Silenced Justice: A Josh Williams Novel

by Joe Broadmeadow

  The victim, Sheila Monson, looked at the six men. She studied them, one by one. "I'm not sure; I don't think he's there."

  Collucci looked at the Providence detectives and shook his head.

  The door to the witness area opened, slamming into the wall. The victim's father, retired Rhode Island State Police Lieutenant Alfred Monson, barged in. "Which one is it, Sheila? Just tell me. Which one?"

  "Why is he here?" Collucci asked.

  "Hey," Monson said, taking a step toward Collucci, fists clenched. "This is my daughter that piece of shit attacked. You wanna try to keep me out of here? Go ahead, try."

  Captain Gemma stepped between the two.

  Collucci backed up, raising his hands, "Okay, okay. Just let her look them over. We don't want the lineup thrown out." Turning back to Sheila he said, "Take a good look again, Miss. Take your time."

  Monson looked again, shaking her head, "I'm not sure. It might be number three, but I can't…I'm just not sure." Looking to her father for help, all she saw was his disappointment and rage.

  "Give me a minute with her," Alfred Monson said. "She's just nervous."

  Collucci looked at Captain Gemma. He shrugged his shoulders, nodded, and they both walked out. Monson and his daughter walked to the squad room. The two Providence detectives followed, standing with Monson as he talked to her.

  Weslyan tapped the father on the shoulder and made a head movement to follow him. As they walked outside to the hallway, Captain Gemma saw them, raising an eyebrow. Weslyan smiled. "No problem, Captain. We're all set now."

  Gemma walked away and Weslyan turned to Monson. "Tell her to pick number three. She thought he was the guy. I'll move the son-of-a-bitch to the third spot. No problem."

  Monson smiled. "Thanks, can I have five minutes with the asshole after?"

  "I'd love to but that fucking AG would shit himself."

  "What about him?" Monson asked, motioning towards Gemma's office. "He gonna be good with a second look?"

  'What second look?" Weslyan replied. "Only one lineup happened here, that's what the reports will say."

  Returning to the squad room, Monson sat next to his daughter, speaking to her in a soft, yet insistent tone. She looked at him, wide-eyed, afraid. "But I wasn't sure."

  "Yes you were, Sheila. You were just nervous. You don't want that piece of shit to get away with this do you?"

  Sheila shook her head, "No, of course not. But I want to be sure."

  "I'm sure," Monson said. "Go back in there. You know what to do. Listen to me Sheila; do the right thing for once in your life."

  Weslyan came back into the squad room. "All set Sheila, come on back and take a look."

  The group returned to the lineup viewing area, Collucci and Captain Gemma absent this time.

  Two minutes later, Weslyan and Georgiana took Grey back to the cellblock.

  "She didn't pick me out, did she?" Grey said. "She couldn't, I didn't do nothin’. I wasn't there."

  Weslyan smiled, "She picked you out, asshole. We made sure of that."

  * * *

  Detective Weslyan called the shift commander. He asked for a wagon to transport Grey to the Adult Correctional Institute, known as the ACI. A short time later, two young Providence patrol officers walked into the cellblock.

  Grey, chained to a wall, face bruised and swollen, watched the officers. There was blood on his shirt. He was having difficulty breathing.

  "Hey, Sarge. What's up?" one of the officers asked.

  "Take that fucking stovepipe over to the hospital," the sergeant ordered, looking up from his desk. "Tell the ER doc to just clean him up. When the ER’s done with him, take him to the prison," handing the officer some paperwork.

  The younger of the two officers walked over to Grey. He looked at the man’s injuries, "What the hell happened to him?"

  The sergeant slammed his hands on the desk and rose from his seat. On the job 35 years, he didn't feel the need to explain anything to this snot-nosed, slick-sleeved, boot patrol officer. Backing the officer into the wall, he smiled. "He fell down. Twice. That fucking okay with you?"

  The officer swallowed hard and said, "Ah, yeah, sure. The hospital's gonna ask how this happened. I didn't know what to tell them."

