by Neal Griffin
“Nah, nothing that noble. McKenzie is a desperate man, not to mention a lying son of a bitch. I think my adamant denials will make good copy in the papers, don’t you?”
“Bill Petite might be a little more convincing.”
Jorgensen laughed.
“Try again, Ben. Bill Petite knows better. He’s just happy to be out from under a murder conviction. He’s already busy trying to reinvent his law career. Believe me when I tell you he won’t be too interested in rehashing ancient history.”
Ben kept pushing. “The stolen gun Lars planted on Lee? It was from a Newberg burglary. The report was taken by a patrol officer. Fella by the name of Walter Jorgensen.”
Jorgensen licked his lips, and Ben saw the slightest twitch in the chief’s eyes.
“Touché, Ben, well done. But what of it?”
“I pulled the report, Jorgensen. The gun was stolen along with some credit cards. The crook was caught with the cards the next day. He confessed to the burglary and to stealing the plastic but said that was it. He didn’t know anything about a stolen gun.”
“Crooks lie, Ben.” There was the slightest tremor in Jorgensen’s voice. “Is that news to you?”
Ben kept going. “Then, a week later, Lars somehow pulls that gun from a car driven by Harlan Lee. A gun that two days before had been used in a killing up in Florence.”
“What are you implying?” Jorgensen asked.
“I’m not implying anything. I’m drawing a pretty obvious conclusion.” Ben dropped the chair onto all four legs and sat forward. “You stole the gun from the burglary. That way the gun could be reported along with the stolen cards. Two days later that weapon was used to kill a dealer in Florence County.”
Ben stared across the desk at Jorgensen. “Tell me, Walter. Did you do the killing yourself? Or was it Lipinski? Who actually pulled the trigger? How did you get Lars to agree to the plant? What story did you tell him?”
“That’s quite a theory, Ben.” Jorgensen’s voice was shaking now; Ben wondered how much longer the chief would be able to hold it together. “Very impressive. But what makes you think Lars needed convincing? If you want to come up with a list of suspects for your wild tale, his name better be on it.”
Ben made no response. Jorgensen seemed encouraged by his silence, and his voice rose with fresh conviction.
“That’s right. You want to stir all this ancient shit up, go ahead. It’ll be quite a show. But remember this: As far as all the shenanigans that were perpetrated against that innocent boy, Harlan Lee, I never signed any report. I never raised my hand and swore to anything. As far as the crimes … the sins … that were committed, I can only say I’m ashamed to have been that close and not have figured it out what was going on. I most certainly should be held accountable for my shortcomings. I suppose I could lose my job over it. But old Lars, that’s a different story altogether.”
Jorgensen stood and stepped around his desk. He towered over Ben and went on. “It was always easy to motivate Lars … under certain circumstances. He was never one to take so much as a free meal. But if you told Norgaard that a crook might beat the rap, the rule book would fly from the window like it had sprouted wings.
“Personally, I’m not comfortable prosecuting an invalid,” Jorgensen said. “But maybe that’s only because of my close personal affection for the accused. The public might feel differently. Tell me, Ben. You’ve been the subject of a media feeding frenzy. How well do you think old Lars is going to hold up? Criminal charges for perjury? Filing a false police report? Allowing an innocent man to sit in a prison cell for near twenty years? Hell, maybe they’ll even want to revisit the murder in Florence. You gotta wonder how Lars came to have that gun.”
Jorgensen stepped back behind his desk.
“You have to ask yourself if the old boy will even survive it. How about his daughter? That little grandson of his? Course they’ve been through it before, haven’t they?”
Jorgensen reclaimed his seat and took his turn to prop his feet up. His cotton sky blue dress shirt with a satin tie was a perfect fit around his massive neck, but Ben could see that a ring of sweat had begun to form.
There was some truth to what he said. Any case against Jorgensen would be tough sledding, but Lars was pretty much bought and paid for. Right now, Lars would welcome his day in court as a chance to confess his sins and admit his involvement.
Hell, it seemed like Lars wanted to go to jail. He had allowed an innocent man to spend nearly twenty years in prison for a crime he had not committed. Lars might feel like he had it coming, but Ben knew better.
