“You can’t prove that.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” Talon complained. “My guy is innocent.”
“I guess we’ll see what the jury says,” Cecilia answered.
“And that’s justice?” Talon asked. “Throw it at the jury and hope they make the right decision? I thought that was your job. Aren’t you supposed to seek justice?”
“I’ll get justice,” Cecilia replied, “when I convict your client of murder.”
CHAPTER 21
The next major development—or non-development—came when Talon received the police department’s response to her public records request. The Public Records Act required every public agency to produce the requested documents, but it also allowed the agency to redact certain information that fell into any of a dozen or so exceptions. So, Talon got 114 pages from the police department, and every one of them had been redacted to complete uselessness. The only pages that weren’t filled with a single, page-sized black box were pages filled with a half-page-sized black box with the rest of the page blank.
Even the officer’s name had been redacted, which seemed especially ridiculous to Talon since her request was for Officer Dickerson’s records, no one else’s, and the blotted-out pages were provided in response to that specific request.
Talon wasn’t surprised by the response from Dickerson’s department. In fact, she’d planned for it. She could use it to bolster her efforts to receive the records, unredacted, through the prosecutor’s office.
First, the provided pages, even if blacked out, confirmed that Dickerson’s personnel file did in fact contain some sort of disciplinary records; it wasn’t just a ‘fishing expedition’—the term prosecutors always labelled any effort by the defense to obtain information being hidden by those selfsame prosecutors. Second, the exceptions in the Public Records Act that permitted redactions didn’t apply in the context of a criminal defense attorney receiving reports on a particular case. She was entitled to all relevant information, unredacted.
Therefore, Talon concluded, proof that the disciplinary records existed combined with Talon’s inability to obtain them through public channels would force the judge to order the prosecutor to provide the records to her.
She was wrong.
CHAPTER 22
Judges didn’t like to be forced to do things. That’s why most of them became judges—so they could force other people to do things. If anything, telling a judge they had to do something was pretty much a guarantee they wouldn’t do it. Talon eventually remembered that, but not until it was too late.
And she had an audience for her mistake. Of course. Her client was present, of course, as required for every criminal hearing. Curt had come along too. Not because Talon needed him there; she didn’t. But, as Curt explained it, his younger cousin, Meagan, was job-shadowing him or something that day for her criminal justice class, and he thought she’d find the hearing more interesting than sitting in his office. Talon hadn’t cared enough to object. Her focus was on winning her motion, or rather obtaining Officer Dickerson’s disciplinary file through whatever means effectuated that result. Her motion was simply the current path to that goal.
She hadn’t given up on the other paths, but they were farther down the road, and slower to trod. She could challenge the redactions in her public records request, but that would require a whole new lawsuit and take far longer than the criminal case would last. She had subpoenas out to the department, but enforcement of those could also be dragged out by the civil legal advisor to the department. Only the criminal case had a clock ticking, and Talon was going to use that clock to accelerate the result she needed.
But Cecilia Thompson had other ideas.
They drew yet another judge for the hearing. Talon had hoped to get back in front of Judge Gainsborough, but she was relieved not to be dealing with Portello again. Gainsborough was supposed to be hearing criminal motions still, but he had taken the week off, and the motion ended up in front of Judge Kristina Kirshner. Talon had been in front of her before, with mixed results. Judge Kirshner was no nonsense and super prepared. That was good when the facts and the law were both on your side. It was less good when your request was more in the gray area of judicial discretion.
“All rise!” the bailiff called out. “The Pierce County Superior Court is now in session, The Honorable Kristina Kirshner presiding.”
Judge Kirshner emerged from her chambers and took the bench. She had her blonde hair in a loose bun, her reading glasses on top of her head, and a serious expression on her face.
“Be seated,” she instructed before glancing down at the attorneys, both of whom she knew. “Ms. Thompson. Ms. Winter. Are the parties ready to proceed?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Cecilia jumped in to answer first, even though it was Talon’s motion. Prosecutors were used to answering first, always trying to run the courtroom. “The State is ready.”
Talon took a moment to stare her disapproval at her opponent, before raising her eyes to the judge. “The defense is ready to proceed with its motion, Your Honor.”
Kirshner gave a slight nod to Talon. “Proceed, counselor.”
Talon returned the nod. “Thank you, Your Honor. This is a motion to compel the State to provide a copy of Officer Todd Dickerson’s police personnel file, and specifically any disciplinary information that may exist therein. As the Court is aware, Officer Dickerson is the State’s primary witness. The court may not be aware, however, that it was Officer Dickerson’s weapon which fired all of the fatal shots in this case.”
“I read your brief, Ms. Winter,” Judge Kirshner interrupted. “I’m aware of that allegation.”
“Then Your Honor will also be aware,” Talon responded, “that means Officer Dickerson shot an unarmed young Hispanic man, despite reports to the contrary promulgated by the police department and prosecuting attorney’s office.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Cecilia interjected. “Is this a motion for discovery or simply a forum to attack the motives of law enforcement and my office?”
“It’s a motion and a forum to seek information about the motives of law enforcement,” Talon returned. “Specifically, the motives of the police officer who killed an unarmed Hispanic man.”
