Cross Examination
Page 33
"So what?"
"Your aim, sir, was clearly on the target. I fully understand that. Your focus on a strict structure and controlling the budget here was admirable and clearly would be a feather in your cap when you were in-line to move up."
Sullivan shook his head.
"But in order to get there -- you forgot you were dealing with real people and not just names on a time-card whose overtime came out of your budget. You were dealing with highly motivated and intelligent people who come to work everyday and just want to do a good job. People who only want to clear cases and arrest bad guys. People who would rather be home at night with their families instead of being at some crime scene -- but show up at the scene all the same. People who have real emotions and don't care about accolades, but just want to be appreciated for the job they do."
"You have no idea what it takes to run a division like this" Sullivan said.
"You're right. I don't. But I can think we can agree your little experiment here was a serious failure."
"If I had just a little more cooperation and some loyalty--"
"Bullshit," Jerrod said. "You had cooperation and, at least, Regner was 'loyal'... until he wasn't. I doubt you'll ever understand the damage you did here."
Sullivan paused and glared at Jerrod. "You still think Brent killing himself was my fault?"
Jerrod sat up straight. "Well, it's refreshing to hear you finally admit that."
"I take no responsibility for his death."
"Keep telling yourself that. But, we both know you were responsible... and you needed to cover up that little fact to protect your precious advancement opportunities."
Sullivan drooped his head.
Jerrod reached across the table and picked up Brent's coffee cup. He held it in his hands as he spoke. "Have you taken Jesus Christ into your heart as your Lord and Savior, sir?"
"I have, but what's that got--"
"The next time you pray," Jerrod interrupted, "pray for Brent and his family. Pray for His forgiveness. Pray you don't get punished with more than just a demotion when your time comes to answer for your actions. And pray, real hard, He doesn't think you're responsible either."
CHAPTER 109
Tuesday Evening -- 7:30 PM
"You're home," Marty yelled as Jerrod walked in the front door. "Will you read to us tonight?"
"Sure, honey," he said.
"Yea."
Lilly smiled and waived from the sofa.
"Let me talk to Mom for a few minutes. Okay?"
"Okay."
He hugged Nikki and they sat together in the kitchen. She studied his face.
"Hungry?"
"No."
"Rough day?"
"Good and bad."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Beer?"
"Sure."
She opened a Heineken for him and sat back down. He took a long drink and wiped a drip from his chin.
"Remember the guy -- Nick Usher -- I went to Oklahoma to bring back?"
"Sure."
"He got convicted today. Guilty on all counts."
"Fantastic," she said. "But is that the 'good' or the 'bad?'"
"That's the 'good.'" He picked at the beer bottle label. "But it's bittersweet."
"Why's that?"
"The conviction was for the second killing he did. I didn't arrest him for the first one until after..."
"I'm so sorry," she said. "Is that the 'bad?'
Jerrod took another long drink. "The 'bad' is something I did this week. I started... set in motion... made something happen... and I feel like shit."
"Um... Jerrod said a bad word," Marty yelled from the living room.
"I'm sorry, Marty. I'll wash my mouth out with..." he whispered to Nikki, "...beer."
Nikki asked, "Did it, by chance, have anything to do with that envelope you had me write your name and 'confidential' on the other day?"
"Yep."
"Did someone get hurt?"
He took a another sip. "Not physically, but a man's career is pretty much over."
"Did he deserve what happened to him?"
"Yes."
"Well, then. What's the problem?"
Jerrod yelled from the kitchen, "Is it bedtime yet? I have some reading to do with two young ladies."
He heard the girls jump off the sofa and race to get ready for bed.
"What do you want me to read, girls?"
"Where The Sidewalk Ends," Lily said.
"I've read that so many times," he said, "How about Dr. Seuss?"
"No, "Sidewalk," Marty said.
Jerrod picked up Silverstein's book. "Okay. What poem... again?"
"'Spaghetti,'" Marty said.
Jerrod read the short poem named "Spaghetti," then "Helping," then "If I Had a Brontosaurus," then "Hug 'O War," and then "Benjamin Bunnn."
When he was sure the girls were asleep, he paged back in the book and whispered to them: "Just one more. This one is called: 'Hector The Collector.'"
He read the poem through moist eyes as he felt the festering wound he had endured for nearly six years -- in Dewey's "ingrown hair" analogy -- being pulled and soothed and healed.
"Are you okay?" Nikki asked as he sat down next to her on the sofa.
"I'm fine. Let's do it."
"Do what?" she asked.
"Do it -- get married. You and me and the girls. Let's make us a real family."
"Are you serious?"
He kissed her. "I've never been more serious in my life. I'm going all-in. I don't want to blow this chance. I want to be your husband and you to be my wife... now and at my retirement party and at my funeral and forever."
They cried as they embraced. She pulled back, put her hands on both sides of his face, and kissed him.
"Yes. Of course. Yes."
CHAPTER 110
Wednesday Morning
"Lorena Delgado," the voice answering the phone said.