The fallout would never end, and it wouldn’t just be Lars who paid the price. His family would be labeled for life. As would every member of the Newberg Police Department, past and present. Everyone would pay a price and nothing would change. Harlan would still have lost two decades of life and the dead would stay dead.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Jorgensen,” Ben said, meeting the other man’s gaze. “Pack your shit because you’re retired. You walk away from Newberg PD and you don’t even sniff around another cop job. Your days of scamming the public are over.”
“And if I decide to stay?”
Ben stood. Staring into Jorgensen’s eyes, he took a step forward, placed his hands flat on the desk.
“I can live with you walking away, Jorgensen. But I won’t have you wearing a badge. Lars will welcome the chance to put the truth out there. My wife and son, they’ll understand that. But you’re right. It won’t change a thing and I’m really not up for it.”
“Good to hear, Ben,” Jorgensen said. “I figured with your own history, you’d see the wisdom of keeping this all in house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have—”
Ben reached out and slapped Jorgensen’s feet from the desk. Jorgensen was caught off guard and leaned forward to regain his balance. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and grab Jorgensen by the tie. He pulled hard and the man stretched across the desk. Ben leaned in and spoke in a low voice.
“Yeah, I get it, Jorgensen. Here is what we’re going to do. You walk away and that’s the end of it. But if you stay?” Ben hesitated for a moment, pulling harder on the chief’s necktie. “Stay and we all go down together. And I promise you, you’ll do time. Hard time.”
Ben tightened his grip even more, and the man gagged. “And know this, Walter. You make me do that to my family? You’ll do time, all right, and I’ll see to it you don’t survive it.”
Ben pushed off with both hands and Jorgensen fell back, landing hard in his leather chair. Jorgensen’s hands went to his throat, and Ben waited for a response. After several moments of silence, Ben turned to walk out, leaving Jorgensen seated at his desk, disheveled and breathless. “Clean out your desk and get out Jorgensen,” he called out as he left. “Either that or plan on joining your boy McKenzie in a jail cell.”
EPILOGUE
Ten Weeks Later
Ben took a seat beside Alex on the porch swing. The warm summer weather had lured several neighbors into their yards, all enjoying a splendid evening. Ben nuzzled Alex’s neck and handed her a glass of cranberry juice, then took a long pull from his bottle of Leinenkugel’s.
“Very funny.” Alex looked away.
“Don’t worry. Seven more months or so and you can have one yourself.” Ben patted her stomach, still flat and giving no hint of what was to come.
“Not if I breast-feed. Unless, of course, you want an alcoholic toddler in the family.” She grinned at him. “You know, most modern-day husbands consider themselves pregnant along with their wives. Shouldn’t we both give up beer for the duration?”
Ben didn’t answer, just took another swig and looked through the window into the house, where Lars sat in his wheelchair. Jake was close beside him, reading to his grandfather.
“Dad had a good day,” Ben said. “The speech therapist said he has shown real progress this last couple of weeks. We practically had a conversation today. He thinks the Packers will go all the way t
his year. Course he always says that.”
Alex’s voice held pure contentment. “Thanks for working with him. I don’t think he’d let anyone else see that side of him. He’s still reluctant to talk to me.”
“Just the pride thing, Alex. Don’t make anything out of it. He can’t wait for the two of you to sit down and catch up.” Ben knew Lars’s desire to talk with Alex was the old man’s main motivation in therapy. Lars wanted to explain to Alex what had happened all those years ago. He wanted to be the one to tell her the role he had played in bizarre events. But Ben knew something that Lars didn’t. Alex had long since figured it out for herself what role Lars played in the entire episode and she had already forgiven him.
“I think he just looks at me as another cop. Makes it easier. Less personal that way.”
“No, it’s very personal,” Alex replied. “He looks at you as his son. He’d be proud if you’d take the chief job.”
Ben rolled his eyes. Alex wouldn’t stop bringing it up.
“What, Ben?” she said. “Everyone wants you to take it. You want them to bring in someone from the outside? How will that go over?”
