Judge Me When I'm Wrong

by Cheryl A Head

  Mandy shook her head. “It was too dark.”

  “Perhaps one of the neighbors got a better look or saw the license plate. I’m sure people were at their windows if porch lights came on.”

  “Maybe,” Mandy said somberly.

  “Tell me again what this man said to you. ‘Tell your partner this is a warning?’ Was he referring to Charlie?”

  “I think so.”

  “What’s that all about?” Solis shifted his question to Charlie. “Are you on some case that’s put you in trouble?”

  “We’re not sure,” Charlie lied.

  “Do you want a patrol car outside?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Solis,” Don spoke up quickly. Then, understanding from the looks he got that it really wasn’t his call, he held up his hands apologetically.

  “I don’t think there’ll be any more problems tonight,” Mandy said.

  Solis looked like he might protest, but thought better of it. He closed the notebook, and scanned the grim faces across from him.

  “Well, I guess that’s that. You got a shift tomorrow?”

  “Uh huh. But I think I’m calling out,” Mandy said.

  “Understandable.”

  “Gino, would you also alert the patrols to look out for our dog? Here’s his picture.”

  The detective looked at the photo and tucked it into his notebook. “Sure thing. I’ll make sure DPD has the photo too. Who knows, if they release Hamm he may find his way back home. Dogs can do that, you know.”

  Mandy walked Solis to the door. It was almost midnight. Judy was standing by at home for a conference call, and Gil had insisted on coming to the house. When Mandy returned to the kitchen, she’d added a heavy cardigan sweater over her shirt, which she pulled tightly across her body.

  “I’m cold.”

  Charlie reached for Mandy’s hand. “Why don’t you take a shower or a hot bath? I’m going to have a quick meeting with the team. Gil’s on his way over.”

  “What are you up to, Charlie?”

  “Three hours ago, my intent was to report to the courthouse tomorrow and tell the judge everything I know.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I intend to make the people who attacked you, and took Hamm, very sorry for what they’ve done.”

  “Let’s not make things any worse than they already are,” Mandy said, gripping the sweater tighter.

  “They pointed a gun at you,” Charlie said, slamming her hand on the table.

  “And if I’d had my revolver,” Mandy said, “I probably would have shot one, or both, of those guys and I’d be on administrative leave. Let’s not escalate things. If you plot some revenge against these men and carry it out, you’ll have your own trouble.”

  Mandy spoke loudly, her eyes squinted in anger. “We should have given Solis the whole story. He’s no fool. He could tell something else was going on.”

  Don excused himself to go the restroom. Charlie pulled out a stool for Mandy, but she shook her head and remained standing.

  “Do you want some tea?”

  “No. But I’m going to take that hot bath you suggested.”

  “Mandy, I’m really sorry. We’ll get Hamm back.” Charlie reached out for Mandy, who took a step back.

  “Don’t you see, Charlie? All of this connects back to your ego. It wasn’t enough for you to inform the judge about irregularities with the jury. You had to start snooping and be the one to catch the bad guys. I blame you that Hamm is gone.”

  # # #

  “I don’t want Mandy involved. It could jeopardize her job.” Charlie looked at Don and Gil, sitting at the kitchen counter, who nodded agreement.

  “Charlie, read the text message you received again?” Judy asked through the speakerphone.

  Don’t make trouble for us on the trial. Just stay out of our way, and we’ll let your dog go.

  “Who are these fuckers?” Gil asked.

  “Canova’s henchmen, or Goulet’s. Somebody who’s doing their dirty work,” Don said.

  “I think someone in the jury room overheard my conversation with Mrs. Andrews and tipped off the ghost.”

  “That Fletcher guy,” Don guessed.

  “Or the fashion girl. She seemed to be watching us.”

  “You think these jurors would condone violence?” Judy asked.

  “They probably haven’t considered anything beyond the promise of a payoff,” Charlie said. “But Thompson must be aware of the kind of men he’s dealing with. As a prosecutor, his crime is worse than the jurors’.”

