“Yeah, right. Anybody that can remove an app from Eric’s phone is a nuclear scientist,” Andrew replied with equal amusement. “Are you having a computer problem?”
“No, a little more important than that.” Dupree paused before continuing. “I’m an attorney. I have a case that I need some discreet snooping around inside a phone. I need someone I can trust to not disclose what we are doing.”
“Sounds, uh, kind of, uh…”
“I’m not asking for anything illegal. I need to know where a group of pictures was sent from. Is that possible?”
“It’s a battleship gray area. It can be done. I can do it. But,” Andrew went silent.
“I pay well.”
“Oh, that’s not it. That’s not it at all. I got in trouble a while back when I was in college for hacking into places I didn’t belong. It is an addiction. You might say I’m in recovery.”
“No problem. I’ll find somebody else.” Dupree respected the young man’s honesty and honored his dealing with what must have been a serious problem.
“Tell me about the case,” Andrew said showing no hint of emotion.
“A teacher, middle-aged, single, is being accused of sending pornographic pictures to high school boys. The ones in the pictures are the same age as his students and younger, with adults his age.”
“And?”
“He claims he didn’t do it. He hasn’t been charged. Yet. I need to know for a fact that the material originated from his phone. As far as I can see there isn’t anything questionable on the phone, but they could have been deleted.”
“You have the phone now?”
“No. What I need to know is if anything was sent to the phone numbers of the boys, from his phone.” Dupree wished he paid more attention to how his phone worked.
“Well, we’ve got two separate issues. One, did he send them? Two, were the pictures sent from his phone. Meaning are they still on the phone?”
“The police think so.”
“That’s not good.”
“Let me ask you something. Is he a righteous man?”
“How do you mean?”
“Good guy or bad guy? Do you think he did it?”
Dupree took a deep breath. “I don’t like him. As a person, I mean. He is a bitter, angry man. Do I think he would do something like this? No, I don’t think so. But who’s to know?”
“Alright. I’ll help. I need you to send me the SIM card.”
“The what?”
“Just ask the prosecution for a copy. They’ll know what it is. It is the brain of the phone. Can you overnight it to me?”
“You’ll have it in the morning.”
“Not to my work. Send it to my home address.” Andrew gave Dupree the address. “Mr. Dupree. I have a confession. You may not want me to help after, but I need you to know I did something similar when I was in college. I thought it was a joke, a prank to embarrass a professor.”
“We all do things we regret.” Dupree was a bit taken aback by Andrews’s candor.
“He killed himself. The humiliation was too much. I did that sir. I have asked God for forgiveness, but that doesn’t change the facts. That innocent man’s blood is on my hands and my conscience with every breath I take. My faith in God’s forgiveness sometimes is the only thing that keeps me from doing the same thing.”
“Listen, Andrew. I respect your transparency. I don’t want you to do this. If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Eric knows my story. God’s hand is all over this. This is my chance to save an innocent man the same fate, maybe redeem myself just a little. Send me the SIM card.”
“Thanks. I’ll get it out as soon as I get it.”
As Dupree finished the call Tomi appeared at the door with a pink message slip. “The principal is out of town for a conference. The vice-principal, Sean English, can see you at 2:30. Here’s his contact info should you need it.”
The Courthouse Annex in White Owl was in a converted hardware store. Outside it was newly painted, the door was labeled with hours, offices, and the usual county information. Inside it was bright and clean, well-lit and not at all a cheap makeover.
Dupree always enjoyed the feeling of the law being of importance. He checked in at the front security area where the metal detector proved he was not carrying weapons, the search of his briefcase proved he was not carrying explosives, and his ID proved he indeed had business with the court.
There were only two chambers in the annex; Superior Court was in the larger one. Dupree entered the courtroom. A broad-shouldered deputy greeted him with a whisper. Dupree gave Weston’s name.
“We are running right on time.” The deputy pointed at Weston’s name on the docket on his clipboard. “10:30, they’re just wrapping up. Your client will be here in a minute. You can have a seat on the right.”
“Thanks.” Dupree made his way to the front row behind the rail separating the gallery from the court, just in time to hear a young man at the prosecution’s table say, “Yes, your honor. I will see to that today.”
The judge lightly hit his gavel on the desk. “What’s next, Bailiff?”
“The people versus David Weston, your honor.”
“Does this one have counsel?”
“I believe so.”
“The people versus David Weston. All concerned parties make yourself known.”
Dupree stood. “Counsel for the accused, your honor.”
The bailiff motioned Dupree forward. Dupree took his place behind the defense table. “You may be seated, counselor. Have you appeared in my court before?”
“No sir, Adam Dupree, your honor.”
The judge looked Dupree up and down with a scowl. “Where are you from, Mr. Dupree?”
“White Owl.”
“Not for long, I imagine.”
“No, your honor. I’m originally from southern California.”
“We are simple people here in the Northwest. I will not abide by any fancy pants California foolishness, Mr. Dupree. Do I make myself clear?”
