Murder on the Down Low

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “Sure,” she said, though she felt like telling him no. He must have read that on her face.

  “As I’ve shared with you before, I have a very strong circumstantial case against your client. If you were to calm down and look at the facts, you’d probably agree. This is exactly why they say it’s not a good idea for lawyers to represent people close to them. I think your friendship with Ms. Moore may be clouding your legal judgment.”

  Vernetta didn’t like the condescending way Martinez was talking to her. “You let me worry about my legal judgment. I suspect this case must be pretty personal for you, too.”

  When she heard Sam jostle in his chair, Vernetta knew he felt her last comment was below the belt.

  For the first time, Vernetta saw a flash of emotion in Martinez’s normally empty eyes, but she couldn’t tell what that emotion was.

  “Every case I handle is personal for me, Ms. Henderson. My job is to put criminals behind bars and I take great pleasure in doing that. I believe your client is a dangerous serial killer and I’m glad we got her off the street before she could claim a seventh victim.”

  “This is unbelievable. All you’ve got is a bunch of circumstantial evidence. Nothing else. What could possibly make you think Special killed the man they found this morning?”

  “The guy was practically shot on her doorstep. Two women reported seeing her in the park earlier that morning.”

  “So in other words, you have nothing. For all you know, somebody could be setting her up.”

  Martinez lifted his shoulders and spread his arms. “If you’ve got evidence of a setup, I’m willing to listen.”

  The room fell silent.

  “How soon can we schedule the arraignment?” Sam asked.

  “We’re not ready to charge her yet in today’s murder,” Martinez said. “She was picked up for violating the terms of her bail. I’m requesting a bail revocation hearing.”

  “I guess that confirms that you don’t have enough evidence to charge her.”

  Martinez smiled. “Not yet. But we will.”

  Sam folded his arms. “We’d like to get that hearing scheduled as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. But if you’re planning to oppose it, you’re wasting your time. She’s not getting bail. She’s too big of a threat to the community. I took some heat for not fighting bail harder after her initial arrest for Nelson’s murder. That decision apparently cost another man his life. Anyway, I have to run. I have a press conference in ten minutes.”

  “Sounds like you’re running for office or something,” Vernetta said.

  Martinez started to respond, then stalked out of the room.

  Chapter 86

  Vernetta and Sam watched Martinez’s live press conference on a 13-inch television in a room that J.C. secured for them at the jail.

  Vernetta wanted to bash in the screen when Martinez branded Special “a deadly threat to the citizens of L.A.” and “an example of homophobia at its worst.”

  She thought it was interesting how both the police and the D.A.’s office were skating around the issue of the sexual orientation of the other victims. They identified Eugene as a gay man, but steered clear of pinning the same label on the others.

  “Well,” Vernetta said when it was over, “there’s one good thing about Special being in jail. She didn’t have to watch that crap.” She stood up and leaned against the wall. “We’re going to have to fight this case in the courtroom and in the media.”

  Sam rested his arm on the back of his chair. “I agree. But first we need to establish a few ground rules. It doesn’t gain us or our client anything by antagonizing the prosecutor. That’s not how I like to work.”

  “I wasn’t trying to antagonize him.”

  “Whether you were trying or not, you did.” Sam was on his feet now. “I couldn’t believe it when you made that remark about the case being personal for him, too. Martinez’s sexual orientation is off limits. You’re going to end up being branded as homophobic as Special.”

  “I’m not homophobic and neither is Special.”

  “Looks that way to me.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be defending this case if you think we’re all homophobic.”

  “What I think is that you—”

  Nichelle stepped into the room. “Stop it! Both of you! I could hear you all the way down the hallway. You should both be ashamed of yourselves. Special needs us. All three of us. So you two are going to have to find a way to get along. All this energy you’re spending bickering with each other needs to be used trying to figure out a way to get our friend out of jail.”

  Vernetta rubbed her eyes. “You’re right.”

  Sam fidgeted with an ink pen, then sat down.

  “We should be able to see Special now,” Nichelle said. “Let’s go.”

  While they were waiting in the visitor’s area of the jail, J.C. came out to greet them.

  “I know you’re the enemy,” Vernetta said jokingly, “but is there anything you can tell us?”

  J.C. led them over to a corner, then lowered her voice. “The camera they took from Special’s apartment is going to be sent out for analysis. I know she erased the disk, but it may be possible to retrieve the images.”

  “That picture will prove Special was stalking Eugene,” Sam said. “That could really bury her.”

  “Maybe not,” Vernetta said. “It’s possible the man in that picture could be Eugene’s killer. The fact that he hasn’t gone to the police means he has something to hide.”

  “Maybe he’s on the D-L, too,” Nichelle said, “and is just afraid to come forward. Anyway, Special said she couldn’t see his face.”

  “With all the technology they have these days, I wouldn’t be surprised if they couldn’t enhance the picture in some way so that his face is visible,” Sam said. “I think she’s going down.”

  “Why do you have to be so negative?” Vernetta sniped. “If you can’t have a more positive attitude, maybe you shouldn’t be involved in this case.”

