Murder to Go

by Brenda Donelan

  “Did you see Roxie at all last night or this morning?” Marlee asked.

  “Yeah, she came to the pool last night right before it closed. She wasn’t even wearing a swim suit. She just jumped in wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Then she started swimming over to all of us and talking crazy again like she did at the women’s prison,” Marcus reported.

  “Really? What did she say?”

  “She was talking about the women at the prison and making mean remarks about them, just like she did when we were there. Then she kept trying to get us to agree that she was right,” Marcus said. “Roxie was even worse last night than at the prison.”

  “Who was at the pool?” Marlee asked.

  “By then it was me, Dom, Jasper, and Donnie, and the three USD students. We were all standing around in the pool talking and splashing each other when Roxie jumped in. Lucky for us, the clerk came in and told us the pool was closing and to get out.”

  “Was it the clerk at the front desk this morning?”

  “Nah, she was younger than that lady. She was really grouchy, but I was okay with it because it got us away from Roxie. I went back to my room and I don’t know what everybody else did. I didn’t hear or see anything after I went to my room. I kept the TV on all night. It helps me sleep,” Marcus said.

  Within the hour, the three officers finished interviewing the nine students. While she waited for the last of them to be questioned, Marlee placed a call to the department secretary at MSU. She was not sure what to do since she needed to notify someone on campus of Roxie’s death. Her immediate supervisor was the dean, but since he’d been fired she wasn’t sure who she needed to report to. Marlee decided talking to the secretary would be a good first step. She didn’t think it was a good idea to just call up the president of the university and relay the information of a student death while on a class tour. Perhaps Louise, the department secretary, would have some insight.

  Taking her small TracFone outside the building, both for better reception and for privacy, Marlee called Louise and related what few details she knew of Roxie’s death. Then she asked who she should report the incident to, since Dean Green was gone.

  “Hank Barnaby from Biology is going to be the Interim Dean until someone is hired to fill the spot. I’ll let you talk to him,” Louise said.

  Marlee was happy to hear this. Hank was a good guy and was not one to play games. Marlee had talked to him about confidential work matters in the past and he seemed to be a solid person. He was a straight shooter and wouldn’t go out of his way to make trouble for the faculty.

  “Hello! Barnaby here!” Hank’s booming voice packed a punch and Marlee extended her cell phone out away from her ear.

  “Hey, Hank. I hear you’re the boss now. Hope you don’t think I’m going to be treating you with respect,” Marlee joked.

  “Heh, heh. Absolutely not. What’s going on? Aren’t you on your prison tour class now?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got some bad news and I’m not sure what to do. One of the students was found dead this morning in her motel room. Roxie Harper. I don’t know if you know who she is... was, I mean. She was majoring in criminal justice,” Marlee stated.

  “What? That’s terrible. What happened?”

  “We don’t know. The police are investigating. The desk clerk and I were the ones who found her when she didn’t show up this morning. When she wouldn’t answer the door the clerk let me in and we found her dead in bed. She was covered up and I didn’t see any wounds or weapons, but her room was a mess and I was kind of in shock, so I don’t know for sure if there was a weapon there.”

  “So where are the other students?”

  “I sent them with my assistant to the Youth Adjustment Program to start a tour before we found Roxie. I met up with them here and now the police are questioning each of them. We’re almost done and then I guess we’re off for another tour. We have some extra time, so I thought I’d gather everyone together so we can talk. I don’t have any new information, but I think the students will need to discuss it,” Marlee said.

  “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll notify President Ross. I’m sure reporters will be around asking questions soon. I’d like you to check in with me every day so I can keep the president apprised of how the students are doing,” Hank said.

  “Okay. I’ll do that. The police just finished with the last of the interviews. I imagine detectives and crime scene people are at the motel now. Then the body will be delivered to the coroner for autopsy. I’ll keep in touch with the police on this and report any findings right to you,” Marlee said. She wanted to make sure to cover all her bases and keep her new acting dean in the loop. One thing she learned as a probation officer was the fine art of CYA: Cover Your Ass. With any big decision or event, always run it by your supervisor. That way, if there was fallout after the fact, you could say it was reported to the supervisor and you were given the go-ahead.

  After finishing her conversation with Hank, she motioned all the students to the parking lot. It was mid-morning in late May and the weather was flawless. Not a cloud in the sky and only a light breeze. The temperature was in the low 70s and it promised to be a beautiful day. Had it not been for Roxie’s death, Marlee would have been in good spirits.

  “I just wanted to talk to you guys for a few minutes before we leave for Mitchell. That’s our next tour, but we have a little time before we need to be there,” Marlee began. “I know this is really upsetting; having a classmate die and then be questioned by the police. I really don’t know why she died and I don’t think the police know anything either. Roxie’s body will be autopsied to determine the cause of her death.”

  “Do you think she had a heart attack?” Dom asked.

  “It could have been some sort of medical problem like a heart attack or aneurism or even an ongoing health issue Roxie had. It could have been a suicide or someone could have killed her. I can tell you that the clerk and I found her and I didn’t see any signs of foul play or suicide, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. At this point, none of us knows what happened to her.”

