Due Process

by Scott Pratt

  I looked back toward the house to see Kevin walking in my direction.

  “Go back inside!” I yelled. “Stay with Caroline! I’ll be in soon!”

  A Washington County Sheriff’s Department deputy named Rocky Littleton showed up at the house about ten minutes after Caroline made her call. I took the shotgun and leaned it against the wall inside the garage and went back out to talk with him. He took some photos and filled out a report.

  “You want me to wake up the sheriff?” he said.

  “No point. There’s nothing he can do tonight.”

  “You didn’t get a look at any of them?”

  “No. All I can tell you was it sounded like a diesel pick-up truck.”

  “Didn’t recognize the voice that yelled?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry.”

  “Not much to go on here, Mr. Dillard,” Deputy Littleton said. “I’ll get forensics to come out and gather up bullets and shell casings. They shot your garage all to hell.”

  “I know.”

  “I hope your vehicles are insured.”

  “They are. So’s the house. It’ll be okay.”

  “I have to tell you something,” Littleton said. “I admire you for taking this case. A lot of lawyers would have run like their hair was on fire, but you stepped right up, just like you always have. And for what it’s worth, from where I’m standing—and this goes for a lot of my buddies at the department—your client is being shafted. A lot of folks at the Johnson City Police Department feel the same way. I hope you can get it straightened out. There are a few racists around, we all know that, but for the most part the people here are good people. This has already made us look bad all over the country, and it just isn’t right.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it. Now let me ask you a question. You have some discretion as to whether you make your report public, correct?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s a bit of a gray area, but if the case is still under investigation, then I don’t have to make the report available to the media.”

  “Is the case still under investigation?” I said.

  “Do we know who burned the cross and made Swiss cheese out of your garage door?”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Then as far as I’m concerned, it’s still under investigation.”

  “I appreciate that, Deputy Littleton. I really do. I wasn’t looking forward to reading in the paper tomorrow or the next day about what happened here tonight.”

  “I’ll talk to the sheriff in a couple of hours,” Littleton said. “He’s an early riser. We’ll muster up our informants, get some folks out in the streets, see if we can’t find out who did this. Somebody will want to take credit. They’ll run their mouths. They always do.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting them,” I said. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to return the favor in some way.”

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11

  Kevin and I skipped our run the next morning for obvious reasons. He was extremely upset about what happened, but I told him we had no idea whether the people who fired shots into the garage and burned the cross knew he was there. Even if they didn’t, he was still terrified by what had happened. I understood. Assault rifles and burning crosses. It was a hell of a night.

  Sheriff Leon Bates showed up at the house at 6:00 a.m. His forensics people were just finishing up after combing over the garage, Kevin’s car, and the area around the cross. They’d also combed both sides of the road leading to my house for a half-mile in each direction. I didn’t think they’d found much. They’d removed the blackened cross and put it in a van. It probably wouldn’t yield much in the way of evidence, but you never knew.

  Leon called my cell when he pulled up outside and I invited him in for a cup of coffee. Caroline was still asleep, and I’d finally talked Kevin into going back to bed. He’d sat at the kitchen table with a stunned look on his face for more than an hour before I managed to persuade him to try to get some more sleep.

  Leon walked in, mid-forties, long and lanky. He removed his cowboy hat and sat down at the table.

  “Brother Dillard, looks like you’ve gotten yourself into another fine mess.”

  “Looks that way,” I said. “I seem to be pretty good at fine messes.”

  “They shot your garage door up pretty bad,” Leon said.

  “Insurance will cover all the damage to the garage,” I said. “Same with Caroline’s car and my truck. And Kevin said his parents have insurance on his car.”

  “When I find these boys, and I promise you I will, they’re gonna do a bunch of time if they make it to the jail.”

  “Don’t go killing anybody you don’t absolutely have to kill,” I said.

  I knew Leon wasn’t afraid to pull a trigger. He also wasn’t above torturing suspects if the stakes were high enough and he needed information immediately. He had his very own black site he called “The Farm” where he sometimes took prisoners for “special” interrogations. He’d used it to get information out of a suspect who was killing judges all over the state almost a year earlier. The judge and his girlfriend were also kidnapping, torturing, raping and killing young women. They were both completely depraved. I was involved in that case, and as much as I hated to admit it, I knew about what Leon had done and was okay with the result. I wasn’t particularly comfortable with it, but looking back, it had saved some lives.

  “So we’re looking at aggravated assault, shooting into an occupied dwelling, misdemeanor vandalism, and a hate crime enhancement at sentencing because of the cross,” Leon said. “Deputy Littleton told me you heard one of them yell out ‘nigger lover.’ That right?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Just more evidence for the hate crime enhancement. No idea how many there were?”