  J.C. ushered all of them into a small office off the waiting area. “You two need to— ”

  “I’m a lawyer, not a cheerleader,” Sam retorted. “And I call ’em as I see ’em. You may not want to believe it, but it is possible that Special killed Eugene and those other guys, too.”

  “That’s it! If that’s your attitude, you don’t need to be on this case. We can try it without your help!”

  “No, we can’t!” Nichelle exclaimed. “We need him. Everybody just calm down.”

  “We don’t need him!” Vernetta insisted. “He’s too damn negative. With his attitude, we might as well take a guilty plea now. I refuse to work with somebody like that.”

  “Fine.” Sam grabbed the door and hurled it open. “You two are on your own.”

  Chapter 87

  Looks like your secret is finally out.”

  Ray Martinez sat up in bed and stretched as his partner approached.

  Antonio tossed the Long Beach Press-Telegram onto his lap. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

  Martinez picked up the paper. At first, the page one headline startled him: Gay D.A. Goes on Attack in Down Low Murder Case. There was a picture of Martinez outside the courthouse at yesterday’s news conference. He scanned the article and slowed halfway through it.

  The Stanford Law grad, who has resided with his partner for the past seven years, has been an active member of many local gay and civic organizations.

  “Ray is definitely the right pick to prosecute this case,” said Mel Armstrong, a local gay activist. “You couldn’t find a man with more integrity. He’s a smart, sensitive attorney who understands the complexities of being gay in America. Having that knowledge will be extremely important in prosecuting this case.”

  Antonio sat down on the edge of the bed. “You okay with this?”

  A graphic artist with warm coffee-brown skin, he had thick, curly hair and was both taller and thicker than Martinez. Though he was Puerto Rican,
Antonio was often mistaken for African-American.

  “It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.” Martinez tossed the paper aside. “I haven’t exactly been in the closet. Many of my coworkers know that I’m gay.”

  “The operative word being many, not all. For the majority of the people you work with, it would never cross their mind that you might be gay. So some people are definitely going to be surprised.”

  “I can handle it. The question is, can you?”

  Except for a younger sister, Antonio had no communication with his family. They were deeply religious and refused to accept what they called his “alternative lifestyle.” Martinez’s mother made up for the rejection by treating Antonio like one of her own.

  “I’ll be fine,” Antonio assured him. “I just want you to be careful. There are still a lot of people out there who think we should all be burned at the stake. As a matter of fact, you’re prosecuting one of them right now.”

  Martinez laughed.

  “When you get to work,” Antonio warned, “you’re going to find that some of the people who were fine with you yesterday won’t be today.”

  “I’m cool,” Martinez said. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

  Antonio embraced him affectionately. “Just be careful.”

  Martinez arrived at the office ninety minutes later. He was surprised when a tremor of nervousness hit him as he exited the elevator in the Criminal Courts building. Maybe having his sexual orientation displayed to the world wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

  “Nice story,” his secretary said, when he passed her desk.

  He smiled at her. “Thanks, Connie.”

  Martinez placed his briefcase on his desk and made his way to the men’s room. He stepped up to one of the urinals just as the door opened. John Marshall, another Deputy D.A., walked in.

  Martinez glanced over his shoulder at his coworker. “What’s up?”

  Marshall stopped in his tracks. “Uh . . . Hey, I . . . I . . . uh . . . I just remembered a call I need to make.” He turned around and dashed out.

  Martinez shook his head. He never would have pegged John as a homophobe. They had been standing side by side at these urinals on a daily basis for the last three years. But now, that would never happen again.

  Chuckling to himself, Martinez bent over the sink to wash his hands. He couldn’t wait to get home to share this incident with Antonio. Straight men always acted as if every gay guy who crossed their path wanted to screw them. There’s no way Martinez would have ever given the time of day to a fat, out-of-shape slob like John.

  “Only in your dreams,” Martinez muttered as he headed back to his office. “Only in your friggin’ dreams.”

  Chapter 88

  Sitting at her desk, Vernetta tried to psyche herself up for Special’s bail revocation hearing. There was no way they’d be able to spring her from jail. They would just be going through the motions.

  Special now faced the possibility of multiple murder charges, though it was a good sign that Martinez had not actually filed any additional counts against her. That was basically an admission that he didn’t have the evidence. Yet.

  Vernetta had always believed lawyers should not represent people close to them. When an attorney is too emotionally involved in a case, objectivity can be compromised. But she could not see trusting her best friend’s defense to anyone else. She would get it together. She had to.

  Nichelle walked in and took a seat. “So are we ready?”

  “As ready as we’re going to be.” The hearing was scheduled for later that afternoon.

  “Have you given any thought to what I said?”

  Nichelle had been pestering Vernetta to make up with Sam. Vernetta hated admitting that she needed his help. Despite the hassle he would be, she had to swallow her pride and do what was best for Special.

  “I’ll call him after the hearing.”

  “Good.” Nichelle looked relieved. “And if you don’t, I will.”

