“Sure. I’ve already talked to him but you are certainly welcome to do so.”
“I will,” I said and headed to the Captain’s office.
I knocked on the door and he yelled for me to come in. He had just put the phone down and was making some notes. I waited until he was finished.
“You are here to ask about the FBI Serial Killer Task Force interrogation powers,” he said.
“Yes sir, I am.”
“As strange as it may seem, it’s legitimate. I called the Commissioner, who called the Mayor, who called etc., etc., all the way to Washington. What they say is true. It is for unusual circumstances at their discretion.”
“This isn’t about National Security. This has nothing to do about an attack on the US. This is a serial murder case. How does that fit in to any of this?”
“It’s the unusual circumstances at their discretion that they have decided to evoke.”
“Captain, that doesn’t make it right. No one wants this guy off the streets more than I do but we have to follow the law,” I replied.
“Bartoni, you can piss and moan all you want but it’s out of my hands at this point. In case you didn’t realize it, the Secretary of State is a few levels above my current pay grade.”
“And just how is this going to hold up in court? Everything will be thrown out. A judge will take one look at how the information was obtained and he will walk. Not only that but he will have more freedom than ever before,” I said.
I knew my voice was raising and I could feel my neck starting to turn red. It often did that when I was getting ready to blow my top.
“Detective, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think or like. That’s the way it is. Get over it or I will send you home. Got it?”
I took a deep breath and just looked at him for several seconds. He was looking right back at me. I knew I wasn’t going to win this one.
“Fine. I’m going to my desk and finish my paper work,” I said and turned to leave.
“Good idea,” I heard him say as I closed the door.
I went in search of Donner and found him in the break room. He was eating a Snickers candy bar and drinking a Diet Coke.
“Donner, I need some things cleared up. I don’t understand how any of this is going to do any good. The confession, if there is one, will get thrown out of court. Nothing he says will be admissible. So what the hell good is this going to do?”
“I know you think this is wrong but...”
“Think it’s wrong? I damn well know it’s wrong.”
“But,” he continued, “He is going to tell us where Ginny Thompson is. You can rest reassured that if he is the guy, and I’m pretty sure he is, then he will pay for his crimes.”
“That’s a great story but it still doesn’t answer the question of how?”
“He will be tried in a special court that is now in operation for certain individuals who are deemed a threat to the country.”
“Hold it. You’re telling me he is a treat to the United States and that we have secret courts for special cases?”
“Not exactly. We have special judges who preside over these cases. They allow a little more latitude to the prosecution.”
“Holy shit. That’s nothing more than a Kangaroo Court. The law is supposed to be the same for everyone.”
“Do you really believe that? Do you honestly think for one minute that every criminal is treated the same?”
“I have to. I’m a cop. It’s the legal system I work under. If that’s wrong, then what I am doing is wrong. I’m essentially working for a police state.”
“Oh hell. It’s not a police state. It’s a system used under certain circumstances. We are not going to let the Bundys and Dalmers of the world prey on people while we try to dot all our i's and cross all the t's. It just gives them a chance to continue to kill until we catch them red-handed.
“Wrong. Our job is to catch them, not beat a confession out of them.”
“Whoa. Do you think he is beating Sims? Waterboarding him? You are so far off base. He took nothing in the room with him. I can guarantee he will never lay a finger on Sims.”
I looked at him for several seconds trying to figure out where he was coming from. How in the hell could he get the type of information we needed without some sort of physical abuse? I wasn’t exactly buying it.
“So you’re telling me that good ole Neil will get a confession by just talking to the guy?”
“Pretty much,” Donner said.
“Pretty much?”
“Yep.”
Truthfully, this wasn’t making much sense to me. The whole FBI involvement was definitely unusual. I wasn’t sure what I should do next so I went back to my desk and finished my paper work, like I told the Captain I was going to do.
Three hours later I saw Neil rushing out to talk to Donner. Donner waved me over.
“Ginny is buried in the woods just off of White River Wapahani Trail. He said she was out near the point where the River splits. Here,” he said, pointing to an area of trees on the map.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Within a matter of minutes almost the entire police force and Sherriff’s deputies were converging on the northwest side of the city.
Marcus, Neil, Donner, and I raced down West Tenth Street and took the feeder road that lead back to Wapahani Trail. We took a left on Wapahani and stopped at the big curve in the road. Several Sherriff’s and police cars were already there. We bailed out of the SUV and quickly gathered everyone.
Others continued to arrive while we were giving them the information. We decided it would be best if we left Neil to direct others as they arrived. We quickly formed up into a long line, side by side, and started walking into the woods.
The progress was slow due to the denseness of the trees but we managed to stay in a fairly straight line.
“Over here,” someone yelled and we all converged on the spot.
“Looks like the earth has been turned over. I felt the ground give when I stepped on it,” the officer explained.
“Shovels,” someone else yelled and four or five shovels started digging at the earth. It only took a few minutes before someone heard the ‘thunk’ of metal on wood.
Everyone with a shovel started digging at a frantic pace. Soon the top of the wooden coffin was uncovered and a few minutes later the coffin was lifted out of the grave and placed beside it. They begin to yank the boards off the top.
Ginny was lying in a little ball, her knees drawn up to her chest. One of the officers felt for a pulse.”
