Chapter 19
Entering the Twin Towers Correctional Facility was like entering a morgue.
The long-term inmates almost seemed dead. There was an air of regret, sadness, and emptiness in their eyes. Despite being one of the largest prisons in the world, Twin Towers was known for its rough-housing, abuse, and gang warfare.
Not a pleasant experience for anyone.
The musky smell in the interview room itched the inside of Bill Harvey’s nose. It was a smell he knew well, but not one that he would ever get used to. Although he thought that the metal chairs with worn cushions were uncomfortable, he knew that it was the most comfort some of the inmates had seen in a very long time.
The table in front of him was as cold as the small room, and the scratches along the edge were evidence of a dangerous past.
“Mr. Shaw.” Harvey stood and greeted the forty-year-old man that walked into the room. “My name is Bill Harvey, Criminal Defense Attorney. I need your help.”
He looked at Lachlan Shaw—a man full of purpose and confidence. He walked into the room with a straight back, his face held a grin, his eyes alive. Perfectly groomed. Slick hair. Strong. Assured. Poised.
Not what Harvey expected at all.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harvey.” His voice was strong as they shook hands.
“How are you doing in here, Mr. Shaw?” Harvey stated as they sat down.
Lachlan drew a long deep breath, and a smile drifted across his face. “I’m doing better than I ever have in my life. I have never felt more alive than I do now.”
“Prison has done that to you?”
“Not prison, but the Lord. In here, I’ve had time to find my path to the Lord. He was my savior and my hero. The Lord was great. I am grateful for my experience here because I have found my purpose in life. The world is a dangerous place, and life has lots of twists and turns, but the Lord will look after me. I will follow the path he has laid down for me.”
Harvey almost laughed out loud. Lachlan Shaw could not be more of a stereotypical preacher-type.
“Have you found the Lord, Mr. Harvey?” Lachlan leaned forward on the table.
“I didn’t realize he was lost.”
“Ah, a bit of a joker, I see.”
“You know, I once prayed to the Lord to bring me a bike when I was seven years old. I prayed and prayed, but nothing happened.”
“The Lord doesn’t work that way, Mr. Harvey.”
“I realized that after a while. So then I stole a bike, and prayed for forgiveness.” Harvey smiled.
“Ha.” Lachlan laughed genuinely and leaned back in his chair. “I like your joke. Would you like to hear my best joke, Mr. Harvey?”
“Go on.” Harvey nodded, glad that the rapport was building between them.
“Mother superior says to two twenty-one-year-old nuns that they have to paint their bedroom without getting any paint on their new clothes. The first nun suggests to the other, ‘Hey, let's take all our clothes off, fold them up, and lock the door.’ So they do this and begin painting their bedroom. Soon there is a knock at the door. ‘Who is it?’ they ask. ‘Blind man!’ The nuns look at each other, and the first nun says, ‘He's blind, so he can't see. What could it hurt?’ They open the door and let him in. The blind man walks in and says, ‘Hey, nice tits. Where do you want me to hang the blinds?’
Harvey slapped the table, laughing hard. “Well, that was unexpected.”
“That’s the tamest joke I have heard in prison. Things get dirty in here.” Lachlan smiled. “But enough jokes, how can I help you, Mr. Harvey?”
“It’s about your case,” Harvey replied, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’ve read over your file, and despite the conviction, you’re still maintaining your innocence. You’re—”
“I’m not maintaining my innocence. I am innocent. There’s a difference. A real big difference. Some people in here say they are innocent one day, and then admit their guilt the next. That’s not me.” Lachlan’s voice rose with aggression, and he showed signs of vigor. “I am innocent of that crime; I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Of course.” Harvey opened his notepad, pen ready. “What can you tell me about the night that the man died?”
“Whoa, Mr. Harvey. Settle down. First, you need to tell me what you’re doing here.” Lachlan waved his finger in the air. “I don’t know you or what you do. I don’t even know why you’re here. You’ve had me pulled from my Bible reading to talk with you, but I know nothing about you. And they taught us at school not to speak to strangers.”
Harvey smiled at the inmate’s attempt at another joke. At least he had kept his sense of humor. “I’m investigating a very similar murder to yours, Mr. Shaw, and I believe that my client is innocent. There are a lot of similarities with your case, and if you’re innocent like you say you are, then there is a chance that we might be dealing with the same killer. If you can help me, then there is a chance that I can help you.”
Lachlan stared at Harvey, processing the information.
Hope was a dangerous feeling.
Lachlan had given up on any piece of optimism; now he was just waiting for his time to pass until his sentence was completed. His thoughts turned to the day of his release—when he could begin to rebuild his life.
He had pinned all his dreams to the day of his parole—the day when he could walk out a free man again. He could make new friends, find a new job, preach to the people and follow the path that the good Lord had set for him.
That was his future. Locked in.
The announcement of hope gave him a feeling of unease.
He wasn’t prepared for that today.
“I’m not sure I want to hear that.” He shook his head.
