by J. W. Lucas
I pulled away from the curb and saw a self-service gas station across the street. I made a U-turn and pulled up to the pumps.
As I was filling the Challenger I saw that there were four cameras looking toward the pumps, and it looked like two of them would view the entrance to the Sheriff’s office across the street in the background. I pulled out of the station and was headed back to North Bellington when I saw Lindsey’s incoming call and I answered it.
“Hi Daryl, I’m at the hospital with Forrest. He’s doing much better today and said he wants to see you as soon as you can come here.”
“Okay, I’m just leaving Ethan Falls; I can be there in about half-an-hour.”
“Great! See you when you get here. Bye,” she said and hung up.
I arrived at the hospital, had no problem registering for my visit at the desk, and learned that the Judge had been moved to a private room on the sixth floor. I found him sitting in a chair, with Lindsey at his side. He looked a lot better than the last time I’d seen him. Amazing, I thought.
“Daryl Richardson,” he said as he reached out his hand. I moved closer and took it asI saw he was straining his IV tubing.
“It’s been a long time, thank you for coming to our aid,” he said.
“I’m glad to help; hopefully you’re on the road to recovery.”
Lindsey interrupted, “Gentlemen, I’ll leave you two alone to talk. I want to get some tea. Daryl, I’ll be in the lobby, she said as she got up and left the room.”
“Sit down Daryl, tell me what you’ve learned,” Judge Moran directed, motioning to Lindsey’s vacant chair.
It took me about ten minutes to present my case, and my mind raced to say things with some semblance of order. I didn’t want the Master to think that he had educated a dunce. When I finished, he spoke.
“You learned your lessons well Daryl. What can I do to help you?”
“Judge tell me what you remember about leaving the courthouse the night you were shot.”
He told me how he locked up his office, spoke with Billy Barnum in the lobby, and was walking to his car when he was shot.
I interrupted. “Do you remember if Billy said anything unusual that night? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a talker.”
“No, he was sweeping, and it was raining hard outside and he told me to turn up my collar. He said something about a reporter stopping by to see me, but he told her I was unavailable. He’s pretty good that way after court closes.”
“Do you know who the reporter was? Or what they possibly wanted to see you about?”
“No, but now that I think about it I remember Billy said something odd to me just as I left,”
“What was that?”
“That he knew I was busy with the dead girl’s case or something like that. Daryl, no one knew what I was working on. Why did he say that?”
“Judge, I have a strong suspicion that the courthouse offices and possibly the phones are wired for eavesdropping.”
“What?” he said, and I could see that this upset him.
“That’s unbelievable! Who would do that? And how?” he demanded.
“I’m not sure yet Sir, but I have a theory and I’m working on it. Tell me about your meeting with County Executive Donnelly.”
He sipped some ice water from a paper cup before he spoke. “You said you’ve seen the anonymous letter. I was summoned to Montpelier by the Attorney General and he showed it to me. He told me that Donnelly and the Abbot Sheriff’s activities have raised some concerns.”
“What do you mean by concerns?” I asked.
“Apparently the Sheriff is claiming his deputies have made some large drug seizures of shipments coming in from out-of-state. There seems to be a lack of documentation for the arrests, seizures, and handling of the evidence. Very recently four of the defendants were released on bond and failed to appear. The State is quietly suspecting that the Sheriffs are complicit in drug trafficking and using sham arrests to distract attention from their activities. I met with Warren Donnelly and confronted him with the suspicion that his unwavering support of the Sheriff implied that he was also suspect of being complicit.”
“How did he take that news?” I asked.
“He was outraged, very disrespectful and profane to me. He railed about the accusations being a political conspiracy, a violation of his rights and an assault on his integrity. I refused to allow him to berate me and my position as a jurist, and I left him yelling about how he felt that the entire State government was corrupt, including the judicial branch.”
“Judge did Donnelly make any threats against you?”
“No, he did not.”
“Sir were you looking into the Sheriff’s investigation of Susan Peterson’s murder?” I asked.
“Yes, the AG requested I make a demand for the Sheriff to produce any and all documents to date that he had on the investigation. The apparent lack of progress in the case heightened the State’s concerns, and that’s what really prompted this whole inquiry.”
“And did you make the demand?”
“Yes, I issued an administrative court order and sent it by certified letter with the caveat that if production wasn’t honored expeditiously, I would move for a contempt action.”
“And did the Sheriff respond?”
“On Monday morning a courier dropped off a packet of crime scene photos, and a portrait photo of Susan Peterson. Nothing else.”
“Where are those photos, Your Honor?”
“I left them on my desk when I locked up. Daryl, I would like to ask you some questions,” he said as he shifted in his wheelchair.
“What is your authority? Are you acting officially?