  "How about you don't tell 'em a goddamn thing, stand there like a dope and smile. Think you can handle that? Just let them patch 'em up. Now get the hell out."

  At the hospital, the charge nurse took one look at Grey and called for the resident on duty. "I am not letting any of my nurses near this. That man needs to be admitted and the two cops are insisting they're not leaving here without him."

  "I'll deal with it," the resident answered.

  The doctor examined Grey and then called the officers outside the exam room. "Listen to me. I do not care what some sergeant at the police department thinks. I am admitting that man," turning from the officers and reentering the exam room.

  The officer got on his portable radio and told the shift commander.

  Fifteen minutes later, Detective Weslyan and another detective charged into the ER. The uniform officer pointed to the exam room. Throwing the curtain back, Weslyan had a short and angry exchange with the resident. The pasty white looking resident left the room, went to the desk, and spoke to the charge nurse. She glared at the officers, shook her head, and turned away.

  Weslyan had Grey back in cuffs and pushed him towards the uniforms. Turning to the young detective he said, “See, nothing to it. We decide, not some fucking fairy doctor."

  * * *

  The Providence paddy wagon pulled into the sally port area of the ACI Inmate Intake Center. Dragging Grey from the back of the van, he fell to the floor in front the admitting desk.

  Glancing over the desk, the guard looked at Grey. "Let me guess, unpaid parking violations?" laughing at his own humor.

  "Nope, rape and murder,” the officer answered.

  "No shit?" the guard answered. "Okay, got my paperwork?"

  After handing the guard the forms, removed the handcuffs. Two guards came out of the backroom and took Grey. The officers headed back to their van.

  "Well, that was a fun field trip. What say we stop somewhere for coffee and kill the rest of the shift?"

  "Sounds good to me, as long as I don't have to deal with that fucking sergeant anymore.” The young officer looked out the window, "So do you think he did it?"

  "What do ya' mean? Of course he did."

  "I heard the guys in detectives talking; the girl got coached by her father and they did two lineups."

  "So what?"

  The officer didn't answer. If I ever get to detectives, I ain't doin' this shit.

  Chapter 5

  August 12, 2009 7:00 PM

  East Providence Police Headquarters

  East Providence, Rhode Island

  Josh returned to the East Providence PD headquarters after his meeting with Vera and Chris. No better time to poke around old files than in a closed Records division.

  Unlocking the archive storage room, he searched through the case files. After an hour, he'd found some of the investigative reports. Placing the files in his briefcase, he walked out into the corridor and back to his office.

  He read the file, fascinated by the differences in the language used. Case reports were different back then. One of the reports, by Joe McDaniel of all people, caught his eye.

  Joe McDaniel was a legend in the department. Josh, and many other cops, learned a great deal from working with him. McDaniel had retired six months ago. Josh made a note to call him about the case.

  After an hour of reading, he realized how hungry he felt. This was usually a late night for his wife as well, but he thought he'd take a shot and see if she'd like dinner.

  Picking up the phone, he called her.

  "Law offices, Keira Williams."

  "Hey, how you doing?"

  "Fine, sitting here reading files and you?"

  "Funny you should ask," he answered. "I am doing the same, reading a case
file. Want to meet for dinner, or should we try to cook at home?"

  "That would involve shopping; I'll let you take me to dinner. I can leave here in five minutes. Bonefish okay? Meet you there."

  Josh packed up the files and headed out the door. Nobody better to discuss a screwed up police file than my wife. Her Innocence Project work might be just what I need for this.

  Arriving at the restaurant, they sat at a table in the corner.

  "Tell me about this case that commands your attention," Keira said.

  "A thirty-seven year old rape case in East Providence with two victims. Connected to two other rapes and a murder in Providence."

  "A bit of a history lesson isn't it? What spurred your interest?"

  "This is the case Vera and Chris asked me about. You told them how to get me to help them."

  "I thought it was just to find some info on her niece's father," she laughed.

  "Yeah, well. Nothing is ever easy with those two. Would you look at the file for me? Your perspective might be helpful."

