The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction

by Teresa Burrell

  “Look at this one,” Bob said. “The child’s therapist wrote, The victim reported the sexual abuse by her grandfather included such things as tying her to a table, smearing blood from a dead rabbit on the child’s face and body before …”

  “Enough already!” Sabre grimaced. “What is this? Are we back in the eighties when we had the mass hysteria about satanic ritual abuse? I thought all this was laid to rest after that fiasco with the McMartin trials. If I remember right, the FBI came out with a report in the late eighties or early nineties saying that organized satanic ritual didn’t exist.”

  “Is that the same FBI that once denied the existence of organized crime?”

  “Good point, but don’t tell me you believe there’s actually a satanic movement going on.”

  Bob smiled. “I’m just saying.” Then in a serious tone, he said, “Naw. I think it’s all a bunch of malarkey. Besides, there really hasn’t been anything suggesting satanic involvement.”

  “That’s true. The numbers have only been two sixes, not three. And we saw a circle in the house around a hospital bed. What is that? There’s been no mention of the devil in anything except some overzealous social worker’s interpretation. And a tree, what does that have to do with ritual abuse? It’s all very strange.”

  “I think it’s just another excuse for these imbeciles to abuse their children, just like those strong religious zealots who beat their children in the name of God. They believe in this almighty, omni-benevolent being who is their source of all moral obligation, and yet they can justify a behavior, in His name, that cripples a child for life, causes brain damage, or leaves welts and bruises on one of His precious little creatures. It just makes no sense to me.”

  “What wound you up?”

  “Sometimes I just get so sick of the people we work with. Half of the time I work harder then they do to get their kids back.”

  A knock on the door interrupted the rest of Bob’s rant. Elaine stepped inside and handed Sabre several copies of the spreadsheet. “Here you go,” she said, and walked back out.

  Sabre gave a copy to Bob and they both read through it looking for some common ground. “There are a lot of pentagrams and 666’s, but other than that the behaviors or indicators really vary,” Sabre said.

  “No connection on the churches. Only two of them attend any church at all, one Catholic and one Baptist. No community organization connection. Even the neighborhoods are spread out. Aside from the one case in North County, the rest are in the San Diego area, which makes sense because otherwise they wouldn’t be filed in this court.” Bob looked up. “Do we know if the other juvenile courts in the county have filed any of these cases?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll see what I can find out. Or better yet, you do it. You seem to have better connections than I do.” She gave Bob a stern look. “But please try to do it without breaking any laws or moral codes.”

  “Hmm …”

  “I can’t tell how close in proximity these cases are without running the addresses. I’ll have JP do that.” Sabre jotted herself a note on a yellow pad. “He can also check to see if any of them are in close proximity to the ‘Devil House’ that aired on the news.”

  “Nothing else seems to be connected. Eight of them have drugs involved in some fashion, the ages of the kids range from infants to teenagers, and the ethnic backgrounds vary.”

  “Maybe we need more categories? There have to be some similarities. Let’s check who the social workers are on the cases.”

  Bob took his pen out of his pocket and wrote Social Worker in one of the columns at the top of the spreadsheet. “And therapists,” he said, as he labeled another column.

  “Why therapists? They aren’t usually even on the case until after it’s already filed.”

  “You don’t watch enough movies. Therapists are always involved in this stuff.”

  Sabre shook her head. “Why do I put up with you?”

  “Because you love me, snookums,” Bob said in a baby-talk tone.

  “Okay, you take care of the list. And while you’re at it, add the names of the attorneys on the cases so we know who to talk to if we have any questions.” Sabre stood up. “And now, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

  She started to stack her folders to take with her when her phone beeped from Elaine. Sabre hit the speaker button and Elaine said, “You have a call on line one. She says her name is Bailey.”

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  “Hello, Bailey. This is Sabre. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. You need to help Apollo. He’s in jail.”

  “I know. They’ll appoint an attorney to help him. It’s you I want to help.” Sabre reached for a pen and yellow pad in case she needed to write something down.

  “I don’t need your help. I need you to help Apollo,” Bailey pleaded. “He didn’t kill Scott.”

  “How do you know that, Bailey?”

  “I just know. He didn’t do it.” She spoke a little louder.

  “Bailey, where are you?”

  “Are you going to help Apollo or not?”

  Sabre feared Bailey would hang up and she wouldn’t hear from her again. She tried to choose her words carefully. “I’m not sure what I can do for him, but I’ll try. Listen, Bailey, what you tell me is confidential. Remember, I’m your attorney so I can’t tell anyone, but I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

  Silence ensued. Sabre hoped that meant she was getting through to her. But when she didn’t respond after several seconds, Sabre asked, “Bailey?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking.”

  “Tell me where you are and I’ll come meet you.”

  “I can’t do that. Are you going to help or not?”

  “Yes. I’m going to help. I’m going to help you and I’ll see what I can find out about Apollo. But I can’t represent him because there may be a conflict of interest. You’re my client and the police are also looking for you in conjunction with Scott’s murder. Please, let me help you.”