“I understand that hope is a very delicate concept in prison. I’m not here trying to sell you anything, Mr. Shaw. I’m being honest with you. Even if I prove that my client is innocent and we suspect that the same person might be involved in your case, there is no guarantee that there will be any evidence that can support the claim. Time has passed since your case, and any new evidence is likely to be weak. The chance of you getting out of here early is still very slim. But I don’t want two innocent men to go to prison for someone else’s sins. And I’m sure you wouldn’t wish this experience on your worst enemy.”
Lachlan nodded slowly. “If this is the path the Lord wants me to take, then I will help you.”
“What are—”
Lachlan held up his hands as a stop sign.
He closed his eyes and looked inwardly to himself, calming his mind with a number of long, slow breaths.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes again. “The Good Lord says that I should help you. This is my path.”
“Go on.” Harvey leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me about the night in question.”
“We were drinking heavily that night, like we did most Friday nights. I was out celebrating the end of the week with the other people from the office I was working at. It was just one of those offices where everyone liked to party. A lot of people there were temporary workers, and that meant that a lot of people felt pretty free about what they were doing. We were a ‘party office’—that’s what we were known for. And it was the same bar every Friday night.”
“Interesting. How many temp workers were there in the agency you were working for at the time?”
“Hundreds. I wouldn’t know them all. I’m sure there is a list of the workers somewhere.”
“And the company name?”
“Harrison & Wilder. It was a large stock market firm. Lots of accounting types and bankers. They needed administrative support, which is why they hired a lot of temporary workers. They treated us very poorly, and that’s why none of the staff lasted very long. The turnover rate of the staff was a huge problem for them, but they weren’t willing to change any of their behaviors.”
“Temp workers…” Harvey’s thoughts processed fast.
“So I partied hard that night. Ex
tra hard. Then I was with this girl—I don’t even know her name, and I don’t even remember if she was from the firm, a temp worker, or just a random at the bar. I was too drunk to remember. But I do remember telling her all about my drinking. I used to be proud that I could drink ten beers every night and still show up to work the next day. I used to wear that level of drinking like a badge of honor. Of course, it means nothing now. So, I was too drunk—the girl rejected me, and I was a bit angry. After that, I don’t remember much. I remember I was angry, but that’s about it. It was like a massive blank spot in my mind. I have spent so much time in here trying to figure out what happened, but what I do know is that I couldn’t have done it. I couldn’t kill a man. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. And I certainly couldn’t strangle a person.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not that person. I couldn’t kill anyone. I’m a vegetarian because I don’t like killing animals. I just wouldn’t have been able to do it to a real person. I wouldn’t have been able to do that. That I am sure of.”
“Did the police follow up with the girl?”
“The police didn’t do anything. Not a thing. They had some witness place me at the scene—I was drunk and angry, and apparently, that was enough to convict me of the murder. I mean, they didn’t even have DNA evidence of me at the scene. How could they do that?” Lachlan shook his head, dismayed that the legal system failed him. “I tried so hard to fight it. I tried so hard to appeal the conviction, but I got nowhere. Nowhere.”
“And you can’t remember anything else about the girl?”
“She was young and pretty. Blonde. And I remember she said that she had to go because someone was about to pick her up from the bar. But we had a real connection. Despite the drinks, we had something real. I know that she felt it too. She gave me her phone number on a piece of paper, but when I looked for it the next morning, I couldn’t find it. She was the last girl I saw before coming in here, so naturally, I think about her a lot.”
“A witness mentioned that there was a woman with you when they saw you near the man that was murdered?”
“That’s what they said. But I couldn’t remember a thing. Not a thing. I’ve tried so hard, but I have nothing.” Lachlan’s voice was full of desperation. “I’ve meditated, done hypnotherapy, tried all sorts of formulas to try and remember what happened. But I have nothing. It’s just a massive black spot in my mind.”
“Tell me more about the people you were drinking with.” Harvey scribbled notes on his pad.
“They were just the usual bunch of party people. Temp workers, people in their early twenties, and old guys who were holding on. You know the type. Life is all roses, peaches, and parties at some workplaces and—”
“What did you just say?”
“Temp workers.” Lachlan looked at him with a questioning look. “That means temporary workers. They’re—”
“No, no. After that. Something about life is all roses?”
“Life is all roses, peaches, and parties. That’s a saying that we used to have among the temp workers. It meant that now was the time to party, no regrets. We were unhinged and carefree. We had to make the most of our time. But I didn’t know it would lead me to prison.”
Harvey paused and looked off into the distance for a few moments, the thoughts processing fast in his mind again.
“I did some bad things in my time, Mr. Harvey.” Lachlan stood from behind the table and began to walk the room like he was delivering a sermon. “I beat people up, I stole things, I burnt cars. I was a terrible person. I got what I deserved. I didn’t kill that man, but I deserved to be in prison.”
“Is that why you withdrew your last appeal?”
“That’s right. When I found the Lord, I realized that this was my path. This is what was supposed to happen in my life. This was my punishment for being so evil in the past. And now, I am thankful for my experience here. Although I didn’t kill the man, I’m sure that the Good Lord lay this path for me for a reason. It was the path I was supposed to take. I am serving time for my many sins. It is in here that I have found the Lord. I have found peace in here. You should too.”
