by Mark M Bello
“How many incidents were reported?”
“Objection, hearsay,” cries Murray.
“Noted. Please answer the question, lieutenant.”
“But I objected,” Murray spouts. He crosses his arms in front of his chest for effect.
“And your objection has been noted, Murray. This is a deposition. I ask the questions and he answers them. If you don’t like the question, you can object. If this testimony or your objections require a judicial ruling, the judge will rule, but this will happen later in the case, much later.
“What you can’t do now is prevent the witness from answering my questions. Are you suggesting we discontinue questioning this witness every time you object, stop the deposition, and then go to the judge for a ruling? If so, let’s terminate the deposition and visit the judge. It won’t be pretty. I’m trying to be nice, but you’re starting to piss me off. What’s it going to be, Murray?”
“Uh . . . ah . . .” Murray stutters and hesitates, uncertain how to proceed. He looks to Jackson, who chuckles and turns away.
“Uh . . . Proceed, Mr. Blake. I’ll bring this to the judge’s attention at a later date,” Murray concedes.
“Thank you,” Blake taunts. “Please answer the question, lieutenant.”
“What was the question?”
Blake laughs.
“How many such incidents?”
Kelly rifles through his file and counts under his breath.
“There were, uh, three—no—four similar incidents.”
“And you reached a conclusion?”
“I did.”
“And what was that conclusion?”
‘That Officer Jones needed help dealing with black people.”
“And did you report this conclusion to anyone?”
“I did.”
“To whom did you report?”
“To Chief Warren Brooks of the Cedar Ridge PD.”
“To your knowledge, what did Chief Brooks do with the information?”
“I don’t know.”
“There was a more serious incident, similar to the one that is the subject of this lawsuit, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about that incident.”
“Jones pulled over a black man he thought resembled a criminal suspect. Sometime during the stop, Jones shot the man.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Is there a question here, Mr. Blake?” Jackson challenges.
“Yes, I have in my possession two photographs. Could you identify these, Lieutenant Kelly?”
Kelly studies the pictures, hands them back to Blake, and signals he is ready.
“Lieutenant Kelly?”
“One photo is the man Jones pulled over and shot. The other is the criminal suspect Jones claimed the man resembled.”
“Do they look anything alike?”
“Objection, Murray interjects. “Whether two people look alike is a very subjective issue. That this witness believes they are dissimilar is not proof that Officer Jones’s belief that they looked alike was unreasonable.” Murray looks pleased with himself.
“I move to admit the two photos and let a judge or jury decide. Any idiot can see these two look nothing alike,” Blake chides. Murray grimaces but remains silent.
“Lieutenant Kelly,” Blake continues, “after that particular shooting, was there an Internal Affairs investigation of Officer Jones?”
“There was.”
“Were you in charge of that investigation?”
“I was.”
“What was the result of the investigation?”
“Officer Jones was suspended for six months. Against my recommendation, the suspension was commuted to thirty days.”
“Why?”
“This was Jones’s first serious offense. The brass could not determine the officer’s actions were unreasonable because identification is subjective, and the suspect acted with belligerence.”
“What did you think of that determination?”
“Objection, relevance!” Murray cries.
“Let’s just say I disagreed with my superiors.”
“Why?”
“Well, Mr. Blake, it’s kind of like you mentioned earlier.”
“What did I mention earlier?”
“Any idiot can see these two look nothing alike.”
“Objection!” Murray screeches.
“On what grounds?” Blake is yanking his chain.
“Inflammatory?”
“There is no such objection in the rules of civil procedure or evidence, Mr. Murray,” Blake lectures.
“My objection stands, for the record,” Murray manages.
“Okay, young man,” Blake rolls his eyes. “Your objection is noted. Lieutenant Kelly’s response is a matter of record. Let’s move on, shall we? Lieutenant Kelly, you are present here today under subpoena, is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“And the subpoena was duces tecum, was it not?”
“Yes”
“You brought the entire file on Jones?”
“Yes.”
He picks up the file and presents it to Blake.
“This file contains everything that Internal Affairs has on Jones?”
“It does.”
“Is it kept in the ordinary course of business?”
“It is.”
“I move for the admission of the Internal Affairs office file as plaintiff’s deposition exhibit three. We will copy the file in the presence of the witness and attach the copy to the file, returning the original to the lieutenant. Lieutenant, will you please maintain the original please?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. That’s all I have for now, subject to recall rights.” Blake stands. The deposition is apparently over.
Murray hesitates and locks eyes with Blake. Should I object? Should I ask questions? I was told to sit here and shut up.
“Murray?” Blake gestures.
“I have a few questions.”
“Murray, I am paying for this deposition. If you want to ask questions, I can instruct Merrill here to restart the meter, run a tab, and bill you and your firm for the additional cost of your questions. What would you like to do?”
