Nothing Done in Secret

by Scott Edwards

  On the first day of the school year last September, Mrs. McKeon had taken an instant dislike to Aaron. She told another teacher some time later that she didn’t like his passive, fearful demeanor. Other students noticed that she would invariably tell him to speak up and hold his head up. One time she was heard criticizing the way he walked. Aaron had not been bothered much by any of this but he noticed it and therefore was surprised when she intervened to prevent him from being dragged from the classroom. He had low expectations for most adults and with his teenager’s experience in life did not consider that Mrs. McKeon’s job required her to rescue him in that situation. Either way, it was a temporary reprieve.

  Young Michelle Tremblay, the girl who had found the body of Veronica Gillis watched the same scene from a different perspective. Michelle didn’t like Mrs. McKeon, a thirty-eight year old mother of five, because she regularly injected her personal, conservative views about the current president, abortion and same-sex marriage, views that offended Michelle’s liberal sensibilities. Michelle had witnessed and also been offended by Mrs. McKeon’s treatment of Aaron and a few other students. Even so, she was surprised by the teacher’s behavior on this morning. The altercation between Aaron and the bigger boys was quite noisy and lasted many seconds. Scott and his friend were yelling at Aaron as they chased him across the lawn. Michelle and several other girls were surprised as they watched their teacher ignore it. Finally, Michelle and another girl called out “Mrs. McKeon!” insistently and pointed to the doorway. Only then did she intervene.

  Aaron’s awareness of his surroundings shut down again. He heard nothing in the next fifty minutes and was carefully ignored by Mrs. McKeon. Then Aaron did hear the bell ring and rose with the other students to leave the room at the end of class.

  The school had a twenty minute break between second and third periods to allow for students to get to their lockers, get their books and homework assignments for the next two periods and get a drink or snack at the cafeteria. Aaron wasn’t hungry and he had no intention of going back to his locker. His next class was the one he most dreaded, P.E., and it would be hard to believe on a day like this he would bother to go. He didn’t know where he would go, but out of habit he headed around the front of the school toward the gym and the cafeteria. Aaron descended six concrete steps down into the “Quad” when Scott saw him. He had no real hope of making it to the cafeteria. Scott and two friends would catch him before he was halfway across the Quad and, really, if he had made it, he had no hope of any protection there. But he ran anyway. By now, Aaron’s vision was closing in on him, as though he were looking out from deep inside a tunnel. About nine or ten yards before he would have been intercepted by Scott, Aaron ran into the side of a large senior boy - 200 pounds, letters in football, wrestling, and baseball - and stopped. The senior whirled around, saw Aaron and recognized him as one of the regulars for abuse. With both hands to Aaron’s shoulders, he shoved Aaron to the ground. He called him “asshole” and “fag” as he towered over him, about to strike with his right fist. Aaron pushed backwards with his legs, grasped his backpack and reached in for the gun. The senior saw the gun and stopped immediately. He moaned and moved backwards as Aaron pointed the gun directly at his chest. When Aaron moved to stand, the senior turned and ran, as did Scott and friends and most of the students in the Quad.

  Seeing his tormentors running, Aaron felt a quick flood of relief. It was almost immediately replaced by a tremendous sinking feeling, a combination of embarrassment and depression. Aaron ran another thirty yards to the cafeteria, sliding into a small nook created by the side of the building and a brown concrete block wall. He stood trembling and gasping on bare soil in the planter area, partially hidden by a tall cypress, still holding the gun.

  At this spot, Aaron was three feet from an opening in the block wall that led to an uncovered patio filled with approximately thirty students at concrete and steel picnic tables. Surrounded by 15-foot walls with only the one exit, the students were trapped. Some moved under tables, others to the back wall. There were some screams but quite a few students pulled out their cell phones and called parents or friends. None called 911.

  Undercover detective Cristina Melanakos, known at MFHS as senior Julie Chancellor, had followed Scott and friends from the main hall to the entrance to the Quad. She saw the gun before anyone other than the senior standing over Aaron and phoned the emergency watch commander at the station. She gave them all the necessary information, and left the job of notifying the school administrators to the other officers. Detective Melanakos’ next call was to Captain Moffat.

