Unraveling

by Owen Thomas

  “Your Honor. I was … we… she…it was years ago. I was fifteen, not sixteen. This is ancient history and that’s not what happened. What does that have to do with … what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Your objection is noted, Mr. Johns. You may be seated. Detective North, what is it about this alleged event that you found relevant to your inquiry into the disappearance of Ms. Kline?”

  North looks uncertainly at Etus.

  “I think it is more accurate to say that it was of great concern to Mr. Etus and the Board of Education than to me as the investigating officer.”

  “Please explain your answer, Detective.”

  “Mr. Etus, at the behest of Mr. Robertson, provided the Division of Police with some documents that Mr. Robertson was able to uncover through his contacts in the school district. They concerned the incident to which I just testified… about…”

  “I remember the testimony,” says Archoni.

  “Mr. Etus communicated the concern of his client that the incident might suggest Mr. Johns had a sexual preoccupation with much younger girls. They thought it would be relevant to my investigation. This investigation.”

  “And did you, Detective, find it relevant to the investigation?”

  “In my business, Judge, everything is potentially relevant to the investigation. Many of the sexual offenders I have encountered have started on that path when they were young. So I reviewed the information, put it in the file. Beyond that, I did not really give it much thought.”

  “Did you follow up on it? Did you try to verify the allegation?”

  “Yes. A little.”

  “And?”

  “I was able to verify that Mr. Johns was expelled, by order of the Principal of the Vanguard Academy, a Mr. Charles Compson, for the reasons stated in the document. Due to the age of the allegation, I was not able to confirm anything more than that. The girl was Mr. Compson’s daughter.”

  “Thank you, Detective.” Archoni looks at me. “Mr. Johns, I will take your objection under advisement. I’m not saying it is relevant. But I gave you a lot of leeway with that last witness under cover of relaxed evidentiary rules and I intend to give Mr. Etus the same benefit.”

  All I can do is nod and swallow.

  “Mr. Etus, do you have further testimony or exhibits that you wish to present on this particular issue?”

  “Your Honor, no additional testimony, but we have included the few documents to which Detective North has referred among our exhibits subject to authentication.”

  “Very well. Let’s move on.”

  “Yes, your Honor. Detective, aside from the events at Billy Rocks, was there anything else in your investigation which caused you concern that perhaps Mr. Johns was a danger to Ms. Kline?”

  North clears his throat, looking at Etus with a new expression I cannot decipher.

  “No. Not that I recall.”

  Glenda kicks me.

  Get ready: Obj. Leading the witness.

  “Well, isn’t it true that Mr. Johns’ car was painted with the …”

  I spring up. “Objection, Your Honor. He’s leading the witness.”

  Archoni looks up at me, clearly surprised.

  “Sustained.”

  Etus lets out a petulant sigh.

  “Detective, did your investigation uncover any evidence that someone may have been angry with Mr. Johns or had a grudge against him for allegedly committing rape?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was that evidence?”

  “Someone had defaced his car by spray painting the word rapist across the exterior passenger door.”

  “And did this evidence cause you some concern given that Mr. Johns was the last person seen with Brittany Kline?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Etus reacts, not taking breath enough to conceal surprise at the answer.

  “No. Not really. I took it as an act of vandalism. Nothing more.”

  Etus thinks. Stares. As if examining the words hanging in the air before him, trying to decipher their meaning. After several beats, he seems to shake it off.

  “Officer North, let’s talk about Billy Rocks. I realize that this is an on-going investigation. It is not my intention to ask you to testify as to investigative findings that have not yet been finalized. Nor is it my intention to ask you to speculate about conclusions that you have not yet reached. However, in the course of investigating this matter, you have had occasion to communicate to Principal Robertson specific facts that you have learned in the course of your investigation and that Principal Robertson, in consultation with the Board of Education, then took into account in deciding how to handle the question of Mr. Johns’ employment. I intend to ask you about those facts.”

  North sighs. Exasperated. Irritated. Nods.

  “So, with those careful parameters so stated, can you please tell us what you told Mr. Robertson about what facts your investigation had unearthed?”

  “Principal Robertson was very persistent, calling me daily, sometimes multiple calls a day to learn the status of the investigation and what I had found. He was particularly interested in what I had learned about Mr. Johns’ conduct at Billy Rocks. I eventually informed Principal Robertson …”

  North stops. He looks at me with something just short of murderous rage. Etus brings him back.

  “Detective. I appreciate that this is difficult and perhaps I should note for the record that the missing girl, Ms. Kline, is your niece.”

  Judge Archoni looks up at this, clearly surprised, and then scribbles notes on his pad as Etus drones.

  “So I know this is a special case for you. And I know how upset you are right now. But we have a job to do and….”

  “I eventually informed Principal Robertson that … that I had learned that David Johns had been fraternizing with the two under-aged students, Ms. Kline and Ms. Denoffrio.”

  “And by fraternizing…”

  “That he was dancing with them, flirting with them. Buying them drinks. And that he was making out with Brittany, Ms. Kline, in the hallway back by the restrooms.”

