by Vicki Grant
Dr. Sanderson’s invention of Gleamoccino, the widely popular coffee drink that “whitens your teeth while you drink it,” made him one of the world’s wealthiest men, but his true passion was for something considerably less glamorous: the Atlantic sea louse.
It was, in fact, this tiny crustacean that brought the Stanford-educated biologist to Halifax last year for a three-week research stint. During his short visit to the city, the 66-year-old Dr. Sanderson became better known to Haligonians—and their traffic cops—for his high-speed cruises down Spring Garden Road in his vintage Lamborghini convertible.
Late in the evening of February 4, just three days before his planned return to California, Dr. Sanderson was working alone in a lab at Chedabucto University. No one else was in the building at that time except Chuck Dunkirk, a janitor in his second week on the job.
Mr. Dunkirk had just sprinkled a powdered cleaning compound on the third-floor hallways when he heard a cry for help. He ran toward the noise and saw Dr. Sanderson trying to put out a small fire. In an attempt to smother the flames, Mr. Dunkirk threw the cleaning compound on the fire.
Unfortunately, the cleaning compound exploded and caused the fire to send off a thick black smoke. Mr. Dunkirk fought his way through the noxious gases and managed to drag Dr. Sanderson out of the lab. Mr. Dunkirk called 911, but by the time emergency personnel arrived seven minutes later, the visiting professor was dead of asphyxiation.
Mr. Dunkirk himself was treated for smoke inhalation and released from hospital the next day.
As word of the tragedy spread, Mr. Dunkirk was hailed as a hero. Despite worldwide media interest, the soft-spoken Cumberland County man steadfastly refused any recognition for his actions. In his only phone call with the press, he passed on his condolences to the Sanderson family and maintained that he was not a hero—”just a simple boy from backwoods Nova Scotia.”
Now, at the urging of Sanderson’s grieving widow, Chuck Dunkirk has been charged with manslaughter. The announcement of the charges sparked an angry protest yesterday outside the Halifax Courthouse. About a dozen protesters marched with signs declaring “Chuck Dunkirk is not a murderer.”
“I absolutely agree,” said Crown Attorney Michael Lambert, who brought the charges against Mr. Dunkirk. “Chuck Dunkirk is not a murderer. A murderer kills his victim on purpose. No one is claiming Mr. Dunkirk meant to kill Dr. Sanderson. We recognize, in fact, that he was actually trying to save him. Unfortunately, although Mr. Dunkirk meant well, we contend that he should have known better than to throw an explosive substance on a fire. That’s why we have no choice but to charge him with manslaughter.”
Manslaughter is defined as the unlawful killing of another without “malice aforethought.” In order to win their case, the Crown will have to prove that Dr. Sanderson died because Mr. Dunkirk did not act “with the care and caution of a reasonable person in similar circumstances.”
Asked how difficult that will be to prove, Mr. Lambert said, “It’s a pretty straightforward argument. The bag of cleaning compound was clearly marked with a printed warning as well as the international symbols for combustibility and poison. Mr. Dunkirk was a trained maintenance man. We feel confident that a jury will decide that his use of the compound on the fire was negligent and, as a result, will convict him of manslaughter.”
The trial date has been postponed until Mr. Dunkirk can find a lawyer to represent him.
chapter 6
Indictment
A written accusation charging an individual with
an act that is punishable by law. A charge.
Andy was in legal heaven. A janitor charged with manslaughter for risking his life to save some big- shot celebrity inventor? I mean, it was her dream case! It had everything she ever wanted. Rich against poor. Educated against uneducated. Some guy who made millions on a tooth-whitener against a genuine hero.
She was so outraged by the whole thing she could barely wipe the smile off her face. “Charging a guy who tried to save someone’s life?! It’s ridiculous! They’re only doing that because Sanderson had money! What is this—Verdicts-R-Us or something? Did Sanderson’s widow just put it on her ‘charge’ card? You’d swear nothing’s changed around here since the Middle Ages! Seriously. The rich still totally own the legal system!”
Biff went, “Now, Andy...” but that only cranked her up more.