  Keira feigned shock, hand covering her mouth. "Are my ears deceiving me? You want my perspective. The jaundiced, distrusting, suspicious of anything official view?"

  "Yeah, because if you don't see anything wrong, then it's not there."

  Keira's work with the Innocence Project had sometimes caused issues between them, some of them severe. No one understood how they remained together. But they did. It worked for them.

  "Well, my dear, I'd be happy to look them over for you. What do I get for this?" her smile having the wanted effect.

  "The fee is negotiable," returning the smile. "Perhaps a retainer after dinner?"

  "My retainer needs are high."

  Josh laughed. "I'll see if I can measure up."

  "I'll be the judge of that," reaching over and taking his hand.

  Chapter 6

  Friday, August 14, 2009

  9:00 AM

  Alpha Babes Investigations

  Providence, RI

  Two days later, Josh and Keira met with Chris Hamlin and Vera Johnson at their office. Just as they began the discussion, Maggie Fleming came in.

  "Well, this seems like quite the group. Can I join in?" Fleming asked.

  "Grab a coffee and sit down, Maggie." Chris said. "We're going over the case for Vera's niece."

  After getting coffee, Maggie joined the group as Keira reviewed the case.

  "First, the witness statements from the civilians are terrible. They saw a shadow run by, nothing more. None of them could identify Grey. There is no statement from the first victim. The primary investigator reports the victim's identification of Grey in the Providence case. There is no mention of a lineup; all the detective's report says is the victim identified Grey from a picture. I'd say that’s dubious at best." She finished her coffee, raising her cup to Josh for more.

  "Hmm," Chris said, smiling, "maybe she has found something useful Josh can do," raising her cup. "Oh waiter, I will take some more as well."

  "Get your own f'ing--"

  "Josh," Keira interrupted, "Be a good boy and do as you're told."

  Josh shook his head and went to get the coffee.

  "You have to show me the trick," Chris said.

  "Don't you dare," Josh yelled.

  "Sorry, just for me," Keira smiled. "Look at this, another East Providence detective's report. All he says is the victim identified Grey in the Providence lineup," handing the lineup copy to show around. "Grey's face shows evidence of a beating. The other five aren't even close in stature or appearance. I'd love to talk to the AG who handled this lineup."

  Josh returned, handing out the coffees. "Who was the AG?"

  "There are initials, but I can't make them out. Maybe we can find someone from that time who might know who they belong to?" Keira replied.

  "I know someone I can ask," Chris said. "George Tucker was a special assistant back then. He might know."

  "Tucker, as in the Presiding Justice of the Supreme Court? The one who just received the Thurgood Marshall Memorial Award for Judicial Excellence?" Josh asked.

  "That would be him," Chris said.

  "Well, he might recognize the initials, but I doubt he'd know anything about the case. You know what they call him right?" Josh asked.

  "No, I don't," Chris said.

  "When they tried to transfer all the black gang members from the prison to other states, he ruled against them. He ordered the prisoners returned to the ACI. They gave him the nickname Reverse Oreo."

  "Oh my God," Chris said.

  "He's right," Maggie Fleming said. "I've heard it as well. He has a huge reputation in the civil rights area. Some people think he's gone too far on many decisions. The reverse Oreo nickname caught on."

  "That’s so nice," Keira added, shaking her head. "Look, you need the Providence PD file to be certain but I’d say this has all the earmarks of a railroading by the police. You have a conveniently available black guy and all white victims. If this were a conviction case I think the Innocence Project would take it." Turning to Josh, "Didn't you say one of the victims was the daughter of a police officer?"

  The three other women turned to Josh, a bit wide-eyed.

  "Yeah, I recognized the name from when my father was on the State Police. Sheila Monson was the daughter of a retired State Police Lieutenant, Alfred Monson."

  "I am surprised Grey made it as far as the prison," Chris said.

  "Okay," Josh said. "I think I can get the file from Providence. I'll tell them some bullshit story about writing a book or something."

  "Ha, writing a book?" Chris chuckled, "Shouldn't you read one before you write one?"

  All the women laughed, although Keira tried to hide it.

