“Ready to jump?”
“Yeah. That woman knows a lot about that church. A lot. And when I was talking to her, it sounded like she was ready to spill what she knows.” I shuddered. “I hope that she’s okay.”
“What do you mean?”
I tousled her hair, knowing that she was only 11, and she probably wasn’t ready to hear my theory. But I was going to tell her that a Reverend who has no qualms about brainwashing parents into killing their kids probably also didn’t have qualms about murdering somebody like Louisa. Especially if he knew that Louisa might be on the verge of turning him and his murderous operations into the police.
“Nothing, Ladybug,” I said.
“Come on, Aunt Harper,” she said. “Tell me what you meant.”
“Rina,” I said. “Please forget that I ever said something like that. I was just thinking aloud, like I usually do. Now, if you’re going to hang out here with me, I would like it if you would please stop asking questions. I’ll tell you stuff as you need to know.”
Rina crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip.
“Oh, all right,” I said. “Louisa looked like she was sick when I saw her. She might have had to go to the hospital.” That was a satisfying lie, I thought, but, when I looked at Rina, I could see she didn’t believe it.
“That’s not what you meant.”
“Isn’t it your bedtime?” I looked at the clock, and it read 9 PM.
“You’ve been letting us go to bed at 10. Even on school nights.”
“Right. Well, you’re a pre-teen and you need lots of sleep. 6:30 comes early. Maybe you should go to bed now.” I raised my eyebrow at her, and she shook her head, as she apparently got my drift.
“I’ll be quiet.”
“Good.” I still had authority over Rina, and she better know that.
I got back on the Internet. I looked to see if she had a Facebook page. Nothing. Twitter. Nothing. Instagram, Pinterest and Linked-in. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I even Googled her name. Nothing, except the information about her working at the church.
I felt tears coming to my eyes. “I’m just going to have to subpoena crazy Rev,” I said. “But he’s going to quash it if he has decent legal counsel.” I put my head down on the desk, knowing that Heather was going to demand that I give it up and plead her out.
“What does quash mean?” Rina asked.
“It means that he’s going to try to make it not take effect. Do you know what a subpoena is, Ladybug?” Rina was “Ladybug,” and Abby was “Buttercup.” They both loved those nicknames, so I used them whenever I could.
Rina shook her head.
“Well, a subpoena is when a person is ordered to do something. It has the effect of a legal order, even though it’s not issued by a judge. So, if I subpoena a person, I’m ordering that person to appear somewhere at a certain time. I can also subpoena records, or other things, which means that I can have access to them. If somebody quashes the subpoena, it doesn’t take effect.”
Rina nodded her head in understanding. “So if somebody subpoenas me, I have to appear somewhere for them?”
“Yes.” I tousled her hair again. She was going to be an amazing lawyer one day. Of that, I was sure. “So, I can subpoena crazy Rev, put him under oath, and ask him where Louisa went. If he lies, then he’s guilty of perjury.”
“Why would he be able to quash the subpoena?”
I sighed. “Because I haven’t yet shown that Louisa is going to be an indispensable witness. To be honest, I don’t know what she knows. I don’t know for sure that she has the knife. It’s all conjecture at the moment. For that matter, I can’t even show that crazy Rev is going to be indispensable or even valuable. That’s what’s so frustrating – I know what happened with Heather’s mom. But I can’t prove it in court. Not yet.”
“What happened with Heather’s mom?” Rina’s eyes were wide.
I shook my head, inwardly cursing myself for spilling too much to my extremely young foster child. She was only 11 – how do I tell her that there’s a church that is apparently instructing the parents in the church to kill their kids?
I sighed. “Rina, I guess I should just go ahead and tell you my suspicions. I believe, and I have evidence that backs this up, that the church that you went to with me is evil. I believe that the Reverend in that church has been brainwashing his congregants to kill their gay children.”
