Adv04 - The Advocate's Dilemma

by Teresa Burrell

  “That’s when I started too.”

  “Those wise decisions we make when we’re young are those foolish ones we have to live with when we’re old.”

  “Yeah, but unlike you, I was smart enough to quit many years ago,” JP said. “So, did George show up for the hearing?”

  “No. And the next time I saw him he was dead and sprawled across Sabre’s desk.”

  JP heard the front door jingle as it opened into the reception area. He looked at his watch. Dana was twenty-three minutes late. He wondered if she would apologize. Bob’s office door stood open and he saw her from his desk. Bob motioned her to come in.

  This was JP’s first meeting with Dana and he was surprised to see she hadn’t lost all her natural beauty to the streets. He had seen photos of her at her mother’s house and she was a gorgeous young woman. She wore no makeup now, her unstyled red hair was pulled back in a clip, and she was far too thin. In spite of all that, she was still physically attractive by most standards. Personally, he liked a woman with a little more meat on her bones.

  “Dana, this is JP. He’s the investigator for the children’s attorney. He’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. He’s in a bit of a hurry, so I thought he could go first and then we can talk,” Bob said, as he motioned her to a chair.

  “Okay,” she said, and sat down next to JP.

  “I’m sure you’ve answered a lot of the same questions for the police, and I know you’re mourning the death of your husband, but we need to try to figure out how he died in order to do what is best for your children. Is that alright?” JP said.

  She nodded.

  “Do you have any idea who may have wanted him dead?”

  “You mean besides my mother and stepfather?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They’ve always hated him. They decided the day they met him that he wasn’t good enough for me and they’ve hated him ever since.”

  “Did either of them ever threaten to kill him?”

  She looked at JP like she couldn’t believe he was asking the question. “All the time.”

  “Did you take them seriously?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Any time recently?”

  “Last time I talked to my mother, she said she was glad he was dead.”

  “Those were her exact words?”

  “No. She said it would be better now with him gone. Same thing. I know that’s what she meant.”

  “And is that why you don’t want the children at her house?”

  “I don’t want the children there because they aren’t safe,” she snapped. Dana’s attitude made JP question whether or not she had remained clean and sober.

  Bob raised his eyebrows at JP and JP realized he had ventured beyond the subject matter he was allowed to explore. “I understand, Dana. Is there anyone else who might have wanted to see your husband dead? Did he have any fights with anyone recently?”

  “He was a scrapper. I think he liked to fight. He’d come home with bruises and cuts all the time, but he didn’t usually explain them. The day they took our kids away from us, he had a big gash on his lip and a black eye. He seemed to be more worried than usual about that fight. George told me he owed money but didn’t have it to pay. He said they’d kill him if he didn’t pay it soon. He wanted me to try to get the money from my folks.”

  “Did he say who they were? Or how much he owed?”

  “No. He said it was his business and he would take care of it. He just needed me to get a little money for him.”

  “Did you get him the money?”

  “No. I was going to try, but then CPS took our kids and everything got all crazy.” She brought her clasped hands up to her chin and looked over them. “I should’ve gotten him the money. Do you think that’s who killed him?”

  “I have no idea, Dana. I’m sure the police are looking into it. You did tell them about that, right?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe not.”

  JP was going to explain to her that she should make sure the police knew everything there was to know about possible suspects, but then he decided to leave that to Bob. Instead, he asked her about the man who went with George to her mother’s house. When JP described the man, she seemed uneasy. “Do you know who that man was?”

  “It sounds like Sammy.”

  “Does Sammy have a last name?”

  “All I ever heard was Sammy.”

  “When they were at your mom’s house, Sammy said he wanted his money. Could that be the same guy who beat him up the day before the kids were removed?”

  She shook her head. “Naw. He and Sammy were friends. He only got mad at Sammy when he flirted with me. George had a temper, especially when it came to me. He got in fights all the time when guys would come on to me.”

  “He was a pretty jealous guy, huh?”

  “He just loved me so much,” Dana said. She sniffled as she fought back tears.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” JP said. He paused for a moment. “I just have a few more questions.”

  She nodded.

  “Did you ever hear anyone threaten him?”

  She shook her head. “Not really, just the normal stuff that happens in the streets. Nothing I took seriously.”

  “Was there anyone who showed extra interest in you? Someone who may have wanted to protect you from him?”

  “My mother said that all the time. She just wanted to ‘protect me.’” She looked up at Bob. “And you. You said you could protect me from him. He was very jealous of you. That’s why he acted so badly that day in that other office. He saw us together once and it set him off.” She smiled at Bob.

  JP stood up. There was something about this woman’s behavior that left him uneasy. “I need to go. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Foreman.” He motioned with his head toward the door. “Bob, could you come out to my car with me? I have something I want to leave with you.”

  “Sure,” Bob said, and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  When they were outside the building, JP said, “Is there something going on between you two?”

  Bob placed his hand on JP’s shoulder. “No, of course not,” Bob said indignantly.