  “No, but my guess would be three or four. They had to get the hole dug, put the cross in it, douse it with some kind of accelerant, and ignite it. Then there was the trigger man who started blasting away with the assault rifle.”

  “Say you think it was a diesel pick-up?”

  “I’m sure of it. The sound is as distinctive as that AK-47.”

  “We’ll be checking all the security cameras at businesses within a few miles of here. We might get lucky. It happened around three-thirty?”

  “Rio woke me up at three-thirty-two. I looked at the clock. They were gone less than ten minutes later.”

  “Not much traffic on the roads around here that time of night,” Leon said. “I hope a diesel truck shows up on a camera close by.”

  “This thing is getting out of control, Leon,” I said. “I was afraid it would. Did you know my client is staying here?”

  “No. I didn’t. Why in the world would you take that kind of risk?”

  “I just thought it would be best. I thought he’d be safer here than in Collierville with his parents or just out on his own. I thought I could protect him. I guess I was wrong.”

  “He’s still alive,” Leon said. “You think whoever did this knew he was here?”

  “I have no idea. They might have just been going after his lawyer. Maybe they didn’t know that was his car. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m getting him out of here. I’ll talk to his parents and find him a safer place.”

  “Might be hard,” Leon said. “There’s witness protection, but I’ve never heard of defendant protection. After last night, you best find a cave to hide him in.”

  “I’ll do the best I can. Did you ever talk to Erlene about the girl making the rape allegations?”

  “I tried, brother Dillard, I swear I did. I went to her house. She was cold to me, rude even. She wouldn’t even let me in the door. Never treated me like that before. Not once.”

  “But you asked her about the girl?”

  “Oh, yeah, I asked her all right. And as soon as I did, fire started coming out of her eyes. She said she hoped the girl took the university for every dime it had. What was strange was that she didn’t mention the boys who are charged with committing the crime. She did
n’t say, ‘I hope those boys rot in prison,’ or anything like that. She just rattled on about what a bunch of lowlifes the people that run the university are and that they deserve to pay. I got the distinct impression she’d had a run-in with them before.”

  “I’m going to take another shot at her,” I said. “She knows something. She might even be behind this whole thing.”

  “Why would Erlene orchestrate a false rape claim against three black players?” Leon asked. “Doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

  “When it comes to Erlene, you just never know what’s going through that devious mind of hers. No offense. I know you care about her.”

  “None taken,” he said. “And I don’t care about her all that much anymore. The shine just sort of wore off her. Besides, I keep getting reports that she’s moving more and more coke out of that hole she calls a business. I’m probably going to wind up stinging her.”

  “Why don’t you do it now?” I said. “It could give you some leverage in trying to unravel what really happened at that party.”

  Leon paused and sipped his coffee. He set the cup back down on the table and said, “That party ain’t my case, brother Dillard.”

  “Maybe not, but what did or didn’t happen at that party has now caused a bunch of ripple effects. One of those effects is that your good buddy Joe Dillard’s house was shot up. His life, his wife’s life, his client’s life and his dogs’ lives were all endangered, and somebody burned a damned cross in his yard. I was hoping that might piss you off enough to forget about jurisdictional squabbles.”

  Leon picked the cup back up, drained it, and stood. He put his cowboy hat back on his head.

  “You know what, brother Dillard? You’re right. When you put it that way, you’re absolutely right. It pisses me off beyond words, and I’m gonna get out there right now and start doing something about it.”

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11

  Kevin came walking into the kitchen around 8:00 a.m., looking haggard and worried.

  “Breakfast?” I said. “I’m a good cook.”

  “No thanks,” he said. “I don’t think I can eat right now.”

  “You drink coffee?”

  “Not much. I’d drink some orange juice if you have it.”

  “In the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”

  After Leon left, I’d gone into the bedroom and hung a bag of sodium chloride from an IV tower and hooked it up to Caroline’s PICC line. We’d decided we’d had enough of home health care nurses for the time being. I fixed her a peach and banana smoothie with an egg in it, just like I did three or four times a week. After that, I’d called Jack and talked to both him and Charlie and had told them what happened. Jack wanted to come out, but I said there wasn’t anything he could do. I wanted him to go the office. I was supposed to meet Stony at nine, and I asked Jack and Charlie to take that meeting for me and find out what she’d learned about Mike Armstrong. I also called Stony and told her I wouldn’t be at the meeting and asked her if she’d share what she’d learned with Jack and Charlie. She agreed.

  Kevin poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table while I leaned against the kitchen counter and ate a bowl of strawberries and blueberries.

