Silenced Justice: A Josh Williams Novel

by Joe Broadmeadow

  "Let's make Chubby the hero," Josh said. "He did stop them. Let them focus on our friend here until something else happens."

  "Hmm, that might work. We can hope for a murder in Providence or a State Senator getting locked up for drunk driving to draw their attention away," Brennan said. "Okay, I'll deal with this. You two go figure out what the hell happened here."

  The Chief turned to Chubby. "Chubby my boy, you are about to have your fifteen minutes of fame. But I need you to remember something."

  "What's that?" Chubby said, the smile covering his whole face.

  "You keep to this story," Brennan said. "You heard the scanner about the motorcycle chasing Keira, that they tried to steal her car and had a gun, and you were trying to block them from catching her. Is that clear?"

  Chubby looked confused.

  "Is there a problem, Chubby?" the Chief asked.

  "Ah, no. I mean, what else would I say?" Chubby replied.

  Josh and Armstrong chuckled.

  Brennan shook his head, "That's my boy. You have police supervisor material in you, if you ever pass the physical. Come on. Let's go meet your adoring fans."

  Armstrong and Josh watched as the two headed toward the cameras, Chubby raising his hands like a champion boxer.

  Then they started trying to put the pieces together.

  Josh looked at Armstrong. "This is quite the little mess, isn't it?"

  "I'm glad Chubby took 'em out. I just washed my cruiser," Armstrong laughed. "And, it's less paperwork for me."

  The results of the investigation, one unidentified dead guy and one living MS-13 gang member. The gang banger no longer had two feet to stand on with his 'some assembly required' leg. They also recovered an unusual handgun none of them recognized, with no serial numbers and of an unknown make and caliber.

  What they had, in Sergeant Armstrong's words, was a giant nightmarish shit show.

  The Medical Examiner, Dr. Edwin Porter, arrived and began processing the body. One of his latest toys was a live-scan fingerprint system equipped with a secure link to the FBI database.

  The ME lifted the right hand and scanned each finger. He tried to do the same with the left hand. Two of the fingers no longer bore enough tissue, so he settled for the thumb and two remaining fingers.

  A short time later, the preliminary inquiry produced no match.

  "I'll run a more in-depth database query when we do the autopsy," Dr. Porter said. "Sometimes we get lucky with military or foreign data."

  "Military? Foreign?" Josh asked, as he and Armstrong looked at the ME.

  "My guess is he's Latvian or Ukrainian by the tattoos on his neck and what’s left of his hand." The medical examiner smiled, "Won't be counting to ten anymore."

  Josh watched as the ME bagged the man's fingers.

  What the hell is going on? This doesn't happen here. This is East Providence, not New York.

  Chapter 2

  One month earlier

  Wednesday, August 12, 2009

  8:00 AM

  East Providence, Rhode Island

  Josh walked into his office. Before he had a chance to sit down, the phone started ringing. Christ, I haven't even had coffee yet. Bad sign.

  "Special Investigations Unit, Lieutenant Williams."

  "Wow, big words now. What's wrong with just SIU? You think you're some big freaking deal now?"

  "Hey Cheeks, to what do I owe the honor of this call?"

  Josh listened as retired Detective Lieutenant Chris Hamlin laughed on the other end of the line.

  "Can I buy you a drink after work? I should say, once you leave the PD after pretending to work."

  "Oh shit," Josh replied, "this is going to cost me more than the price of a drink, isn't it? I've gotta start paying attention to caller ID."

  "Now, now, my former protégé, have I ever steered you wrong?"

  Josh replied, "I don't think I need to answer."

  "I kept you out of prison."

  "Well, to be more accurate, you pointed me towards an attorney who did. However, I won't argue semantics. Where will you be?"

  "Amsterdam's on South Main work for you?"

  “Oh shit, this is bad. Should I bring a fake passport and unnumbered weapons?"

  "Nothing of the kind, just looking for a little help," Chris answered. "Not to worry."

  "You know what Brennan says about those three words."