  “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Bailey, wait! Take my cell number.” Sabre gave her the number. She could only hope she wrote it down. “How can I reach you? Give me a phone number or some …” Sabre heard a dial tone.

  She jumped up and dashed into the reception area, still carrying her pen. “Elaine, check to see what number Bailey called from.”

  Elaine picked up the phone and tapped the CID button on the phone three times. She shook her head. “Sorry, it was a blocked number.”

  Sabre walked back to her office where Bob was waiting. “Damn it! I blew it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She wants me to help Apollo. She said he’s innocent.”

  “Do you think she did it?”

  “I have no idea. She wouldn’t tell me anything.” Sabre threw her pen on the desk. “Damn! I should’ve said something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I should’ve convinced her I was going to help Apollo. Then she would at least call back to find out what’s going on.”

  “You said enough to get her to do that. You told her you would try.” Bob walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulder. “She’s going to call back. You’re all she has to connect her to Apollo, and she has your cell number now. She’ll call.”

  “So how am I going to find out anything about Apollo? He’ll be lawyered-up soon, if he isn’t already. And I really don’t know anyone that well downtown who would provide me with information.”

  “Isn’t he a minor?”

  “That’s right.” Sabre looked up, her eyes opened wide. “He’ll be in juvey. They’ll probably attempt to try him as an adult, but he has to start in kiddie court.” Sabre stood up, shuffled through a few files, picked out the one she wanted, and stepped out from behind her desk. “I have to go.”

  “To court?”

  “Juvenile Hall if I can get in.”

  “It’s getting late,” Bob said.

  “I know
, but it’s worth a shot. I need to talk with him, or at least see if I can get any information. It’ll be a lot easier before he’s appointed counsel.”

  “Don’t you have to be a person of interest to interview a minor in the Hall?”

  “I am a person of interest.” Sabre picked up her briefcase and looked around to see if she had forgotten anything.

  “That’s cool. So, you’re going to go in there and pretend you’re his attorney?”

  “No. I’m not going to pretend anything.”

  “That’s what I would do. Say you’re an attorney and you’re there to see Apollo. They’ll probably just let you in. They don’t usually ask if you’re his attorney.”

  Sabre smiled. “I’m sure you would.” She walked toward the door. Bob followed.

  “So what are you going to tell them?”

  “The truth.” Just as they reached Sabre’s car, she clicked her keys and unlocked the trunk and her door. She put her briefcase in the trunk and walked to the driver’s side of the car. Bob opened her door for her.

  “What if the truth doesn’t work?” Bob asked.

  “It’ll work. If necessary, I’ll obtain a court order.”

  “I’d do it my way.”

  “I know.” Sabre stepped inside and sat down. “See ya. I need to get there before they shut down for dinner.” Sabre drove off.

  She arrived at the Kearny Mesa Juvenile Detention Facility at 4:30 p.m. It was located directly behind the San Diego Superior Court Juvenile Division and was connected by a long tunnel that had access through the courthouse. Sabre had represented enough delinquents to be familiar with the system and, more importantly, for the probation officers to know her. She hoped she could gain access through the tunnel because it would be a lot simpler and there would be no form to fill out. But it was too late by the time she arrived. The tunnel had already been shut down.

  Sabre went back to her car, drove around the building, and parked in the parking lot in front of the Hall. The old building had housed juvenile offenders for over fifty years. Suddenly Sabre realized he might not be at this facility. He could be at the new Hall that had been built a few years back in East Otay Mesa just north of Brown Field. What if they took him there? She seldom dealt with that facility so she often forgot about it, but if that’s where they took him she knew she wouldn’t be able to see him until tomorrow and by then he could have a lawyer.

  Sabre stepped into the lobby of the old Hall, a stark room with off white walls that needed paint. It contained a row of uncomfortable chairs and a trash can. A small stand with some reading material about the rules and regulations for visitors leaned against the wall. A Mexican-American man and woman, approximately sixty years old, sat next to one another near the door. They both looked frightened and concerned. Sabre wondered if they were the grandparents of another rebellious teenager. She nodded to them as she walked by. There was no one in line when she reached the window. She presented the receptionist with her bar card and California driver’s license, explained who she was, filled out the required form, and then sat down near the door and waited to be called.

  About five minutes later a woman opened the door and called Sabre’s name.

  “That’s me,” she said, stepping up to meet the woman.

  The woman reached out her right hand. “Hi Counselor. I’m Coleen, the Watch Commander on duty. I understand you want to speak to someone in the 1400 Unit.” She looked at the paper she carried in her left hand. “Apollo Servantes?”

  Sabre reciprocated, shaking her hand. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “There’s no attorney of record yet, but I understand you’re not his attorney, so what is your interest in the minor?”

