Jessie Black Legal Thrillers Box Set 1

by Larry A Winters

  He glared at her, whether to indicate his resentment of women or lawyers or both, she couldn’t know, but the anger in his gaze was so intense she had to break eye contact and look out the window.

  “The charges were false,” he said, “complete lies, but because she was a woman and I was a man, they were simply accepted as true with no evidence. I was perp-walked out of my own apartment in handcuffs, in front of the neighbors, everyone. Angela told me she’d drop the charges—all I needed to do was agree to the divorce settlement she’d proposed, with all the alimony. Spend the rest of my life slaving away so she would never have to work. I refused. We went to trial. I won. And that felt good. But before I won, I spent six months in jail while the trial dragged on, and during that stint in jail, I lost my job, most of my friends, and what little money I had left, which went to my defense lawyer.”

  It was a chilling story, and it struck Jessie temporarily speechless. She had to remind herself that all of this was beside the point. She needed Manpower’s data about True_Man because that user had conspired to commit murder. The political ideas of the website through which he’d chosen to communicate were not the issue.

  “What I gained in jail was a cause. A calling. I know that’s a long answer to your question, but there it is.”

  Jessie took a deep breath. “That’s a terrible story. No one should have to go through an ordeal like that. I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But,” she added, “I am also sorry for the sixteen teenage girls and one woman who were gunned down at Stevens Academy. And it’s my job to ensure that they receive justice, just like you eventually did. To do that job, I need your company to give me the identity of True_Man and a copy of the private messages exchanged between True_Man and Russell Lanford. Can we come to an arrangement now, or do we need to battle it out in open court before Judge Katz?”

  “Another thing I learned in jail,” Truman said. “Never back down from a fight.”

  19

  After their encounter at the Sofitel, Jessie would have been happy never to see Vaughn Truman again. But one day later she shared a courtroom with him. Jessie sat at one counsel table, while Truman sat with his lawyers at the other. Judge Katz presided.

  In the gallery behind them, a smattering of spectators and press filled about a third of the seats. Even Truman’s publicity efforts had failed to generate more than minimal interest in what would surely be a dull recitation of legal arguments. Jessie sensed that the low turnout displeased Truman.

  The judge looked more distinguished in his judicial robes than he had with his shoes off in chambers. He stared thoughtfully from beneath his bushy gray eyebrows at his courtroom. Since there was no jury—or defendant, for that matter—no one bothered with the pomp and ceremony. The judge dove right in. “First of all, Mr. Snyder, I’m a little perplexed by the timing of this motion.”

  Snyder said, “How so, Your Honor?” though Jessie was certain he knew exactly what the judge was getting at.

  “As you know,” Katz said, his voice becoming stern, “the proper time to contest the validity of a search warrant is during the criminal proceedings, when the person who is the subject of the warrant—assuming that person is even charged—will have ample opportunity to file a motion to preclude.”

  “But that’s just the point, Your Honor,” Snyder said calmly. “It’s like you just said. This person might not even be charged. But his or her privacy is at risk now. His or her constitutionally protected right to be free of unreasonable searches and seizures is being threatened now. And my client, Manpower, an organization in which this person placed his or her trust, isn’t prepared to aid the state in violating those rights in the hopes that one day in the future the wrongs will be redressed.”

  “That’s very poetic,” Katz said. He was smirking, and his voice couldn’t sound less impressed. “But it’s not how the law works, is it?”

  “Your Honor,” Jessie said, sensing a chance to press her advantage, “the Commonwealth takes issue with Mr. Snyder’s insinuation that the search warrant was obtained by unconstitutional means. That’s not the case. This Court reviewed a lengthy affidavit by Homicide Detective Emily Graham and found sufficient probable cause to believe that the warrant will reveal evidence of criminal activity. The person who is the subject of the warrant therefore enjoyed every protection of the Constitution and corresponding Pennsylvania statutes.”