“Yes Sir, as we speak I believe that efforts are underway to convene a Grand Jury probe of the Abbot Sheriffs. I should have confirmation on that this afternoon as well as a reading on what course the Federal government will take.”
“You do know Daryl that the State and County are very sensitive to what may be perceived as Federal interference in their affairs?”
I explained. “The structure of the probe as I understand it will be a joint Federal/State task force, using the resources of both. I’m involved as a consultant to the Justice Department, but the investigation will be led by the US Attorney’s office.”
Judge Moran thought on that for a moment.
“I understand,” he said. “I know that Lindsey doesn’t think that I’m aware, but I did learn on the news about Deputy Savage being killed. And it sounds like Warren Donnelly has concluded that Savage killed Susan and shot me.”
“That’s what it looks like Sir, but I don’t believe it. Off the record, I want to steer the investigation toward the Sheriff, his Detective Captain Carpa, and a detective named Manning.”
“I understand. Daryl, I’ve seen reports on your work in Boston and must say that you’ve achieved great prominence in the field of criminal investigation and prosecution. Lindsey told me of your Aunt’s passing, and you have my sympathies.” He paused and took another drink of ice water.
“She also said that your aunt left you financially secure, and you have resigned your US Attorney assignment to act as a consultant to Justice. You’ve been extremely supportive of Lindsey and me, but I would understand completely if you choose to step back and let the law enforcement authorities continue this investigation.”
“That’s not going to happen Judge Moran. I have a vested interest in finding out who murdered Susan Peterson and why. And I believe that will identify the person or persons who shot you.”
“Daryl, thank you. By the way, could that vested interest be a young woman named Mandy?” he asked with a straight face.
“She told you, didn’t she?” I asked with a sheepish grin.
“Yes, this morning. Daryl, I’m saying this not as a judge but as a friend. Please be extremely careful and don’t hesitate to step back if you sense things are getting out of your control.”
“I will Sir,” I said as I stood up and shook his hand. “Ple
ase get better soon so that you can get out of here and go home!”
I went down to the lobby and found Lindsey sitting near the piano. I told her that the Judge and I had a good discussion but, I didn’t go into any detail.
“What’s your next move Counselor?” she asked.
“I’m waiting for a call from Damien Costigan and I have an appointment to visit the refugee resettlement program tomorrow.”
“Do you still think that its related to all of this?” she asked.
I answered, “Yes, I think that’s the heart of this. By the way, I’m not staying at the hotel, I’ll be at Mandy’s place and I need to start putting the investigation down on paper. Call me if you need anything.”
“You and Mandy seem to be moving pretty fast, don’t you think?”
“Yes. And Lindsey, it all feels so right.”
I got up, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and told her I would check in with her later. I drove back to Mandy’s condo and grabbed my laptop from the trunk. She wasn’t back from her errands yet, so I set up my office in the living room.
I typed up a statement of probable cause that could be inserted into search warrant applications for the bullets the hospital was holding, and Dr. Greene’s records and any evidence he had obtained.
I drew up a second affidavit to get a search warrant for the court- house electronics sweep, and a third document as a Hail Mary shot to justify a court order to intercept any electronic transmissions between Billy Barnum’s house and the courthouse if we found that was occurring.
It was a little after five and I finished just before I heard Mandy at the door. She came in juggling a large shopping bag and a pizza box. I got up to help, and I took the shopping bag.
“Looks like you had a busy day,” I said motioning to the bag.
“I did, and it was productive. I stopped on the way home and got us a pizza for dinner. I hope that’s all right.”
“Ummmm… smells great! What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“I got Yo-Yo’s art supplies, and that was an adventure!” she answered with a laugh.
I took the bag over to the sofa and opened it to find a large wooden art travel case. It was perfect; water and oil paints, chalks, charcoals, colored pencils and a generous assortment of papers. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
“Mandy this is absolutely perfect,” I said and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she sat down next to me.
“Thanks, and what have you been up to?” she asked pointing to the laptop.
“I’ve been documenting some of the information I’ve learned.”
Okay, if you’re done let’s eat while the pizza’s still hot. Do you want a beer with it?” she asked as she stood up.
“Yes please,” I said as I cleared the laptop from the coffee table and she set up our dinner. The pizza was delicious, and we didn’t talk while we ate. Finally, she spoke.
“On the way back from Rutland I stopped and talked with Susan’s parents.” She said.
“How did that go?”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked over at me. I could see that her eyes were getting glassy. “Daryl, sitting with her parents talking about Susan being dead was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
I pulled her close and let the tears run their course. “God, I’m so sorry.” She said, wiping her eyes with a napkin. “I’m always crying when I’m around you. I don’t know how you do what you do. I mean, control your emotions when you’re dealing with all this violence and death. I don’t know if I can ever get used to that.”
“Nobody gets used to it Mandy, you just have to be strong and manage your emotions. How did it go with the Petersons?”
