Redemption

by Phil M. Williams

  Detective Wells shook her head. “You’ll have to go somewhere else for that.”

  Michelle clenched her jaw. “I need to disarm the alarm.”

  “Okay.”

  Michelle went inside and disarmed the alarm, with Detective Wells breathing on the back of her neck. Michelle left, driving away from her neighborhood, leaving the officers to search her home. She cried as she drove, scanning a strip mall for a pay phone. She spotted a phone booth on the corner and parked nearby.

  Michelle called the one person who could help her but worried that he wouldn’t.

  “Hello,” Frank said.

  Michelle sniffled and choked out one word. “Dad.”

  “They picked him up, didn’t they?”

  Michelle wondered if her father knew the arrest was coming. “He didn’t do it.” Her voice was whiny.

  “If he didn’t do it, it’ll all work out. I promise.”

  Michelle sniffled again. “I have to find an attorney, but the police won’t let me in my house. I’m at a pay phone. Do you know a local defense attorney I could call?”

  Frank was silent.

  “Please, Dad.”

  Frank let out a heavy breath. “Yeah. I know somebody.”

  After a phone call and some begging to an administrative assistant, Michelle was on the line with the best defense attorney in Loganville. Her voice was shaky. “My name is Michelle Lewis. I’m Frank Murphy’s daughter. My husband was arrested this morning.”

  “What was the charge?” Norman Tuttle asked.

  “I don’t know specifically, but I think it was sexual assault.” Michelle couldn’t bring herself to say rape.

  “Do you know if the alleged victim is an adult or a minor?”

  Michelle cleared her throat and said barely above a whisper, “A minor.”

  Norman exhaled.

  She stood with slumped shoulders. “He’s innocent. My husband would never …”

  “Defending alleged child molesters in a small town isn’t very good for business.”

  “Please, Mr. Tuttle.” Tears blurred her vision. Her voice quivered. “I’m assuming you know my dad?”

  “I do. He was a tough and honest cop.”

  “If I thought my husband was guilty, I wouldn’t want anything to do with him.”

  Norman was quiet for a long moment. “What’s your husband’s name and date of birth?”

  “Jason Lewis. August 20, 1963.”

  “Let me make a few calls, and I’ll call you right back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not committing yet. I’ll call you back.”

  Michelle gave Norman the pay-phone number and hung up the receiver. She zipped up her coat and stood in the phone booth, alone with her thoughts. She hoped nobody would come to use the phone. I’ll give them $20 to go somewhere else.

  ***

  Sixteen minutes later, Norman called back.

  Michelle answered on the first ring. “Mr. Tuttle?”

  “Jason was arrested and charged with two counts of involuntary deviate sexual intercourse with a child and two counts of aggravated indecent assault of a child. Each of these charges are first-degree felonies. Involuntary deviate sexual intercourse with a child carries a forty-year maximum sentence. The other charge carries a twenty-year maximum sentence. If Jason’s convicted, and the judge chooses to run the charges and counts consecutively, he’s facing 120 years in prison.”

  Michelle gasped. “One hundred and twenty years?”

  “That’s worst-case scenario, but twenty to forty years in prison is very realistic for those charges.”

  She leaned against the phone booth, her legs weak. “Don’t they need evidence to do this?”

  “They have evidence. They don’t make arrests without evidence.”

  “What evidence do they have?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “We need your help, Mr. Tuttle. Please.”

  “My fees are $300 an hour, and I’ll need a $50,000 retainer.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Jason’s initial court appearance and arraignment is tomorrow morning at 8:30. At the arraignment, the judge will set the bail amount. Given the charges, I think bail could be as high as $500,000. Based on the felony bail schedule, it won’t be less than $200,000.”

  Michelle hung her head. “My God. That’s so much money.”