  “What about Bateman?” Judy asked. “You think he knows about the jury tampering?”

  “I’d like to think he wouldn’t go along with something like this. Whatever happens to Canova, he’s still got his reputation as a defense attorney to protect,” Gil answered.

  “That’s all well and good, but Bateman had dinner tonight with Canova and Goulet. I saw him. If you don’t want fleas, don’t sleep with dogs,” Don quipped.

  Charlie rubbed her palms against her eye sockets. She was still electric with anger and could feel the pulsing of her blood behind her eyes. She took a few deep breaths, and leaned into the back of her stool, letting her arms dangle at her side.

  “Mandy blames me for what happened to Hamm.”

  “She doesn’t really mean that, Mack; she’s just upset,” Don said.

  Charlie shook her head. “She’s right in a way. If I’d gone to the judge with my suspicions, we wouldn’t be in this spot.”

  “Don’s right,” Judy said through the speaker. “Mandy’s hurt, embarrassed, and worried about Hamm. She’ll get over it.”

  Gil was watching Charlie. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not going to jury duty tomorrow. Instead, I want to pay a surprise visit to the ghost, and I’m going to beat him until he tells me where Hamm is.”

  “Then what?” Don asked.

  “Then we take him to the FBI. After that, I’ll go to the courthouse, talk to the judge, and tell her about the rotten jurors assigned to her trial.”

  “Frank Canova may be a small-time gangster, but he’s still dangerous,” Gil said. “Think about it. He probably has Goulet on his payroll, and the two guys from tonight. He knew about Mandy, has your cell phone number, probably has your address, and who knows what else.”

  “And I have his address,” Don said. “I followed Canova home from the restaurant.”

  “Good, Don,” Charlie said.

  “I’m with Gil.” Judy’s voice sprung from the speakerphone. “You don’t want to put your home and family in any more danger.”

  “It’s too late. Mandy was in danger. As far as I’m concerned, this is war.” Charlie spit out the words.

  “Then let’s treat it like war,” Gil said. “That means we pick our battles and our targets. We have to be strategic. I know you’re angry, but what’s the most important thing to do right now?”

  “Kick Goulet’s ass,” Don answered.

  “No,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “It’s not. The important thing is to get Hamm back.”

  “Won’t we have to rough up the ghost to get him back?” Don asked.

  “That’ll be up to him,” Charlie responded.

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday

  Now that the stakes on the jury trial had been raised to a personal level, Charlie had to pull rank to keep Gil focused on the Ferry case. He wasn’t happy about it, but finally conceded that with Jason’s grand jury appearance scheduled for Monday, it was impractical for him to be involved in the rescue of Hamm.

  That morning, he’d been summoned to the Ferry house for an emergency meeting, and was en route to Palmer Park. He couldn’t reach Judy to report his change in schedule, so he tried Charlie’s mobile phone. When she didn’t answer, he called her home number. He was about to hang up when Mandy finally answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Mandy, it’s Gil. How are you doing?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “No w
ord from the police?”

  “No. And Charlie won’t return my calls.”

  “I tried to reach her, too.”

  “I’m furious.” Mandy let the anger hang in the air. “At Charlie, and at myself.”

  Their silence was accompanied by the hum of traffic. Gil checked his odometer. He was going 50 mph.

  “Why does Charlie always have to be the one to save the day? She thinks it’s her responsibility to right the wrongs of the world even when it’s detrimental to the needs of the people who love her.”

  “She has a strong commitment to fair play,” answered Gil.

  “I don’t know why I’m complaining to you, Gil. You’re just like her,” Mandy said with exasperation. “This morning, she was off like Sir Lancelot on a white horse to take care of the guy from last night. She knows I don’t want her to do that.”

  “She knows. But knights see the quest and pursue it.”

  # # #

  Gil was still a few blocks away from the Ferry house when Judy called with only a sketchy update on the Hamm search.