“It was hard Daryl. I told them about you, who you were, who you worked with. I told them that you believe that the Sheriffs are hiding the truth and that they haven’t done anything to find out who killed Susan and shot Judge Moran.”
“How did they respond to that?” I asked.
“Susan’s mother, Sarah, just sat there quietly crying, her father stared at me, almost glaring. Daryl, I begged them to let you help us, that I believe you’re strong enough and smart enough to get the truth once and for all, and that you have people who will help you.”
“And?” I asked, subconciously fearing that Susan’s parents would view me as intruding into their private lives.
“Mr. Peterson stormed out of the room and went to sit outside. Sarah told me that for the past two weeks late at night he’s been going out for hours, and he takes his Army gun and doesn’t say anything when he comes back. She said that he’s out every night looking for Susan’s Jeep.”
“Susan’s Jeep? What do you mean?” I asked raising my voice.
“I didn’t know, and it wasn’t in the papers, but Sarah said when they found her body they didn’t find her car. It’s a red Jeep Wrangler, a pretty new one. Sarah said the last people to see Susan were the staff at the re-settlement center when she left late that last afternoon driving her Jeep.”
“Christ,” I said and leaned back into the sofa cushion. How could something as important as this be overlooked?
“Is that important Daryl?”
“Yeah! That’s very important Mandy. Did the Petersons say that they would talk with me?”
“Yes, Sarah went out in the backyard and talked with Susan’s father. I could see from the window that she was mad at him, and then I saw him start to cry and she hugged him for a long time.”
“Mandy I’m so sorry that I got you into this.”
“No! It’s all right. Don’t apologize. I want to help,” she said wiping her eyes. “They came back inside, and Mr. Peterson gave me a hug. He said we can come over tomorrow around noon and we could have lunch and talk.”
“Before I left, I told them to Google you about Boston crime cases. I thought that would help them to get to know you.”
“Let’s hope Google speaks kindly,” I said.
We finished the pizza just in time for me to get an incoming call from Damian Costigan. Six-thirty was late for him to be in the office.
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey Boss, you’re working late.”
“That I am my Boy. Thanks to you!”
“I’m sorry Boss; I didn’t see all this coming.”
“It’s all right Daryl. I was on a long conference call this morning with the US Attorney in Vermont and the Captain in charge of the State Police Major Crimes Unit. The paperwork was filed and a Federal Judge has authorized a Grand Jury probe of the Abbot County Sheriff’s Department.”
“That’s great. Thank you, Boss.”
“You’re welcome. But there are some ground rules.”
“I’m listening.”
“The State Police are forming a task force to include six FBI agents. Capt. Jack Merrill, he’s the State Police boss, will run the show. Their focus will be the shooting of Deputy Savage. If they find there was a violation of his civil rights or he was murdered by them, the evidence will go to the US Attorney to decide whether the State of the Fed will prosecute. Any evidence that might be found to prove that the Sheriffs’ were involved in drug trafficking will be turned over to the State for prosecution. Any evidence of weapons trafficking will be forwarded to Homeland Security.”
“That’s better than I had hoped for Boss. Was it hard to get a compromise out of everybody?”
“No, that was the easy part. I was worried that the hard part would be to get them to agree to let you run a third task force focusing on the girl’s murder and the shooting of Judge Moran.”
“And?”
“Daryl, your reputation is stronger than you may think. It only took a little convincing. Both agencies are going to provide you with people to help. Your main contact will be a State Police Sergeant, Jon Michaels. He’s one of their top undercover guys from what they told me. A little rough around the edges they said, but he’s highly respected in the State and a bull when things get rough. I’m comfortable knowing that he’s got your
back.”
“Thanks, that’s a relief,” I answered in gratitude.
“I gave Capt. Merrill your cell number to give to the others. Michaels will call you around nine tomorrow morning. Also, they lined you up with a Justice consultant, Jacob Meisner. He’s a senior lawyer and regarded as an expert in search and seizure, especially healthcare evidence and records. He’ll be calling you tomorrow at ten. His job will be to get you the search warrants that you’ll need. Any additional manpower you’ll need for warrant execution or surveillance will be arranged by Michaels. “
“Wow!” I’m impressed Boss, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Daryl, there’s a lot of interest in what you’ve stumbled into. And the way things are in Washington, and the head-banging that’s been going on between the Feds and State agencies, this is an opportunity for all of us to work together. The media will eat up anything they can get on government corruption so all the Grand Jury records are being sealed. Be damn careful with your information.”
“I will Boss. I have one other thing I need to tell you.”
“Sure, why not? I’m already an hour late for my cocktail hour!”
“Sorry,” I apologized. I told him about my suspicions that the court superintendent might be the source of the eavesdropping, and about his ham radio and microwave tower.