Rina’s eyes got even wider. “Oh my god, Aunt Harper. Are there actually people like that?”
“Unfortunately, there are. Just look at the Nazis and what they did. There will always be people who can convince others to do their dirty work. There will always be those who believe that society is sick because of this group or that, and, if they have access to impressionable people, they can be extremely dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”
“But their own kids?”
I cleared my throat. “Heather, my client, told me that her mother started accusing her of having the Devil inside her. If a parent believes that, and they’re told that their kids are bound for Hell unless they do something about it, I don’t think that it’s far-fetched that they would actually kill their own children.” I took a deep breath. “I hate that you have to learn about this stuff at such a young age, but it can’t be helped. You’re going to learn about it sooner or later.”
“Well don’t tell Abby. I don’t think that she can handle it.”
“You’re probably right, Ladybug.” I looked at the clock. “And now, for sure, it’s your bedtime. Go upstairs, get your jammies on and brush your teeth. Grab Abby while you’re at it and have her do the same. I’ll be up in a few to tuck you guys in.”
Rina groaned and rolled her eyes, but she got up and went downstairs. I heard her telling Abby to get her little butt into the bathroom, too, to brush her teeth, and I smiled. Rina was such a little boss. She reminded me so much of myself at that age.
Poor thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Well?” Heather asked when I went to see her the next day. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing yet. I have a subpoena for the Reverend. If it goes through, I’ll get him under oath and find out where Louisa is. But I don’t have anything to go on just yet. I don’t know where she went.”
“Plead me,” Heather said. “I’m sick of this shit. Plead me and get it done.”
“Heather,” I said. “If I plead you, that’s it. There’s no appealing it. No changing your mind. Once it’s done, it’s done. I don’t want to slam the door on this case until I have the chance to turn over every rock.”
“And if you go on much longer, that offer isn’t going to be good.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’ve been talking with these dudes in here. They’ve been around the block a few times. And they tell me that once a persecutor starts working up their case, they’re less likely to want to deal. They tell me that once you cross a certain point, all offers go away. They also tell me that 20 years is a good deal for murder.”
“All those things are true, but, Heather, we’re going to win this.”
“We can’t. Not if you can’t get that Louisa woman to tell you what she did with the knife. That’s if she has the fucking knife. If she doesn’t, what then? Who else you gonna shake that knife out of? You got any other ideas on that, Harper?”
I had to admit, I didn’t. Perhaps the Reverend took the knife. Perhaps one of the cops on the scene took it, although I doubted that. They didn’t have motive to do that. The Reverend would, however.
“I don’t. We’re just going to have to proceed without it.” I shook my head. What was I saying? Proceed without finding the knife? Really? The prosecutor would slam-dunk this case without effort.
Heather raised one of her eyebrows. “Proceed without it? Who you trying to fool, Harper? Seriously.”
“Give me a chance to talk to the Reverend. If I subpoena him, he has to answer questions. Give me that chance.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Schedule a plea
bargain, Harper. Schedule it, and if you find out where Louisa is, then you can cancel it. But you need to do what I’m telling you. I’m the boss, and what I say goes. That’s another thing that I learned in this joint. You work for me, so I call the shots.”
I CALLED Vince when I got back to the office. My heart was racing as I dialed his number. This was the wrong thing. I knew it. Yet, Heather was right – without that knife, we were going to lose. And she certainly wasn’t going to get 20 years if we lost. That was for sure.
“Vince Malloy,” he said in answering the phone.
“Vince, it’s Harper Ross.” I took a deep breath. “Is that 20 year offer on the Heather Morrison case still on the table?”
“It is. I haven’t started discovery on this case yet, so, yeah. 20 years is still the offer.”
“Put it on the docket,” I said. “For next week.” I figured that a week would be a good time to put it on. By then, I would know whether or not I could depose the Reverend about Louisa’s whereabouts.