Murray has no idea what to do. He is entitled to examine the witness, but Blake has him completely confused. Murray questions why he decided to go to law school.
“Nothing further,” Murray squeaks.
“Ven?”
“No questions.”
“Merrill, that’s a wrap,” Blake smiles.
The battle has begun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah Hayes’ home telephone rings. Hardly anyone calls the landline. It’s probably a solicitor. She checks the small Caller ID text screen, which reads ‘unknown number.’ She ignores the call, and it disconnects after several rings. The phone rings a second time. Again the text screen reads ‘unknown number.’ She decides to answer.
“Hello?”
“Sarah Hayes?”
White male? “Speaking.”
“Nigger bitch, whose dead husband caused the death of a good cop?”
Definitely a white male! “Who is this?”
“Nigger bitch suing the Cedar Ridge Police Department?”
“Who the hell is this?”
“Drop the case if you care about your children, bitch.”
“I’m calling the police.” Sarah’s terrified. This man is threatening her children!
“Please do. Call the police. Call any department you want. See who comes running and how soon. Do you think the police will help you? Do you think good cops will come running to help the bitch who’s suing the cops?”
The caller taunts and laughs. The man’s menacing laugh scares the hell out of Sarah. She slams down the receiver and trembles with fear and anger. Is it true? Is this guy right? Would cops really ignore her cry for help because of the lawsuit?
The phone rings again. Unknown number.
Staring at the phone,
she lets it ring and ring. Will he ever stop?
The phone finally goes silent. Sarah picks up the receiver and dials Zachary Blake’s office.
“Zachary Blake and Associates, Kristin speaking. How may I direct your call?”
“This is urgent. I need to speak to Zachary Blake immediately.” Sarah is frantic.
“I will connect you immediately,” Kristin assures. “Who may I say is calling?”
“This is Sarah Hayes. Hurry, please.”
“Please hold, Mrs. Hayes.” The line disconnects. Within seconds, the receiver clicks.
“Sarah, what’s wrong?” Zack wonders.
Sarah bursts into tears. “Oh, Zack, I just received a terrifying telephone call.”
She recounts the caller’s threat, word for word.
Zack doesn’t hesitate. “Sarah. Stay where you are. I’m calling the Detroit police and my private investigator. Security will be at your house before you know it! And I’m on my way, too. Sarah, where are the children?”
“They’re visiting with my mother at her house.”
“Give me that address. I’ll send someone over there, too.”
Sarah gives him her mother’s address and telephone number.
“Sit tight. Don’t answer the door for anyone except the Detroit police or me. If a cop shows up, make sure it’s a Detroit cop.”
“Hurry, Zack. I’m scared.”
“On my way!”
Less than an hour later, Sarah Hayes sits on her living room couch, hugging her two daughters, recounting the telephone call with her mother, two Detroit police officers, Micah Love, and Zachary Blake.
The officers are more robotic than sympathetic.
Just the facts, ma’am, Love muses.
“What time did the call come in, Mrs. Hayes?” A uniformed officer asks.
His uniform tag reads, ‘Collins.’
“About an hour ago.”
“Was there only one call?”
“He called multiple times from an unknown number. I only picked it up the one time.”
“When was the last time you heard the phone ring?”
“About ten minutes before you arrived. I took it off the hook after that.”
“Would you mind if we put a tap on your phone? We might be able to capture a number or a general location.”
“No, not at all. Do whatever you need to do to track this guy down. He scares the hell out of me!”
“Can you tell me what the man—it was a man, right?”
“Yes, a white man—he called me the N-word.”
“What else did he say?” Collins prods.
Sarah repeats the conversation for a second time. Like she has already done for Blake, she restates it, word for word.
“Did you recognize his voice?”
“He was a white guy. Other than that, I did not recognize it.”
“Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?”
“I will never forget it. Deep, very white, accent I can’t place.”
“Have you received any other threats of any kind?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It’s probably nothing. Some jerk trying to yank your chain, trying to get you to drop the case. You might want to consider settling this as soon as possible,” Collins coaxes.
“She takes her legal advice from me, Officer Collins, “ Blake interrupts, tersely. “You advise she should allow this guy to intimidate her into settling a legitimate case too early for too little compensation? Her husband was killed. She has small children. Do you know the case?”
“Everyone in law enforcement knows this case, Mr. Blake. There are two sides to every story,” Collins sneers.
“True. Officer Collins and I look forward to hearing Cedar Ridge’s side of the story. But we won’t get that side if we settle the case, now will we? You would agree that intimidation of a witness in litigation is not appropriate, regardless of the type of case, would you not?” Blake is in the officer’s face, almost nose-to-nose.
“Of course, I agree. I wasn’t suggesting—”
“We understand, Collins. Will there be anything else?” Blake not only interrupts Collins, he dismisses the officer as well. He motions to the front door.
Collins strolls to the door.