  "Oh yeah, okay. Slight worry," Chris added. "See you there."

  * * *

  Josh left the SIU office at 5pm, heading to Providence. He wondered what this little favor for Chris would entail.

  Chris Hamlin retired from the East Providence PD two years ago. This opened a Lieutenant's position and the job of SIU commander. Josh worked with Hamlin for several years as her assistant commander and now ran the SIU. It was, he believed, the best job in the world.

  After retiring, Chris opened a private investigations company called Alpha Babes Investigations. The agency was a consortium of three women, Chris, Vera Johnson, and Margaret 'Maggie' Fleming. The last two made rather unusual private investigators.

  Vera Johnson retired after thirty-five years as a librarian for the City of East Providence. Vera and Chris served together in Vietnam treating and transporting the wounded. Margaret Fleming resigned as an Assistant United States attorney after Josh's civil rights trial, citing her unwillingness to work for the former US Attorney, now Senator, Robert Michael Collucci.

  The trio developed the idea over a dinner fueled by several Ketel One martinis. It became one of the most successful PI firms in the state. They handled cases ranging from the standard domestic fare to international clients.

  Josh parked on South Main Street. He walked several blocks to Amsterdam's, a small, pub-style restaurant. The pub offered seating along the river.

  As he entered the pub, he spied several Judges sitting at the bar. One of the Judges waved, the others looked and then turned away. The rest of the crowd was a mixture of people solving the world's problems.

  Josh ordered a glass of wine and found a table outside, along the river. He preferred being outside enjoying the waning afternoon sun warming the view of the walkway and riverfront, a central part of the Providence Renaissance.

  Chris and Vera walked into the pub, and then spotted him through the window. Walking over, they sat with him.

  "Nice of you to make it, Cheeks," Josh said. "Don’t worry, I got my own drink."

  "Poor boy," Chris answered, "I see you found a spot away from all your friends inside. Nobody invite you to join them?"

  Josh laughed. "Bastards almost ran out when they saw me."

  "Well, can you blame them?" Chris smiled, "You do associate with an unsavory defense lawyer who helped you beat the rap."

  Josh shook his head and smiled, "Okay, you've dragged me down to your part of the world, what, pray tell, do you need?"

  Chris looked at Vera and nodded.

  "Josh," Vera spoke, leaning on the table, "I am the one who needs the favor. It's my niece I want to help."

  Josh looked at Vera, "Anything you need, Vera. If I can help, I'll be happy to."

  "You might want to hear the whole story first," Chris added.

  Josh looked at Chris and back at Vera. "Okay Vera, let's send Swiss Cheeks here for drinks, I think she can handle that, and you can tell me the story."

  Chris earned the nickname, 'Swiss Cheeks', during a violent confrontation with two armed robbery suspects. A fellow officer accidentally shot her. The bullet left several extra holes in her ass. Not many could call her that; Josh was one of the few exceptions. She flipped Josh the bird and headed into the bar.

  Josh turned to Vera, "Tell on, my lady, tell on."

  Vera smiled, sat back in the chair, and looked out at the river, "How old are you, Josh?"

  Josh's face grimaced, "Old enough to listen to anything you have to say, I hope."

  "No, I mean…indulge me. How old are you?"

  "Thirty-seven."

  "A mere babe
…," Vera replied. "Okay, then you wouldn't remember this story so I have to give you some background."

  "I am all ears," Josh answered.

  Chris returned with the drinks and sat next to Josh.

  "I was just about to give him a history lesson so he understands the background," Vera said.

  "Talk slow and use small words," Chris answered.

  "Nice," Josh added, "this from an old, shriveled up, prune of a former cop."

  "Okay listen," Vera began. "About three months ago my niece, Loren, came to me asking for help in finding information about her biological father. Her mother died and she wanted to know more about her dad. Chris and I tracked down some information," taking a sip from her drink. "Does the name Darnell Grey mean anything to you?"

  Josh shook his head.

  "Providence Police arrested Darnell back in 1972 for a series of rapes and a murder. He never made it to trial. Two inmates beat him to death in the prison."