“I’ll schedule it and send you a copy of the docket,” he said. “You’re doing the right thing, Harper.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up and sighed, looking at my picture on the wall of my office. It was a black and white photo of John F. Kennedy. He was in profile, and was quite young and handsome. One person can make a difference and every person should try. That was the quote that was on this poster.
I also had a picture of the great Supreme Court justice, Thurgood Marshall, on my wall. To protest against injustice is the foundation of all our American democracy was this quote.
Heather was going to prison if she took this deal. For a long time. How was this justice being done? She did nothing wrong. She simply defended herself when her mother tried to kill her. Yet the possibility of proving this, at this point, seemed remote. I thought I was getting somewhere when Louisa seemed to be accommodating when I saw her. Yet that, like everything else in this case, was a blind alley.
I had a slinky toy tucked in my desk. I got it out whenever I was feeling stressed. I was definitely feeling stressed, so I got it out and started folding it in and out, just like an accordian.
“Hey you,” Tammy said, popping her head in. “You want to talk?”
“No,” I said. I didn’t feel like talking about this. I figured that if I did, I was going to lose my shit. “Well, I’ll talk about stuff, just not about this case.”
“Heather’s case? I’m sorry I stuck you with it.”
“Don’t be. I think it’s going south, but, you never know.”
“Well…” She put a letter on my desk. “This is from another lawyer. A lawyer for John Scott. It’s a motion to quash your subpoena.”
“That’s good. At least I can get this out of the way. When is the hearing on this?”
“Two days from now.”
“Good. I’ll know before I plead Heather what the status will be on this.” I continued to look at my slinky toy. “Do you know who invented the Slinky?”
“No, who?”
“Some random guy named Richard James. He left the company to be a missionary in Bolivia.” I kept folding the toy in and out. “So, what’s happening with you?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to check in.”
“I wish I had good news to tell you. I really do. But I don’t.”
TWO DAYS LATER, I had the hearing on the subpoena for the crazy Reverend. He wasn’t there in court – only his attorney was. Judge Reiner was at the bench, electing to hear arguments in court as opposed to the two of us going back into chambers and arguing informally. He wanted this on the record, which is why he heard this on the bench.
“Ms. Ross,” Judge Reiner said, calling me up to the bench. “And Mr. Marshall. Come on up.”
Blake Marshall, a lawyer that I didn’t know, was the attorney for the Reverend. His motion simply said that I didn’t have a reason to subpoena Reverend John Scott. I couldn’t show that he was going to lead to evidence regarding my trial.
“Okay, Mr. Marshall. I’ve read your motion, and you’re saying that this subpoena is unduly burdensome and the application for the subpoena was not made in good faith because Ms. Ross is on a fishing expedition. Ms. Ross, are you fishing?”
“No, your honor. I’m not fishing.”
“Then tell me, Ms. Ross, what the subpoena for Mr. Scott will lead you to?”
“He knows where Louisa Garrison is. Louisa Garrison will be an indispensable witness for my case.”
“In what way?” Judge Reiner asked.
“Your honor, there is an issue in this case that Ms. Garrison should have information on. Specifically, there is a butcher knife that has gone missing, and I believe that Ms. Garrison knows where this knife is. Since finding the whereabouts of this knife is crucial in this case, I need to speak with Ms. Garrison to find out what she knows.”
“And what leads you to believe that Ms. Garrison knows where the knife is?”
I swallowed hard, feeling embarrassed. I didn’t know why I thought that – it was only a hunch. Plus, Axel gave me the idea that Louisa probably knew. “I have evidence, your honor, that Ms. Garrison and the victim in this case, Connie Morrison, were having an affair. That gives Ms. Garrison motive for cleaning up the crime scene, if she was the one who happened upon it before the police got there.”
“In what way?” Judge Reiner asked. “Why should she have motive to clean up the crime scene, just because she was romantically involved with your client’s mother?”