  “It’s a standard amount, based on the charges and Jason’s likelihood to flee. If you can’t come up with the bail money, I can help you with a bail bondsman. They can loan you the money, but they’ll charge you 10 percent. Do you understand how bail works?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Let’s say the bail is $300,000. You would either pay the court yourself or hire a bail bondsman to do it for you. If you pay it yourself, when Jason appears at trial, the court will refund your money. If he disappears, that money is forfeited. If you use a bail bondsman, they take 10 percent as a fee.”

  A burly man stood outside the phone booth, his arms crossed, and his feet tapping the asphalt.

  Michelle raised her head and stood up straight. “We have the money. Jason wouldn’t want me to pay the fee.”

  “Okay. Great. Where do you bank?” Norman asked.

  “PNC.”

  “Perfect. There’s a PNC around the corner from the courthouse. I don’t know if you have half-a-million dollars in your checking account …”

  The burly man knocked on the phone booth.

  Michelle flinched, then turned her back to him. “We don’t have that much. Most of our savings are in a money market account with PNC, but I can move money into our checking pretty easily.” Jason had recently sold their stocks in anticipation of a stock market crash.

  The man banged on the phone booth.

  “Please hold on, Mr. Tuttle,” Michelle said.

  The man tapped his watch.

  Michelle opened up the phone booth door and shouted at the man, “Would you please give me a fucking minute of privacy?” She slammed the door shut.

  The man glared, his arms again crossed over his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Tuttle,” Michelle said.

  “It’s all right,” Tuttle replied. “I suggest you go to PNC immediately and move $500,000 into your checking account, so you can write a certified check for the bail, once we know the amount. It might be smart to call the PNC in Loganville and let them know that you’ll be coming in for a large certified check tomorrow. Just in case I forget to tell you tomorrow, you’ll make the check out to the clerk of the court.”

  Michelle took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Tuttle.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This is just the beginning. I’ll stop by the jail today and introduce myself to Jason. I want you to meet me tomorrow morning at the courthouse at 8:15.”

  Chapter 16: Arraignment

  Yesterday, Michelle went to PNC and moved half-a-million dollars from their money market account to their checking account. She took off another day at work and drove 110 miles to Loganville in the early morning hours on Wednesday, January 12.

  Michelle was so worried about being late that she made it to the Loganville courthouse forty-five minutes early. She parked in the paid lot across the street from the gothic courthouse that resembled a cross between a haunted mansion and a church. It was barely light outside as she walked from the lot to the courthouse. She dipped her head into the wind as she walked, the cold air piercing her skirt suit and tights.

  She went through the metal detectors, her legs wobbly and her hands shaky. A deputy eyed her with suspicion but said nothing. She had been too nervous to eat, and now she was even more jittery because she hadn’t eaten. Even though her dad was a retired police officer, she’d never been to court.

  Once through the metal detectors, she followed the well-dressed crowd. Most of the people ended up at a glass-protected bulletin board, with the day’s dockets printed and hung inside. She found Jason’s arraignment, which would take place in courtroom 2F
.

  Michelle took the stairs to the second floor and found 2F. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She checked her watch. It was only 7:44 a.m. The arraignment didn’t start until 8:30, and she was supposed to meet Tuttle at 8:15. Michelle sat on the bench in the hall, her legs crossed.

  Various people meandered to the courtroom. Many checked the locked door, as Michelle had. She glanced at each person, hoping not to recognize anyone. Thankfully, they were all strangers. At eight o’clock, a bailiff opened the courtroom, and the small crowd filed in. Michelle remained on the bench, waiting for Jason’s attorney.

  At 8:15 on the nose, a tall white-haired man walked toward the courtroom, holding a briefcase. He looked exactly as he had described himself. Michelle stood from the bench, as the man approached.

  “Mrs. Lewis?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “I’m Norman Tuttle.”

  They shook hands.

  Norman wore a tailored suit. He was fit for an older man. His eyes were gray and squinty. His lips were thin. His face was taut and surprisingly wrinkle free, the beneficiary of a recent facelift.

