Islam Rising

by Johnny Jacks

  “Answer her question.”

  “Yes. That’s fair.”

  “No further questions, your honor.”

  ~~~

  After lunch, Shannon began calling police officers who’d worked with Grayson. Makeesha wrote and slid the pad to Grayson. “Here we go.”

  When Shannon asked the first officer what he would have done in Grayson’s place at the bank, Makeesha objected, arguing the answer would be supposition. The judge overruled her.

  Shannon designed her questions to make Grayson into a crazed cop with a vengeance-filled agenda. All the officers testified he acted appropriately according to the reports from the scene. They agreed it’s difficult to make a firm call without being at the scene with a gun pointed at you. None had ever seen him disobey police procedures. Hours later, after a long list of police personnel and not getting the answers she wanted, Shannon grew frustrated.

  She asked the last officer, “Have you heard Officer Dean make derogatory remarks about Mexicans?”

  Makeesha jumped on it. “Objection! Irrelevant!”

  “Your honor, Officer Dean’s dislike of Mexicans is common knowledge in the precinct and pertinent to this case.”

  “Objection sustained. Ms. Fisher, who do you represent in this case?”

  “Mr. José Delgado, your honor.”

  “As I understood your opening remarks, you would prove Officer Dean is prejudiced against persons of Mexican descent. If your proof is police department or community gossip, I assure you that I will methodically overrule each piece of so-called proof you bring before this court. Is that understood?”

  “I assure you that I have proof.”

  “So, you allege. The only person of Mexican descent involved in this case—to my knowledge—is your client. I strongly suggest you deal directly with the matter at hand.”

  Shannon counted on the judge sustaining Makeesha’s objection, and she achieved her goal. The seed that Grayson hated Mexicans was in the jurors’ minds.

  Makeesha elicited admiration and respect for Grayson and his professionalism from each officer.

  Shannon left immediately when the judge adjourned for the day.

  ~~~

  As Makeesha and Grayson reviewed the day, his indignation was palpable. “How did she come off the winner when all the witnesses said nothing negative?” He ranted and paced until he was drenched in sweat and dropped into one of the cracked leather chairs.

  “Feel better?” Makeesha asked.

  “Hell no!”

  “We got a significant point when the judge admonished her for trying to use gossip to prove her claim about Mexicans. She got in a substantial point when she planted the idea that you hate Mexicans.”

  “You and I count points differently.”

  Makeesha smiled. “Okay, tomorrow. She’ll question you about your attitude. Shannon undoubtedly has a card up her sleeve. Any ideas?”

  “None.”

  “Remember. She pushes judges to the edge to make points with the jury. Since half the jury is Hispanic—”

  Grayson growled. “That arrogant bitch never gives up. She pushes until she gets her way.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  Grayson gave her a dirty look, then half-smiled.

  “She has to work hard to prove you’re the Devil Incarnate. My job is to interrupt her, take notes, and prepare the defense. I have to save your ass to protect the city’s purse.”

  “The city can pay and move on,” Grayson growled. “My loss will be permanent.” He wiped sweat with his handkerchief. “This is harder than combat.”

  “It’s combat of a different ilk.”

  “I’ve been in court with that woman too many times, and nothing prepared me for today.”

  “You’ve never been the one with so much on the line. Trials are a painful process and challenge the bravest and most stalwart of people. Don’t throw in the towel on the first day.”

  Grayson’s face was stern. “I never throw in the towel. Never!”

