by KT Roberts
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you need an arm around you to keep warm?”
She laughed. “No.” She would have liked nothing better but changed the subject instead. “This Sawyer case is beginning to bug the crap right out of me. When are we going to catch a break?”
“Hey,” he said, “I just thought of something. The rash of burglaries in the borough-–isn’t Rory in charge of security for the residents on vacation?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Has anyone checked the records of the break-ins to see who’s on the roster for daily checks?”
“That’s a good question, Zach.”
34
New York City Supreme Court
December 5, 2009
Jessie and Zach huddled with Samantha Richards before the start of the proceedings on what could be the last day of trial. Both were looking rather grim.
“Do you think Sawyer could possibly walk away from all of this?” Jessie asked her.
Samantha could see the frustration etched on the detectives’ faces and had trouble hiding her own disappointment with the way things had turned out. Losing Vito had severely crippled their case.
“Well, probably not on all of the charges, but it’s highly unlikely we’ll get a conviction on the murders. We don’t have the murder weapon in the case of Lenny and not knowing what happened to Amanda is a real stretch for a jury to convict. We’ve clearly established that Sawyer is an evil person, but that’s hardly enough compared to what he deserves.”
“I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” Jessie admitted. “Lenny was hardly a positive contributor to society, but not getting justice for Amanda will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“All rise for the Honorable Jamie Cooper.”
Judge Cooper walked from his chambers, mounted the steps to his seat and eased himself down into the chair.
“Mr. Gerard? You may call your next witness.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Defense rests at this time.”
“Thank you.” He turned to the District Attorney. “Miss Richards?”
“The prosecution res—” She stopped mid-sentence when a law clerk from her office rushed into the courtroom, waving a piece of paper in the air. Samantha sensed the judge’s impatience. “Excuse me, Your Honor.” She read the note. Her mouth creased into a smile. She looked into the audience and noticed the two detectives staring at her quizzically. Samantha smiled. She turned back around to face the judge. “Your Honor, it appears I have one last witness.”
“Your Honor,” Alan Gerard rushed to his feet, a frown on his face. “I wasn’t notified there was another witness, or even a possibility of one.”
“Sidebar,” the judge bellowed. The attorneys made their way toward the judge’s bench. Judge Cooper leaned over toward the attorneys, his hand covering the microphone. His breath reeked of tobacco. Samantha stepped back slightly, the smell assaulting her nostrils. “What’s going on Miss Richards?”
“I’m as shocked as you are, Your Honor. You saw my clerk rush into the court. I’m just finding this out myself.”
“That’s awfully convenient, Samantha,” Alan said with contempt. “One last shot to sneak in through the back door to save your case. What did you do? Stay up all night trying to drum up a witness after Vito Lorenzano skipped out on you?”
“I swear, Alan,” she turned to face him, “I had no idea.” She passed the note to the judge.
“Hmm. Pretty interesting.” He shook his head from side to side. “This ought to be interesting. All right, Miss Richards,” Judge Cooper said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Gerard. I have to allow this witness’ testimony. But,” he said directly to Samantha, his index finger in the air, “if I find out you knew anything at all . . . even the slightest hint about this witness making an appearance, I’ll have you disbarred. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very clear, Your Honor. I swear to you,” she appealed, her hand held in a swearing position.
“All right, you may proceed.”
When he returned to his table, Alan leaned to the side and informed Sawyer of the witness’s identity. Unable to hide his anger, Sawyer’s face flushed.
“The state calls Father Joseph McKinley to the witness stand,” the bailiff announced. Everyone gasped. Patrick watched the elder priest enter the courtroom. His face contorted into an incensed rage, ready to take on the world. The priest no sooner walked up the steps into the witness stand than Patrick jumped to his feet, his two hands balled into fists.
“You lousy sonofabitch.” His attorney tried to talk him down, but Sawyer continued his tirade.
Judge Cooper pounded his gavel against the block and raised his voice to a roar. “Remove the defendant from my courtroom.” There was a hush of silence.
Within seconds anger seared Sawyer’s face. His eyes took on a daunting expression, and in one quick movement, he propelled his body over the table. His foot caught on the table’s edge causing it to topple over onto its side. Bystanders gasped as Sawyer’s balled fist was within inches of Father McKinley’s jaw, but the bailiff’s quick action stopped him. Face down on the wooden floor; Sawyer’s wrists were cuffed behind his back with the help of two more security guards, who then yanked him to an upright position. He struggled, lurching back and forth like a caged lion trying to free himself to no avail. His rage continued unabated, as he shouted obscenities over his shoulder, the tears rushing down his cheeks. “You can’t tell . . . you can’t.” His head slumped forward, and he sobbed uncontrollably.
When the commotion ended, Judge Cooper exhaled to calm down and hammered his gavel on the block. “Okay, folks, sit down and be quiet. Let’s listen to the testimony of this last witness.”
Relief rushed through Zach when the old priest placed his hand on the bible and swore to tell the truth. He turned to Jessie and winked. She got his message.