“No, really! I mean it! Can you imagine this happening the other way around? What if it was the famous rich guy who tried to save the janitor? You think they’d charge him with manslaughter? Huh? No way! There’s no beeping way they’d even try!”
Biff kind of flinched at that. I’m not sure if he just didn’t like her language—she’d been pretty good about swearing since he’d shown up—or if he didn’t agree with her.
I don’t know. Maybe living with Andy all these years had me brainwashed or something, but I couldn’t help thinking she had a point. I doubted the police would have had the guts to handcuff some fancy professor guy who regularly showed up on Entertainment Tonight.
Before the ice cream had even melted on my apple crisp, Andy had tracked Chuck Dunkirk down and talked him into letting her be his lawyer.
And that was pretty much the last I saw of her for months. She’d rush home for a couple of minutes at suppertime, nag me (with her mouth full) about table manners, homework and dental flossing, then race back to the office to work on the case. She’d never been so happy in her life.
Biff had his own key and would sort of drop by whenever he wasn’t in court. My guess was Andy was getting him to keep an eye on me, but he never made it seem that way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was there because he liked to be.
He actually didn’t seem like such a bad guy, once I got past that whole GI Joe thing he had going on. He was pretty good at card games, but not so good that I couldn’t beat him most of the time. His taste in TV was okay. He realized that seeing the latest episode of virtually any show on the air was way more important than watching coverage of Andy’s trial. And even those wholesome meals of his were sort of growing on me. The closest my mother had ever come to making a chicken dinner was sprinkling some simulated flavor on my bowl of Mr. Noodles.
There was something else I kind of liked about the guy too, but it took me a long time to put my finger on it. It wasn’t as if he was really funny or really smart or handing me twenty-dollar bills all the time. It wasn’t anything obvious like that.
I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Then one day, Biff was humming away, cleaning the compost bin that I was supposed to de-slime about a month earlier, and it just hit me.
I sort of liked him because, I don’t know, he just seemed normal.
Andy was always slamming the door at you or throwing her arms around you or laughing her head off or refusing to let you see her cry. She was like this apartment we used to live in. The place was either boiling hot or so cold the water in the toilet froze. Never anything in between. It was like that until Andy took the landlord to the tenancy board and they made him put in a new thermostat.
That’s what Biff was like. The Human Thermostat. He kept things nice and even. He didn’t get all wound up and mad about anything. He’d just say, “Looks like your room could use a cleaning, Sport,” and I’d look at it and think, Yeah, guess you’re right. He’d say, “Try the asparagus with a squeeze of lemon. Bet you’ll like it then,” and I would and I did. He even had me convinced it made sense to do my homework before I watched TV, although how he did that, I don’t know. I don’t remember him actually ever mentioning it. Something about him just made you sort of want to do the right thing. It was clearly a form of mind control, but that was okay with me. He had it working on Andy too.
She still bugged me about flossing and school and stuff, but I could almost hear her smiling underneath. She still worried about all the so-called injustices in the world, but she didn’t ruin dinner over it anymore. She even looked kind of different. I mean, no one
was ever going to mistake Andy for a soccer mom, but at least they weren’t mistaking her for Marilyn Manson anymore either.
It was almost like being part of a real family. Ever since Biff showed up, I could sort of mentally walk around in my T-shirt, if you know what I mean. I didn’t have to worry about being burnt to a crisp or frozen out. I was finally living in the temperate zone.
Then one night we were just hanging out at home, Biff and me, sitting on that love seat of his, sharing an extra-large Railroader’s Pizza (the only store-bought food he could stand) and watching TV. I’d just bet him five bucks that the fish-eyed hairstylist from Orillia was going to be voted off the island, when a news bulletin came on.
I didn’t know it then, but the weather was about to change.
chapter 7
Contempt of Court
Behavior in or out of court that violates a court order
or otherwise disrupts or shows disregard for the court.
Breaking News with Jeff Leonard!
Jeff: Good evening. This just in: After three contentious weeks of courtroom wrangling, the Hero Janitor Trial... is over. The five-man, seven-woman jury deliberated for six long days over the fate of custodian Chuck Dunkirk. The question before them: Should this simple Good Samaritan be convicted of manslaughter in his ill-conceived attempt to save the life of Gleamoccino inventor, Dr. Ernest Sanderson? With the verdict and on-the-spot coverage, here’s Eva Jackson—coming to us live from the courthouse steps! Eva.