  At the door, he looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks, Makeesha.”

  ~~~

  Ramirez and Joe were in the hallway. “Let’s grab dinner.”

  “Not hungry. I’m headed for a hot shower.”

  “You, Bucko, are headed for an ice-cold beer and a steak,” Joe said. “You need to replenish some of the blood you lost today.”

  At the Watering Hole, Grayson’s anger transitioned to guilt. “I owe the guys an apology for dragging them through this.”

  Ramirez reproach came swiftly. “You’ve testified in their cases. It’s part of the job. Let’s not chew on the gristle. We’re men of honor. We make decisions and live with the consequences. You’re facing a formidable opponent, and you’ll persevere until the jury makes the final decision.”

  When the last plate was on the table, Joe said, “It’s amazing how good the steaks are in this little bar.”

  “Yeah, but there’s something weird with the bartender tonight,” Grayson said. “Did you see how nervous he is?”

  Chapter 15

  False Witnesses

  Year 1

  Grayson downed a quick cup of coffee and returned to the courtroom. Shannon had played cat and mouse all morning, tenderizing him for the grill.

  Makeesha bolstered him. “You handled Shannon’s remarks well this morning. I’ll rebuff the small damage during our defense.”

  “Thanks.” Grayson nodded to the door. “Here comes the judge.”

  Shannon called Harold Weber to the stand. As he took his seat, he avoided eye contact with Grayson. He braced himself for Weber to fire the bullet that would end his career.

  “Mr. Weber, do you know Grayson Dean?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Shannon’s hesitation told Grayson she expected more. “Have you worked with Officer Dean in the past year?”

  “He evaluated my annual weapons test.”

  “Have you ever had an altercation with Officer Dean?”

  “A word here and there, nothing major.”

  What the hell! I beat him to a pulp.

  “Have you ever had a fist fight with Officer Dean?”

  “I’ve never hit another police officer.”

  Shannon’s body grew rigid. “No further questions, your honor.”

  “Any cross?”

  “No, your honor.”

  Everyone in the courtroom wondered what they missed.

  Jaw rigid, Shannon called Grayson, who walked confidently to the stand.

  “Officer Dean, you heard the testimony of the expert on the use of force and your fellow officers on your actions during the robbery. Professor Stein confirmed you failed to follow accepted police standards for dealing with force; yet, your officer buddies stated you followed procedures. Why do you think there’s such a difference in opinion?”

  “You must have forgotten, counselor; your so-called expert is an academic who’s never been a cop and doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. The officers of the Houston PD do know what it is to be cop. They follow professional police standards daily to keep this city safe.”

  “Officer Dean, answer the question, please.”

  “I thought I did.”

  “No, you avoided my question.”

  Makeesha rose. “Objection! Officer Dean answered the question. Can we move on?”

  “Objection sustained.”

  Shannon paced for a minute, thinking. “Officer Dean, Professor Stein, an expert on the use of lethal force, confirmed that you did not follow nationally accepted procedures. You shot José Delgado without offering an opportunity to surrender. Is Professor Stein’s confirmation of this fact true?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Are you saying that an expert in this arena is presenting false testimony?”

  “You asked me a question. I gave you my answer.”

  Chuckles surfaced around the courtroom.

  Shannon didn’t flinch or lose her poker face. “Officer Dean, when you s
hot Mr. Delgado, were you aware he’s a Mexican immigrant?”

  “I know that he’s an illegal alien—”

  “Your Hon—” Grayson was too fast for her.

  “An illegal alien and criminal well known to HPD.”

  “Officer Grayson, please confine your comments to the questions,” the judge admonished.

  “Detective…er…Officer Dean, please explain your hatred of people of Mexican descent.”

  “Objection!” Makeesha jumped to her feet. “Nothing has been introduced that Officer Dean likes or hates people of Mexican descent.”