“You’ll have no trouble from me, your honor.”
“I expect not. Bring in the accused. Where is the prosecution for this case?”
“That would be me, your honor.” The young man from the previous case placed a thick folder from his briefcase on the table and stood.
The door to the right of the court opened and a deputy led David Weston into the courtroom. He was in an orange jumpsuit. His hands were cuffed in front of him. The deputy brought him to the defense table and he stood silently beside Dupree.
“This seems to be a pretty cut and dried procedure here before us. Does the State have an objection to bail being set in this case?”
“Yes, your honor. We feel the accused could be a flight risk.”
Dupree grinned. It was obvious the young prosecutor was new on the job. A fifty-plus-year-old teacher with no previous criminal record, and a homeowner, isn’t likely to be a flight risk.
“Why is that, Mr. Oswell?”
“We are close to the Canadian border, your honor.”
“Mr. Dupree?”
“Your honor, my client is a lifelong member of this community, a homeowner, he is gainfully employed, and a member of St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church. I see no evidence that would indicate he would be a flight risk.”
“I tend to agree with your assessment, Mr. Dupree. I will grant your bail request. This is a serious charge before us. I set bail at one hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Weston, are you prepared to post this amount of bail?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“The court shall release Mr. Weston until his court appearance upon payment or bond in the amount set.”
“Any questions?”
The young prosecutor lifted his chin from his chest. “No, your honor.”
“Thank you. No, your honor,” Dupree was pleased but tried not to show it.
The judge gave his gavel a crack on the desk and nodded at the bailiff.
“All rise.” The jud
ge stood and made his way through a door behind the bench.
“I will arrange bail on my way back to my office. Do you have the funds? It will be ten percent. That’s ten thousand plus fees. Let’s get you out of here.”
“You’ll need to get my checkbook.”
“Where will I find that?”
“The desk in my study. The key to the front door is under the mat.”
Dupree patted Weston on the back in an effort to reassure him all was going according to plan. He turned and gave the deputy a nod and he came and took Weston by the arm and led him out of the courtroom.”
As Weston disappeared through the door returning him to jail Dupree shook his head. “You’re welcome.”
* * *
Thankfully, White Owl is a small town, and Dupree was able to arrange the bond and get back to his office in a half-hour. He would still have plenty of time to grab a bite of lunch and make it to the high school by 2:30.
“You’re not going to like this.” Tomi’s expression showed hesitation to tell him what was on her mind.
“Give me that bad news first.” Dupree smiled trying to show her bad news was part of the game.
Tomi took a sheet of paper from her desk. “I’ll just read it. “We cannot cover Mr. Weston’s bond at this time.” Tomi winced as she looked up at her boss. “The check you gave us for his bail will not clear the bank. Insufficient funds. Mr. Weston’s bond will be held until payment is made, this time only by a certified cashier’s check or cash.”
“Terrific.” Dupree rolled his eyes. He must have known that when he wrote the check. “I’ll be back in a while. I’m going back to the jail to see what’s going on.”
* * *
As the cell door opened, Dupree was greeted with a grateful smile as Weston stood to anticipate leaving.
“We’ve got a problem.”
“What’s that?” Weston frowned and seated himself on the bunk.
“Well, for starters, your check didn’t clear.”
“That’s impossible. There is over $20,000 in that account.”
“When the bond company tried to process the check, they were informed it would not clear at this time.”
“I don’t understand. How can I look into it from in here?”
Dupree put his briefcase on the sink and flipped open the clasps. “By giving me Power of Attorney, passwords, and all matters financial on your behalf.” He removed a sheet of paper and a pen. Please write down your bank, credit card companies, or any other financial institutions you do business with. I will transfer whatever funds necessary to see that your bail is paid.”
“Does that mean your retainer didn’t clear either?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t banked it yet.”
“This just doesn’t make any sense. My whole world seems to be spinning out of control.”
“If what you say is correct, we should be able to get this taken care of quickly. I’ll be back for you as soon as bail is paid.”
Weston stood and gave Dupree the signed Power of Attorney document. “I’m so sorry for this inconvenience.”
“That’s what you pay me for. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Dupree turned and gave the cell door two hard thumps with the side of his fist.
* * *
“What did you find out?” Tomi greeted him upon his entrance.
“I found out that our client has no money in his bank account, yet he claims he has plenty.”
Dupree handed Tomi the Power of Attorney. “Time to make some calls. You take the top two and I’ll take the bottom. Identify yourself as my para and tell them we have passwords and Power of Attorney. Tell them that I do not wish to make a trip downtown.”
Dupree went to his office sensing that something was dreadfully wrong. Weston’s shock at hearing his check won’t clear was not an act.
Dupree googled the bank card company Weston gave him. As he punched in the numbers of customer service, he worried what he was about to find. He punched one for English and waited several minutes before he heard the voice of a female with a southern accent come on the line.