  "So, what do you need me for?" Josh asked.

  "How about you speak when we ask you to?" Chris interjected.

  "Oops, sorry I'll remain silent your majesty," Josh answered, bowing his head.

  "That's a good boy."

  "This will take all day if both of you don't shut up," Vera added.

  Josh looked at Chris, "I see this one has some teeth to her. I hope she's had all her shots."

  Vera laughed and returned to the story. "I remembered her father from way back. Loren isn't my real niece. Her mother Chantel and I were close and I always thought of Loren as a niece. Over the years, we lost touch. I think her husband's arrest for those terrible crimes embarrassed her. She didn't want it to affect her daughter."

  Chris picked up the story.

  "We contacted the AG's office and the Providence Journal. The AG's said the file was missing. The Journal gave us a ton of information on the cases. There was a lot of fear in the community," putting her drink down.

  "The first one occurred in Providence, near Brown. The next two happened in East Providence. The last one started with a kidnapping in Pawtucket," leaning forward in her chair, elbows on the table. "Providence PD got a call for a suspicious car near the Brown University boathouse. When the officers arrived, they spotted the suspect rolling the body into the river. One officer went in the water to get the body; the other chased the guy down and arrested him."

  "Okay, so you guys have your niece right?"

  Vera nodded.

  "And you find out daddy got killed in prison. What do you want from me, to give her the bad family tree lesson?"

  "No," Vera answered. "We think there is more to this."

  "Oh, of course you do," Josh answered, hands spread out. "You want me to work on a thirty-seven year old case with a dead suspect? Hmm, sounds like fun. It's not even our case, Chris."

  "Yes it is," Chris said. "Two of the rapes occurred in East Providence and, since no one was convicted, it is still an open case."

  Josh chuckled. "I can hear Chief Brennan now," rising in his seat to attention, hands flat on the table. "So Lieutenant, let me understand. You want to reopen a case from before you were born, with a dead suspect, why?"

  "Don't tell him," Chris smiled.

  "Oh sure, that's a great idea. I enjoy working midnights. Are you nuts?"

  "Look, all we need is for you to pull the old case files so we can go over them. If Darnell did it, so be it. But if he didn’t, I'd like to give Loren a better memory of her father."

  "All you need me to do…," Josh rested his chin in his hand. "Okay, let's say I pull the files and you find something, then what?"

  "Then you'll help us won't you?" Chris answered.

  Vera reached over, taking Josh's hand. Josh saw tears in her eyes. "Come on Josh, nobody understands searching for the truth more than you."

  "How many times did you rehearse this?" Josh replied.

  "Rehearse?" Vera smiled. "I would never do that, Josh."

  "You might not, but she would," pointing at Chris.

  "We need your help," Vera said.

  Josh looked out at the river. Vera was right; the truth won my acquittal. He knew he had no choice, but it would come with a price.

  "Okay, I'll pull the files. Give me a day or so."

  "Told you the teary eyes would work," Vera said, laughing. "He's such a soft, sentimental type."

  "Played by a couple of pros, wasn't I?" Josh said.

  "You, my former protégé, are putty in our hands. That and your wife told us how."

  "My wife conspired against me with the witches of Alpha Babes Investigations. So touching." Josh took a long drink as he looked at his two friends. I would do anything for them, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 3

  Thirty-Seven years ago

  March 23, 1972

  12:30 PM

  East Providence, Rhode Island

  Darnell Grey was an angry man.

  Rubbing his fist, wiping off the blood, he stormed out of the Warren Avenue Shell station. He would not be back. The rage, taking control of him once again, made sure of it.

  His wife would not be happy.

  He wouldn't let them push him around. Nobody pushed him around. He'd find another goddamn job.

  He knew he needed to control this anger. Yet the nightmares haunted him still. Sounds of the Ia Drang Valley echoed in his head, robbing him of sleep, depriving him of any sense of peace.

  No one understood.

  All they saw was an angry black man.

  Darnell Grey was an angry man, with good reason.