  “Oh, come on,” Snyder said, scoffing. “Probable cause? You’re looking for messages from a guy who may or may not have encouraged Russell Lanford to kill a bunch of people. Even if you find such messages—and there’s no particular reason to believe you will, by the way, since True_Man and Betaloser could have been corresponding about hemorrhoid cream for all anyone knows—even if you find messages from some sicko about how great it would be to kill people, that’s a far cry from committing criminal activity, in my opinion.”

  “Maybe,” Jessie said, annoyed, “but nobody here particularly cares about your opinion.”

  “Let’s keep it civil,” Katz cautioned.

  “Your Honor,” Snyder said, “the Fourth Amendment stands as the last shield against unlawful police activity, protecting privacy, and freedom, which cannot exist without privacy. Do you really want to toss that aside, so that an assistant DA and a homicide cop, thirsty for blood after a school shooting, can find a scapegoat?”

  Katz leaned back in his chair, seeming to think this over. “Is there any truth to what Mr. Snyder is saying?” he said, looking at her. “Is this really just a witch hunt, Ms. Black?”

  “It is not, Your Honor. The warrant is narrowly targeted. We know that a specific user of the Manpower message board discussed the shootings with Russell Lanford prior to the crime. We know that the two also exchanged private messages. We have sufficient probable cause to believe that the private messages will demonstrate that these two individuals jointly planned the shooting. This planning rises to the level of conspiracy to commit murder, which certainly qualifies as criminal activity, despite Mr. Snyder’s personal opinion to the contrary.”

  Katz raised his hands for silence before Snyder could burst forward with a retort. “Okay, counselors. I’ve heard enough. I’m denying the motion to quash. The search warrant stands.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Jessie said.

  Snyder mumbled a barely audible thank-you of his own and began to gather his things. Jessie watched him and his client and was not surprised to see that Vaughn Truman did not look particularly disappointed with the ruling. Now he’d have a chance to deliver a stirring speech to the public about how the state was trodding over the rights of Manpower’s users—further evidence, no doubt, of the terrible inequality suffered by males.

  “One more thing, Your Honor,” Jessie said. Snyder froze.

  “Yes, Ms. Black?” Katz said. She could tell his patience was wearing thin.

  “The Commonwealth is concerned that Manpower will stall or outright defy this Court’s ruling. We therefore request that Manpower be ordered to comply with the warrant within twenty-four hours, and that this Court place Manpower, LLC, and its owner, Vaughn Truman, in contempt of court if they do not comply.”

  This was a stretch, she knew. It would mean a visit to a jail cell for Vaughn Truman if he continued to play games with her. But as soon as she saw the color drain from Truman’s face, she knew she’d made the right call. He’d been to jail, and he apparently had no desire to make a return trip.

  “Granted,” the judge said.

  As expected, a press conference was assembled on the courthouse steps, and Vaughn Truman stood before the cameras talking about a “travesty of justice” and a “gender biased judiciary” and the “relentless erosion of the rights of ordinary people to come together to discuss ideas.” He said, “All ideas—even unpopular ones—need to be protected. This setback will not stop Manpower or the broader men’s rights movement. It will only stir us to fight harder.”

  Je
ssie had managed to escape from the courthouse unseen, and watched this circus act from the shadows of a doorway across the street. She wanted to avoid giving the cameras any “reaction shots” to run with. Unfortunately, at least one person spotted her. Noah Snyder.

  He sidled next to her in the cozy archway of the building. “You really kicked my ass in there.” He was smiling, though. It was all fun and games to him.

  “You had no case.”

  He shrugged. “I know. But it’s always fun putting the DA’s office through its paces.”

  “And wasting taxpayers’ money.”

  “They won’t miss it.”

  “When can I expect to receive my data?”

  Snyder watched Truman, who was still holding forth about grave injustice. “Pretty damn soon. You heard Vaughn’s story back at the hotel. Believe me, that man has no interested in going back to a jail cell. That was a slick move, getting Katz to threaten contempt of court.” He looked at her appreciatively. “Rivera should count his lucky stars he has you working for him.”