“I should what?” Harvey raised his eyebrows, not listening to the man any longer, his thoughts somewhere else.
“Find peace, my brother. You should—”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. You have been a great help.” Harvey stood, nodded and left the interview room, in no mood to listen to him preach.
He had no time for a sermon.
He had a killer to catch.
Chapter 20
As he stepped out the front doors of the prison, the city air hit him.
Harvey hadn’t realized how stale the air was in prison, filling his lungs with moldiness. He loved the smell of his city in the middle of the day. Eucalyptus, jasmine, and pine all mixed together.
It smelt like freedom.
His moment of contemplation was interrupted by his mobile, buzzing loudly in his pocket.
“What have you got for me, Penny?” he questioned as soon as he answered.
“Hi, Bill. I’ve done some more digging on the Internet and found something else. I’m not sure if it will help, but I thought I’d let you know anyway. I find all this stuff really exciting. It feels like I’m on a real-life murder show, solving a mystery. This is so exhilarating.” Penny’s voice was full of glee.
“Just remember that someone actually died. Don’t get too excited.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied softly. “So, I did some searching online, just Googling names and following tracks, that sort of thing. After about half an hour, I found some information about the murdered Gerard West on Facebook. There hasn’t been an update for a few years, but his profile was still public. Some old photos of his family, his old job, and his old life—wearing a suit, looking really fit, and shaking hands with lots of politicians. But it’s really clear that he was an alcoholic because there are a lot of photos of him in bars and parties, and each one he has a drink in his hand. A year ago, the abuse started on his Facebook profile. That’s when he didn’t win the case for the little girl. So many people said such horrible things about him. His profile is just filled with hateful things. Those messages seemed to stop after about six months.”
“It was trial by public opinion. It was chaos for him then, there was no escaping it.”
“I don’t understand why he didn’t make his profile private?”
“He probably logged off one day, and never opened it again. Those hateful messages can strike deep, Penny. That’s the problem with the Internet—keyboard trolls making horrible statements that they would never say to your face. Everyone has a voice now, even those filled with hate.” Harvey sighed. “Has there been any updates on his profile since those messages?”
“He hasn’t logged an update since then, but he was tagged in a few photos at a center for those with mental illnesses.”
“Are you sure it’s him in the photos at the mental health center?”
“Absolutely. Hopefully, we’ll get some information from the center about him. But I’m not sure the information will help much though—they’ll probably just tell you that he was evil.”
“Why do you say that?”
“All alcoholics are evil. That’s just who they are. They’re all the same.”
“We’ve talked about this, Penny.” Harvey was firm. “You need to keep your personal opinions in check. This job is not a soapbox for personal views. This is a professional environment, and I expect your personal opinions to be left at the door. If you continue like that, I will have to fire you.”
“Alcoholics are a mark on society that should be stepped on,” Penny mumbled.
Harvey paused for a moment to consider the aggression in Penny’s voice. Her voice was seductive enough to talk on a sex line but aggressive enough to commentate fight night.
“How many offices have you worked at?”
“A few too many. I usually spend a week or two doing admi
n and then move on to the next position.” She paused for a moment. “Would you like to know the name of the mental health center?”
“Go on.”
“He spent time at the Wells Community Center for Mental Health. I’ve been there—my boyfriend’s mother works there, and we drop her off each morning on the way to work. Caleb hates the place, but his mother loves it. It’s her life’s work. She manages the center and dedicates her life to helping others. She’s a good person.”
“Wells? I know the place. They keep reports about their clients—”
“Already onto that. I’ve got a copy here. I called my boyfriend’s mother, and she couldn’t have been happier to help. She sent it straight through.”
“And what do the reports say?”
“They say that Gerard went into the center after the subsequent breakdown of his marriage. The report says that it tore him apart—possibly suffering from Clinical Depression and anxiety issues. The reports then go on to state that he started using alcohol to self-medicate. Eventually, they referred him to Alcoholics Anonymous because his issues were too much. The center had to let him go. But they should have charged him and locked him away for good.”
“Poor guy,” Harvey remarked.
“Deserved what he got,” Penny mumbled.
“Penny, don’t judge people when you don’t know their situations,” Harvey stated firmly. “This was a good man in a horrible situation. When a child is lost, no matter the age, it can tear down even the toughest souls. I couldn’t imagine the mental anguish that it must have caused the man. And when a marriage breaks down—when a heart is torn to pieces—it is very hard to reestablish a life. The people that a person once relied on, for so much support, turn their backs when they’re needed the most, and the world around the person crumbles. The situations that Gerard faced must have crushed him, causing a lot of mental issues. Not many people could walk through those experiences untouched.”
“Why are you so attached to him? He was a drunk. He had his chance in life and didn’t take it. Just because life dealt him some bad cards, doesn’t give him the right to throw it away. And drinking alcohol is doing just that. He had a chance, and he threw it away. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”
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