  “You have to go,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be okay, but after last night, I’m not comfortable with you being here. I’m afraid whoever did this knows you’re here. I’m just not sure. The whole thing might have been directed at me because I’m representing you, but the sheriff didn’t say anything about Devante’s or Evan’s lawyer’s houses being shot up or crosses being burned in their yards. I don’t know if they knew that was your car they shot all to hell, but I have to assume they did. I just don’t want to take unnecessary risks. They might be watching, just waiting for a chance to get a shot at you or snatch you up. We need to call your parents and we need to find a place to hide you until I can get this thrown out or get you acquitted at trial. Any idea where you might be able to go? I wouldn’t be comfortable with you staying with your parents. It’d be too easy for them to find you if they’re looking.”

  “Who’s they?” Kevin said.

  “Probably the Klan or some group like them.”

  “I can’t believe this,” he said. “It’s beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”

  “It’s real,” I said. “Imagine the worst possible thing that could happen, which is them getting their hands on you, and figure out where you could go to keep that from happening. I have an old Army buddy named Bo Hallgren who lives in Michigan that you could go and stay with. He lives on a big farm and would do anything I asked of him. He’d do his best to protect you.”

  “I don’t want to put someone else in danger,” he said.

  “Whatever you do, wherever you go, someone is going to be in danger,” I said. “Especially you. Help me out here. You’re a smart young man. I need you to think in terms of survival. Imagine you’re being hunted by the most dangerous predator in the world. Where would you go to hide?”

  “My face has been all over newspapers and magazines and television screens everywhere in the country,” Kevin said. “My best friend from high school lives in Oregon now. He’s getting a master’s at Oregon State in Corvalis. He texted me when I was arrested. He saw my face on the CBS Evening News. I don’t think there’s anywhere in the country I can go and really feel safe. I might as well just stay here and ride it out. If they kill me, they kill me. If you don’t want me here, though, if you don’t want it on your conscience if they get to me or if you’re afraid they’ll hurt you or your wife, I understand. I’ll go to Collierville and stay with my parents.”

  I shook my head and sighed.

  “I guess you’re right,” I said. “You’re probably not safe anywhere. Just stay here. Do you know how to use a gun?”

  “No, sir. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

  “Okay. Well, I don’t think they’ll try anything in broad daylight. I’m sure the sheriff will have his guys keeping a close eye on the house. I’m going to go to the office and meet with someone, get some work done, and I’ll be back at lunch. Do me a favor and stay in the house. Rio will let you know if anyone unwelcome comes around. If he starts barking or growling, call 911 and then call me.”

  “Okay,” Kevin said.

  I got dressed and, after sweeping shattered glass out of part of the cab of my truck, drove to the office. The back windshield of my truck had been blown out, and there were three bullet holes in the tailgate, but it was otherwise unscathed. As soon as I got a chance, I would take it to a car wash and vacuum it thoroughly. Then I’d have to take it to a body shop and get the windshield replaced and the tailgate repaired.

  Stony had already arrived when I got to the office. I’d called Jack and told him I was coming, so they were waiting for me. The four of us settled into the conference room.

  “This is a privileged meeting,” Stony said immediately. “I want it understood from the beginning that anything that is said in this room this morning stays here, and anything I might happen to give to you did not come from me. Is that clear? I have no intentions of going to jail, and if I do, I promise you’ll all go with me.”

  “Sounds serious,” I said, knowing I was about to get some long-awaited answers to some perplexing questions.

  “It is. Are we in agreement?” she said.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  “Are you recording this meeting in any way?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I have your word? No audio or video recorders hidden? Nobody taking any notes?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mind if I sweep the office for bugs?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  She pulled a small device out of her briefcase and began walking around the office. She was back in ten minutes.

  “The place is clean,” she said. “No bugs, no cameras.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “Okay, first. The infamous lineup. Present were Investigator
Bo Riddle of the Johnson City Police Department and the alleged victim in the case, Sheila Self.”

  Stony pulled out a laptop and pushed it to the center of the conference room desk. Someone at the JCPD—another investigator, I was certain—had placed a hidden camera in the ceiling above Riddle’s head. Stony pushed a button on the keyboard and the video began to play. It clearly showed Riddle coaching Sheila Self. He laid out only six photos, all of them were black ETSU players in uniform, and especially with the identity of Kevin Davidson, he was clearly tapping on the photo to influence her to choose it. The audio that went along with the charade of a lineup was priceless. I absolutely could not wait to confront Riddle on a witness stand with this evidence. It would be a true Perry Mason moment.

  “And when the judge asks me how I got my hands on this, what do I say?” I said to Stony.

  “You’re going to call Riddle as a witness, correct?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “The first witness you need to call is Bret Marshall. He was Riddle’s partner early on, only been with the department for two months. He set this up and can authenticate the video. He quit the job, and he’s willing to testify.”

  “Are you kidding? He’s willing to violate the code of silence? His career as a cop will be over.”

  “It’s already over. He resigned as soon as he made this tape. He told me if being a cop means he has to stand by and watch things like this take place, he doesn’t want to be a cop.”