Lady Justice and the Devil's Breath

by Robert Thornhill

  “I still don’t see how that involves us,” Andre said.

  “Listen and you will learn. Missouri is still one of the states where marijuana is illegal, but there are those who are lobbying for legalization of medical marijuana. Polls say that 60% of Missourians support that notion. One organization is leading the fight to have the proposition submitted to voters in the November elections. We can’t let that happen.”

  “So what is it you want us to do?”

  “It’s very simple. If you want to kill a snake, you cut off its head. There is a woman spearheading the organization trying to get the proposal on the ballot. If she disappears, there is a very good chance that the proposal will die.”

  Marcia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Surely you don’t mean ---?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Carlos wants this woman out of the way and you two will make that happen.”

  “Look,” Andre said, obviously shaken, “we didn’t sign up to be murderers.”

  Ramon scowled, patting the bulge under his jacket. “But you did sign up knowing that you might be called upon to perform certain tasks. Refuse, and as Carlos said, there will be consequences.”

  Andre looked at Marcia. “I guess we have no choice. Who is this woman and where can we find her?”

  “That’s much better,” Ramon said, handing Andre a note. “Her name is Kristen Hartman, and she will be holding a rally in support of her proposal at the J.C. Nichols Fountain on the Country Club Plaza. That would be an opportune time to make your move.”

  “But there will probably be hundreds of people there,” Andre protested.

  “Yes, but you have this,” Ramon replied, handing him a pouch of Devil’s Breath. “Be creative.”

  “Are we really going to do this?” Marcia asked as they drove away.

  “I don’t see that we really have a choice,” Andre replied. “I have no doubt that Ramon will do what he says if we don’t cooperate. These people are ruthless.”

  “But Andre! We’re not murderers.”

  “We’ll do this last job and then we’re out of here. We have plenty of money to go far away where no one can find us.”

  “Please tell me you have something,” Suzanne said as we huddled in the holding room before the start of Jerry’s trial.

  “I wish I could,” I replied, shaking my head. “They’ve hit four times since Jerry and we still have no proof they were using scopolamine. We almost had them at the Kauffman Center, but as you know, they slipped away posing as nuns.”

  “So what are my chances?” Jerry asked, obviously dejected.

  “Not good, I’m afraid,” Suzanne replied. “I appealed to the prosecutor again yesterday, hoping he would listen to reason, but he’s standing firm. I actually can see his point of view. If he caves on this, he opens the door for every scumbag to claim he wasn’t responsible for his crime because of drugs. The burden of proof is with us.”

  At that moment, the bailiff entered the room. “We’re ready.”

  After the preliminaries were dispensed with, the judge turned to Alan Bailey. “Does the prosecution have an opening statement?”

  “We do, Your Honor,” Bailey said, rising and taking his place in front of the jury box.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the case you are about to hear is very straightforward. The defendant, Jerold Singer, is accused of attempted armed robbery. That the act was committed is not in question. You will hear testimony from the employee at the convenience store that Mr. Singer entered brandishing a weapon, demanding the cash from the register and the safe. You will hear testimony from Officer Dwayne Price that he happened onto the attempted robbery when stopping for coffee and apprehended the suspect. You will see video from a surveillance camera that supports these eyewitness accounts, and even more convincing, you will hear the defendant’s confession that he did indeed commit this felony.

  “The defendant also claims that he was not responsible for his acts as he was under the influence of drugs that were administered to him without his knowledge.

  “Ms. Romero will quote Missouri law 562.076. It’s called the involuntary intoxication law. It says that a person who is in an intoxicated or drugged condition, whether from alcohol, drugs or other substance, is criminally responsible for conduct unless such condition is involuntarily produced and deprived him or her of the capacity to know or appreciate the nature, quality or wrongfulness of his or her conduct. Generally speaking, you are involuntarily intoxicated if one of two things happen. You consumed the drugs without knowing you were doing so, or, someone forced or tricked you into consuming an intoxicating substance.

  “That’s all well and good, but she probably won’t quote the second part of the statute that says that the burden of proof of the involuntary intoxication is on the defendant.

  “In summation, there is no question that the crime was committed, and unless the defense can show the court irrefutable proof that the defendant was drugged without his knowledge, you will have no choice but to render a verdict of guilty.”

  After Bailey was seated, the judge turned to Suzanne. “Opening statement, Ms. Romero?”

  Suzanne rose from her seat. “No Your Honor, we will reserve our opening statement until the defense portion of the trial.”

  The prosecutor had taken the wind out of her opening argument.

  During the remainder of the day, Bailey produced the witnesses he had promised, establishing beyond a shadow of doubt that Jerry had attempted to hold up the convenience store.

  Once all the damning evidence had been presented, Baily addressed the judge. “Your Honor, the prosecution rests.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “The court will stand in recess until nine tomorrow morning when the defense will present its case.”

  Unless we could pull a miracle out of the hat, Jerry would, without a doubt, be convicted.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Should be an interesting day,” Ox observed as he watched people milling around the J.C. Nichols Fountain.

  “Let’s just hope it doesn’t get nasty,” Judy replied. “There are strong feelings on both sides of this issue.”