  “All I know is Charlie called out sick from jury duty, and she and Don went to the Periwinkle house at the crack of dawn. She just called and said they’re now on their way to the courthouse.”

  “So, they plan to confront Goulet at the courthouse?”

  “I don’t know the details. But Charlie said they didn’t find Hamm at his house.”

  “Okay. Judge Ferry insisted on meeting this morning, but I’ll make this appointment as short as possible. Please call me if you hear anything.”

  # # #

  Gil was greeted at the door by Brenda Ferry, who was dressed casually in soft-yellow slacks and sweater with matching canvas shoes. She ushered Gil into the house with a face pinched in worry.

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “I think you’d better wait and hear it from my husband.”

  Gil began to turn into the formal parlor where all their other meetings had occurred, but Brenda continued down a hallway to the rear of the house. She paused at heavy double doors and knocked tentatively. When there was no response, she rapped forcefully until the door was yanked open.

  Judge Ferry had the annoyed look of being interrupted as he towered in the doorway. His scowl first found his wife, then quickly shifted to Gil. His posture indicated anxiety, and he dismissed the cordiality of hellos. He hurriedly stepped aside and waved his arm to beckon them into the room.

  The judge’s den was impressive, with pine paneling, built-in bookcases, and a mahogany fireplace surround. Dark-blue drapes had room-darkening backs, and the cloud-soft, wall-to-wall carpeting picked up the blues, maroons, and tan in the room. Coffered beam ceilings carried over to leather visitor chairs and a mahogany desk, behind which a massive desk chair needed only a higher back to become a throne. Ferry slid into the leather seat with easy familiarity and pointed to the guest chairs. He shoved an open law book to the side and placed his forearms on the desk, leaning toward Gil. He was clearly irritated.

  “What did you say to my son when you met him last?”

  Gil squirmed in his chair. Next to him, Brenda Ferry was as still as a mannequin. The ticking of a corner grandfather clock cast a false calm over the room.

  “We talked some about the videos of the assault that showed up on the internet. We spoke about the grand jury process. I coached him through the kinds of questions he might get. I told him the video might not necessarily be introduced by the prosecution because it doesn’t really help their case.”

  “Is that it?” Ferry demanded, in full judicial authority mode.

  “That’s the bulk of it.”

  “Did he speak to you about his friends?”

  “He spoke of a few friends. Why, what’s happened?”

  “Jason has informed his attorney that he plans to testify against his codefendants. Did he get that idea from you?”

  “No,” Gil answered.

  “Have you pressured him into supporting that girl?”

  “No, I have not, Judge Ferry.” Gil leaned forward in the chair. “I don’t believe Jason participated in the assault, nor did he do anything to stop it. He feels his own pressure about that.”

  Ferry could no longer hold back. “Your bleeding-heart stance about that woman, whose own questionable decisions . . .”

  Gil stood, about to explode, as Brenda held up her palms in a gesture of peace.

  “Your Honor, Maya Hebert was forcibly raped multiple times by multiple men while in an unconscious state.” Gil used the formal salutation to warn the judge to stop his interrogation. “There are no questionable decisions that would merit that violation,” Gil shouted.

  The two men tried to stare each other down. Mrs. Ferry fidgeted like she might offer some mediating words, but resettled in her seat. Just then the clock struck the half hour and Gil remembered his goal to keep the meeting short. He put his hands into his pockets and dipped back into his seat.

  “Are you concerned Jason’s change of heart means he’ll have to testify in a public trial?” Gil asked.

  Brenda Ferry spoke. “We were still hoping to keep Jason from further media scrutiny.”

  Both men stared at her, waiting for her to say more. When Brenda remained silent, Gil shifted to face the judge, who was staring past his wife toward the fireplace. Gil tried another tack.

  “If the prosecutors agree to use Jason as a witness, his charge may be reduced to a misdemeanor or maybe even dropped. They’ve seen the video footage just like I have. It corroborates Jason’s story.”