  My muscles tense all over like I have been hooked up to electrodes. I want to explode out of my chair and call this fucker the sister-loving liar that he is. Glenda’s hand is suddenly on my leg, squeezing. This is no flirtation. She is holding me in my seat. I look at her computer screen.

  Game face! I will break your m.f. dick in half.

  “So you told Mr. Robertson that, according to your investigation, Mr. Johns had supplied the girls with alcohol?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that he was making what can only be construed as sexual advances?”

  “Yes.”

  “To one or both of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that he was actually making out – meaning kissing intensely and for some duration – Ms. Kline.”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you inform Mr. Robertson anything about drugs?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I informed Mr. Robertson that David Johns may have supplied one or both girls with narcotics.”

  I twitch in anger. Glenda squeezes like a fucking lumberjack.

  “I see. And what was Mr. Robertson’s reaction?”

  “He seemed grateful for the information.”

  “And all of the information that you provided to Principal Robertson was information that you gleaned from your official investigation into this matter, correct.”

  Glenda releases my leg and stands. Judge Archoni pivots in his chair.

  “Ms. Laveau?”

  She says nothing, shifting her weight in silence. North eyes her, and then me, and then away. Etus is trying not to react, as though he is indifferent to whatever is coming.

  “Counsel,” Archoni prods, “you are not known for your loss of words. Are you objecting or just stretching your legs?”

  It is good for a laugh from the gallery.

  Chuck North does not
laugh. His eyes are riveted to the floor.

  “Sorry, your Honor,” says Glenda. “Perhaps my objection is premature. I’ll wait and see where this takes us.”

  She sits.

  “Well,” says Archoni with a hint of amusement. “There’s a first time for everything. Mr. Etus, please proceed.”

  “Thank you, Judge. Detective, do you remember the question?”

  “No.”

  Etus gives Glenda a recriminating look. “Then let me repeat it. All of the information that you provided to Principal Robertson, the information to which you have testified today, was information that you gleaned from your official investigation …”

  “No.”

  “No? I’m referring to the interviewing of witnesses, reviewing…”

  “No.”

  “I think we’re misunderstanding each other, Detective. I’m simply trying to establish that the things that you told Mr. Robertson reflect factual conclusions you reached during the course of your investigation. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is it your conclusion that Mr. Johns was, on the night in question, at the Billy Rocks nightclub, plying Ms. Kline and Ms. Denoffrio with alcohol?”

  “No.”

  “That…that is not your conclusion?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve changed your conclusion since speaking with Principal Robertson?”

  “No.”

  “I’m getting confused, Detective. Is it or is it not your conclusion, as a result of your investigation into this matter, that Mr. Johns was making sexual advances towards one or both Ms. Kline – your niece – and Ms. Denoffrio?”

  “That is not my conclusion.”

  “So you have changed your conclusion?”

  “No.”

  “But you told Mr. Robertson differently?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  North’s face is like a fist. His jaw clenches.

  “I must exercise my rights under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States and decline to answer the question.”

  Someone gasps. It is after a moment, on the other end of a long silence, that I realize it was me. Archoni leans forward in his chair, elbows on his table. Etus stands motionless in the middle of the courtroom staring at his notepad. Reading nothing.

  “Detective…” He doesn’t finish. He has to start again.

  “Detective, isn’t it … in fact… your belief… that Mr. Johns made sexual advances … on Brittany Kline… at Billy Rocks… on the night in question?”

  “No.”

  “No? That is not your belief?”

  “No.”

  “Is it not your belief sir, Officer North, that Mr. Johns provided your niece with marijuana and ecstasy at Billy Rocks on the night in question?”

  “No.”

  “Is it not your personal belief, sir, that Mr. Johns purchased alcohol for Brittany Kline and Carmen Denoffrio?”

  “No.”

  “Detective!”

  “Mr. Etus,” Judge Archoni’s baritone is slow and measured. “You will not raise your voice in my courtroom.”

  Etus all but ignores Archoni and is talking almost before the Judge is done.

  “Detective North, did we not have a conversation about these very issues as recently as last night?”

  “We did.”

  “And your answers are quite different now, are they not?”

  “They are.”

  “What, sir, has transpired in the intervening twenty-four hours to so completely change your conclusions about this case?”

  North sighs. He looks up directly at me. If looks could kill, I would be stone cold dead in my chair.

  “I exercise my rights under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States and decline to answer the question.”

  Etus storms back to his table and plows through the brief case on the floor, pulling out another legal pad. He flips angrily from one page to the next looking for something he cannot find. He closes the pad in frustration.

  “Your Honor, this is just …” He looks up imploringly at Archoni, who in return shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head a little and shows his empty hands. That Fifth Amendment… it is a bitch. Etus turns back to North in a pique of exasperation.

  “Detective, you can confirm, can you not, that Mr. Johns has recently been indicted for felony drug possession with intent to distribute?”

  “Yes.”