“I’m Adam Dupree, I am the attorney representing David Weston. I have Power of Attorney in his financial matters. Can you help me or do you need to pass me to someone farther up the food chain?”
“I will connect you with someone in our legal department, please hold.” Once again, Dupree found himself listening to static music on hold. After several more minutes, his thoughts were interrupted by, “Mr. Dupree? I am Sonia Dautry. How can I help you?”
“I need to check the credit availability on my client David Weston’s account. I have the last four digits of his card number, his social security number and the security code for his account. Mr. Weston is not able to retrieve his credit card at the moment.”
“Thank you for that information. Let me see what I can find out for you.” Dupree could hear the clicking of computer keys in the background.
“Mr. Weston’s card has been canceled per his request, as of last week.”
“Can you check that again, please?” Dupree was now doubly confused. Something was going on and he was sure that Weston was oblivious to it.
Sonia came back on the line. “Yes, sir, my information is correct. The card was canceled and there’s an outstanding balance of $4862.12.”
“Tell me something, what are the last two or three charges on that card?”
“There is a charge of $1200 to PowerPoker.com. There are numerous charges to them over the last thirty days. Oh, my goodness.”
“What?” Dupree really didn’t want to know.
“There is $828 charged to naughtyboysteenhotties.com. Should I go on?”
“No, thank you, that will do.”
“When can we expect payment?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” Dupree hung up the phone.
“Sir? You might want to pick up line two.” Tomi’s voice betrayed her confusion.
“Dupree.”
“Hi Mr. Dupree, this is Monique at Washington Capital. Your para was asking about accounts belonging to David Weston. As of Thursday last week, all of Mr. Weston’s accounts have been closed and the money wire-transferred to another account.”
“What bank was it wired to?”
“The routing number is not one I’m familiar with. I believe it is foreign. But I really have no way of knowing.”
“Who placed the request?”
“According to our information, it was Mr. Weston.”
“How can you just call up and wire all your money to a different bank?”
Monique was taking a defensive posture. “You can’t just call up. We have certain security protocols that must be met prior to any transfers.”
“Such as?”
“Social Security number, account numbers, passwords and pins, mother’s maiden name and a series of security questions. These items would only be known to Mr. Weston. It’s quite a complicated process. We at Washington Capital are very committed to the security of our customer’s funds.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are. Can you tell me how much was transferred?”
“One moment.” Again, Dupree heard the clicking of keys before receiving his answer. “There’s $22,322.89 transferred from Mr. Weston’s checking and $114,619 transferred from his money market account which includes $30 of wire transfer fees.”
Dupree felt like someone had punched him in the gut. “Thank you, Monique.”
“Anything else I can do for you today Mr. Dupree?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Say hi to Dara for me.”
Dupree hung up without responding. He stared down at the yellow post-it note with Andrew’s name and phone number. He wondered if he should call him back with this new information. A small voice told him to hold off. An awful thought hit Dupree. “Tomi, can you call PUD and see if Weston’s bill has been paid?”
“What is PUD?”
“Public Utilities District for White Ow
l.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m on it.”
Dupree googled Comcast and dialed the number. When the customer service rep came on the line, Dupree told them he was David Weston, gave them the street address and asked what the balance on his account was.
“As of your service disconnect date, your balance was 218.34.”
“What do you mean, disconnect?”
“Your account says you called and had your service stopped as of last Friday.” Dupree hung up. He sat silently for several minutes before Tomi reported on the PUD bill.
“This is kind of weird. They say the utilities were turned off last week and asked if we wanted them turned back on. Something weird is going on here.”
“It certainly is.”
* * *
The vice-principal’s office was down the hall from the main office. It seemed an afterthought, the space was small, cramped and claustrophobic.
The door was open. Dupree gave the metal door frame three quick raps. “Mr. English?”
“Yes, hi. Please call me Sean. You are Mr. Weston’s attorney?”
“Yes, my name is Dupree.”
“That what I have here.” English tapped his large desk calendar with his pencil. “Have a seat.”
“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. I never met Mr. Weston until three days ago, and then again this morning. I kind of win by being the only attorney in White Owl.”
English smiled and gave a knowing nod. He was in his late thirties, early forties maybe, athletic-looking, well dressed but casual. He wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was longer than Dupree would have expected.
“I need some background on Mr. Weston. He is not what I would call outgoing, or forthcoming. Do you know him well?”
“My job is kind of a catch-all position. I’m the Athletic Director, Supervision discipline guy, and Director of Curriculum. It sounds like a lot, but we are small enough we don’t warrant three separate people to do what I do.” English glanced down at his calendar. “My only real contact with Weston is English Department meetings.”
“OK, let’s start there.”
“He is old school. We try to build a course of study that is more applicable to our student’s lives and interests. Weston is very traditional. The classics, proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, drill-drill-drill kind of thing. No room in his vision of English curriculum for modern young adult fiction, current trends in teaching writing, or this week’s nonsense.”
Dupree's Resolve Page 11
