The Defendants: Crime Fiction & Legal Thriller (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 1)

by John Ellsworth

  Thaddeus began again. “Mister Ransom, during the break have you had a chance to think back over any of the questions I’ve asked you?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice subdued and meek. “There’s some stuff I need to change.”

  Thaddeus looked over at the jury. “Like what?”

  “Miss Susmann there. I believe I might have told her I planted the gun in Ermeline’s house.”

  A gasp shot up from the jury, and the spectators in the courtroom could be heard commenting as the information passed along the rows of gawkers. Thaddeus could feel Ermeline stiffen beside him and then release. She was instantly shaking, choking down her sobs, holding back a flood of tears. At last the truth was going to come out! At last she had hope again of seeing her little boy grow up and to be there while it happened.

  “Hold it. You’re now telling us you planted the gun?”

  “I was drinking. It’s all hazy to me. But yeah, I left the gun in her bathroom.”

  “In a towel closet.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And how did her fingerprints get on the gun if you left it there?”

  “While she was sleeping. I just placed her hand around the gun. Like this—“ he mimicked lifting and closing another’s hand. The jury instantly got the idea.

  “Now Hector, I want to ask you this and I want you to think long and hard about it. Where did you get the gun?”

  “See, that’s just it. These men came and found me in Louisiana. I was working there. I was minding my own business. I was trying to earn enough to pay my child support. They made me come back to Orbit and one of them gave me the gun. They told me what to do.”

  “What are their names?”

  “I only knew one. Johnny Bladanni. They call him the Blade.”

  “Johnny the Blade Bladanni?”

  “That’s it. He gave me the gun and said to hide it in her house. He said to get her prints on it while she was sleeping. He said to bring the $5500 back to him.”

  “What $5500?”

  “The $5500 I used to get her to trust me. I told her I just wanted to be there Christmas morning when Jaime woke up.”

  “And she trusted you.”

  “She did. I wouldn’t trust me. But she did.”

  “So you participated in a conspiracy to commit murder.” Thaddeus said it as a statement of fact, not as a question. He looked at the jury. They were on the edges of their chairs. Good. Time to bring down the hammer.

  “When you planted the gun, did you know it had been used to murder Victor Harrow?”

  “I sort of knew.”

  “What do you mean you sort of knew?”

  “I asked them what the gun was for? I wanted to make sure they weren’t going to hurt Ermeline. I still love her very much.”

  “Damn. Sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Please proceed.”

  “You loved her enough to help frame her for murder?”

  “IF that’s how you want to look at it.”

  “And you put the knife there too?”

  “Same deal. Got her prints, hid the knife. I didn’t hide them very well. I wanted them to be found.”

  “Those are all the questions for now.”

  Judge Prelate had a very troubled look on his face. His forehead was deeply furrowed and his glasses were on his nose, where they meant business. “You may cross-examine, Miss Barre.”

  “Thank you,” said Rulanda Barre, who swept to her feet, ready for battle. She thought she understood what had brought about Hector’s sudden switch in stories and she was going to rip right into the heart of it and expose this fraud.

  “Hector, you’re afraid of Christine Susmann, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “That bag. That’s her sitting right there and that’s the same bag she used on me.”

  “What did you mean? She injured you with the bag?”

  “She’s got a cattle prod in there. She said she would use it on my balls.”

  “She has a cattle prod inside that red bag on her lap?”

  Christine Susmann smiled and shrugged. She almost held the bag up for the court to see inside, but managed to restrain herself.

  “Counsel,” said Judge Prelate, “please bring the bag to the bailiff. Mister Bailiff please open the bag and inventory the contents.”

  Thaddeus carried the bag to the bailiff, who made quick work of unzipping it along the top. He looked inside. “Empty,” he said. Judge Prelate leaned across his desk. He indicated he wanted the bailiff to lift the bag and show him the inside. The bailiff brought the bag to the Judge, who spread the top open and peered inside. “Counsel?” he said to Thaddeus. “Do you wish to have the bag marked as an exhibit?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, your Honor,” but I would like to display it to the jury, let them pass it around and see it’s empty. Harmless, you could say.”

  “Very well. You may hand the bag to the jury.”

  During this time SAAG Barre had taken her seat and appeared to be lost in her note-taking. “Nothing further,” she managed. “No further questions.”

  “Counsel, may this witness be excused?”

  “He may,” said Thaddeus. “I’m sure he’s anxious to return to jail.”

  “I’m sure I see Mister Erwin in the back of the courtroom. My guess is our District Attorney will have something to say about this entire scheme, perhaps bring charges against Mr. Ransom and his gang.” All eyes swung to the back of the courtroom where DA Killen Erwin, Jr. was standing right inside the doors, watching. Thaddeus had tipped him off that he wouldn’t want to miss Hector’s testimony when court re-convened. Killen tossed off a small salute to the crowd and smiled. He loved the voters. He nodded. Everyone understood that new wheels were already turning right here in Orbit.

  When all had settled back down, Judge Prelate said to Thaddeus, “Counsel, you may call your next witness.”

  “Your Honor, defense rests.”