  Michelle patted her purse. “I have your retainer check. I don’t know if you need that before you …”

  He gestured to the bench. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  They sat on the bench.

  “Were you able to move the bail money to your checking account?”

  “Yes.” Michelle fished the personal check for the retainer from her purse, and handed it to the attorney. He placed the check into his wallet.

  “How was Jason?” Michelle asked.

  “A little rattled but I’ve seen worse,” Norman replied. “He told me that your niece is the alleged victim.”

  Michelle bowed her head. “Yes.”

  Norman nodded. “That’s tough. I imagine you’ll be under extreme pressure from your family to abandon Jason. If you truly believe he’s innocent, it’s important that you don’t abandon him. You and I are all he has, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have to believe he’s innocent.” He leaned toward Michelle and raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  ***

  The courtroom was half filled, the audience sitting on rows of wooden pews. Michelle and Norman sat in the second row, the old attorney next to the aisle. The pews were separated by a short wooden divider from everything else—the tables for the prosecution and the defense, the tall desk for the judge and witnesses, and a jury box with twelve empty chairs.

  They had watched three different men in black-and-white striped pajamas—like prisoners from an old cartoon—make their pleas, receive their bail amounts, and being led back the way they came. These men were all represented by the same public defender, who didn’t know their names without checking his files.

  Jason was the fourth man to be led into the courtroom by a bailiff. Like the others, his hands were cuffed, and his feet were shackled, with a chain and leg cuffs that made him shuffle. Unlike the others, he was dressed in the suit he wore when he was arrested. Norman had made the request with the jail. He had said to Michelle, “We don’t want him looking like a criminal.”

  Norman stood and pushed through the swinging door of the divider, meeting his client at the defense table, then sitting next to each other.

  A name placard in front of the judge read Honorable Cynthia Ames. She was middle-aged with strawberry-blond hair. Her black robe nearly swallowed her petite frame. She said, “This is case number zero-seven-dash-three-eight-eight-two, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania versus Jason Lewis. The defendant has been charged with two counts of involuntary deviate sexual intercourse, a violation of Title 18 of the Pennsylvania Code, Section 3123, subsection B, which is a first-degree felony and carries a maximum sentence of forty years in prison and a $25,000 fine for each count.”

  A few people in the audience gasped. Michelle’s face felt hot with shame.

  Jason looked down. Norman sat ramrod straight next to him, looking up to the judge. Cynthia Ames had a reddish tint to her skin that exuded mild irritation, even though it was a constant feature.

  Judge Ames continued, seemingly unfazed by the outburst. “The defendant has also been charged with two counts of aggravated indecent assault of a child, a violation of Title 18 of the Pennsylvania Code, Section 3125, subsection B, which is a first-degree felony and carries a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $25,000 fine for each count.”

  Judge Ames raised her gaze from the file, showing her lazy eye and thin lips. “In the matter of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania versus Jason Lewis, how do you plead?”

  Norman nodded to Jason.

  Jason looked up and said, “Not guilty.”

  Judge Ames nodded, then leafed through her planner. “I’d like to set the preliminary hearing for next week, Wednesday, January 19 at 8:30 a.m. Mr. Tuttle?”

  “That’ll be fine, Your Honor.”

  Judge Ames addressed the heavyset man, sitting behind the prosecutor’s table. “Mr. Elliot?”

  “That works for the commonwealth, Your Honor.”

  Judge Ames made a note in her planner, then addressed the prosecuting attorney again. “I’ll hear from the commonwealth regarding bail.”

  Mr. Elliot rose from his seat. He was short, with a Santa-like gut, double chin, and thick neck. The top button of his shirt was undone, despite the tie. “Mr. Lewis lives in Villanova and has considerable means. Given the heinous nature of the crimes and the age of the victim, we believe Mr. Lewis is a serious flight risk and a danger to the community.”

  Judge Ames flipped through the file, her face twisted in disgust. She eyed the prosecuting attorney. “Mr. Elliot, does the commonwealth have a recommended bail amount?”