  “Your Honor, Officer Dean’s predisposition to loathe Mexican immigrants is pertinent to understanding his state of mind when he needlessly shot Mr. Delgado. Officer Dean’s failure to follow established police procedures because of his prejudice toward Mexican immigrants is critical to determining Houston PD’s liability. They knowingly allowed him to work with an attitude of hatred that led him to maliciously injure my client.”

  “Objection sustained. This is my last warning, Ms. Fisher. You have submitted no proof to this court that Officer Dean harbors hatred for those of Mexican descent.”

  Shannon pushed harder. “Your honor, may we approach the bench?”

  “Make it quick, counselor.”

  Makeesha, Shannon, and the judge huddled at the bench. “Your honor, Officer Dean, fueled by his hatred of Mexicans, ruthlessly abandoned public safety the day he shot my client. His extreme dislike of Mr. Delgado’s race drove his manic behavior. If not for Dean’s mental attitude, my client would not be a paraplegic.”

  “Whether my client likes or dislikes Mexicans has no bearing on this case,” Makeesha snapped. “Ms. Fisher, for some obscure reason, continues alluding to a dislike of Mexicans without producing evidence. I have no reason to believe the allegation, nor does the jury. The city charges their police department with removing criminals from the streets regardless of their race. Officer Dean protected innocent people caught in the bank that day.”

  The judge turned to Shannon. “Ms. Fisher, I understand your point, but I’ve not changed mine. Do you or do you not have substantiated proof that Officer Dean bears prejudice toward Mexicans as related to this case?”

  “Yes, your honor, I do.”

  “I suggest, Ms. Fisher, you bring that information before this court today or do not mention it again.”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  Shannon returned to the witness stand. “I have no further questions for the witness at this time but reserve the right to recall.”

  “Call your next witness, Ms. Fisher.”

  “I call Russell Conrad.”

  A tall, lanky man in dirty jeans and well-worn cowboy boots strode to the stand.

  “You know him?” Makeesha wrote.

  “Arrested him several times for possession,” Grayson wrote. Makeesha spoke to her assistant.

  “Mr. Conrad, where do you work?” Shannon asked.

  “Tending bar at the Watering Hole.”

  “Do you know the defendant, Officer Grayson Dean?”

  “Not really. He’s in the bar now and again.”

  “Were you on duty the night of June 25 this year?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did you serve Officer Dean?”

  “Yep. Him and another feller. Dean seemed to be in a bad mood—”

  “Objection!”

  “Sustained.”

  “Please describe their conversation for the court?”

  “Dean and that feller over there….” Conrad pointed to Mark Hamilton, “wuz throwin 'em back. Weren’t long before they wuz drunk as skunks. Outta nowhurs that man yelled at Dean, ‘Why do you hate Mexicans?’”

  The jurors turned to Grayson for a reaction. His dead stare remained unchanged.

  “Dean’s cop’s face twisted all up, and he yelled ‘Who said I hate Mexicans?’ ‘Everybody,’ the other man said.”

  “By the other man, you mean Mark Hamilton?”

  “Yep. That Dean feller shocked the shit—pardon me your honor—out of me. He said, ‘It’s something between me and the Devil.’ That Hamilton guy shut his trap quick. I moved on down the bar.”

  “So, Officer Dean scared you away?”

  “He sure as hell—pardon me your honor—did.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Conrad. Your witness.”

  Makeesha remained at the defense table. “Mr. Conrad, how long have you worked at the Watering Hole?”

  “Bout ten year, off and on.”

  “You drink while on the job?”

  “Ain’t allowed.”

  “How many customers were in the bar the night Officer Dean and Professor Hamilton were…” she looked at her notes, “drunk as skunks?”

  “A few cops in and out as shifts changed.”

  “So, you just hung around my client and his friend, eavesdropping in between waiting on them?”

  “Some.”

  “Are most of your customers police officers?”

  “More’n a few.”

  “You must learn a lot by listening to their private conversations.”

  “Some.”

  “Ever try blackmailing one of them?”

  Shannon jumped from her chair. “Objection!”

  “Your honor, court records show Mr. Conrad spent a year in prison eight years ago for the attempted blackmail of Officer Alice White.”

  “Objection overruled. Answer the question.”