  “Why did the cops question all of us? What do they think we know?” asked Becca Troutman, one of the students from USD.

  “It’s standard protocol that the police interview the people who were around the victim and who knew her. They interviewed me at the scene. Since they don’t know why she died, they have to ask questions about what everyone saw, heard, and knew. My guess is that they asked you all pretty much the same questions and asked for your contact information so detectives can contact you if there is a need to follow up or ask further questions.” A few students nodded, as they had already compared what had been asked of each other.

  “What if somebody did kill Roxie? We might be in danger too!” Becca twisted a fast food napkin in a knot and then untied it and then retied it, small shreds of paper falling to the ground.

  “I doubt somebody killed her, but I don’t know. For everyone’s protection I suggest you stay in your rooms with the doors locked at night. All of you have one or more roommates, so that should help everyone feel a bit safer. Don’t leave the motel after we get there. If you really have to go somewhere, take one or two others with you. No one should be left alone, okay?” Marlee was not a parent, but at a time like this she felt protective of her students.

  “What about you? You’re in your own room alone. Do you want to room with us?” asked Paula Stone. Her sister, Violet, nodded in agreement.

  Marlee was touched that a student would make such an offer. Still, she knew she wouldn’t be comfortable rooming with her students. “Thanks, Paula. I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. Once I get to my room I’ll just stay there.”

  Switching gears, Marlee asked, “Do any of you want to leave the class? If you do, I’ll make sure you get your money refunded to you. I don’t want anyone to stay if they are fearful for their lives. Personally, I think we’re safe, but I have no idea why Roxie died. I plan to continue the class but if anyone wa
nts out, just let me know sometime today.”

  After discussing Roxie’s death and the impact on the students a bit further, the class got into their respective cars and drove east on the interstate toward Mitchell. “What do you make of all this, Dr. M.?” asked Marcus, turning in his seat so that he could get a better view of the professor as she spoke.

  “I really don’t know. I’m still kind of in shock. How well did you know Roxie?” Marlee asked.

  “Not very well. I had classes with her, but she never talked. Not even when we had group activities. She only spoke if she absolutely had to. I think yesterday was only the second time I’ve ever heard her talk,” Marcus said.

  “Did you have any sort of impression of her before yesterday?”

  “Not really. She was a non-trad and I’m not trying to be mean, but students tend to make fun of the non-trads in their classes,” Marcus said.

  “What caused them to make fun of Roxie?” asked Marlee.

  “Nothing that really meant anything. I remember sitting behind some people in a class and they were talking and laughing about her clothes and her book bag because they were out of style. But I never heard anything other than that,” he said.

  “So just superficial stuff?”

  “Yeah, nothing of any importance.”

  “Can you think of any reason somebody would want Roxie dead?” Marlee inquired.

  “No, not at all. Like I said, she was quiet as a mouse in classes and other than a few people laughing at her clothes, I’ve never even heard anybody mention her before. It’s almost as if she didn’t exist,” said Marcus.

  The two conversed about Roxie’s death the remainder of the way to Mitchell. Once there, they pulled into the parking lot for Step By Step, a group home for girls. Many of the females placed there had alcohol and drug addictions, mental health problems, and had been victims of physical and sexual abuse. Some of the girls would return to their homes after completion of the program while others would never be able to go back home. Step By Step helped some of the residents move into independent living; a supervised situation in which the underage girl would live on her own but be monitored to ensure she was working, paying her bills, abiding by the law, and following her treatment program.

  The Criminal Justice To Go class entered the large, two story structure and waited for the facility director. Lola Greenfield greeted them and insisted on giving everyone a hug. She was a petite blonde in her sixties. Her caring and goodwill spilled from her eyes as she smiled and welcomed the class to Step By Step. Lola introduced two of the girls who were residents of the program and advised they would be leading the tour through the facility and answering any questions the group might have. Following the tour, the class would join the residents in the dining room for lunch and conversation.

  Charlotte, a tall, slim Native American girl, spoke as she led the class up the stairs. She showed the commissary where they could buy snacks, hygiene items, magazines, and other luxuries. Then Charlotte led them to the classrooms, and talked about the units they just finished in her classes.

  Tina, a shy white girl followed more toward the back of the group. She appeared uncomfortable in her position as co-tour leader. Marlee, who was walking beside her, tried to bring her out of her shell by engaging her in conversation. “So, Tina, how long have you been here at Step By Step?”

  Tina shrugged, but then answered, “About a year. I might get to go on a home visit this summer.”

  “Where’s your home?” Marlee inquired.

  “Rapid City. My mom lives there with my brothers,” Tina said, now making limited eye contact with Marlee.

  “How do you feel about going home for a visit?”

  “Happy, mostly. But a little scared. I don’t want my old friends to come around ‘cuz they’ll try to get me to use. I’ve been clean since I got here and I don’t wanna relapse,” Tina mumbled, using the common verbiage of treatment programs.