  36

  The jury was out just over an hour. They had wanted to hit the County up for one last lunch before they took their vote. They returned looking relaxed and ready to go home. Two members smiled at Thaddeus. One man looked intently at Ermeline and shook his head. He would later tell her that he was embarrassed for what she had been put through. He actually apologized to her.

  The jury forewoman handed the verdict to the Clerk, who handed it to the Judge. He slipped his glasses down on his nose and read, and then peered over at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, is this your verdict?”

  They all nodded in the jury box. Several mumbled “Yes.”

  The judge handed the verdict to the Clerk and asked her to read it. Which she did.

  “We the jury duly empaneled in the above entitled cause do find the defendant—not guilty!”

  Joy erupted on Ermeline’s side of the room. She stood and threw her arms around Thaddeus and sobbed. He handed her several tissues and she pressed them hard against her eyes and wept. Rulanda Barre turned to Thaddeus and said, simply, “Congrats, Counselor. See you next time.” She quickly left the courtroom. Several jurors made their way to Ermeline. They patted her shoulder and one woman asked for a hug. Ermeline hugged and cried some more. “I just want to go home, Thad. Will you take me home?” Thaddeus said of course he would. But they would have to stop by the kindergarten on the way and pick up Jaime. Ermeline’s mother Georgiana Armentrout came bursting through the swinging gate and enveloped her daughter in her loving arms. “Hate courtrooms, hate cops,” she hissed. “But they got this right, this time. C’mon. Let’s get you home.” Thaddeus told Deputy Dale Harshman that Ermeline would drop by the jail later this week and pick up her purse and other things. Dale shook his head. Unnecessary, he told Thaddeus. We’ll bring them to her house and drop them off. It’s the least we can do. Christine collected up all defense legal pads, books, and other papers and snugged them inside her red gym bag. “Good for me,” she said, and left for the office, a very determi
ned smile on her face.

  37

  Operation Spandex might have been big news in Chicago, and it might have been big news in Springfield, but in Hickam County it hardly made a ripple. After all, this was Illinois, where corrupt governors and corrupt government officials were a way of life. They’re expected to be out there, plotting and stealing and covering up and even murdering. The job of the United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois—the first duty at the top of every Northern District US Attorney’s list—was to investigate the sitting governor and his party ties and mob ties. It’s not that the ties are a surprise to anyone; it’s just that the feds try to keep it toned down as much as possible, so the only people getting hurt are the people on the inside. For the most part the little guy goes about his business and ignores the whole mess. Who knows, in four years another new face will appear as the old one is carted off to prison. Maybe the new one will be honest. Or really, maybe the new one will be less dishonest. That’s about what is expected in Illinois politics, it’s the most that can be hoped for.

  From the relative calm of his law office, Thaddeus read the story of Operation Spandex in the online Chicago Tribune. The Governor and Attorney General had been indicted by the US Attorney and everyone was lawyering up. Statements were being issued and denials were flying through the air like snowflakes in January. Arrests had been made the day after Pauline Pepper testified in Hickam County in the Ermeline Ransom prosecution. The news articles didn’t say that but Thaddeus put two and two together and he wondered if calling the FBI agent and getting her admissions before the jury had accelerated the speed at which the indictments were handed down and arrests made. After all, once she testified, the buggy phones had suddenly gone dead, nobody was talking to anybody in offices or homes, and the cell phones were not ringing. The investigation was as good as over once she had spilled the beans in Hickam County Court. And Thaddeus, in some small way, was glad he had helped to bring it all to a head. The murder of Victor Harrow and the politics and greed behind that never made it into the national or statewide news reports. It was still just local news and the trial was just a small local trial in Podunk. Nobody much outside the county gave a damn and that was fine with Thaddeus. He had noticed, however, an uptick in new clients and his bank account was slowly growing fatter. Hector Ransom had been indicted by Killen Erwin, Jr.’s grand jury, along with Johnny Bladanni, for conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, racketeering and a whole laundry list of related charges. Johnny hadn’t been arrested yet, but that would come. It would be 100 years before he again saw the light of day. Which made Thaddeus happier than anything that had happened—except, of course, Ermeline’s return to her family, and her job, and her innocent way of life. She had never hurt anyone and never would. That just wasn’t who she was and never had been.

  38

  In June he accompanied her to Quincy, where she saw Dr. Sabrina Eberhard, a dermatologist. She was an expert in tattoo removal. While Thaddeus waited outside, Dr. Eberhard examined Ermeline and made her notes. She accumulated measurements and took pictures. She estimated the layers of skin that had been penetrated by the puncture wounds and the ink. Then she called Thaddeus in for the review, once Ermeline was fully dressed and satisfied she had asked the doctor all her questions. They met in Dr. Eberhard’s office, and the doctor launched into a description of medical procedures that would be done to remove the tattoos. Yes, they could be removed. Thank goodness the ink was black, which was much easier to remove than blue ink. No, the procedures wouldn’t be just one or two and they wouldn’t be painless. It would be quite painful as the lasers were used to break up the ink embeds so the body’s natural processes could carry away the ink globules. Ermeline was excited to hear and at the same time apprehensive, but her insurance would cover the procedure and Dr. Eberhard was very reassuring. Thaddeus made his notes and asked his questions, especially about the pain and suffering. After all, he was preparing to file a lawsuit and had come along with Ermeline on a fact finding mission. He wanted to establish in his own mind how many millions of dollars in damages he would be seeking from the State.