“Are you all right, Father?” Samantha asked, rushing over to him.
“I’m fine, my dear. How about you?”
Samantha took a big breath. “I must admit, Father, I was scared for you.”
He smiled and looked toward the ceiling. “I had someone watching over me, Miss Richards.”
“So you did, Father.” She sighed. “Father, would you like to take a break before I begin questioning you?”
“No. I’m fine. Please go ahead.”
“Thank you, Father.” She stopped in front of the stand. “Are you an ordained Priest in the Roman Catholic Church?”
“Yes.”
“And, what is the name of your parish?”
“St. Catherine’s.”
“Father, would you tell this court what the “Vow of Silence” means to the Catholic Church?”
“Certainly,” he responded. “Quite simply, it requires a priest to maintain complete silence when it involves a confession of sins.”
“You took that oath when you became a priest. Is that correct?”
“I did.”
“Then, how is it that you are here today to testify against the defendant?”
“For two reasons. One, because . . . I’ve been following this case in the newspapers and have read about the disappointment our police department has endured due to the whirlwind of witnesses dying or leaving the city, and I just refuse to keep his secret any longer.” He paused. “And the other reason is I’ve recently learned I don’t have long to live. I can’t go to my grave knowing what I do about this case. I’ve had a good life and I’m certain God will watch over me.”
Samantha turned to see the jurors’ faces, and continued her questioning. “Father, I’m sorry to hear of your illness.” He nodded. “Do your superiors know you are here today?”
“They do.”
“They can’t be pleased about your appearance, are they?”
“No.” He lowered his head. “I’m not very proud of it either, but I’m doing God’s will.”
“By testifying today, Father, have you been given an ultima
tum?”
“Yes. I’ve been told if I go through with this testimony, I will be excommunicated from the Catholic Church.”
“Does that also mean you will lose your pension?”
“Yes it does, but I have enough money to get me through until I go home to my maker.”
“Then you must have an awful lot to tell us, Father.”
“I do.”
35
December 16, 2008
The bailiff walked into the center of the courtroom. “All rise for The Honorable James W. Cooper of the County of New York.”
The judge took his seat. “Has the jury reached a verdict in the matter of State of New York City v. Patrick James Sawyer?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
The families of the deceased sat silently, their eyes focused on the jury in anticipation of the verdict. Zach leaned over to Jessie, “Are you ready, Jess?” A pang of anticipation rushed through his body.
“You bet.”
The bailiff made his way to the jury box where the foreperson handed him a paper containing the jury’s verdict, then delivered it to the judge.
Judge Cooper’s face remained emotionless as he read the note. “Will the defendant please rise?” Sawyer and his attorneys stood erect, Alan folded his hands in the front of his body.
Judge Cooper’s attention turned to the foreperson. “On the first charge of two counts of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”
“We the jury find the defendant, Patrick James Sawyer, guilty.”
The smirk on Sawyer’s face turned stone cold and his shoulders slumped. Maria Alexander, who sat directly behind him, sobbed out of control. Her hand reached out to touch his arm, but a court officer stopped her mid-way.
Jessie glanced over at Zach who had a wide grin on his face. She gave him the thumbs up sign, and then leaned over toward him. “What a special day this has turned out to be.”
“On the second charge of two counts of money laundering and documentation fraud, how do you find?”
“We the jury find the defendant, Patrick James Sawyer, guilty.”
“On the third charge of one count of threatening law enforcement, how do you find?”
“We the jury find the defendant, Patrick James Sawyer, guilty.”
Reporters ran from the courtroom, cell phones glued to their ears anxious to report the verdict to the media. A grim faced Alan Gerard addressed the judge. “Your Honor, may we have a polling of the jury?“
“Yes, counselor.” Judge Cooper faced the jurors again, and asked each member if they agreed with the guilty verdicts. When all twelve agreed, he immediately moved onto the final phase of the hearing. “After careful consideration of the facts of this case, the evidence presented, and the jury’s verdicts,” he said, “sentencing will resume in my courtroom thirty days from this date. Mr. Gerard, please see the court clerk for the date.” The judge’s gavel hit the block with a resounding bang.
Tears ran down Sawyer’s cheeks. Alan Gerard patted his shoulder and whispered something to his client. Patrick jerked away from his touch.
“Bailiff, take the prisoner into custody.” Three court officers swiftly led Patrick Sawyer out of the courtroom. The judge continued. “I’d like to thank the jury for their time and commitment to the community. You are now free to leave.” He again raised his gavel and brought it down onto the sound block. “This Court is adjourned.”
The two detectives rushed over to Samantha and hugged her. “I can’t believe the jury bought our entire case,” Jessie said.
Samantha shook her head, more than a little amazed herself. “That’s the thing with juries. You never know what little thing their beliefs will hinge on. Once Father McKinley told his story, the jury had no problem believing that the charges against Sawyer were highly probable. Sawyer’s outrage against him helped our case even more. Good job, detectives.”
“We did it hot shot,” Jessie squealed with delight as they walked down the court building steps.
