“Was McCaslin still alive at that time?”
“I heard that he had died after I got to work.”
“Can you describe the atmosphere of the department on that day?”
Robin thought for a moment. “I guess you could say it was a little bit electrified. We don’t have an officer involved shooting very often.”
“Can you describe the very first account you heard of what happened?”
“The first account was that it was clearly justified. McCaslin had grabbed a knife from inside his coat and charged Jack Hayward with it, and he had no choice but to shoot.”
“What was the response among the officers to that news?”
“They hated to see someone get killed, but felt that Hayward had no choice and had done a good job.”
“But after that, the story started to change, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did.”
Randy picked out a news clipping from his handful of papers. “A few days later this article appeared, describing how witnesses had come forward to tell about how McCaslin had been argumentative, but had not made any threatening move other than to pull open his coat. How did people in your department respond to that?”
“Well, they didn’t much really. There wasn’t much talk about it.”
“Did anyone at all talk about it?”
“A few people. They said there’s always differing accounts when something like this happens.”
“I’ll grant you, there’s some truth to that,” Randy said. “But the bad news kept coming, didn’t it?”
“Yes. The news stories came out about how our officers spent so much time securing the scene that by the time they let the EMT’s have him, it was too late to save his life.”
“And that wasn’t all, was there?”
“No. His family blew up when they saw pictures of the knife that was found on him. They said he didn’t own anything like it and he certainly never carried one He was a professional pacifist.”
“What sort of reaction did that cause in the department?”
“Well, Hayward was under a lot of fire. So everyone sort of circled the wagons to protect him.”
“How so?”
“We had to stand up for him. We testified in the inquiries, and we pooled our brainpower to come up with arguments for him to use to defend himself.”
“Did it matter that he might be guilty?”
“Jack Hayward was a righteous prick, and I didn’t even get along with him that well myself. But he was one of us, and at the time, that mattered more.”
Randy was a bit surprised by how freely she spoke. “You’re being pretty candid with your answers,” he said.
“Well, I guess I’m a little bit like you in that regard. I don’t really have anything left to lose by saying what’s on my mind.”
“I hear you,” Randy said as he nodded with understanding. “Everybody’s going to get a big earful of what’s on my mind for sure. So now’s your chance to tell me, what’s on yours?”
Robin thought about her answer. But not for long, because she knew what it was. “We look out for each other,” she said. “Is that such a bad thing? Nobody’s perfect, nobody gets everything right. Is that a reason to throw good people to the wolves? We don’t think so, so we protect each other. I think you have a pretty good idea what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He certainly did. In the front row, Elena shifted uncomfortably at the veiled mention of that subject. “If truth is really as important to you as you claim it is, then you could prove it now by telling the truth about whether your wife had a hand in killing Ted Blixt.”
This was indeed becoming uncomfortable, but his answer to that was ready too. “If I were the prosecutor in this court,” he asked, “would you have advised Jack Hayward that honesty was the way to go?” She had to shake her head no. “There’s still a big difference between how honesty from cops and honesty from citizens is treated by the law. So assuming my wife did have something to do with that, let’s see how honesty works out for me before we revisit that issue. Would you consider that fair enough?”
“Sure thing.”
Randy decided it was time to move on to his final topic of questioning. “Now I’d like to ask how familiar you are with the shooting of Niles Meservey.”
“As familiar as anyone else who’s followed it.”
“You remember the general scenario was that he was boxed in, capable of some property damage but incapable of escaping or hurting anyone, right?”
“As I recall, yes.”
“And you recall that he was shot in the back seven times by Officer Troy Meade, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“I asked you this question once before, and your answer was a little vague, so here it is again. Was that murder?”
One could have heard the proverbial pin drop at that moment. It was a question that just didn’t get asked in certain kinds of company.
“That case was investigated and tried, and I had no involvement in that process.“
“I’m asking your personal opinion.”
The prosecutor stood. “Your honor, this has no connection of any kind to the case at hand.”
“Your honor, exactly what I seek to establish with this question is how police react to a questionable killing by another cop,” Randy replied.
“Very well then, overruled. But watch your step,” the judge replied.
Randy turned his attention back to Robin. “Well, how about it? Meservey didn’t have to be killed, and yet he was killed, quite intentionally. So was that murder?”
The witness stand was starting feeling like a trap to Robin. On one hand, it was tough to justify what Meade had done. On the other hand, blue doesn’t break blue, and certainly not for a cop killer like the one who was questioning her. “His actions were found to be within the scope of his duties,” she said.
“I kind of need a yes or no on this.”
“He was found not to be acting in self-defense though.”
“Still waiting.”
“He was fired,” she said, her voice beginning to shake.
“Yes, he eventually did get fired. But that didn’t happen until after the legal action was over, and the right of cops to gun down citizens had stood the courtroom test again. Now, I’d like the next word you speak to be a yes or a no.”
