button and the doors closed. The motion of the elevator was like the ocean as it turned his stomach. He hadn’t been able to choke down any food for more than six days now. The motion stopped at the parking garage and the door opened.

  He stepped out of the elevator and made his way to his car, unlocked the door, and climbed inside. He cranked the car, placed his seat belt over his shoulder, and clicked it into the receptacle.

  Rick put the car in reverse, placed his arm over the back of the seat, and turned and faced the rear window to see. As the car began moving, he heard a loud thud on the driver’s-side window. He turned to see T-Bone standing outside holding a manila envelope.

  “Jesus Christ, you scared me!” Rick shouted as he rolled the window down, looking at his partner.

  “Sorry, Bubba, you forgot the medical examiner’s reports for the Bennigan family. I thought you might need them too.” T-Bone struggled to speak, out of breath from running to catch him before he left the parking garage.

  “Yeah, I’ll probably need these,” Rick said, looking at the large envelope and taking it from T-Bone.

  “Okay, man. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  “Right on! I’ll let ya know how it goes as soon as I can,” Rick said, and then he backed the car up slowly.

  Rick made his way out of the parking garage and onto Main Street. He drove down Main and across Olive and then to Chestnut. He caught a red light at Chestnut and waited. When the light turned green, he made his way onto Chestnut and followed it to Oak Street. Twelve hundred Oak Street, he said to himself as he began looking at the addresses. He found the courthouse and parked in front, where there were reserved parking spaces for law enforcement. He placed the medical examiner’s reports in the briefcase and closed it again.

  As he turned the engine off, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and viewed the screen. He didn’t recognize the number and pressed the “end” button. He removed his keys from the ignition and the phone rang again. He looked again to see the same number. He answered, “This is Wise.”

  “Detective Wise, this is Special Agent Woburn with the FBI.”

  “Wow! I didn’t think I would ever hear from you again, Agent Woburn. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Detective. I wanted to call and tell you that I am so glad you were able to beat Young at his own game.”

  “Well … it wasn’t easy, Woburn. He almost killed me, ya know.”

  “That’s what I was told; but what about Agent Archer, Detective?”

  “He was a big help, and I was glad he was on our side in the end. When I realized he was a good guy, I felt much better about the situation I had gotten myself into that day.”

  “Hmm … Doesn’t it strike you as odd that Archer turned on Young? I heard them talking, and Archer was in on it, Wise.”

  “Umm … what makes you think Archer wasn’t just trying to get the sting all set up and then bring Young down?”

  “Because I heard them talking! They didn’t know I was there and could hear them. I heard Archer talking to Young, and even though he didn’t seem as if he was the leader, he didn’t act like he was trying to prevent anything either.”

  “I’m confused, Agent Woburn. Why didn’t you go to your supervising agent in charge and talk to them about any of this when you realized that you still think Archer is guilty?” Rick prodded and rolled his eyes.

  “Because I believe that if I were to open that can of worms, I would be next.”

  “But Young is in prison! Why would Archer do anything to be there with Young, if he is guilty? That doesn’t seem like a very smart move after tricking Young and placing him in prison, does it?”

  “Detective Wise, you need to think about all of this for a moment and realize that Young and Archer worked together for several years. If Young was the only dirty one, wouldn’t Archer have turned him in before now?”

  “Hmm … I guess if Young was careful and Archer wasn’t privy to all of his dealings, then Archer wouldn’t have known about any of them until it was too late to stop.”

  “Detective … what is your partner’s favorite color?”

  “It’s blue. Why do you ask?”

  “My point is, if you have a partner whom you care about for any length of time, you get to know them, and it would be hard for Young to hide the fact that he was dirty from his partner. What do you think happened, Wise? Young just decided one day to tell Archer he had killed several people and that he wanted Archer to help him cover it up? What about the fact that Archer was aware that Young had a grudge against Marcell and was planning to plant evidence to frame him?”

  “Hell, Agent Woburn, I hold grudges against people I think are guilty every day. That doesn’t mean Archer is dirty. But you make a valid point about how Young approached him and asked him to help. When we were in the house that day, Archer kept looking at Young with a strange look on his face, and I didn’t feel comfortable with that even after it was all over. Maybe Archer wanted Young to make a bad move and then he could kill him. That would have covered his ass and he wouldn’t have to defend anything Young said later. Wait a minute �
� Archer wanted Young to kill me and then he could kill Young. That would get rid of everyone who knew Archer was guilty, that son of a bitch!”

  “My thoughts exactly, Detective,” Agent Woburn said. “With Young killing you and then Archer turning on Young, he would have looked like a hero. There were a lot of agents outside who would back up the story that Archer killed Young after he killed you on a sting gone bad.”

  “Now that you mention it, I am really confused as to why anyone would believe that Archer didn’t have anything more to do with it than he did. Why wouldn’t the agent in charge stop all of this before the sting even took place? If he thought Archer was innocent, then he had to know that with Archer’s testimony he could have put Young away for a lifetime.”

  “Now you understand, Detective Wise! Now you understand why I can’t go to my supervisor and tell them that I believe Archer had much more to do with it. I don’t know how deep this goes and I don’t know who is involved. The agent in charge let this go on for far too long not to have been involved in some way.”

  “Okay … I get it now, and thank you! I will dig a little deeper and try to figure out more about Archer and whoever else is involved and just what the hell is going on here.”

  “You’re welcome, Detective Wise … Be safe and try not to trust too many more killers. Okay?”

  “All right, and you try to steer clear of anyone you may think is involved.”

  “Detective Wise, you’re the only one who I know isn’t involved in this mess, and that is why I trust you. Be safe and I’ll be in touch if I hear anything.”

  “You too and I’ll do the same, Agent Woburn,” Rick said as he ended the call. He hadn’t thought of any of that, other than the day Archer stood next to him outside the Bennigans’ house. He was still confused about Archer, even after he realized that Archer had brought the cavalry in when Young was going to kill him. He remembered not trusting Archer as the FBI took Young away. He had a gut feeling, and now it was back. Woburn made a lot of sense about Archer and how it had gone so far.