  “And all this speech-making for the media? What’s the point if Truman’s done fighting?”

  Snyder laughed. “Clicks. It’s all about clicks, Jessie. What do you think is running across the bottom of every TV news segment broadcasting this bullshit right now? What link is being displayed on blogs and tweets and Youtube videos? Manpower’s URL. Traffic’s going to be through the roof.” He rubbed two fingers together.

  “Page views,” she said. “Advertising revenue. That’s what this is all about. The only reason Vaughn Truman is visiting the city at all.” The thought was depressing on too many levels.

  “You got it.”

  She watched Truman drone on. “It never bothers you, representing sleaze bags like this?”

  Snyder burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? Truman’s a saint compared to my typical client base.”

  She couldn’t argue with that.

  “Hey,” Snyder said. He was staring intently at her. “You look like you could use a vacation.” He must have seen that he’d struck a nerve, because he smiled knowingly. “This job will kill you if you don’t take care of yourself.”

  “I don’t need a vacation, Noah. I need your client to end his, and get the hell out of Philadelphia.”

  “I’ll be sure not to pass that along.”

  “Of course not. Every day Truman spends in Philly is a good day for your firm’s bank account.”

  “You know it.”

  As always, she parted ways with Snyder feeling slightly dirty, but any worries she had about Truman’s showmanship vanished quickly as she replayed her victory in her head. Prevailing in a hearing didn’t bring quite the same rush as winning a trial, but it still felt pretty damn good. Jessie spent the rest of the day buoyed by the ruling. Let Vaughn Truman make all the spectacle he could—it wouldn’t change the fact that the information Manpower was now required to produce would likely be the key to her case. Even the most eloquent speeches about freedom of speech and the right to due process would fizzle in the face of evidence showing a person manipulating a teenage boy into murdering sixteen of his classmates and their coach, especially when the warrant to expose that man’s identity and the content of the private messages was legally valid. That night, Jessie slept very well.

  Little did she know what tomorrow had in store.

  20

  In Graham’s experience, warrants were usually handled quietly and without much fuss. Manpower, on the other hand, had scheduled a press conference in front of City Hall to publicly hand over its data in front of as many cameras and microphones as possible. Thirty minutes before this publicity stunt was scheduled to begin, Graham was at her desk at Police Headquarters, looking over her case notes and trying to distract herself from the maddening wait.

  She knew she might be on the verge of a groundbreaking case if the evidence supported a murder charge against a person whose part in the shooting had taken place entirely over the internet. A victory like that would boost her reputation in the PPD. But she was just as likely to discover that all of her hard work had been for nothing, in which case she’d become the butt of jokes for months, maybe longer. It all came down to whether the private messages revealed a conspirator to murder or just another woman-hating internet troll. She supposed Jessie was under similar pressure. After all, pursuing the case had been the assistant DA’s call. If, at the end of the day, she had nothing to show for it but tons of negative publicity, she’d have to answer to the District Attorney himself.

  Her cell phone vibrated, jarring her out of her thoughts.

  “This is Detective Graham.”

  At first, only hitching sobs and rapid breathing came through the phone. Graham felt a pit open in her stomach. The voice that followed was even more unnerving—high-pitched, wavering, barely in control. “It’s Tanya. I … I need your help.”

  From his own desk, Novak looked up with a questioning expression. She gestured for him to come over.

  “What’s the matter, Tanya?” she said, keeping her voice calm. “Tell me.”

  “I think … I think Wesley’s about to do something. Something terrible.”

  “Okay, Tanya. I need you to take a deep breath. Calm down. Start at the beginning.”

  A long intake of breath whooshed against the phone’s speaker. It collapsed into a series of hitching sobs.

  “Did Wesley hurt you?” Graham said in a careful voice

  “No. No, of course not. He would never.”