“The theory is that she wanted to protect the memory of her lover, Connie Morrison, so she took the knife from the crime scene. She didn’t want her lover to be seen as a violent person, and, if her lover was found dead with a knife in her hand, that would mean that her lover was, in fact, violent.” Even as I was talking, I knew that I sounded like an idiot.
Indeed, Blake Marshall was suppressing laughter as he listened to me spin my wild-ass theory.
“Ms. Ross,” Mr. Marshall said. “I’ve read this statement of information, and the two cops on the scene were the first responders. That means that nobody else had been to the scene before they got there. There was no indication that Ms. Garrison or anybody else had been there. And, quite frankly, your theory is just that – a theory. You have no hard evidence to show that Ms. Garrison will be valuable to your case.”
I sighed. He was absolutely right. I could put forth the theory that Louisa was important because she can testify that the church was into brainwashing parents to kill their gay children, but that theory, too, would be laughed out of court.
Judge Reiner shook his head. “Motion to quash is granted,” he said. “If you get something more for this court to chew on, Ms. Ross, file your subpoena again. Until then, please don’t clog my dockets with your nonsense. I say that with all due respect, of course.”
I nodded my head. “Of course.”
I walked out of the courtroom and called Heather with the bad news. “We’ve reached another dead end,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s fine,” she said, her voice sounding monotone. No life. “I guess I’ll be pleading to twenty years soon.”
I fought back tears. “I guess so.”
I was defeated.
And so was Heather.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Louisa Garrison put her thumb out, trying to get yet another ride to the West Coast. She had gotten in touch with her mother, who was living in San Diego. Her mother said that Louisa could stay with her for the time being. Just until Louisa found another job.
The Reverend fired her, of course. She knew he was going to. He had an uncanny way of knowing when people were ready to get out and, possibly, ready to go to the authorities about him and what he was doing. He was very good at getting rid of threats before they could really become full-blown. The final straw for him was the fact that she was talking to that Harper Ross. He knew who Harper Ross was, and Harper Ross threatened him. Harper Ross was an intelligent woman, and, if she got to the
bottom of what was happening at the Church, it would be game over.
The Reverend had even been doing things to spook Harper, although Louisa doubted that Harper knew that it was him doing these things. He hit Harper’s car and left a threatening note, and then he climbed through Harper’s window and set her kitchen on fire. He did all these things so that Harper would back off. But Harper wasn’t backing off. She was on the case and she was getting close.
Of course, before Reverend fired Louisa, he also threatened her. He told her that he would call her mother and tell her the truth about her lesbian relationships. That would mean that her mother would never let her in the house. He also told her, in no uncertain terms, that he would kill her if she spoke a word about the Church.
Before she left her house, she took a backpack of her belongings. Things that she would need on the road. She had several changes of underwear and clothes, a toothbrush, some makeup, a hairbrush. She also packed her pocket Bible, which, for her, was indispensable. She read it when she was in times of need, and it gave her comfort.
She also took that butcher knife. She was close to giving it to Harper. She was going to give it to her. She didn’t want to go to prison, which she would surely do if she told anybody what she had done, but, yet, she didn’t want Heath Morrison to go to prison, either. She agonized over it, and then she made a decision. Give the knife to Harper, and come clean. Come clean on what she had done.
Then the Reverend fired her, and threatened her, and she was scared. She was terrified to talk to Harper now. The Reverend would surely find out if she talked to Harper, and then he would kill her. She knew the Reverend well enough to know that his words weren’t idle threats. He was responsible, directly responsible, for the deaths of at least eleven kids whose parents were congregants of the Church. He was responsible because he gave a direct order to the parents whose children were gay – they were to try to change their kids, through conversion therapy, and if they couldn’t, they were to kill them. Only five of those kids were active homicide cases, and, as far as Louisa knew, there wasn’t a lead on any of them. The others were “suicides,” or they were listed as such, but Louisa knew better. She knew better. She had been in the room with him, every time he issued those orders.
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