  “If it does get nasty,” Officer Dooley said, “we’ll need to call for backup. They only sent four of us to keep things under control.”

  “Mack is on the Main Street side,” Ox said. “Dooley, how about you taking the park side. I’ll take 47th Street and Judy will watch Nichols Parkway.”

  “Works for me,” Dooley said, heading to his post. “Stay safe.”

  “Unbelievable!” Ox said, pointing to a young woman carrying a placard. “People will protest about anything, even if they don’t have a clue.”

  The sign the woman was carrying read, “Stop killing aligators to make Gatoraid.”

  Judy laughed. “She’s not only clueless, she can’t spell either. She’s definitely at the wrong rally. Take care of yourself today.”

  “You too,” Ox replied as they headed to their respective posts. “Maybe today will be uneventful.”

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Andre and Marcia had parked a block away and approached the fountain from the park side.

  “Wow!” Marcia exclaimed. “There must be at least a hundred people here already.”

  “I read that the rally is sponsored by a group called New Approach Missouri,” Andre replied. “They’re the ones collecting signatures to get medical marijuana before the voters this fall.”

  “Looks like not everyone supports their cause,” Marcia observed, pointing to a sign that read, “No to Marijuana!”

  At that moment, a woman with a megaphone stepped up to a temporary platform that had been erected.

  “There she is,” Andre said. “That’s Kristen Hartman.”

  “Thank you all for coming today,” Hartman began. “As of today, nine states have approved marijuana for recreational use and twenty-nine have approved it for medical use. As usual, Missouri is lagging behind. With your support, we can ge
t this issue on this November’s ballot.”

  A cheer went up from the crowd.

  “There is no reason that Missourians suffering from chronic pain, cancer, epilepsy, multiple sclerosis, and Alzheimer’s should be denied the relief that is possible through the use of this natural plant.”

  Someone from the crowd yelled. “You say that, but medical use of marijuana is not approved by the FDA.”

  Hartman turned toward the heckler. “That’s not really a big surprise. It’s common knowledge that the FDA is owned by the giant pharmaceutical companies, and the last thing those behemoths want is marijuana approved by the government. Why you ask? Because the big drug companies can’t make a profit from its use.

  “We have an opioid crisis in our country as we speak, but the FDA would rather have people buying Hydrocodone and Oxycodone than using the relatively inexpensive marijuana.

  “They would rather have people suffering from Glaucoma buying Xalatan or Travatan costing hundreds of dollars a month. Together, we can remedy that situation this fall.”

  Another cheer from the crowd.

  “I see why Carlos wants her out of the way,” Marcia whispered.

  “Let’s get this done,” Andre replied, pointing to an officer standing on the edge of the crowd.

  “Using a cop to do the job was a brilliant idea,” Marcia said. “He already has a gun.”

  They approached the officer.

  “Quite a rally,” Andre observed.

  “Sure is,” the officer replied, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “You must be burning up in that uniform,” Marcia said. “We brought several bottles of water knowing it would be hot. We have an extra if you’d like one.”

  “Thank you,” the officer replied. “That would certainly hit the spot.”

  “Glad to do it,” Marcia replied, pulling a bottle from her purse.

  The officer unscrewed the lid and was about to take a long, cooling drink.

  Ox had been listening to Hartman’s speech and observing the crowd. So far, he was pleased that everything was peaceful.

  He waved at Judy and she gave him a thumb’s up.

  Then he turned to Dooley who was chatting with a man and woman. They were offering him a bottle of water. He took a closer look and something clicked. The man had a Clark Gable moustache. He moved through the crowd to get a closer look.

  Just as he approached, the woman looked directly at him. There was no doubt. Those were Bette Davis eyes.

  Dooley was lifting the bottle to his lips.

  “Don’t drink that!” Ox shouted, drawing his weapon.

  “You two, hands in the air.” he ordered.

  “What the hell?” Dooley said, obviously shocked. “What’s going on?”

  “These two are the scopolamine robbers, and if I’m not mistaken, that bottle you’re holding is laced with Devil’s Breath.”

  “Holy crap!” Dooley muttered, eyeing the bottle. “Why would they want to drug me? I don’t have any money.”

  “I don’t know but were about to find out. Cuff ‘em!”

  CHAPTER 12

  I had just pulled off my shoes and was about to plop in my recliner. The day at the courthouse had taken its toll.

  Alan Bailey had proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Jerry had indeed attempted to rob the convenience store. Tomorrow, Suzanne would present Jerry’s defense, an almost impossible task since there was no proof that he had been drugged.

  Suzanne was the best, but unless she could pull a rabbit out of a hat, my friend would be spending tomorrow night behind bars instead of in his apartment.

  The phone rang.

  I was so pooped I almost let it go to voice mail. Thank goodness I didn’t.

  “Walt, Rocky here. Good news. We got ‘em!”

  “Got who?”

  “The scopolamine robbers, of course. Why else would I be calling? We’re about to interrogate the pair and I thought you might want to come down and watch. I know your friend is standing trial. This might just be the break he needs.”