“We’ll station a car out front for the night and monitor all incoming calls for a while. Hopefully, we’ll catch a break.”
“But don’t count on it, right?” Blake bristles.
“You never know,” Collins shrugs. “Let us know if anything else occurs to you, Mrs. Hayes. I’m sorry for your loss and the hassle today.”
“Thank you, officer,” Sarah groans.
The two officers let themselves out the front door.
“They don’t have the manpower to watch this house long-term,” Love warns. “We will put one of our guys on you after they pull surveillance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Love.”
“Collins was right about one thing, Sarah,” Blake suggests.
“You can drop this case anytime you want.”
“Would you drop the case if you were me, Zack?”
“Hell no, Sarah,” he exclaims.
“Can you protect my children, Mr. Love? I don’t care about me, but nothing can happen to my babies,” Sarah moans.
“I will protect you and your children, Sarah. You can count on me,” Love promises.
“Okay, then. Onward and upward,” she rallies, gathering strength.
“Onward and upward,” Blake repeats.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cedar Ridge Police Chief Warren Brooks assembles every police officer in the city in a local auditorium.
“I believe that all of you know the name ‘Sarah Hayes.’ On the off chance that someone in this room has been in a coma for the past several weeks, Mrs. Hayes is the woman whose husband was shot and killed by Officer Randy Jones, a Cedar Ridge police officer who took his own life following the shooting incident. Many of you knew and liked Officer Jones. I understand that. Hell, I liked Randy Jones. I feel terrible for his widow and his family.
“However, the circumstances surrounding Marcus Hayes’s death are troubling. The Wayne County grand jury and our internal investigation found Officer Jones culpable.
“We are troubled that Jones’s stop of Mr. Hayes appears to have been racially motivated. He’s engaged in similar conduct in the past. Even more troubling, is the fact this most recent incident appears to have escalated because Officer Jones, despite his training, racially targeted and profiled Mr. Hayes. He feared him, simply because he was an African American male.
“It should surprise no one in this room his widow is pursuing a civil rights lawsuit against the deceased officer’s estate and the Cedar Ridge Police Department. No one in a supervisory position is surprised by this development.
“Recently, Mrs. Hayes received an anonymous and threatening telephone call from someone who has been identified only as a ‘white male’ with, perhaps, a touch of an accent. The caller told Mrs. Hayes harm would come to her or her children unless she drops her lawsuit.
“I am not accusing anyone in this room of placing that telephone call. I am not suggesting anyone in this room even knows the call was made or has any idea who made the call. However, if anyone in this room does know anything at all about this call or caller, that person is urged to report what they know, directly to me. Your call or visit will be kept strictly confidential.
“We will be reviewing our training and re-training procedures from top to bottom. Continuing law enforcement education will focus on race and how we as a police department deal with minorities or people of color present in our community, whether they are citizens or visitors.
“Our police force must not only enforce the law; it must obey the law. In America, that applies to all citizens, regardless of race, creed, or ethnic origin. Our goal as a department, as a community, hell, as a society, is total colorblindness when it comes to law enforcement.
“Does everyone unders
tand me? That is all I have to say on the subject. Anyone have any questions or comments?”
“Yes, sir, I have a comment.”
A young white policewoman rises. The room falls silent. Chief Brooks does not recognize her.
“What is your name, officer?” Brooks inquires.
“Simpson, sir. Officer Erica Simpson.”
“What is your comment, Officer Simpson?”
“Sir, I haven’t been in Cedar Ridge very long. Hell, I haven’t been a police officer for very long.”
The audience chuckles and Brooks calls for order. “Go on, Officer Simpson. Make your point.”
“Sir, I only want to say that I am encouraged by your words. I believe racism is a serious problem in America, not only in Cedar Ridge but everywhere. Not just in how cops relate to citizens of color, but in how citizens of one race or religion relate to citizens of another race or religion. Too many of us, including, may I say, our current president, see racial diversity as a threat to our country rather than the source of our strength as a country. Racism, whether it is deliberate and overt or unconscious and covert, is hurtful, not just to the individual who is the immediate target, but to our local and national communities. It undermines the values our country stands for.
“Hopefully, this gathering is the start of meaningful change. If so, other communities can look to Cedar Ridge as a community that gets it, a community that treats all of its citizens justly and fairly, sharing our experiences and speaking openly and honestly about these issues. Our conduct cannot be governed by fear and misunderstanding. We must celebrate the things that unite us, not our differences or the things that divide us.
“Just a short time removed from electing our first African American President, we have become polarized and segregated. I see more examples of racial and ethnic divides in our streets than I see examples of tolerance and unity. As cops, I believe it is our civic duty to shine a light on this problem and act as positive examples to our citizens.
“I don’t have any immediate solutions to offer here tonight, but I am offering to volunteer to be a part of any task force or training program that seeks solutions to this very serious problem that plagues our department and our country.”