“I told you, I’ll think about it. There’s no rush.”
“I think you should talk to Dad about it.”
He and Lars had been spending a good deal of time together. More in the past few weeks than in the past ten years. Lars knew that if Ben put his mind to it, he could blame Lars for all that had happened to his family. After all, it had been the sham Lars ran on Harlan Lee that had begun the entire series of events. Another one of those chain reactions, Ben thought.
Lars had tried his best to discuss it with Ben, to explain how the everything had gotten out of control. How it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. How police work had changed. Most of all, how he now understood that no one ever knows how his actions today might affect events years, decades down the road.
The two men had been sitting alone on the porch of the convalescent center looking out over the pond surrounded by grass grown long over the summer months. “It’s over, Lars. What happened then has nothing to do with us now. From now on, we look ahead.”
The old man reached out just the same and put his hand on Ben’s cheek. The words were coarse but clear. “I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry for everything.”
Alex’s voice brought Ben back to the present.
“What do you hear from Tia? How’s she coming along?”
“I talked to her this morning. She said it felt good to speak English. She plans on staying on with her parents for a couple more weeks, but Jalisco isn’t Newberg and she’s just about ready to get back to work. She told me to say hello.”
“And the case against McKenzie. Is Dad going to have to testify?”
“Naw. McKenzie’s not that stupid. He’s going to cop a plea.”
Alex shook her head. “Could’ve been me, Benny. A life in a prison cell.”
“But it isn’t you.” Ben put his arm around his wife. “That isn’t your life. This is.” He gazed out past the quiet backyard to the warmly lit houses nearby. “We could do worse, right?”
Alex looked at her husband, tears welling in her eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I’ll never stop thanking you. I could’ve…” Her voice broke.
“Alex, we go through this every night. You’ve said enough. I know. I—”
She cut him off with a hand to his lips. She caressed the jagged red scar that trickled down his forehead and breezed the back of her hand across the uneven rise that marked the healing fracture of his cheek. The subtle changes to his expression served as physical testimony to his trial and victory.
“No. You don’t know, Ben. You’ll never know.”
He knew better than to argue with his wife. He understood her gratitude and it meant the world to him. He lightly touched her stomach and thought of the life growing inside her. He put his arm around her and looked into her eyes until she lowered her head onto his shoulder. Alex nuzzled his neck, and he breathed deep to smell her hair and skin. They sat together on the porch swing of their home, and his focus fell on the billion stars of the clear Wisconsin sky. He held his wife and thought again of all they had been through, everything that had brought them to this place. To this point in their lives. He decided that when all was said and done, he wouldn’t change a thing. And with that, he pulled his wife a little closer, held her a little tighter, and enjoyed a moment of silent perfection.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up in west-central Wisconsin on a steady diet of Joseph Wambaugh novels and episodes of Police Story, Neal Griffin always wanted to be a cop. A former marine, Griffin has been a police officer in California for more than twenty-five years. Since his days on patrol, he’s been a field training officer, tactical operations team leader, hostage negotiator, narcotics investigator, gang enforcement specialist, and supervisor of a homicide unit.
Griffin received special recognition from the FBI for capturing a serial bank robber and is a graduate of the prestigious FBI National Academy in Quantico, Virginia—an invitation-only program for senior law-enforcement professionals from around the world.
He’s a master instructor in law-enforcement leadership and ethics and has created training materials used by police departments throughout the United States. Articles written by Griffin on police ethics and the relationship between the police and communities they serve have appeared in Police Chief magazine, on CNN.com, and in more than seventy newspapers.
He holds a political science degree from California State University. Neal Griffin is married to Olga Diaz, and they have four children. They travel regularly and often return to Neal’s beloved Wisconsin.
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BY NEAL GRIFFIN
Benefit of the Doubt
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter
59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Epilogue
About the Author
By Neal Griffin
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT
Copyright © 2015 by Neal Griffin
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Drive Communications, NY
Cover art © 2015 Shutterstock
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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3850-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-3902-1 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466839021
First Edition: May 2015