  This was the call that Moffat took in the reception area of Gillis Executive Realty. Melanakos had first phoned him when she heard he and De la Peña were questioning Scott Conti at the station. On that occasion, she had informed him that Conti was at the center of a drug distribution network serving the high school as well as many of the young adults in the north part of the county. She had asked for Moffat to avoid, as much as possible, any police pressure that might cause Conti to curtail his contacts with his associates. She assured Moffat that her investigation would not require many more weeks. In the meantime, she would keep track of the activities of both Scott and Aaron, two of Moffat’s suspects in the murder of Veronica Gillis.

  Melanakos had moved back out of the Quad up to the main hall but could see Aaron. The entire front of the cafeteria consisted of tinted glass walls extending the height of the building. He was near one of two forward doors. A few students had started to leave through that door but apparently word spread inside the building. The other forward door was also vulnerable should Aaron move back around from the side. Melanakos assumed that, fairly quickly, the staff would evacuate the students now in the cafeteria. The students in the outer yard would still be vulnerable.

  Melanakos explained this to Moffat. She also told him that she was concerned that the police department’s newly formed version of a SWAT team might be too quick to use lethal force. Aaron had slipped down against the wall so that he was now sitting, with the gun still in his hand. He had made no moves that threatened others since he aimed the gun at the boy who pushed him. She said “Captain, I think we have time if we handle this properly. I don’t think Sergeant Clark’s squad will do that.

  Moffat had the same misgivings and was determined to try to control the situation. He ran from the elevator to his car and, as he started it and turned onto the road, he contacted Captain Hughes whose area of responsibility included Clark’s six-person Tactical Response Team. Hughes agreed that Moffat would take charge at the school. Moffat then called De la Peña and told him to join the force heading to Miner’s Flat.

  Back on the phone with Melanakos as he approached the campus, Moffat followed her directions driving through the athletic fields to approach the cafeteria from the back. He parked by the building as dozens of students and cafeteria workers streamed from the kitchen. Moffat saw a fixed metal ladder offering access to the roof. He started toward the door to look for help when the custodian came out ushering with him the last of the students.

  Moffat called to him, displayed his badge and pointed to the ladder. “Can you….”

  “Yeah, I’ve got the key,” the custodian interrupted.

  Moffat phoned Melanakos. She told him he would be able to see Aaron from the far corner of the roof top.

  The custodian had unlocked and removed a chain that blocked access to the ladder. This allowed it to extend down to within three feet of the ground. Moffat closed his phone again and placed it in his pocket, then climbed the twenty-foot ladder to the flat top of the cafeteria building. Before approaching the far corner, above Aaron, he moved to look out to the front of the building. He saw a deserted Quad, with students watching from the front part of the school one hundred yards away. He heard sirens then and saw to the left three police vehicles enter from between the gym and the cafeteria. The vehicles sped over and down three concrete steps, creating quite a bit of noise as their bodies struck the edges
of the steps.

  The police drove within sixty feet of Aaron’s location and parked to create a shield for the team as the officers ran out of the vehicles and took positions.

  From the corner of the roof, Moffat looked down directly at Aaron. He was seated, leaning against the wall of the building, trembling.

  ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER 21

  Moffat phoned De la Peña.

  “Jason, tell Sergeant Clark that I want you to talk to Aaron. Tell them not to fire unless I give the order.

  De la Peña followed Moffat’s instruction. Clark grimaced. He relayed the command to the other five members of the squad.

  Kneeling behind the open door of the car, De la Peña took a microphone from its hook and pushed the switch to amplify.

  “Aaron, this is Sergeant De la Peña. Jason. You know me. We don’t want you to hurt anyone.” De la Peña paused then added “And we don’t want you to hurt yourself, Aaron.”

  From their different perspectives, Melanakos, Moffat and the members of the Tactical Response Team saw Aaron raise his head and look toward the police cars.

  “Aaron, we can work this out. Put down the gun and come over to me. I promise no one will hurt you. It will be OK.”