  “Tell me why you’re upset.”

  “Wesley took the day off work today, to help get the house ready to show. We were … watching TV. The news came on. All about that website, Manpower, and how a court was requiring them to turn over information. The reporter said that the man who runs the site … he—” Her sobs caught up with her and she had to pause.

  “Vaughn Truman?” Graham said.

  “The reporter said he’s going to turn over the data to the DA personally, as part of a … part of a press conference.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Graham glanced at the clock on her computer screen. The press conference would start in about ten minutes, assuming Truman didn’t arrive late to add drama to his big moment, which sounded exactly like something the guy would do. According to Jessie, Manpower’s whole opposition to the warrant had been a ploy to get free publicity. It had worked, obviously. Now Truman planned to hand over the data on live TV, probably along with a rousing speech about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. She assumed he’d work the full URL of his site into this speech at least six, maybe seven times.

  Tanya half-spoke, half-sobbed. Graham strained to make sense of her words, but over their cellular connection, they were unintelligible. Something about being safe?

  “Slow down,” Graham said. “I’m having trouble understanding what you’re saying.”

  “The gun safe,” Tanya said. “It’s open. He took the rifle.”

  Graham felt her body go cold. “What?”

  She remembered Lanford telling her that Russell had left one rifle behind when he’d looted the gun safe. A Browning X-Bolt SSA Predator, bolt action, he’d said. Good for hunting.

  Or sniping.

  “I think….” Tanya said. “I think he’s going to do something bad.”

  “Is there somewhere you can go? Somewhere safe? A friend’s house, or family?”

  “My sister….”

  “Go there. Stay there until I call you back.”

  Graham ended the call. Her heart was racing. Cold sweat broke out across her face.

  “What is it?” Novak said.

  “I think we need to get to City Hall.”

  Graham jumped out of the car before Novak fully stopped. She could see the crowd of people in front of City Hall, waiting for the press conference. She turned, slowly scanning the surrounding buildings. Windows and roofs. Looking for Wesley Lanford and his rifle. Where are you?

  Novak jogged over to her. He’d double-parked the car at th
e curb. Now he pointed up. “Emily!”

  She followed the direction of his finger and spotted the dark outline of a figure standing on a roof across the street. Son of a bitch. The old detective hadn’t completely lost his touch after all.

  They ran.

  Jessie gritted her teeth. Vaughn Truman had turned City Hall, a historic landmark of the city, into the backdrop for his latest circus act. And what was worse, he’d drawn her into it. And by extension, the DA’s office. There was already a crowd—a mix of reporters, curious civilians, and a few angry-looking cops—and the crowd was getting bigger by the second as curious passersby stopped to see what was going on.

  Watching Truman take his place in front of his audience, her stomach sank.

  Who cares? Let the blowhard squeeze a little more attention out of this tragedy, in service to his website and political agenda. The people will see him for the slime ball he is. The data is what matters. The private messages and the identity of True_Man.

  Truman held a thumb drive in one hand. He raised it and faced the cameras.

  “My name is Vaughn Truman. I’m an activist.” He spoke loudly and surely, and his voice carried through the crowd. “My cause is men’s rights. I know that most of you probably weren’t aware that men’s rights were a cause, or were in need of protecting. Part of the reason you don’t know that is because, at every opportunity, your government silences this movement.”

  Jessie tried to be inconspicuous at the periphery of the crowd, but Truman spotted her and pointed a finger at her.

  “There they are now,” he said. “The state, as represented by assistant district attorney Jessica Black.”

  A hundred gazes turned to look at her.

  She supposed she could have derailed his stunt by insisting that Manpower deliver the data without any grandstanding public show, but that would have meant a delay. It would have meant having to wait longer for Manpower to comply with the warrant. A dangerous predator was out there, prowling the internet, and she needed to find him and stop him before he caused more mayhem and death. That concern had to come before saving face, before politics.