It seemed like forever before he finally said, “She’s alive.”
Everyone broke out in a cheer.
“She needs help. Her pulse is very weak.”
“We're coming,” we heard a voice shout and a second later two EMT’s arrived and immediately went to work on Ginny.
They placed an oxygen mask on her and started an IV with some kind of clear liquid. Something about a Ringer Lactate Solution, but I’m no doctor so I don’t really know the procedures. I was just glad she was alive and they were working on her.
A large gathering of cops were all standing around watching as the EMT’s worked on the young girl. I could see several with tears running down their cheeks. It was all I could do to not burst out in tears myself. How anyone be so cruel was beyond me.
I walked over to where Neil and Donner were standing.
“Nice job,” I said to Neil.
“Thank you. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be once I found the key to making him talk.”
“And what was that key?” I asked.
“Pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“Pictures. I did some Photoshop pictures and he finally caved in.”
“Pictures? Photoshop pictures?”
“It’s the truth. Donner said you thought I was beating him to get the information but I never laid a hand on him. I do have a full confession of all the young girls he kidnapped and killed. I was able to persuade
him to tell me where Ginny was.”
“I don’t get it. Pictures were all you used to convince him to give it all up?”
“Yep.”
“Can I see these pictures?”
“Sure, when we get back to the station. I left them in the interview room.”
“This I gotta’ see,” was all I could say.
I pulled out my cell phone and started to dial the Thompsons but decided it would be best if I told them in person.
“Let’s go notify the Thompsons,” I said, closing my cell phone.
“Why don’t you go do that? We’ll get a ride back with one of the other officers,” Neil said.
“Thanks. appreciate that,” I replied.
Maybe I had misjudged Neil. Perhaps he had a lot more going for him than I suspected. Nah.
I walked back to the SUV and drove over to tell the Thompsons the news.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“So what happens now?” I asked after we had all gotten back from the hospital.
Little Ginny Thompson would pull through but now much mental damage was done would take a lot longer to diagnose.
“We will charge Sims with the five murders of Amy, Brenda, Carrie, Danielle, and Erin. Kidnapping will be added for Francisca and Ginny Thompson. We have a ton of different charges we can lay on him,” Donner said.
“And they will stick?”
“No doubt about it.”
“The confession was legal?”
“Absolutely.”
“Let me see the pictures,” I finally said.
Neil handed over a thick packet of pictures. Most were of the girls that we had been able to dig up. They were disgustingly graphic. The last four were of Sims lying in a wooden coffin. The first one was with his eyes open and looking at someone standing above him.
The second one was of him with his eyes eaten and maggots starting to crawl over him. The third picture showed his face being eaten and thousands of bugs peeling his flesh off. The last one was of his insides infested with maggots and bugs. It was totally disgusting.
“How did you do this?”
“I used Photoshop to doctor up the pictures. I just let him look at them while I explained what was going on in each shot. I assured him that he would still be alive when he went into the ground, just like his victims had.”
“And he went for that?” I asked, still skeptical.
“You have to remember, he had been kept locked up while his father and mother abused him for all those years. The thought of being back in a dark place, locked up and having bugs slowly eat you was pretty convincing. He held out for a while but after I got inside his head he cracked like an egg. Hell, I had to promise him that he would be cremated rather than just buried.”
“Son of a gun. I never would have believed you could get him to confess with just pictures.”
“A picture is worth a thousand words as the saying goes,” Neil said.
“Must be something to that.”
“There was this time for sure.”
“Thank you for all your help,” I said shaking each of their hands.
We exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes and then they gathered up Sims and ushered him out to a waiting SUV.
I decided it was time to call it a day. I headed home to drink a bottle of Merlot and just let the world go by. Enough is enough sometimes. This was one of those times.
CASE CLOSED
Marshall W. Huffman did not begin writing until after he retired from teaching. He decided to start with a trilogy based on a cataclysmic event. Marshall’s first trilogy is THE EVENT and consists of THE END, THE BEGINNING, and THE REVELATION. With THE EVENTS success he decided to write a second trilogy that is a frightening look at the events that could lead to THE SECOND CIVIL WAR. It is made up of: Book I – A NATION DIVIDED; BOOK II – A NATION AT WAR; BOOK III – A NATION HEALING.
Marshall was born in Bainbridge, Georgia and grew up in Indiana. After spending eight years in the Navy, he attended Ball State University, earning a B.S. degree in Business.
During and after college, he was involved in the restaurant business and spent the next twenty-five years in all types of venues, eventually owing his own fine dining restaurant. After years of long hours, he decided on a career change. He attended Eastern Illinois University earning a MBA. Because of his business background, Eastern Illinois University asked him to teach in the hospitality management program. He was recruited from Eastern to Parkland College and soon took over as the Program Director for the Hospitality Program. During his tenure there, he became a chef and had a television show called Cooking around the World with Chef Marshall and taught a series of Gourmet cooking classes for Continuing Education as well.
Professor Huffman retired from teaching along with his wife, Dr. Susan Huffman, to the Tampa Bay Florida area.
You can find his e-books or in paperback under: MARSHALL HUFFMAN at Amazon.com.
ALPHABET MURDERS - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES #1 (Detective Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 14