Eva: Jeff.
Jeff: Tell us. Are Chuck Dunkirk’s hands clean—or, in a cruel twist of irony, did the jury blame this whole dirty mess on the janitor?
Eva: Jeff, only moments ago, the jury gave Charles Bickerton Dunkirk their Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval and pronounced him “not guilty”!
Jeff: It must be a huge relief to Mr. Dunkirk to have the allegations against him “swept away.” Can you describe the scene in the courtroom when the decision was announced?
Eva: It was a real “dustup,” Jeff. Throughout this high-profile trial, Judge W. Augustus Richardson III went to great lengths to ensure the proceedings didn’t turn into a media circus. He banned cameras from the courthouse, he issued several contempt citations to unruly spectators and he did his best to protect the privacy of Mr. Dunkirk—the timid, uneducated man at the center of the trial.
But none of Mr. Justice Richardson’s entreaties could quell the outburst that rocked the court when the “not guilty” verdict came down. Chuck Dunkirk’s lawyer, the always colorful Andy MacIntyre, threw herself on her client’s back and issued triumphant victory cries, her fist pumping the air like that of a winning quarterback.
On the other side of the courtroom, Sanderson’s glamorous young widow and former Miss Gingivitis USA, Shannondoah Boswick-Sanderson, broke down in loud gasping sobs, seemingly unconcerned about the devastation this outpouring of emotion would have on her carefully applied makeup.
Jeff: So unlike her. A moving testimony to the terrible grief she must be experiencing. Has she recovered?
Eva: Yes, she’s had a few moments to touch up her mascara and she’s here with me now. Shannondoah, thank you for taking time out of your busy day for the award-winning CJCH news team.
Shannondoah: You’re welcome.
Eva: First off, the question that’s on everyone’s mind: Who are you wearing?
Shannondoah: My outfit?...Oh. Um. Versace suit. Gucci blouse. Manolo shoes.
Eva: And the bag?
Shannondoah: This? It’s just an old Power Powder bag.
Eva: No, I mean your purse.
Shannondoah: Oh, sorry. It’s Kate Spade.
Eva: Lovely outfit, and so appropriate. The charcoal gray suit says “widow” but in a very “now,” very accessible way. And speaking of widows, as the fourth wife of the dead man, how did you feel about the verdict?
Shannondoah: Devastated. As far as I’m concerned, Chuck Dunkirk got away with murder.
Eva: You mean manslaughter.
Shannondoah: Murder, manslaughter, whatever. Either way, Ernie’s dead—and it’s Chuck Dunkirk’s fault! The guys from the fire department said the fire in the lab was just teeny-tiny until that so-called hero went and tried to “rescue” Ernie. Like, what was he thinking? I mean, look. See what it says here in big giant letters?
Eva: Can you focus in on the bag for us, George? For those at home, it says “Power Powder. Danger. Do not place near flames or source of heat. Flammable. Combustible. Extremely toxic when heated. Inhalation could cause death.”
Shannondoah: Exactly! Not hard to understand, is it? Even a bimbo like me got it right away. But what does Mr. Dunkirk go and do? Does he say to himself, “Gee, maybe I should find myself a fire extinguisher or a hose or a glass of water or something and put out this little itty-bitty fire”? No, he goes and throws poison stuff all over it! We’re talking kaboom! So much for saving Ernie’s life!
Eva: This is obviously upsetting for you.
Shannondoah: Yes, it is. Very upsetting. But do you know what upsets me even more than how Ernie died?
Eva: Those little lines you get all over your face when you cry?
Shannondoah: No...
Eva: Oh, sorry. What is it that upsets you more?
Shannondoah: Chuck Dunkirk did something that killed my husband, and now everyone’s calling him a hero! Well, Ernie was a hero too. He did so much good in the world—for me, for others less fortunate, for...
Eva: There, there, Shannondoah. Don’t cry. Can somebody take her for me? Thanks... Jeff, I think Shannondoah made a very good point. To anyone who ever suffered the agony of a dingy smile, Dr. Ernest Sanderson was a hero. So many of us, myself included, owe not just our personal happiness but our careers to Gleamoccino. Sanderson’s death was a tragic loss for all of us in smile-dependent industries such as television news gathering.