  De la Peña held the cell phone with his left hand and the microphone with his right. He heard Moffat say “Good. That’s it. Keep talking.”

  Just then Aaron rose quickly to his feet, still holding the gun but pointing it downward. One of the TRT officers yelled out “He’s moving.” Aaron darted through the passageway in the wall and entered the patio. He slid to the right hiding from the police officers’ view on the opposite side of the wall.

  Moffat watched as Aaron reacted to the sight of thirty students. One student shouted, “Look out, look out.” Others screamed. Aaron seemed to cringe with every sound. Moffat, fearful of Aaron’s next move, removed his semi-automatic and prepared himself. Then Moffat saw Aaron open the chamber of the revolver and empty all the bullets on to the dirt in the planter. Aaron snapped the barrel back into place and calmly turned and walked back through the opening in the wall facing the police.

  “Tell them to hold their fire, Jason” Moffat shouted into the phone.

  The police sharpshooters tightened their grip on their rifles. Aaron raised the gun, pointed straight ahead, and walked toward the police.

  “I’ve got a shot, Sarge, one of the marksmen told Clark.

  “Hold your fire,” De la Peña repeated. Then he heard Moffat on the cell phone.

  “It’s an empty gun.”

  “Aaron, put down the gun. We don’t want to hurt you.” De la Peña had dropped the microphone and was shouting directly to the teenager.

  Then to the squad “It’s not loaded. Hold your fire.”

  Aaron stopped, dropped the gun then fell to his knees. Three officers swarmed to him, pushing him face down and put him in hand cuffs.

  De la Peña heard Moffat say “good work” then closed the phone and ran to Aaron. He helped him to his feet then walked him to the nearest of the three vehicles.

  Moffat phoned Melanakos. “Good work, Cristina.” He walked back across the cafeteria rooftop.

  Detective Melanakos closed her phone, slid it into her bag and told herself to become Julie Chancellor once again.

  De la Peña rode in the back seat with Aaron as the car took them to Segovia. Aaron began to speak, then stopped, choked with emotion. A few seconds passed and he began again.

  “I’m really sorry, Jason. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” He looked directly into De la Peña’s eyes and was more calm than the Sergeant had ever seen him.

  “What was it you couldn’t stand, Aaron?”

  “They hate me. They’re always pushing and shoving and calling me…”

  De la Peña was about to ask what it was they called him when Aaron started again.

  “I almost shot him. I don’t even know his name. I could have but I stopped.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t say anymore, Aaron. Wait for the juvenile officer or a lawyer or a social worker. I have to report anything you say.”

  Aaron was silent for a few moments then said, “I didn’t kill my aunt.”

  Neither Moffat nor De la Peña got a close look at Aaron’s handgun at that time. Both had other priorities. Moffat was on the road out of Miner’s Flat when he spoke by radio with the officer who had recovered the weapon. Moffat noted with interest that the handgun was a Lady Smith with distinctive custom handle, like the one used to kill Veronica Gillis only, apparently, much newer.

  * * *

  Most of the force as well as the civilian employees of the Segovia P.D. gathered to greet Sergeant De la Peña and the Tactical Response Team when they returned from Miner’s Flat High School. Aaron was rushed away by two uniformed officers. The TRT members looking a bit lost, accepted hand shakes and hugs from their colleagues. Sergeant Clarke met supervising officer Lieutenant Griffiths. They turned away from the crowd, heads together speaking rapidly with some gestures but no visible emotion. De la Peña accepted a plastic bottle of water and sat at the nearest chair responding to questions coming rapidly from one then another of several police personnel. The TRT members loosened their vests and protective gear as they headed deeper into the building.

  Moffat arrived several minutes later. Slipping in, unnoticed by all but Mrs. Grubb, he headed to his temporary office next to the Team Center. Moments later, Chief Halvorsen entered and sat in the chair in front of Moffat’s desk.

  “How are you doing, Captain?

  “Fine, thank you, sir.”