“You can stop saying ‘unarmed young Hispanic man’, Ms. Winter,” the judge stated. “I’m aware of the facts. And I’m aware of what you’re insinuating. What I’m not aware of is any basis to believe this officer had any animosity toward young Hispanic men, or any other demographic group.”
“Which is precisely why I need to see his personnel file, Your Honor,” Talon explained. “If such a predisposition exists, it has probably surfaced before and would have been the subject of some sort of internal investigation, even if it was ultimately deemed unfounded by a department eager to cover up that sort of thing.”
“You are throwing around a lot of accusations, Ms. Winter,” Judge Kirshner pointed out. “But I’m not seeing anything to support them.”
“Then it’s a lot like the State’s case against my client,” Talon returned. “Yet, they get to keep him locked up in a cage pending trial, despite him allegedly being innocent until proven guilty. If they can do that, the least the Court can do is allow me to see the personnel records of the person who actually pulled the trigger.”
“Your client confessed.” Judge Kirshner frowned.
“He was tricked into confessing, Your Honor,” Talon answered. “We will show that at trial as well.”
But Kirshner just harrumphed at that. “We’re getting too far afield, counselor. The point is, Officer Dickerson has important privacy rights in his own personnel file. It is important that his department and his supervisors be candid in their appraisal of him without having to fear that their comments will be turned over to every defense attorney on every case he works on, which I’m sure numbers in the hundreds, if not thousands. Unless you can show me some reason, beyond a hunch, that there would be something in the records relevant to bias or improper motivat
ion, I can’t just hand them over so you can rifle through them, hoping to find something useful.”
“But I can’t show you what’s in them,” Talon complained, “if you don’t let me look at them. We know the records exist, Your Honor. And we know the police department doesn’t want me to see what’s in them. That’s why I got over a hundred pages of black redaction boxes. I’ve shown the records exist and I’ve shown Officer Dickerson shot an unarmed Hispanic man for no apparent reason.”
“He was robbing a store!” Cecilia interjected.
“Allegedly robbing a store,” Talon answered. “And now I’m not so sure.”
“Well, I’m not sure either, Ms. Winter,” Judge Kirshner said. “And if I’m not sure there is something material in the officer’s personnel file, then I am not going to order the State to hand it over to you just to satisfy your curiosity.”
“But, Your Honor,” Talon started to argue, “you can’t—"
“Actually, Ms. Winter, I can,” Kirshner cut her off. “Your motion is denied.”
Talon just stood there for a moment, unsure how to keep her queen from toppling off the board. “Your Honor,” she fumbled, “you haven’t heard from the State yet.”
“I don’t need to,” Kirshner replied. “I’m denying your motion on its own merits.” She turned to Cecilia. “Unless the State wishes to be heard, for the record.”
Cecilia was smart enough not to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. “No, Your Honor. Thank you. We agree with the Court’s ruling.”
Of course you do, Talon fumed in her head.
And that was that. Kirshner called the next case and two new lawyers stepped forward to address the Court. Talon barely had time to turn to Luke to offer a “Sorry” before the guards pulled him away so they could fetch the next defendant to be ground beneath the wheels of justice.
“That’s bullshit you didn’t even have to say anything,” Talon hissed at Cecilia once they’d both stepped away from the bar.
“It just shows how weak your motion was,” Cecilia countered.
“It shows how biased the system is,” Talon returned. “If there’s nothing in his personnel file, let me see it.”
Cecilia shook her head. “That’s not how it works.”
“I know how it works,” Talon growled. “And I know who it works for. The cops, you, but never my clients.”
“At least he’s not Black,” Cecilia practically sighed. “Then I’d have to listen to another lecture about that.”
Talon tipped her head at her opponent. “Really? Your concern about systemic racism in the criminal justice system is that you might have to listen to someone point it out to you? Maybe ask you to do something about it? Well, my client might be white, but he’s poor. And the system is biased against poor people too.”
“He can’t be that poor,” Cecilia sniffed. “He hired you.”
“You’d be surprised,” Talon returned.
“You’re not doing this one pro bono, are you?” Cecilia asked, her own head tipped slightly. “That doesn’t sound like the Talon Winter I know.”
Talon knew Cecilia was right. But she wasn’t going to let her know that. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Cecilia nodded. “That’s probably true. This case is starting to show me that.”
“Yeah.” Talon sized up her opposite part. “Me too you.”
Then it was just awkward. Cecilia snatched up her files and said something about going to her next hearing. Talon took longer but gathered up her things and made her way to the back of the courtroom, where Curt and Meagan were waiting for her.
“Well, that went terrible,” she said as she walked up to them.
“I don’t get it.” Curt shook his head. “How can you show what’s in his file if they don’t let you look at his file? Seems like it’s just designed to never let anyone look at a cop’s personnel file.”
Talon pointed at her nose with one hand and Curt with the other. “Bingo. He could have beaten somebody into a coma, but I wouldn’t know it unless charges were filed, and of course, charges would never be filed. It’s all one big cover-up. I would need him to voluntarily expose himself, and he’s never going to do that.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Meagan spoke up. She looked exactly like Curt, except a little younger, a little shorter, and a lot more female. She held up her phone. “Have you seen his Facebook?”