Jeff: I think it’s important to mention, Eva, that Dr. Sanderson’s passing was no doubt a great loss to sea louse-dependent industries as well. We can’t forget them.
Eva: No, we certainly can’t, Jeff. Now, while Shannondoah is pulling herself together, I’ll just walk over here and have a few words with Andy MacIntyre, lawyer for Chuck Dunkirk. Andy, my guess is that you have a very different take on the trial. How are you feeling about the verdict?
Andy: I think the best way to sum it up is what I said in the courtroom: Whooo-hoo!
Eva: Yikes. Sorry about the feedback there, folks. So, Andy, can you tell us how Chuck reacted to the verdict? He wasn’t quite as, ah, “vocal” in the courtroom.
Andy: Yes, well, Chuck’s a simple guy. He’s happy, of course, but now he just wants to get back to his regular life. You know, scrubbing, dusting, looking out for his fellow man and/or woman. That kind of thing.
Eva: Your thoughts, now, on the trial. It took the jury almost a week to come to a verdict. Were you worried at all that the decision would go the other way?
Andy: Yeah, sure I was worried—worried about the world in general! Like, c’mon! You got this guy who A) volunteers to work an extra shift, B) risks his own life to save some stranger he’s never laid eyes on before and then, C) turns down all the recognition offered to him because he doesn’t think he deserves it—and it takes a jury six days to decide NOT to convict him?! I mean, what’s the beeping world coming to? They should have thrown the prosecution’s case out in two minutes and given Chuck a medal! What was the jury doing in there, playing Scattergories? Having a pajama party? Getting their highlights touched up? They sure couldn’t have been thinking about the case all that time!
Eva: Your client didn’t take the stand in his defense during the trial. He’s avoided all contact with the media, refusing interviews, photo ops, a made-for-TV movie of his life. Any chance, now that his name’s been cleared, that he’ll consent to an interview with the award-winning CJCH news team? Maybe even a photo. We’d certainly love to get to know him better.
Andy: No way. Not Chuck’s style. I’d be happy, however, to make mysel
f available to CJCH about this or any other legal matter.
Eva: Yes, ah, well, thank you. And now, back to you, Jeff, at the CJCH Breaking News desk...
Andy: Stop! Over here, camera guy! George! Whatever your name is! Thanks. Sorry. Am I on-screen again? Okay. Can I say just one more thing?
Eva: Oh, ah, certainly, I guess.
Andy: Hi, Cyril! Hi, Honeybaby! Kisses! That’s my son. Cyril MacIntyre.
chapter 8
Malicious Prosecution
Intentionally and maliciously pursuing a legal action
against a person without probable cause.
Chuck Dunkirk had little mashed-potato spitballs hanging all over that mountain-man beard of his. I knew it had to be hard keeping food in your mouth when you’re missing most of your teeth and everything, but I got the feeling he wasn’t even trying. I mean, the guy was like a snowblower.
I could barely look at him. I was going to be having nightmares about this for weeks.
Too bad. I had to look at him. I had to be on my best behavior. It was all part of my plan.
Or should I say our plan.
The dinner was actually Biff’s idea. He convinced me that if we did something nice to celebrate her big victory, Andy would be in just the right mood to finally run out and buy that long board she owed me. He even promised to ask her about it himself.
I made him swear he’d do it as soon as everyone went home that night. You’ve got to act fast with Andy’s good moods. Generally speaking, they have shorter life spans than your average sneeze.
I’d cooked and cleaned and peeled for three hours, all in preparation for finally meeting the famous Chuck Dunkirk. I couldn’t let a little pre-chewed potato come between me and a new board. I had to make nice.
We were all squeezed around our puny kitchen table. Biff and I had dragged it into the living room so everyone would have a place to sit. Atula Varma, Andy’s law partner, and Chuck got the place of honor on the love seat. The rest of us each got a kitchen chair and enough room for one elbow on the table. All I can say is it was a good thing Biff spent most of his time in the kitchen.