Finally she was backed into a corner from which there was no escape. “Police have enforcement duties that not everyone understands,” she said, “and sometimes that enforcement comes from a gun. It wasn’t good judgment, but it wasn’t murder.”
Randy had been expecting more or less that answer, but it still frosted him inside to hear it spoken. He wasn’t the only one either. The crowd in the courtroom was pretty mixed, and included a lot of people who shared outrage over that particular killing. A low smattering of “oooh’s” sounded through the courtroom, but the cops in the room remained pretty silent.
“Officer Frisk,” Randy went on, “my next question will be a much simpler one. Were the 9-11 attacks murder?”
“Are you comparing the Meade case to 9-11”
“Not at the moment, just please answer.”
“Of course they were murder.”
“Would you say that’s a universal consensus?”
“I’d say it’s a pretty broad one.”
“Why do you suppose it’s so hard to find people in the Muslim community who will publicly call it murder?” Robin sat silent for a moment. “How about fear of reprisal or being ostracized? Would those be reasons?”
“Yes, those would be reasons.”
“How about fear of violating their community?”
“Yes, that too.”
“And how about the possibility that many of them actually identify to some degree with the ones among them who commit the murders, or at least enough of them do to keep pressure on the ones who don’t? Would that have something to do with it?”
Robin hated Randy now even more than she did at the moment the doc
tors had told her she was losing her leg. But she didn’t have an answer.
“Whatever the reasons may be,” Randy continued, “the bulk of them won’t call the murderers among them for what they are, and whether it’s true or not, that creates a pretty strong appearance that they’re really all in it together. In exactly the same manner as this, you’re refusing to do the same thing right now, and that creates the impression that you’re actually on the side of cops who commit murder too. So are you starting to see the comparison?”
Still, she had no answer.
* * *
“I never really fancied myself as a lawyer,” Randy said from behind the visiting booth glass.
“You did wonderful,” Elena replied. “I was watching the jury baby, and they did not see this coming. Neither did the press people.”
Randy cracked a smile. That was something he had needed to hear. “So you think we might have a chance after all?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but you’re doing what you set out to do. You’re showing them. So what’s next?”
“Robin Frisk was an important part of this, but she was the warm-up,” he replied. “Next up is the star of the show.”
* * *
“I call Police Chief Burt Grandstone to the stand,” Randy announced. The chief got up from his seat behind the prosecutor’s table and walked to the stand. He was sworn, and Randy approached with the help of his walker.
“Chief Grandstone, I’ve been waiting a long time for the chance to question you under oath.”
“Well, you’ll likely never get this chance again, so I hope you make the most of it.”
“Indeed I shall,” Randy replied. “Several years ago, I became the subject of a lot of special attention from your department. You happen to recall any of this?”
“Why, yes I do.”
“You remember the inordinate number of traffic stops, the rousts and roadside interrogations, the spying on my home, and the questioning of people who knew me?”
“All of the above. You got our attention with your sudden embracing of constitutionalist anti-police activities. And it appears to me that all that attention has proved to be warranted.”
“You’re aware of how that sort of attention can affect a person, aren’t you?”
“How do you mean, exactly?”
“I’m talking about how it can drive a person’s paranoia level, and his sense that people are conspiring against him.”
“Hadn’t really given that much thought.”
“Did the Seattle Police give it much thought when they parked a car regularly outside the home of Maurice Clemmons, for several months before he killed four cops in Lakewood? I would have thought that law enforcement might have learned something from that example.”
“Sorry, don’t recall any memos to that effect.”
“And how about when Pierce County Deputies took down David Crable in a humiliating and threatening manner, just a few weeks before he shot two of them and killed one? What really surprises me about that case is that they made that arrest after the attacks committed by Chris Monfort and Maurice Clemmons. Does that seem to you like an advisable thing to do?”
“You’re speaking in hindsight again. I couldn’t say without having been there to assess the immediate threat,” Burt replied.
“Well, with regard to my own case, here’s what I’d really like to know. Did you fear a confrontation between your department and me, or did you hope to provoke one?”
“Why on Earth would we provoke a confrontation?”
“To simplify the process of getting rid of me, perhaps?” Burt looked at Randy with a quizzical expression, like he had no idea what he was talking about. “Burt, just this once, why don’t you cut the smarmy bullshit and say what’s on your mind? You know you want to.”
That was the button that Burt had long hoped would never be pushed, out of fear that it might work. And work it did. “In this line of work,” he began, “we deal with problems. It’s all we do, day in and day out.”
“But your hands are tied half the time, aren’t they?”
“That’s very true.”
“I realize that following the law can be a damned inconvenience. So you find ways around the rules, don’t you?”
“Indeed, there are times when we do.”