  “What can you do to make sure you don’t relapse while you’re home?” Marlee had not been a probation officer for years, yet she still focused on behaviors and consequences when talking to young people.

  Tina looked at Marlee and grinned. “You sound like the counselors here.”

  “I used to be a probation officer, so I’m used to helping people figure out how to stay out of trouble,” Marlee disclosed.

  “I’ll stay away from my old friends. I won’t tell them I’m coming back home so they won’t be able to bother me. And I’ll attend AA and NA meetings too,” said Tina. “And I’ll stay in touch with my counselor here at Step By Step. He helps me stay on track.”

  The group continued to one of the sleeping rooms the girls shared. The rooms provided a twin bed for each girl along with a desk, chair, and small closet. A shared bathroom connected two of the rooms together. Most of the beds had homemade quilts atop them, a small touch that personalized each girl’s bed. When asked about the quilts, Charlotte went on to explain that a church group in Mitchell donated them so each girl would have something of her own to keep after she left Step By Step.

  Following the tour, Marlee and the students gathered in the dining room. They lined up as directed and went through the serving line to receive chili dogs, corn chips, fresh fruit, and a chocolate brownie on their plastic trays. The class sat at one long table with the director at the head so she could answer questions about the program.

  “How long do the girls stay here?” asked Paula.

  “Anywhere from a few months to a few years, depending on their issues and how well they’re working the program. Some girls come in with a multitude of problems; legal, addiction, abuse, mental health, you name it. For those girls it takes longer to deal with everything. Other girls who have just one or two issues can move through the program more quickly if they choose to do so. It all depends on how hard they work their program,” said Lola.

  “Are most of the girls successful when they’re released from Step By Step?” asked Bart.

  “We have some girls who go through the program and have to come back because they couldn’t maintain sobriety or hadn’t fully dealt with their problems when they were here the first time. Some age out of our program and have to be released because they are too old to be housed in a juvenile group home. Those girls often go on to get into more trouble. The overall success rate for programs like ours is low, but I’m proud to say we have one of the highest success rates in the state. Keep in mind, it depends how you define success. Staying sober and out of legal trouble is the pinnacle of success for most of our girls, but we have a few who go on to college and technical schools.”

  Following the give and take of information, Marlee stood and thanked Lola Greenfield and the girls for the lunch and for providing them with a tour of the facility. On the way out, Marlee pulled Lola aside and explained about Roxie’s death. “Since you have a background in counseling, I was wondering what advice you could give me in dealing with my students when it comes to this issue.”

  “Keep talking to them about it, both in groups and individually. Reassure them they’re safe and ask them to come to you with their fears and concerns. Right now they probably just need to feel safe and to have someone listen to them, even though you won’t be able to provide any solutions. Don’t let anyone isolate themselves or spend too much time alone,” Lola advised.

  Marlee kept Lola’s words in mind as the group drove to their next stop, the medium security prison for men in Springfield. Her inclination was to isolate when tense, tired, or confused. She would have to overcome that, at least for the next few days, to make sure the students felt comfortable in the class. So far no one had approached her about dropping the course.

  “Marcus, has anyone talked to you about dropping the class? I gave the students until the end of today to decide if they wanted out.”

  “No way! Everyone wants to see how this plays out. I think they’re all on edge, but not really frightened for their own safety. Even though Roxie wasn’t one of their favorite people,
two of the students mentioned to me how important it is that we find out what happened to her,” Marcus related.

  Realizing that she forgot to call Vince the night before, Marlee reached for her phone and called her boyfriend at work. She left a message when he didn’t answer. It was Tuesday and those were always busy days because Mondays were big court days for him. The day after court was spent putting out fires and implementing the judge’s new orders.

  I’ll try calling Vince at home tonight, she decided.

  The tour of the men’s prison at Springfield mirrored the tour they had the day before at the women’s prison. A tour was followed by a meal in the chow hall and then a panel of inmates was brought into a secure room to speak to the students about their lives, the convictions, and being in prison. The tour consisted of the housing units, the work quarters, and the recreational areas. Then the students joined the inmates in a noisy, chaotic dining hall for a bland meal of a meat gravy substance covering a piece of corn bread.

  The men’s prison had the distinct odor of sweat, soup, and farts. The noise level there was mind-numbing at times. Being confined would be hard to deal with, but Marlee thought the excessive noise would be the worst part.

  “Some of these guys look like my dad’s friends. You know, just regular ordinary guys,” said Bart.

  “There’s no specific type of person who fits the description of ‘criminal’. Every one of us is capable of doing anything any of these men did. There’s very little difference, deep down, between the people who are incarcerated and the people who are on the outside,” Marlee said as she glanced around the dining hall. There were men of all ages, shapes, and sizes. About half were Native American with the other half Caucasian. There were a few African Americans and Asians, as well as some Latinos. Since the majority of the population in South Dakota was Caucasian, and Native Americans were the largest minority, the racial breakdown was not surprising. What was shocking was that Native Americans only constituted 8% of the population in the state yet they comprised nearly half the inmate population. This begged the question of unequal treatment for Native Americans in the criminal justice system.