  On June 15 he shocked the workers in the Orbit County Courthouse by filing a complaint charging intentional torts against the Governor, the Attorney General, and a long list of underlings and support staff. Intentional torts meant all governmental immunity fell away. Which meant the government officials were bare, naked, and could be sued. Plus the State self-insured program would have to pay any and all jury awards for money damages. All those whose names were known were sued. There would be more, as discovery progressed and more became known. But for now, it was enough. The lawsuit claimed a civil conspiracy orchestrated by employees of the State of Illinois and its leaders, meaning the Governor, AG, and the whole list of bagmen and helpers who had murdered Victor Harrow and tried to blame it on Ermeline Ransom. This time in the lawsuit Thaddeus had two clients: Victor Harrow’s widow, and child Marleen Blongeir, were also plaintiffs, along with Ermeline. The widow and child’s loved one had been murdered by employees of the State of Illinois and they too were looking for payback. In the end the suit sought one hundred million in damages. In the end it settled one week before trial for twenty-five million for Victor’s heirs and fifteen million for Ermeline Ransom. Thaddeus limited his fees to 25% because the cases had settled without trial, but he could still see he wasn’t going to need to hide rent money in the office ever again. The rent would be met as long as he continued to practice law, which, who could tell? Right now he was very interested in the raising and racing of Quarter horses—the sport of Kings. And he was interested in his new hobby as well: spending as much time with Ilene Crayton as she could spare him. Which was becoming more and more as the days went by.

  And the gun? Killen Erwin asked if he still wanted to wear the gun every day. Thaddeus thought long and hard about that. The gun had become second nature when he dressed in the morning. It was the last item of dress he slipped into before shrugging into his suit coat. Its weight now went unnoticed and its heft against his body was forgotten. He felt safe when he wore it uptown, he had to admit. No, he told Killen, he wasn’t done with the gun, not just yet.

  Survival meant sleeping afternoons and evenings. He ordered a sofa-bed for the office and turned off his phone at 3 p.m. He set his cell phone alarm for 7 p.m. He would pull out the sofa bed, cover up with an Army blanket Christine loaned him, and quickly fall asleep. After seven he would slowly awaken and stretch. One cup of coffee, then he would go by Ilene’s and be home by ten. No, there was no staying over, either way, until he had settled this final “loose end” he called it. She understood but she didn’t understand. Still, she had come to know he had his ways and his methods and she was satisfied to take it slow, to let him finally feel he had tied up all loose ends. He would get home, curl up in bed, with a hot cup of coffee, by ten, eleven at the latest, and stay awake until morning. He would lie there and fight off sleep as he listened for noises. Then he would get up and prepare for work.

  One morning in June he mounted the Lifecycle. He started slowly. He took the injured leg through one painful cycle, then another. Each time it spun the full circle the pain released and diminished by a hair. Soon he realized he had ridden five minutes and hadn’t passed out. The next morning he rode for seven. Then ten. Then twenty. Soon he was raising the difficulty level on the console and the sweat was beginning to roll off his body, just like before. At last he was free, wildly pedaling his imagination to the top of the Rockies and back down.

  In July he left the apartment without his cane. He started to go back inside and then thought better of it. He would try this day without the cane. If he needed it he could return. But today, just for today, he was going to balance and walk all on his own. He never needed it again. Sometimes the leg would tire late at night and he would remember. That’s just how it was, he was discovering. Life left you with memories, some good, some not so good. But so far h
e had managed to face up to them one by one, and overcome them. He had hope about tomorrow. For the first time in a long time he had hope.

  He didn’t know if he would continue the practice of law. He had risen to the heights he had thought he wanted before—almost, anyway. At least he had gotten close enough to the mountain top to breathe the clean air, smell the wildflowers, and see the blazing sun. Did he need to be there all the way and forever? Not anymore. Not really. At least not today.

  39

  The door opened without a sound. But he knew. He could hear the doorknob’s inner workings unwind as it slowly released.

  The Blade came at him while he was lying in bed. He watched the entry and watched him approach. It was 3:34 a.m. “Open wide,” the Blade whispered. “I’m putting the first one straight down your shyster throat!” Thaddeus had known it would come in his sleep. His hand, under the pillow, came up coiled around the .40 caliber Glock. His first shot caught the Blade just off to the right of his nose. The second caught him through the right eye. Then he got centered and put one dead center through his forehead. A perfect three-tap in under two seconds. His hand was steady as he dialed 911. He kicked the dead invader off the end of his bed. He would change the sheets after the cops finished up. There was a plastic cover on the mattress; he had wanted as little mess as possible when it finally happened. He went to the Keurig and made a cup. He sat in the oversize recliner, clad in his boxers and a T-shirt that said Cardinals! He waited for the siren. Closer and closer it came. Then a hammering at the door.