  “Thank God! Rocky, thank you so much for including me. You’re a real friend. I owe you.”

  “Nonsense,” Rocky replied. “You served honorably for five years. You’re one of us.”

  “Still, thanks again. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  In an instant, the weariness and fog lifted. This was the miracle we’d been hoping for.

  I met Rocky outside the interrogation room. He gave me a brief synopsis of how Ox had spotted the two trying to give a bottle of drugged water to officer Dooley. He had identified them based on the description that every victim had given.

  “I don’t get it,” I said when he was finished. “Why Dooley, and why at a marijuana rally?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.” He opened a door. “You can watch from in here.”

  Through the one-way mirror, I could see the two perps cuffed and shackled to a table. Rocky entered and took a seat across from them.

  He told me their names were Andre and Marcia Kepler. Sure enough, Andre had a Clark Gable moustache, and even through the glass across the room, I could see the woman’s Bette Davis eyes.

  He looked at a file he had brought with him. “Hmmm, grand larceny, five counts. With consecutive sentences, that could be up to twenty-five years. Then there’s use of a controlled substance. That could add another five years per conviction. Since you took your victims after they were drugged, we might even be able to make a case for kidnapping. Both of you could find yourselves in prison for a very long time.”

  I could see that Marcia was about to burst into tears, but Andre set his jaw firmly. “We want a lawyer.”

  “Oh, sure,” Rocky replied. “We can go that route if you want, but we’ve got Jerry Singer, Penelope Adams, Angus Anderson, the guy from the payday loan store, and the Brinks driver coming in. My guess is that every one of them will make a positive identification. Plus, we’ve got the water bottle spiked with Devil’s Breath. I’m not sure how much good a lawyer will be with all that evidence stacked against you. You might be better off cooperating voluntarily. You see where I’m going with this?”

  Marcia turned to Andre. “Andre! Do something! I can’t spend the rest of my life in prison.”

  Andre took a deep breath. “Okay, I know how this works. Yes, you’ve got us on the robberies, but we haven’t hurt anyone. We’re just little fish in this operation. We can give you the men running the scam, but we want a deal.”

  Rocky leaned back in his chair. “Maybe, but it all depends on what you can give us.”

  “How about attempted murder?” Andre replied.

  “Is that why you were at the rally?”

  “Maybe,” Andre said. “Do we get a deal?”

  “Yes,” Rocky replied, grudgingly. “I’ll talk to the D.A. You’re not going to walk out of here, but I might talk him into getting the charges reduced and your sentencing to be concurrent instead of consecutive. You could be out in five.”

  Andre looked at Marcia and she nodded. “Tell him.”

  “Let’s start with the rally at the fountain. Why were you there?”

  “The head of this operation is a man in Columbia, Carlos Moreno. He supplies us with the Devil’s Breath. He also smuggles marijuana into the country. With so many states legalizing weed, it’s hurting his business. Kristen Hartman, the woman speaking at the rally, is leading the initiative to have legalized medical marijuana on the ballot this fall. We were supposed to take her out. We’d planned to use the drug to get one of the officers to do the job.”

  “We didn’t want to do it,” Marcia said. “We only agreed to participate in the robberies, but Ramon said he would kill us if we refused.”

  “Who’s Ramon?”

  “Ramon Dias,” Andre replied. “He’s our contact in Kansas City. Carlos ships the drug to Ramon and he gives it to us along with information on our next victim. We can tell you where he is.”

  “What about the kidney thing?”


  “All we can give you is the address where we dropped the guard. They kept everything top secret.”

  Rocky shoved a tablet across the table. “Write up everything you just told me, including admitting that you drugged each of your victims without their knowledge.”

  A half hour later, Rocky handed me a copy of their confession. “This should get your friend off the hook.”

  I wanted to hug him. “Thank you so much. You’ve just saved a man’s life. Jerry wouldn’t last a day in prison.”

  My next call was to Suzanne Romero.

  The next morning after the judge was seated, he turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Bailey, I understand you have a motion to present to the court.”

  Bailey stood. “I do Your Honor. In light of new information, the state wishes to drop all charges against the defendant, Jerold Singer.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “So ordered. Mr. Singer you are free to go.”

  Jerry leaped to his feet and hugged me so hard I figured I’d need a visit to my chiropractor. Then he hugged Suzanne. “Thank you both so much.”

  My friend was free, and if I knew Jerry, he would turn this harrowing experience into his next comedy club routine.

  CHAPTER 13

  Ramon was watching TV and having a beer when ‘Breaking News’ flashed across the screen.

  A reporter standing in front of the J.C. Nichols Fountain drew his attention immediately. “A peaceful rally at the J.C. Nichols Fountain on the Plaza turned to chaos when police arrested Andre and Marcia Kepler at gunpoint. Our sources tell us that the Kepler’s are suspects in a string of recent robberies across the city. What they were doing at a rally sponsored by New Approach Missouri promoting the legalization of medical marijuana is unclear.”

  “Damn it!” Ramon muttered, clicking off the TV.

  He picked up the phone. “Carlos, bad news. I sent Andre and Marcia to take out the Hartman woman. Somehow the cops made them and took them in.”