Jerrod asked, "So what does an ADA, who just got a first-degree murder conviction, do on the day after?"
"She gets ready for the next one, I guess."
"Hope it's the Walter Jelinski case?"
"I need to talk to you about that case," she said. "How about you call Stan and the two of you come by my office this morning."
Stan Walsh was already in Lorena's office when Jerrod arrived.
"Close the door," Lorena said.
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this meeting already," Jerrod said as he sat down with Stan.
"Sergeant," Lorena started, "a decision has been made on the second Nick Usher murder case."
"And?"
"It was decided to dismiss the charges on the Jelinski murder. Usher can't get any more time and another trial would be... well... the decision was made not to go forward with it."
"Who made that decision? Not you, I hope?" Jerrod asked Lorena.
"Mr. Harlan made the decision," Stan said. "He's the DA and he decides which cases go to trial."
"Screw Mr. Harlan," Jerrod said.
"Keep your voice down," Lorena scolded. "I offered Preston Vinnick a second-degree murder plea with concurrent time. He flat rejected it. Didn't even counter. He said we either go to trial or dismiss."
Jerrod stood and glared at her. "So, Vinnick just challenged us to either 'call' or 'fold?' And we folded?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"I'm not the world's greatest poker player," he said, "but I have learned a few things. One of those is that when you 'call,' you might lose the hand. But when you 'fold,' you always lose -- even if you were holding the best cards."
CHAPTER 111
Wednesday Afternoon
"Sergeant Gold," he said into the receiver of his desk phone.
"This is Eric Blanchard."
"Hello... Chief."
"Can you come by my office... right away?"
"Sure. Be right over."
"Close the door and have a seat," the chief deputy directed. Bo
th his suntanned face and voice were serious.
Jerrod sat down.
"This is all getting posted Friday morning, but you've no doubt heard about Mitchell Sullivan's demotion and transfer."
"He told me about it... in person... last night."
"I have some questions for you. Whatever we talk about will never leave this room. I need to know the truth. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"When this whole thing about Sullivan and Regner and the video and the newspaper article came up... coincidentally while Mitchell was away from the office... I suspected you were somehow involved."
Jerrod nodded.
"And when I saw your name on that video tape envelope -- I knew you were behind it."
"Yes, sir."
"Is that, 'yes' as-in you were behind... for lack of a better term... the coup? Or are you just being a smart-ass?"
"Sir, I have a question for you. You, personally, talked to Bruce Witt and asked him not to publish the article exposing Brent's death as a suicide. Correct?"
"Yes. How did you know that?"
"Did he put up much of a fight? Argue with you about the freedom of the press or governmental oppression or the public having a right to know?"
"He put up a fuss." The chief paused to think. "But he eventually agreed not to print the article to save Brent's family from any more trauma."
"That, sir, assumes there was ever going to be an article."
"You little bastard," the chief deputy said as he leaned back in his chair for a few seconds. He then leaned forward on his desk. "Let me do the math here."
"Sure."
"You found out about the video tape and used it to leverage Regner into going to the sheriff with the truth about Brent... to save his own ass?"
Jerrod nodded.
"Regner took the bait. And then you knew Sullivan would have to fall on his sword to save his career -- well, what was left of his career -- when he got called in."
"Sir, do you remember a conversation we had right after the Cardinal Lane murder-suicide?"
"Yes."
"You told me you wanted 'people who can think on their feet, take charge, and get results.'"
"I knew it. Unbelievable."
Jerrod asked. "What's going to happen to Regner?"
"He's getting a forty-hour suspension for his part."
"No demotion or reassignment?''
"No. He's going to stay where he is. The sheriff actually appreciated Regner coming to him with the truth. Sullivan took the big hit."
"Good. Who's replacing Sullivan?"
"Ben Zaff is coming back as the Investigations Division Commander."
"He's perfect. Thank you."
"I can't believe you set this whole thing up."
"I just played the cards that were dealt, sir."
The chief scoffed and stared at Jerrod. "Do you have any idea how difficult this whole mess has been on the sheriff?"
"No, sir."
"He had to bury one of his sergeants, discipline another one, and then demote the son of one of his best friends for covering up details about it."
"I understand, sir."
The chief deputy put his elbows on his cluttered desk, peeked at the closed door, and spoke in a hushed tone. "What I'm about to tell you is not going to be posted Friday. Understand?"
"Yes."
"The sheriff told me he's not going to run for election again next year. Five terms – twenty years in office – is going to be enough for him."
"Yes, sir."
"But, he's not going to retire early and appoint a successor. He's going to finish his term and he wants the next sheriff to be elected. Are you following me?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's going to be a lot of interest in that position. I'm going to need people I can trust to help me. Can I count on you when the time comes?"
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"Glad to hear that," the chief deputy said as he shook his head. "With what I've just learned about you today -- I'd sure hate to find out you were helping someone else."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James C. Gray is a retired twenty-five year
California law enforcement officer.
He lives in Nevada with his wife, Cindy,
and their dog, Pepper.