  “We’re recommending bail be set at one million dollars.”

  Michelle winced, knowing that she had only moved half that amount to her checking account.

  Judge Ames looked at Norman. “Mr. Tuttle?”

  Norman rose from his seat. “This is egregious. One million dollars is five times the recommended amount of the bail schedule for these charges. Mr. Lewis is not a flight risk. He does not have a criminal record. Not even so much as an unpaid parking ticket. He may have the money to flee, but, by that logic, nearly everyone who comes to this courtroom has enough for a bus ticket to Canada.”

  Judge Ames frowned. “I’ll set bail at $400,000, but Mr. Lewis is not to come into any contact with anyone under the age of eighteen years old, and he is to stay at least one hundred yards away from schools and events where children are present.” She banged her gavel.

  Chapter 17: Loyalty

  After the arraignment, Norman led Michelle downstairs and showed her where to pay Jason’s bail. They stood in the hall, just outside the office of the clerk of the court. Norman gave Michelle directions to the nearby jail, where Jason would be released in a few hours.

  Norman said, “I’d go with you, but I doubt you want to pay me $300 an hour to sit on my butt.”

  Michelle nodded. “What happens now?”

  “I expect a plea offer before the preliminary hearing next Wednesday, but Jason already told me that he won’t plead guilty or even no contest. He’s adamant that he’s innocent, so unless the commonwealth drops the case, we’re going to trial.”

  Michelle swallowed, her throat dry. “Do you think they’ll drop the case?”

  Norman frowned. “Not a chance. The DA wants blood on this one.”

  Michelle winced. “What happens at the preliminary hearing?”

  “This is where the commonwealth will have to prove probable cause exists to prosecute, meaning they’ll present their evidence, and the judge will determine if there’s enough to proceed to trial.”

  Michelle stood up straight, hanging on to a thread of hope. “If they don’t have enough evidence, then you can make it go away.”

  Norman shook his head. “Theoretically, but that’s highly unlikely. Jason’s arrest had a warrant.
Chances are they have sufficient evidence to go to trial. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made the arrest. I’ll have a better idea of what we’re facing once I’ve gone through the evidence.”

  Michelle slumped her shoulders, deflated.

  “I’d like to meet with you two on Monday in my office to go over the case. How about 10:00 a.m.?”

  Michelle thought about taking off from work. “That’s fine. This is so much to process.”

  Norman searched her face for a beat. “One thing at a time, Michelle. Don’t worry. You’re not alone. Go get your check and bail out your husband. A trial is a marathon, not a sprint.”

  Michelle went to the Loganville PNC Bank, then back to the courthouse to pay Jason’s bail, then to the Loganville Sheriff’s office and jail. She checked in with a deputy, who was a poor excuse for a receptionist, and sat in the waiting room, her butt hurting from the wooden pews in the courtroom.

  Deputies came and went from the restricted area. Each time Michelle watched the doorway, hopeful to see Jason. She sat there for over two hours. Jason had barely been gone twenty-four hours, but it felt like an eternity. The door opened again, a deputy opening the door for Jason to walk through. His suit was rumpled, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

  Michelle stood and rushed toward him. They embraced in the waiting room. The receptionist looked at them side-eyed. Jason buried his face in her hair.

  He spoke into her ear. “Thank you. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

  When they separated, she said, “I wouldn’t leave you here.”

  “Can we go home?”

  She took his hand. “Let’s go.”

  Michelle and Jason walked outside to the salt-stained parking lot of the Loganville Jail. Michelle zipped up her long coat, condensation coming from her breath. Piles of dirty snow were on the edge of the lot. The sun was obscured by gray clouds. At the car, Michelle handed her keys to Jason.

  He didn’t take the keys, like usual. “Would you mind driving? I’m still a little shaky.”

  She tilted her head. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “I had breakfast. I’m not hungry. I’m just … a little off.”