CHAPTER 23
“I don’t have a Facebook account,” Talon admitted, even as she squinted at Meagan’s phone to see what she’d found.
“What?” Curt was shocked. “How do you stay in touch with your school friends?”
Talon glanced sideways at him. “I don’t.”
“Well, Officer Dickerson has an account,” Meagan said. “And he doesn’t know how to set his privacy settings to ‘friends only.’ I can see everything.”
“What do you see?” Talon turned back to Meagan.
“At the top of his feed, nothing,” Meagan answered. “Just stupid pictures of his last vacation and where he ate dinner last week. But if you scroll back far enough...”
“How far?” Talon asked.
“Pretty far,” Meagan admitted. “A few years. But it looks like he’s never cleaned out his feed. And like I said, his privacy settings are public. I can see who he was hanging out with years ago before he even became a cop.”
“And who was he hanging out with?”
“Racists,” Meagan answered, holding up a photo of a younger Todd Dickerson with a group of other white men, holding beers and posing, all smiles, in front of a white supremacist flag.
Talon took the phone from Meagan to get a better look. It was definitely Dickerson. And that was definitely some variation on the Nazi flag, the swastika replaced with some new, but similarly designed, symbol of racial hatred. She scrolled through the adjacent photos. It looked like a typical Friday night get-together at any local tavern, except for the flags and the white power hand signs people were throwing up. Dickerson himself wasn’t flashing the signs, but the woman he had his arm around in about half the pictures sure did.
“Are you going to renew your motion?” Curt asked. “This shows predilection, right?”
Talon nodded. “Right. But no.”
“No?” Curt asked. “Why not? This is huge.”
Talon nodded again, still looking at the photos of Todd Dickerson and his racist girlfriend before Dickerson decided to become a cop. She knew what the arguments would be. He was just dating her. He didn’t know her politics. He didn’t recognize the obscure symbol on the flag. They broke up right after this. It was ages ago. Too distant. Too attenuated. Too bad.
“It is,” Talon agreed. “The police aren’t going to want anyone to see these.”
“So, let the judge see them,” Curt suggested. “Let everyone see them.”
“No, that’s not the play.” Talon handed the phone back to Meagan. “I want Dickerson’s personnel file. The judge is just the middleman. I’m going to take these straight to the source.”
CHAPTER 24
“I’ll see if Mr. Fassbinder is in,” the receptionist at the Tacoma Police headquarters said. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Winter. Talon Winter,” she answered. “I’m a defense attorney. But just tell him it’s about Kommandant Dickerson.”
When the receptionist furrowed her eyebrows, Talon explained, “It’s kind of a joke. He’ll get it.”
The receptionist didn’t seem convinced. She called Fassbinder’s extension and after a moment, gave him Talon’s name and occupation. She did not mention ‘Kommandant Dickerson.’
“Have a seat in the lobby,” the receptionist instructed after she hung up again. “Mr. Fassbinder will be out shortly.
Martin Fassbinder was the legal advisor to the Tacoma Police Department. Another lawyer, but in-house with just one client. His job wasn’t to secure a conviction, or champion the rights of any individual officer. It was to protect his
client—the department.
Talon had never met him before, but when he entered the lobby there was little doubt that he was a lawyer and not a cop. He was short, probably 5’6”, with a receding hairline and thick glasses. He also had a pleasant face and a warm smile for Talon as he strode over and extended a hand.
“Ms. Winter? Hi. I’m Martin Fassbinder.”
Talon stood up and reached down to shake his hand. “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Fassbinder.”
“Please. Call me Martin,” he said. “I’ll show you back to my office, and we can discuss whatever it is you’ve come to see me about.”
Talon suspected he already knew, but she appreciated that he wasn’t going to be the first to tip his hand.
“Ah, yes, Officer Dickerson,” Fassbinder nodded after they were seated in his office and Talon began the conversation. “I suspected that was why you’d come. Ms. Thompson called me shortly after your hearing the other day to let me know I didn’t need to produce the records. I believe she may have mentioned your name.”
Of course she mentioned my name, Talon knew. But it was a dance. Talon could dance.
“How nice of her,” Talon replied. “Then I’m sure she mentioned my client’s name and Officer Dickerson’s as well. It turns out my client is charged with a murder Officer Dickerson actually committed.”
Fassbinder’s smile faltered for a moment, but he caught himself. “You’re not here to argue when a homicide is a murder, or who can be held responsible under the law.”
“No, I’m not,” Talon agreed. “I’m here to get Officer Dickerson’s personnel file. Specifically, his disciplinary file.”
Fassbinder folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “You know I can’t do that, Ms. Winter. The judge already denied your motion.”
“Please. Call me Talon,” she replied. “And yes, I know the judge denied my motion. But I definitely do not know that you can’t provide me the information anyway. In fact, I know you can, if you want to. Nothing in the judge’s ruling prohibited the release of Officer Dickerson’s file. It just didn’t compel it.”
Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set Page 52