  They had read nearly two dozen cases and stayed up late the night before rehearsing their legal arguments. Nichelle played the role of prosecutor, throwing curve balls at her and seeing if she could hit them. At the end of the night, Vernetta knew they were only fooling themselves. Even though all the evidence against Special was circumstantial, there was no way the judge was going to let her back out on bail.

  “Too bad we don’t know anybody who can slip the judge some cash to let her out,” Nichelle joked.

  “That’s wishful thinking. And even if we could, neither one of us would ever do anything like that.”

  “That’s our problem,” Nichelle said. She turned to look out of the window. “We always play by the rules, but the bad guys have no problem pulling whatever dirty trick it takes to win. By the way, are you still on good terms with O’Reilly?”

  “We’re not nearly as close as we used to be, but we’re still more than cordial.” Just a couple of days ago O’Reilly had recommended Vernetta to a company in need of help with an employment case that wasn’t big enough for O’Reilly & Finney to handle. “I think he’s being nice to me so I won’t blab that he’s screwing Haley.”

  “Can’t he do anything to help us?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. He’s one of the most connected attorneys in this city. He must know people who know people who know the judge.”

  “As a matter of fact, O’Reilly is a pretty close friend of Judge Winston. I think their fathers were law school classmates or something.”

  “You should give him a call,” Nichelle urged.

  “And ask him to do what? Bribe the judge?”

  “I don’t know.” Nichelle’s face turned sullen. “I guess I’m just thinking out loud. I know Special’s innocent, but I’m not sure we can prove it. If she has to go to prison for killing Eugene or anybody else, you might as well lock me up in the same cell because I won’t be able to handle it.”

  Vernetta was about to tell her she felt the same way, but kept that thought to herself. They had to be optimistic. No matter what.

  This conversation reminded Vernetta that there was something O’Reilly could do to help Special. She picked up the phone.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “O’Reilly.”

  Nichelle’s eyes widened.

  When O’Reilly came on the line, he greeted Vernetta like the old mentor who adored her. “Hey, kiddo. You’re all over the TV lately. You’ve got yourself a pretty big case. I’m jealous.”

  Sure you are. “I’m calling to ask for a favor.” Vernetta could almost hear him tense up over the telephone. “We have a bail revocation hearing before Judge Winston later this afternoon. I know that you know him pretty well.”

  “I’m afraid I have to stop you right here,” O’Reilly said. “I hope you’re not about to ask me to use my influence with the judge to—”

  “No,” Vernetta said, cutting him off. “That would be both illegal and unethical. I was about to say that I don’t think Judge Winston’s going to let her out on bail. And since I also know you’re pretty good friends with Sheriff Robinson, I was wondering if you could ask the sheriff to have somebody look out for Special in jail. Make sure she’s safe.”

  “I think I can make that happen.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Did you hear that Haley left the firm?”

  “Really?” Actually, Vernetta had learned from Sheila that the pair had become more and more brazen with their affair. The rumors finally made their way to the management committee. Obviously one of them had to leave and it certainly wasn’t going to be the rainmaker.

  “Her father’s ill, so she needs a job that’s not so demanding of her time. She’s been offered an in-house position with Vista Electronics. It’s a big loss for the firm.”

  And your gain. Now they were free to carry on their affair without violating any firm rules.

  “That’s wonderful for Haley,” Vernetta said. “She’ll do great in-house. K
nowing her, she’ll be general counsel in no time.”

  Chapter 89

  Vernetta was not prepared for what she saw when a sheriff’s deputy brought Special into one of the attorney-client meeting rooms at the jail.

  She had chains around her waist and wrists and was wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit. Her skin had paled and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her sunken cheeks made her look like something out of a horror movie.

  Nichelle quietly gasped. J.C. looked down at the floor.

  “Hey, y’all,” was all Special could manage to mumble.

  Just as Vernetta reached out to touch her, a deputy poked his head into the room. “No contact with the inmates,” he growled.

  The room wasn’t much bigger than a broom closet and had peeling paint and a tiny, metal table. A claustrophobic’s nightmare. There was a long row of identical client meeting rooms which had front and side walls made of glass. A deputy strolled the corridor, monitoring everything going on inside.

  “I asked a couple of the deputies to look out for you,” J.C. said. “Have they?”

  Special raised, then lowered her shoulders, causing the chains to rattle. “I guess so. Nobody’s forced me to join a female gang yet.” She laughed, but her three friends didn’t join her.

  J.C. ignored the deputy’s warning and gave Special’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll leave so you guys can talk shop.”

  Vernetta started to reach for Special’s hand, then remembered that she couldn’t. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you out of here.”

  “Okay.” Special had yet to look her in the eyes and Vernetta could tell that she didn’t believe her.

  “The bail revocation hearing is going to start in just a little while,” Nichelle explained. “It’s going to be an uphill battle.”

  The hearing was only a formality. There was no way Special would be released since she violated the conditions of her bail. Another murder happening just an arm’s throw from her apartment further complicated things. But neither Nichelle nor Vernetta could bring themselves to tell Special the truth.