  “It sounds like that was an unusual situation. Not the kind you usually face as a detective. Alex, there may be some organizational issues, maybe some bruised egos involved with you and De la Peña taking command of the TRT there.”

  “I thought we might have to address that.”

  Halvorsen tapped the desk with outstretched fingers. Smiling grimly, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll congratulate Griffiths and Clark for their team’s great interdepartmental cooperation and flexibility under pressure.” He cast his eyes upward, thoughtfully. “Yeah. That’s good. I’ll use those words in the press conference.” He stood, motioning Moffat to remain seated. “Leave it to me.” Walking out he said “Oh, also Alex, good outcome.”

  Moffat and De la Peña met moments later. They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds then smiled.

  “Whew, that was tense.” De la Peña offered, shaking his head.

  “Yes.”

  There was paperwork to complete but Moffat suggested they go to the lunchroom first. Before leaving, he contacted the Chief Probation Officer Suzanne Robinson, the head of the county office that would take responsibility for Aaron after booking was complete. Moffat asked the officer, a woman about his age whom he had met twice before, to assure that Aaron would be kept separate from other inmates at the youth detention facility known as “Juvenile Hall.” Together they considered options. Moffat was pleased when the Probation Chief suggested they bypass the Hall and transport Aaron directly to the Psychiatric Ward of Mark Twain County Hospital.

  * * *

  Moffat and De la Peña sat at their preferred table in the sunlight by the window. Moffat had only vegetable soup and a carton of milk. De la Peña spread mayonnaise on the bun of a cheeseburger then placed it a top the sandwich. He let his hands fall into his lap.

  “Now I don’t feel hungry.”

  Moffat nodded

  “I’m feeling kind of responsible. If I hadn’t been so hard on him last Thursday, he might not have done it.”

  Moffat shook his head. “I think there was a lot more to it than our questioning. This must have been building for a while.

  De la Peña tilted his head. “Maybe.” He took a small bite of the burger. Moffat continued.

  “Sergeant, I think you may have saved his life. He was trying to get himself killed…’suicide by police’ reporters call it. He walked toward you all with a gun
in his hand. I was concerned how the TRT would react. You showed good control of the situation…command presence.”

  “Thanks.” De la Peña looked down at his sandwich the asked quickly “What happened at the real estate office?”

  Moffat described the note, his interview with the temp and James Rees’ sleuthing.”

  “Are we going to confront Mrs. Haugen on her lie?”

  “We should but I think I’ll put it off until tomorrow…give myself time to plan how to go about it.” What Moffat didn’t say was he just didn’t feel like it this afternoon.

  * * *

  Jean loaded dinner dishes in the dishwasher while Moffat sprayed, scrubbed and sponged off the stainless steel stove and granite counter tops. Jean liked the thorough way Moffat cleaned kitchen surfaces and she preferred her own method for loading the dishwasher so they had easily arrived at this division of the after-dinner workload. Jean was still in her healthy mode of cooking so tonight’s dinner was a Moroccan stew made with textured vegetable chicken substitute, carrots, and green olives served over couscous with a green salad on the side. They had opened a bottle of Zinfandel from Amador County. Jean put out candles and turned down the overhead lights. Moffat slowly began to relax. They took the remainder of the wine into the family room and sat together on an overstuffed loveseat. Jean had heard about the day’s events - the first notice from the radio and the basic facts from Mrs. Grubb. It was their custom to share the day’s experience. Moffat tailored his telling to Jean’s desire to hear about people while avoiding any descriptions of violence. Tonight, he described Aaron, his family situation (what Moffat had learned of it during the investigation of his aunt’s murder), the shaky interrogation attempt by De la Peña and the sad and lonely picture they got of him at his aunt’s memorial service. There was something about the kid, Moffat told Jean that would have tugged at her heart. She would want to make things better for him.

  “Do you know why he brought a gun to school?”

  “De la Peña was worried that it may have been his fault. He pressed him a bit hard in questioning last week. From what Aaron told the Sergeant on the ride to the station, I think it was a problem at school…maybe severe bullying. I think I may know one of the culprits but we can’t do anything about it just now.”