  “Just watch your back. That woman’s as dangerous as a hungry bear at a nudist colony.”

  Chapter 13

  Riley’s school was nearly deserted by the time JP arrived. Eight cars remained in the parking lot and he didn’t see any students in front of the school. Inside the office, a young man sat at a round table about ten feet from the reception desk. He was hunched over some papers with his straight, dark hair hanging over his eyes and face. He held a pencil but spent more time tapping it on the table than actually writing anything.

  JP checked in and the receptionist directed him where to go, explaining that she couldn’t leave the student alone.

  JP walked toward the back of the school and out toward the rear parking lot where there was a row of four portable classrooms. He looked at the numbers and found #104 was the first room on the end. He walked up the metal steps that were attached to the temporary building and opened the door. An auburn-haired boy was sitting at a table and a girl was walking toward the front of the class. Her light brown hair hung at least three feet long. She couldn’t have been much over five feet tall and her hair covered at least two-thirds of her body.

  “Excuse me, miss,” JP said. When the girl turned around he discovered she was a grown woman, not a student as he initially thought, and an attractive one at that. He surmised her age to be about thirty-five. “I’m JP Torn. I’m here to see Riley Foreman.”

  She walked toward him. “Hi, JP. I’m Cheryl Cox, Riley’s teacher. I’ve been expecting you.” After shaking his hand, she motioned her head in the direction of the auburn-haired boy. “That’s him over there. I’ll give you two some privacy. I need to go make some copies anyway.”

  “How’s he doing in school?” JP asked.

  “He’s quite a ways behind, but he works really har
d and he’s smart enough that if he keeps this up he’ll make it. He’s a good kid, worth saving.” Her face reddened. “I didn’t mean to sound like some kids aren’t worth it. It’s just that by the time I get them, no matter how hard I try I can’t get through to some of them. They’re so entrenched in their drug and gang worlds that school is their last priority.”

  JP smiled his half smile and said, “I knew what you meant. It’s a tough job you have. Seems to me, teaching kids these days would be like being pecked to death by a chicken. Slow and painful.”

  She smiled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She looked over at Riley. “Have you seen him before?”

  “No, this is our first meeting.”

  They walked over to Riley. He looked up from his math paper. “Riley, this is JP Torn. He’s a private investigator for your attorney, Ms. Brown, which basically means he works for you.” She turned to JP. “Right?”

  “That’s right.”

  JP reached out his hand to Riley. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Riley shook his hand and nodded, and then after a slight hesitation said, “Sir.”

  “Please, call me JP. I’m much more comfortable with that.” JP sat down on a chair across from Riley. He heard the door open and close as Cheryl left the room.

  “What are you working on?” JP asked.

  “Algebra word problems.”

  “My favorite. Maybe I can help. I was never much for schoolin’ but math always came pretty easy to me.” JP looked at the problem Riley was working on. “It’s like solving a puzzle or a mystery. Read it to me.”

  Riley read the problem. JP asked him a couple of questions which led him down the right path and Riley came up with the answer.

  “Wow. How do you do that?”

  “You just need to know what questions to ask. It’s the same with trying to figure out other things in life—for example, who killed your father. If I can ask the right questions it’ll lead me to the evidence and to the people who have the answer. Do you think you could help me?”

  “But I don’t know who killed him.”

  “But you may know something you don’t even know you know and that could lead me to the killer.”

  “Sure. I’ll help.”

  JP wanted to tread lightly. After all, this child had just lost his father, and as bad as Foreman was, he was still his dad. Riley wasn’t showing a lot of emotion, other than being a little fidgety, tapping his pencil. He was fourteen, too big to cry in front of other men. JP watched his demeanor. He appeared almost stoic. Perhaps he hadn’t really accepted the death yet.

  “Do you know anyone who would harm your father?” JP asked.

  “Lots of people, I suppose.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He didn’t get along well with some people.”

  “Did he have physical fights?”

  “He got in a lot of arguments and even some fights when we were living on the streets.”

  “Do you know of anything recent?” JP asked.

  “He looked like he had been in a fight the day CPS picked us up.”

  JP wished he would elaborate a little. Riley was either not very talkative or just guarded, so JP continued to break it down for him. “Do you know who he fought with?”

  “Nope.”

  “But he had been beaten up?”

  “He had just returned from somewhere and he was bleeding.”

  JP decided to take another tack and ask a question that might elicit a narrative. “So, what happened then?”

  “Nothing.”

  That didn’t work. “Did you talk to him?”

  “No, but Mom did.”

  “Did she say what happened?”

  “She started to explain to us that dad was okay, but then the social worker showed up with the police and Dad ran off.”

  “He left when they were taking you in?”

  “No. He spotted the cops before they got very close to us. He probably figured he was going to be taken in for something. He didn’t like cops much.”

  “Riley, do you know a man named Sammy?”

  Riley looked directly at JP and then his eyes shifted off to the side.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Did your dad ever fight with him?”

  “He yelled at him a couple of times, but they were good friends. He got along better with him than anyone.”