  “I reckon so.”

  “Mr. Conrad, how many times have you been arrested on illegal drug charges?”

  “Objection, your honor!”

  “Overruled, Ms. Fisher.”

  “Couple times.”

  “In fact, Mr. Conrad, you’ve been arrested eight times for possession and distribution of illegal drugs. Is that true?”

  Conrad looked around as if trying to find an escape route. “Sounds right.”

  “Has Officer Dean ever arrested you?”

  “Time or two.”

  “You testified that you didn’t really know him, but in fact, Officer Dean has arrested you three times and you spent time in jail all three times. So you decided to use this opportunity to give him his comeuppance.”

  Shannon was on her feet again. “Objection!”

  “Sustained. Jury will ignore the last comment.”

  Makeesha looked at the jury as she spoke. “Mr. Conrad, it’s a fact you have a history of illegal drug use and prison time. It’s a fact you eavesdrop on private conversations at work to gain information to use against someone, Officer Dean included.”

  She turned to Conrad. “That about sum it up?”

  Conrad’s irritation escalated rapidly. “That ain’t true!”

  “This morning, Mr. Hamilton, a professional educator and decorated Army veteran, testified he didn’t recall Officer Dean saying he hated Mexicans that night. You’re saying he’s a liar?”

  Conrad’s face twisted, wide-eyed. “I damn sure am. I heard ̓em talking ̓bout Mexicans being evil like the Devil.”

  “Mr. Conrad, you are a drug user who drains society, a has-been blackmailer, and a man whose testimony is worthless. No more questions.”

  “You black bitch!” Conrad was on his feet. “You think you better’n me!” He grabbed the witness box to vault over it. Grayson was instantly on his feet, but Makeesha motioned him to sit. Two bailiffs restrained Conrad and dragged him yelling from the courtroom. “You ain’t nothing but a mother f—”

  Order restored, the judge looked tiredly at Shannon. “Ms. Fisher, are you through for the day?”

  “No, your honor. I recall Officer Dean to the stand.”

  Chapter 16

  The Ugly Super-Bitch

  Year 1

  Grayson walked to the stand on lead-filled legs. That bum helped Shannon prove her Grayson-hates-Mexicans theme.

  “Officer Dean, what is the name of the plaintiff in this case, the man you shot and paralyzed?”

  “José Delgado,” Grayson replied.
>
  “Is he a Mexican immigrant?”

  “He’s an illegal alien and also a felon.”

  Shannon ignored his statement.

  “Officer Dean, please explain your hatred of people of Mexican descent.”

  “Objection!” Makeesha protested.

  “If you’ll give me a moment, Your Honor, I’ll prove that Officer Dean harbors strong animosity towards Mexicans, animosity he’s harbored since incarcerated in a Mexican jail. His response to shoot Mr. Delgado—rather than follow police procedure and give him a warning to lay down his gun and surrender—correlates to his personal dislike for Mr. Delgado’s nationality. It is a pertinent factor that must be considered in this case.”

  The judge paused to contemplate his decision. “Objection overruled. You are on thin ice, Ms. Fisher. A question or two, and this is over.”

  There is no way she could have gotten that information! The Houston Chronicle barely mentioned it back then.

  “Your honor, may I speak with my lawyer?” When Makeesha arrived at the witness stand, Grayson whispered. “I will not testify if she knows what I think she knows.”

  “The judge ordered you to answer the question.”

  “Then I’ll be in contempt.”

  “Judge, may we have a fifteen-minute recess, so I can consult with my client in private?”

  “Is that absolutely necessary?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  From the courtroom to the conference room, Grayson aged ten years. “What haven’t you told me?”

  “It never occurred to me.” His voice grew deep and he stared at the wall. “When I was nineteen, I was home on leave from Iraq, and a buddy, George Walton, and I went to Nuevo Laredo to shop for Christmas gifts; Army pay goes a lot further down there.”

  Grayson drew a ragged breath. “I mouthed off to a Mexican cop, and he arrested us and threw us in a crowded cell with drunk Mexicans. The lowlifes roughed us up.”

  “Talk faster.”

  “I’ll opt for contempt before telling this in court.”

  “Did you hurt anyone in the altercation?”

  “Are you kidding? We couldn’t do anything against that many.”