  “I represent a fourteen-year-old in the dependency system who is apparently Apollo’s girlfriend. There’s a Pick Up and Detain Order on her. She ran away nearly a week ago and we have every reason to believe she’s been with Apollo the entire time. I want to talk with Apollo to see if he’ll help us find her. I’m sure he knows where she’s hiding. I’m not here to discuss the pending murder case with him and I will not. It’s urgent that we find her before something happens to her, especially now that she’s on the streets alone.”

  “Do you have a court order?”

  Sabre reached in her file folder and took out some papers and handed them to her. “Only the Pick Up and Detain. I’m sure I could get a court order in the morning, but I hate to leave her on the streets for another night if there’s a chance we could find her.”

  “Come on in,” Coleen said, as she opened the door further. “I’ll send a probation officer to bring him up. He’ll wait outside the interview room until you’re finished. You know your way to the unit, right?”

  “Yes, I do. Thanks.”

  Sabre walked down the austere hallway and past rooms with heavy doors that contained one small window centered about eye level. At the end of the hallway she pushed the intercom button, gave her name, and the door buzzed open. She checked in at the next desk and was escorted the rest of the way to the 1400 unit, where they housed the delinquents with violent felony charges. This delinquent facility had a capacity of about 350. Sabre wondered how many of them were housed in the 1400 unit. Far too many, she surmised.

  She often heard people say, “How did those kids get there?” But she knew how they got there. She saw it every day in the dependency system. So many of them didn’t stand a chance with the parenting they received. Sabre was actually more surprised that the numbers weren’t higher. These children lived in an environment of drugs, alcohol, and domestic violence. They learned to deal with all their problems by fighting or running. They dodged responsibility because they had never had a good role model. They dished out abuse because they were abused. When they couldn’t deal with the craziness that afflicts every teenager—the raging hormones, the peer pressures, the need to be a part of the group—they tried to escape either into a bottle or some other drug. They formed bonds with others who suffered from the same afflictions, and sometimes the only “family” that seemed to fit was the neighborhood gang. They found a place where they felt like they belonged and they did whatever it took to be accepted.

  They reached the interview room, where her escort left her after indicating Apollo would be there shortly. The room contained only a table with a bench on one side and a chair on the other. It had a glass window where one could watch from the hallway. Sabre sat down in the chair and waited.

  Within about three minutes, the door opened. A probation officer walked in with a young man who was about five-foot-eight with soft features. Apollo was wearing Harry Potter style glasses and his dark brown, curly hair was in serious need of a haircut. Although most of the hair was only about an inch in length and clung closely to his scalp, the remains of his Mohawk hung down in uneven waves. His body was muscular, not overly so, but there was evidence he’d been working out for some time. Everything else about him would lead one to believe he was bucking for valedictorian. Sabre thought nerd. She was dealing with a nerd with the remains of a Mohawk, charged with murder. It didn’t compute.

  The probation officer instructed Apollo to sit on the bench and then turned to Sabre and said, “I’ll be right outside watching and waiting. Just let me know when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks,” Sabre responded. She looked at the young man across from her. “Hello, Apollo. I’m Attorney Sabre Brown. I represent Bailey. Before you say anything, I want you to know I’m not here to talk about the murder charges.” Apollo didn’t respond. “Do you understand?” Sabre asked softly.

  Apollo nodded his head.

  “I know Bailey has been with you since she ran away from the foster home. I need to find her. She isn’t safe out there alone. Will you help me?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone where she is.”

  “Listen, Apollo, I’m really grateful to you that you were with her to help ke
ep her safe, but now she’s alone. So many awful things could happen to her.”

  “They already have,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” Apollo’s eyes were not on Sabre. He wouldn’t keep eye contact for more than a second or two at a time.

  “Apollo, I just want to help her.” He didn’t respond, so she tried another approach. “Do you know the police are looking for Bailey for Scott’s murder?”

  “She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill him.” He spoke louder and for the first time looked directly at Sabre when he spoke.

  “She said the same about you.”

  “You’ve talked to her?”

  “Yes, she called me a couple of hours ago. She wanted me to help you, to represent you. I explained I couldn’t because there is a conflict of interest since she is a suspect in the murder as well. But you’re both tying my hands and it won’t be long before the police pick her up. It would be so much better for Bailey if I could find her first.” Apollo didn’t respond. His eyes fixed downward toward the floor.

  Sabre let him reflect for a few seconds on what she said. “She’s not safe out there alone, Apollo. She needs you, but you’re not there to help her. Who else does she have that can protect her?”

  He shook his head from side to side.

  “Apollo, does she have anyone else?”

  Again he shook his head, but no response.

  “That leaves me, Apollo,” she pleaded. “Please let me help her. Tell me where she is.”

  He just kept shaking his head. “No. I can’t. She’ll be okay. At least Scott can’t hurt her anymore.”

  Sabre leaned over so she could look more directly at this scared young man. When she caught his eye she said, “But he’s not the only one who wants to hurt her, is he?”

  “No,” he replied in almost a whisper.

  “What’s going on? Who’s she afraid of?”

  “Nobody. Nothing. She’ll be fine.”

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