  “And can you confirm that you have first hand knowledge of the evidence on which Mr. Johns was indicted because you were the officer who found the narcotics in question and who placed Mr. Johns in custody?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were the officer who testified before the Grand Jury that issued the indictment?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when the matter goes to trial, assuming it goes to trial, it is correct, is it not, that you expect to testify on behalf of the state with regard to the crimes Mr. Johns is alleged to have committed?”

  Glenda clears her throat. I look at her computer screen. Nothing. When I look up, North is looking away.

  “Detective?”

  “No.”

  “And is it… Wait, no?”

  “No.”

  Etus is looking at North with wary unease.

  “Well if not you, Detective, then who do you expect to testify?”

  “No one.”

  It’s like watching a silent, slow motion train wreck. I have no idea what the train has hit, seemingly an invisible wall, but I can see the couplings pop and the sidings splinter into metal shards and the steel frames begin to twist and bend and snap.

  The crowd outside is chanting again. I can just make out the words.

  Bring them home!

  “Did you say, no one?”

  North rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Nods.

  “Detective, can you…”

  “There is … it has been decided that…”

  “Detective?”

  “There’s a problem with the search warrant, counsel. Okay? There is a problem with the search warrant.”

  “Are you telling me that the indictment has been dismissed?”

  “No. I’m saying … I’m saying it is likely to be withdrawn.”

  “Withdrawn? Is the state dropping its case? Does it intend to refile?”

  North all but shouts. “I don’t know that! I don’t make those decisions!”

  The force of North’s response, coming on top of the testimony he did not see coming, has taken Etus’ breath away. Too many seconds pass.

  “Mr. Etus?” asks Archoni.

  Etus looks up, and then back at North. He asks for what everyone wants to know. “Detective, what … was wrong … with the search warrant?”

  Somehow all of us, even Etus, maybe especially Etus, already know the answer.

  “I exercise my rights under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States and decline to answer the question.”

  Etus shuffles back to his seat, throwing his two notepads on the table. Then his pen. Then his glasses. He drops into his chair as if from a long ways up.

  “Mr. Etus, I assume you are done with the witness?”

  Etus laughs to himself. Nods.

  “Very well. Mr. Johns?”

  I do not look at Glenda’s computer. I know what it says.

  Pass. No questions. Let him off.

  There are so many things I want to ask. At least half of them are irrelevant to this proceeding (how could you vote for Lieberman? Which is your favorite ABBA shower tune?), or outright inappropriate (is it true you are fucking your own sister?). The rest I am afraid to ask. Afraid of giving him an opportunity to un-wreck the train. Afraid of the answers.

  And yet, after all that has happened between us, I cannot simply say “no questions” and let him go.

  I stand. Glenda’s head snaps my direction. I can hear her typing.

  North looks up. His face is hard and
strangely broken. His eyes are ugly with hate. He is waiting. He is waiting for me to interrogate him. Glenda is typing furiously; punching the keys. She kicks at my ankle but I am already in motion. I walk around the side of the table and stand where Etus once stood. I can hear the air passing in and out of North’s nose as through the ringed snout of an angry bull. His jaw is pulsing.

  “Detective North. I am very worried about your niece. Brittany. Do you know where she is?”

  His eyes narrow. He nods. “I do now. Dave.”

  “Is she… is she safe?”

  Seconds seem to stretch into minutes. He will either answer me or attack me, I do not know which.

  He nods. “Yes. She is safe.”

  The gallery murmurs excitedly at this news. There is a girlish squeal and scurrying whispers. My brain floods with something thick and cool and soothing. I can feel my heart expand with the long-awaited return of true optimism. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her. I know it was somebody. Somebody’s daughter. Some poor wretched soul met her untimely end and was discovered in a dumpster in Johnstown, Ohio. But it wasn’t Brittany Kline. I know it makes me a selfish prick, but I am grateful for the miracle that has been unfolding behind my back.

  North is boring holes through my face with his eyes.

  “That’s enough,” warns Judge Archoni as the commotion in the gallery cycles higher. “Everybody calm down.”

  “Your Honor, I have no further questions for Detective Fernando.”

  I turn my back on North and stride back to counsel table. I can hear the confusion in the Judge’s voice as he excuses North. I sit. Glenda leans in, whispering.

  “You don’t take instruction too well, do you?”

  “No. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

  “Fernando?”

  I am saved from having to explain by Chuck North who has passed back through the gate and taken a seat on the aisle in the row directly behind us. He leans in, crowding Ben sideways.

  “This is not fucking over,” he says in a hoarse whisper. He points at Glenda. “Before this is over, you’ll be fucking disbarred, and you,” he turns and glowers at me, “your ass is going to jail. Fucking count on it.”

  “Mr. Etus, do you have another witness?”

  North sits back in his seat, still looking at me. Ben stares at him, mouth open, eyes as wide as he can make them, like he is in a front row seat at an IMAX theater. Glenda turns back around. She knocks me with her knee. I break eye contact with North and face front. Etus has regained some semblance of control.