“We certainly did. I’m just happy the families have closure.” Zach reached for her hand. She pulled it back, concerned the others might see. “What’s wrong, Jess?”
“Ah, I have to tell you something.”
“Uh oh, this sounds ominous. Okay, shoot.”
“I’m leaving the department and moving over to Missing Persons.”
Zach stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. “Why, Jess?” He frowned. “Have I been coming on too strong?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because I can’t continue to be your partner and date you at the same time.”
Zach reached out and pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “Do you know what this means to me?”
“Probably as much as it means to me.”
36
Old Saybrook, Connecticut
December 20, 2009
Gabi Sawyer pulled the collar of her wool coat tightly against her neck to block out the wind whipping around her body. Winter seemed much worse in this sleepy little town of Old Saybrook, Connecticut, than when she lived in Manhattan. No tall buildings to block the ravages of the weather. The snow, already a foot deep, was still falling from the sky like an angry avalanche.
Gabi shivered and pulled her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose. The quick movement caused the straps from her backpack to slip off her shoulder. She hitched the straps higher, her mittens getting caught underneath. Annoyed, she released an exasperated sigh, pulled her mittens out from under the straps, and quickly slipped her hands back inside to avoid frostbite from the frigid weather.
Despite this storm, she did like living in Connecticut. Leaving her friends hadn’t been easy. Neither had the conviction of her father, who’d been sentenced to life in prison, no chance of parole. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how drastically her life had changed at the hands of her father. Thoughts of the trial entered her mind, and the day her grandparents had returned from court. Gabi knew her grandparents meant well, but she hadn’t been allowed in the courtroom. Neither grandparent was computer savvy, and obviously never suspected the information about her father’s trial was all over the Internet. When they’d returned on that final day, they made up some cockamamie story about her father’s conviction. Since then she’d cried herself to sleep many nights afterward.
Her mind clouded with confusion about what her father had done? The continuous dull ache in her heart was heavier than carrying her backpack. Tears splashed her cheeks. The sting from the wind whipping against her wet tears burned like the end of a wet towel being snapped against her body. She shut her eyes and used the tail end of her scarf to dry her tears. Her mind drifted back to the online article reporting the things her father was accused of doing. None of it made any sense to her. Because he wanted more children? He killed her mother because she couldn’t have more kids? The hatred welled inside her. Her pace slowed down in concert with the heaviness she carried in her heart. Parents weren’t supposed to do such awful things. She angrily kicked the snow with the toe of her boot. God how she missed her mother.
Moving away from the city with her grandparents and aunt, after her father’s conviction, had been a blessing. At least, that’s what her grandmother said. She really missed her friends—especially Marti. But, now that she had a cell phone, they kept in touch on a regular basis, and Marti was planning to spend time with her during the summer months.
She didn’t understand everything that had happened, but she knew once the government had gotten their hands on the house and the dealership, whatever was left over after they were paid, was put into a trust for her. She didn’t care about the money. Actually, she didn’t care about anything. She wanted a quiet family life with two parents.
The smell of wood burning filled the air and spiraled up her nose. She inhaled the sweet smell of pine as she passed an evergreen tree. Christmas came to mind. The holidays would never be the same without her parents. She had
her father to thank for that.
Shuffling down Main Street, Gabi glanced at the snow covered brick Georgian structures and odd shaped saltbox houses. It reminded her of a scene right out of the Charles Dickens’ story, A Christmas Carol. The wind picked up and knocked the crusted ice from the trees in a spray, like glass shattering from a window. Gabi ducked to avoid getting hit and increased her pace until she reached home. She could hardly wait to warm up in front of the fireplace. Just as she was about to mount the steps, her aunt exited the house.
“Ooh, Gabi, you poor thing.” Sara rushed down the stairs to help her. “You must feel like a popsicle,” she said, pulling the backpack off of Gabi’s shoulders. Deep crease lines knitted her brows together. “Hey, what are you doing home so early? I thought you were supposed to be dismissed at one o’clock?”
“The lights went out at school, so they sent us on our way.” She shivered. “I’m freezing, Aunt Sissy,” she said, and jumped up and down to warm her body.
“Well, let’s get you inside.” Sara wrapped her arm around Gabi’s waist and together they mounted the stairs.
Joyce Milligan rushed into the living room carrying a blanket. “My God,” she said, cupping Gabi’s cheeks with her hands, “let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” Disrobed down to her underwear, Joyce wrapped a warm blanket around Gabi.
“Mmm, Gram,” Gabi said, snuggling inside the blanket, “this feels so good.” She smiled at her grandmother. “You’re the best Gram in the whole world.”
Joyce cradled Gabi in her arms. “I like you a lot too,” she said, her voice cracking. Gabi could tell she was crying and hugged her even tighter. When they stopped hugging, Joyce turned around and headed for the kitchen.
“Here, Gab,” Sara said, guiding her closer to the fireplace, “stand in front of the fire for a few minutes. Keep turning around slowly to warm that little body of yours.”