  “Did you get along with Sammy?” JP wondered about Riley’s reaction when he mentioned his name.

  “He was alright,” Riley said, not showing any emotion.

  “Do you know Sammy’s last name?”

  “No.”

  “Did he live on the streets?”

  “Mostly he stayed in his car.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever see it?”

  “Yeah, a couple of times. It was an old, white junker. That’s about all I know.”

  JP asked a few more questions and was about to wrap it up when the teacher returned to the room. “Thank you, Riley. You’ve been a big help.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really know anything.”

  “Every piece is important,” JP said, as he stood up.

  “Do you think Sammy did it?” Riley asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t think it was him,” Riley said.

  “Thanks, Riley. I’ll keep that in mind as I investigate.”

  Chapter 14

  Sabre waited in the reception room at Alvarado Hospital until JP arrived. When he walked in, Sabre said, “Right on time. Marcus was just put in an interview room.”

  “Good. I hope he’s more talkative than Riley. That kid doesn’t volunteer any information without a direct question, and even then he doesn’t say much.”

  “Riley is kind of shy and very guarded, but Marcus is quite the opposite. He loves to talk once you get him started.”

  A tall, heavy-set woman led them down the hallway and into a small room where Marcus sat talking to an orderly. The young man stood up and said, “Just push the buzzer on the wall when you’re finished and I’ll come get him. See you later, Marcus.”

  Sabre introduced JP to Marcus and explained he would be asking most of the questions and that the confidentiality rule was still in effect. She observed that Marcus’ behavior was quite different from the last visit. He didn’t appear to be over medicated, but he was calmer than the first few times she met with him. She assumed it was from a balanced dose of medication. She listened as JP questioned him.

  “Did your father have any enemies?”

  “Yeah. Like everybody he met. Nobody liked my dad. He could be a real jerk most of the time. He’d steal people’s things when they weren’t looking and he’d get in their face when anyone would call him on it. He didn’t mind punching them out, either, if they messed with him.” He spoke as if he were proud of the way his father behaved. Sabre hoped that was more about the mourning process than his true feelings.

  “You saw him get into fights?” JP asked.

  “All the time. If he wasn’t fighting with someone, he’d pick a fight with my mom. He’d scream at her for everything. It was always her fault. He blamed her for losing our home, for not having work, for not having enough alcohol or drugs. He was always yelling at her to move back with my grandma ‘cuz Mom could get money to help support them. When she said she couldn’t get any more money, he told her to steal stuff from Frank’s house and he’d sell it. But she said she wasn’t ever going back there.”

  “Did you see who your dad fought with the day you were picked up by CPS?”

  “Not exactly, but we had been working the streets the night before trying to get some money for food and this really big guy got mad and came after us. We ran off but he chased us. Dad always told me to split up when that happens. That way at least one of us would get away. The guy followed Dad. A couple of hours later, Dad came back to where we were sleeping. It was dark and I didn’t see his fac
e, but later Riley asked me what had happened to him because his face was pretty messed up. He said he looked like he’d been in a fight. I told him about the guy chasing us but that’s all I knew.”

  “So you didn’t see your father at all that morning?”

  “No. I was asleep when the social worker and the cops came. Riley said Dad took off the minute he saw the cops. I would’ve, too, if I’d been awake.”

  “You said you were working the streets. What did you mean by that?”

  “Dad took me with him to help him get money. He always said we were going to ‘work,’ and he was teaching me the ropes. He taught me a lot of things. He said I needed to learn how to survive in ‘the concrete jungle.’”

  “What kinds of things did he teach you?” JP asked.

  “Like how to spot an easy mark on the streets, especially the ones who would give money to kids. He showed me where the best dumpsters were for food. Some restaurants threw better stuff away at the end of the day. And I had to learn my way around—which alleys didn’t dead end, or what fences or walls I could climb so when we split up I wouldn’t get lost or caught if someone was chasing me with a car,” he said with pride in his voice.

  “Did that happen often?”

  “We got chased a lot but only a few times with cars. That was actually easier ‘cuz I knew where to hide. When they were on foot, I had to just outrun them. I’m pretty fast, though. Dad said I was almost as good as him at getting away.”

  “What kind of work were you doing that night?”

  Marcus hesitated. He shifted in his seat and started rubbing his finger and thumb together in a circular motion, a gesture Sabre had noticed before when he was uncomfortable about something. “Just the usual stuff…getting money where we could.”

  JP looked at Sabre, raising his eyebrows as if he were asking if he should continue. She shook her head slightly from side to side and he changed his line of questioning.

  “Marcus, do you know a man named Sammy?”

  “Yeah. He’s my dad’s friend. He’d go out with us sometimes. It was easier then because he had a car. He was cool, except he lied a lot. He was always telling stories about all these things he had done. Like one time he said he was an ultimate fighter and he told me all about beating some guy up in the ring. He said one time he robbed a bank. I didn’t believe him most of the time, but I liked to hear his stories anyway. And he always had marijuana. One night after we came back from work, we sat in his car and we shared a joint.”