  Josh just looked at them. "Nice group I've got here. Anyway, I know someone who may be helpful. I'll reach out to him. Next, we need to talk to Tucker. Chris, since you know him, you and I will do that. Maggie, how about you dig around the prosecution community. Vera see if you can find news stories on what happened at the prison."

  "Sound good?" Not waiting for a response Josh stood, glancing at Chris. He took two quick steps toward the door. Chris took a drink of her coffee and spit it back into the cup.

  "The son-of-a-bitch put salt in it," trying to get around the table at Josh.

  Josh opened the door. "Was that salt? So sorry my friend,” slamming the door behind him.

  Chris looked at Keira, the others were laughing. "You still have serious work to do on him."

  Keira smiled. "I know, but he can be funny sometimes."

  Chapter 7

  Monday, August 17, 2009

  2:30 PM

  Rumford, Rhode Island

  Giovanni 'Fatso' Bellofatto, the consigliere of the Patriarca crime family, was not your typical mobster. Bellofatto, educated and stylish, prided himself on his sophistication. He mirrored the style of John Gotti; designer suits, $500 haircuts. He admired Gotti's manner and tried to copy it. He once served as a conduit to New York during the time Gotti was killing his way to mob leadership. The difference was Bellofatto's fondness for food and loathing of exercise. Gotti was the Teflon Don. Fatso was the Donut Don.

  In 1969, Bellofatto went to prison for conspiracy to commit murder for the execution-style slaying of two bookies. His conviction secured his position within the organization's hierarchy. The bookies made the error of refusing to pay protection money to the family. Bellofatto took the hit and made his bones.

  The informant who testified disappeared into the Witness Protection program. He resurfaced in California trying to return to his old habits. His bullet-ridden body, absent a tongue, washed up on the shore of a lake outside Los Angeles several months later. State Police suspected two people in the killing of the informant. One was a frequent visitor of Bellofatto's in the prison the other, one of Bellofatto's soldiers. Authorities never charged anyone in the informant’s murder.

  In 1973, Bellofatto's lawyer lobbied the General Assembly to approve a request by the Governor to
pardon Bellofatto on humanitarian grounds. The lawyer, who would someday become the Presiding Justice of the Rhode Island Supreme Court, had persuaded the Governor, his former law partner, to seek a pardon for Bellofatto.

  The attorney argued that the diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer was a death sentence. The diagnosis, rendered by the state's own prison physician, confirmed by the medical reports. The attorney’s emotional plea garnered much sympathy for Bellofatto. The Bishop of the Diocese of Providence testified before the General Assembly in support. He touted Bellofatto's generous support of the Church and genuine remorse for his past.

  The Governor issued the pardon on a Friday afternoon before a long holiday weekend. By Monday, it was yesterday’s news.

  Days after his release, a fire in the prison hospital ward destroyed the records. The prison doctor left state employment a short time after the fire. Claiming an inheritance from a distant relative, he retired to a Caribbean island.

  Bellofatto remains one of the longest known survivors of this fatal prognosis. He credited his longevity to his fervent prayer for intercession from the Heavenly Saints.

  Only in Rhode Island is such a miraculous intercession possible.

  The patron saint of Rhode Island. Saint 'I-Know-a-Guy.'

  Josh had several encounters with Bellofatto over the years. Fatso owned an Italian restaurant on Pawtucket Avenue, near Bay View Academy. The restaurant was a favorite of Academy parents for birthday and graduation celebrations. Fatso's twin daughters graduated from the school in 1968. The school benefited from Bellofatto's generous donations.

  Josh drove to Bellofatto's home in the Rumford section of the city. Bellofatto's home was huge, but not ostentatious. No marble statues of nymphs peeing in the pool or lions guarding the driveway. It is a Victorian style mansion, secluded by surrounding woodlands along the Turner reservoir. Equipped with better security than the White House, the house was a virtual fortress.

  Josh pulled up to the security camera at the front gate and pushed the call button. The camera zoomed in on him and, a moment later, the gate swung open. No need to ask why I'm here. This guy is a piece of work.