  Chapter 4

  March 23, 1972

  7:30 PM

  Detectives Squad Room

  Major Crimes

  Providence Police Headquarters

  Providence, Rhode Island

  The two Providence detectives dragged Darnell Grey into the squad room. Pushing him onto a wooden bench, they handcuffed him to a pipe attached to the front. Old blood, sweat, and other unidentifiable stains covered the bench and wall.

  Grey sagged in the seat, one eye swollen shut, dried blood on his cheeks. The side of his head a purplish-blotchy discoloration, hair matted down; his body wracked in shaking spasms of fear.

  The lead detective, George Weslyan, went to his desk and started to type out the complaint forms.

  "That the stovepipe that killed the girl?" the Detective Commander, Captain Anthony Gemma, asked.

  "Yeah," Detective Alfred Georgiana answered. "Uniforms grabbed him trying to run from the stolen car. Piece of shit just dumped the body.” He lashed out, kicking Grey in the legs, causing him to recoil back, straining at the handcuffs, the fear rising in his face. None of the other detectives in the smoky squad room paid much attention, beyond a couple of chuckles.

  "Get the line-up paperwork done and take him down to the cellblock until we're ready," the captain ordered. "No phone calls. Let the intake center deal with it."

  Georgiana stood in front of Grey. "So, asshole, you like fucking white broads, huh?" slapping Grey across the face.

  Grey looked up, his one good eye glaring. "I told you man, I had nothing to do with that girl. That uniform guy came running up to me and grabbed me. I was just sitting there, doin' nothin'."

  "We'll see about that, asshole. We got witnesses put you there. You're going away for a long fucking time."

  "I want a lawyer," Grey demanded.

  The detective turned and smiled at his partner, "He wants a lawyer. You hear him? This piece of shit wants a lawyer," turning, he grabbed Grey by the throat. "And who's gonna pay for it, nigger. You want it for nuttin’, don't you? Fucking mulignan, no fucking mouthpiece for you here. We own your ass, like the good 'ole days."

  The complaint finished, the detectives unhooked Grey from the pipe. Cuffing him in the back, holding the man's handcuffed hands high up behind him, they forced Grey to bend forward at the waist. The detectives paraded him through the squad room. "Anybody interested in a broken down nigger?" Weslyan asked, laughing. "I'll sell 'em cheap. No? Okay
, then off to the cages he goes with the rest of the monkeys," heading out of the office.

  The entertainment over, the other investigators returned to their reports.

  Hauling Grey into the cellblock, they stood him in front of the booking desk. The sergeant in charge glanced up, looking him over. "Have rescue come take a look at him," he ordered, returning to his newspaper.

  "Sarge, the asshole killed a white girl and raped a couple of others. Screw him, no rescue."

  "Oh, this is the prick, huh?" the sergeant replied, now a bit more interested. "In that case, put him in A-5. Are you guys doing a lineup?"

  "Yeah, just waiting on East Providence PD to bring their victim here. She's a cop's kid, a retired trooper."

  "No shit?" the sergeant said. "We should just give the trooper a few minutes alone with the cocksucker. Save us all some headaches."

  Weslyan removed the handcuffs and pushed Grey into the cell. Closing the door, he looked up and pointed above door. Georgiana looked and saw the words Monkey Exhibit written there.

  "Perfect," he smiled.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Weslyan and Georgiana brought back Grey from the cellblock and took him to the lineup area. They put him in the first position. Five other black men completed the array.

  "What about the blood and the swollen eye?" the assistant AG, Robert Collucci, asked. "A potential problem don't you think?"

  "Want me to go smack the other five?" a detective suggested.

  "No," Collucci replied, "Go clean him up first."

  A short time later, the prosecutor's concerns satisfied, the lineup was ready.

  Five men waited in the viewing area, Collucci, two detectives, the uniform officer who arrested Grey, and Captain Gemma.

  Two East Providence PD detectives came in with the twenty-five year-old victim from one of their cases. Collucci explained the procedure as they opened the curtain covering the view window into the lineup room.