  “We know all that. That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  Judge Ferry looked at his wife with a gentleness Gil hadn’t seen in any of his previous visits. Then he shifted his eyes toward Gil and nestled against the back of his luxurious chair.

  “Were you in a fraternity at college?” asked the judge.

  “No. I had a basketball scholarship and too many other obligations.”

  Ferry was surprised. His research on Gil must not have gone beyond his law degree. The judge’s arched eyebrows prompted Gil to say more.

  “I was an All-City point guard for three years. Then I had a full scholarship at the University of Detroit. I joined the marines after that.”

  Ferry nodded. His countenance showed new respect for Gil.

  “I was never much of an athlete. Jason doesn’t get that from me.” The judge gave his wife a half-smile. “My wife was a collegiate track star. Made it to the Olympic trials.”

  “That’s impressive,” Gil acknowledged.

  “I attended a university where my family had a name and a legacy,” the judge continued. “I pledged Alpha Phi Alpha. We were all smart, ambitious, studious, with something to prove to the world about black men. We understood the importance of loyalty given and received. Some of those men are still my friends today.”

  Gil nodded, trying to figure out what was coming.

  “How can Jason maintain the respect of his brothers if he shows himself as someone who can’t be relied on?”

  Gil waited a moment, making sure the question wasn’t rhetorical, then said: “Loyalty is important. No doubt about that. But I don’t see it as the most important element of a brotherhood. Some people believe in blind loyalty. I don’t. People say that justice is blind, and we both know that’s not true. I took a vow as a marine to honor my country, and I also served to honor my family. I believe honor is more important than loyalty. Honor isn’t blind, Judge Ferry. It’s something you do with your eyes wide open. I think Jason just wants to honor you, and himself, by doing the right thing.”

  “We can see you’re an excellent attorney, Mr. Acosta,” Brenda Ferry said.

  # # #

  Gil slid behind his steering wheel and reached into his pocket. The note Brenda Ferry had slipped into his hand asked him to meet her at a diner a few miles north on Woodward Avenue.

  He pulled into the dine
r’s parking lot and called Judy.

  “I’m going to be a bit longer. I’m meeting with Mrs. Ferry separately.”

  “Is that so,” Judy said.

  “Any news from Charlie?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, I’ll call when I’m on my way to the office.”

  Gil remained in his car until he saw Brenda Ferry drive into the parking lot. She exited her SUV, nodded at him, and entered the diner. She waved from a booth at the back, and Gil went in and sat across from her.

  “Thanks for meeting me. Can I get you something?”

  “I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

  “How about a muffin? They have the best.”

  “Sure,” Gil said, unzipping his jacket. “That was a pretty intense meeting at the house.”

  “My husband has lofty ideas. Now I know you do too.”

  Gil laughed. “There’s quite a bit of loftiness going around the Mack office these days. I’m hoping it won’t all bite us in the ass.”

  Brenda raised her eyebrows, and fiddled with the rolled napkin. The tablecloth was of the red, checkered variety.

  “Sorry for the language.”

  “I’ve heard worse. Believe me.”

  The waitress, wearing a pink apron, arrived with an order pad. She looked first to Gil. It was an old-fashioned place. Gil pointed to Brenda, and the waitress didn’t register it as a faux pas.

  “Two coffees. Two muffins. I’ll have a banana nut.”

  “What kind for you, sir?”

  “Do you have a bran muffin?”

  Brenda and the waitress smiled simultaneously.

  “They have fifteen kinds of muffins,” Brenda said.

  “Wow. What’s your most exotic?” Gil beamed at the waitress.

  “We have one that’s half poppy seed, half blueberry. That’s a big seller.”

  “I’ll have that one.”

  “Okay. Two regular coffees. One Nana. One Bluepoppy. I’ll be right back.”

  Brenda continued toying with the napkin, smiled nervously at Gil, and then set her shoulders. She was the track star going through her routine at the starting blocks. “Mr. Acosta. I want to ask you about Jason.”