“Tell me about your public humiliation spectacles.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m referring to the incidents when your officers surround people with lots of flashing lights, handcuff them needlessly, put them through a roust, deliver monologue lectures and threats of all manners of enforcement action, and do it all on display for the public. This happens just about everywhere to some degree, but for your department it used to seem like a nightly show. What was the purpose of that?”
“I think the incidents you refer to were what we would call a normal investigation pursuant to a stop.”
“I’ve experienced these ‘normal investigations’ myself at the hands of your department. Show the slightest lack of willingness to bend over on demand, and suddenly you’re being screamed at, accused of threatening them, taken to the ground and handcuffed. So let’s be candid about why that happens. There’s an unofficial policy amongst police that anyone who doesn’t show complete respect and compliance will have the weight of the law dropped on them. Isn’t there?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yes you do. And that unofficial policy states that these people will be intimidated, threatened, and publicly humiliated, doesn’t it?”
“Again, you are mistaken.”
“And the purpose of this humiliation tactic is to keep the public too frightened to question your omnipotence, isn’t it?”
“No such policy exists.”
“Oh yes it does.” Randy took a second to collect himself. “Now I want to know, is this the policy that Zachary Simmons was enforcing when he escalated my traffic stop so he could shoot me?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. He never had the chance to tell me, and I’m not a clairvoyant.”
“Maybe not, but he told me before he died that many of you wanted a piece of me. Is there any truth to that?”
“All the officers I know of who might have leaned in that direction seem to be unavailable for comment.”
“So what’s your explanation for what he said?”
“Your recording didn’t seem to catch that part of the conversation. But I’ll be generous and assume you’re telling the truth.” Burt shifted in his seat, just a little. “We take issue with people who don’t respect the law.”
“Does that include lawmen who don’t respect the law?”
“I’m answering your first question right now, do you mind?” Burt shot back. Randy motioned for him to continue. “For example, you’ve complained a lot about the attention you got from us. What you omit is the fact that you made us the subject of your attention before that happened. You tried to change the laws to tie our hands even further in dangerous situations. On your blog site and in the comment wars, you publicly called us lawbreakers, and every other manner of scoundrel short of puppy-sacrificing Satanists. Did you ever consider what sort of effect that might have on us?”
“My hope was that it would have the effect of motivating you to start respecting the law again. In hindsight, I suppose that was being pretty optimistic. But I’d like you to tell me now exactly what you hoped to accomplish with your harassment campaign against me.”
“Simple, really. It was to motivate you to start respecting law enforcement again.”
“By ‘respecting’, do you mean letting your department run amok, completely unopposed again?” Burt just smiled and shook his head slowly. “Burt, let me break this down for you. Your department has, in fact, always been willing to break the law. Laws on threatening, detaining, searching, harassing, falsifying charges, perjury, and even shooting people. You never admit to wrongdoing of any kind, you never accept accounta
bility, and the criminal justice system is complicit in making sure you never get held accountable. Does this happen because you believe police have rightful power over life and death, and that the actual law is only an impediment to your power that needs to be circumvented?”
“No one is above the law, as I think you’re going to find out,” Burt replied. “But as far as that goes, staying completely within the law is every bit as tricky for us as it is for you. The difference is that when we’re acting with good faith to fulfill our objective of keeping the public peace, we need to have a little leeway. Because if every little technicality is enough to get a criminal off, there isn’t a whole lot of law enforcement going on, is there?”
“What you just said makes perfect sense, if you’re acting with good faith. But the verdict on that has been in for a long time already. Sometimes you are, and sometimes you aren’t. And when you aren’t, then you frankly haven’t earned citizens’ respect.”
“Even if so, it’s still a better idea to sort these disagreements out in court later.”
“If you’re the ones breaking the law, why is that exactly?”
“Of all people, Mister Gustin, you should know,” Burt replied.
“Well, there we have it. Your answer to my question is, because you’ve got the bigger hammer to drop,” Randy stated.
“That we do,” Burt said. “Back in that station, you asked me what my last words were going to be, remember? Well now that shoe is on your foot. What are your last words going to be?”
“I haven’t really given that any thought. But if I pick something, you’ll be the first to know.”
* * *
“I call Randolph Gustin to the stand,” the prosecutor said in the courtroom. It was a few days later, and Randy’s long-awaited moment had finally come. He made his way to the stand with his walker, sat down and was sworn.
“Mister Gustin,” the prosecutor began, “please tell me how you feel about sitting where you are.”
“Truthfully? This is the same county in the same state that wouldn’t kill Gary Ridgeway, so how much trouble can I really be in?”
“I’d suggest you refrain from being flippant Mister Gustin, this is very different.”
“I know it is. The people I killed wore uniforms, and that made them eminently more important than fifty young women, right?”
One Department Page 29
