Dark Justice

by Sinclair, Rachel

  For the next two hours, he patiently went through algorithms, digital footprints, event logs, registry records, thumbnails, and malware. He explained each concept, and showed how he used all of these tools to find out that Carter was hacked and how he was able to find out who had hacked him. He named Chris Warford as the person who he identified as the hacker.

  I changed my mind about calling Chris Warford himself. I knew that he was going to lie, but I was armed with the information that Jeffrey Bauer testified to on the stand, so I would use that to cross-examine Chris. He was on my witness list, so there was no problem with my calling him.

  I called Chris, and asked him about algorithms, digital footprints, event logs, registry records, thumbnails and malware. I then told him that my computer expert identified him as the person who hacked Carter.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said indignantly. “I’m not a hacker. I’m a legitimate businessman.”

  “You are,” I said. “And what business is that?”

  “I remotely resolve computer problems for businesses,” he said. “I mainly work with small businesses that can’t afford their own IT Department. I get a call from a business, and they give me remote access to the computer that I’m called to fix.”

  “And you don’t hack for any businesses?”

  “No, I don’t hack. My business is strictly above-board.”

  “Yet, my expert, Jeffrey Bauer, has done a forensic analysis and found evidence that you were the person who hacked my client’s computer. He just spent 2 hours telling the jury exactly how you hacked my client’s computer.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Dude, I don’t know why he would have fingered me for that, because I don’t do that kind of thing.”

  “But you’ll admit that you don’t know Mr. Bauer, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “So, Mr. Bauer has nothing against you personally?”

  “No. I don’t know him, so I don’t know what he would have against me.”

  “And, since the two of you don’t know one another, how would he have ever gotten your name, unless he actually did identify you as being the person who hacked my client’s computer?”

  “I don’t know, you’re going to have to ask him that question.”

  “Nothing further.”

  All in all, I thought that I did a decent job of seeding the idea into the collective mind of the jury that Carter’s computer was hacked and those messages were planted.

  But I didn’t think that it was going to be enough.

  I took a deep breath, and then walked over to Carter. “You ready for this?” I whispered to him.

  He nodded his head, tears in his eyes. We had gone through mock testimony for hours before this, but he was still terrified. He was painfully shy to begin with, and extremely insecure. He knew that his testimony was going to be breathlessly reported around the world, and he had confessed to me that he was going to feel like he was in a zoo. Like he was an animal on display.

  I made eye contact with him, and I touched his hand. I tried to convey that I had this, even though I didn’t feel that way. I was usually a pretty good judge on how a trial was going, and this one wasn’t going well at all.

  I took a deep breath.

  “The defense calls Carter Dixon.”

  Chapter 42

  Carter walked slowly to the stand. He was, once again, dressed in a suit that was ill-fitting. He was so skinny, as he was skinny to begin with, and then lost 20 lbs due to stress, so no suit was going to look good on him. He walked with a stoop, his head down. When he sat down, he was shaking all over and I prayed that he wouldn’t break down in tears. We had to get through this testimony.

  A bailiff swore him in, he stated his name for the record, and then I gently started to questioning him.

  “Mr. Dixon, do you understand why it is that you are on this stand right now?”

  He took a deep breath and then got close to the microphone. “I do.” He nodded his head. “But not really.”

  “What do you mean by that? When you say not really, what do you mean?”

  He ran his hand through his thick brown hair, and his cowlick stuck up more than ever. “I mean that I know that I’ve been charged with murder, but I have no clue on why.” He swallowed hard. “I have no clue why it was that I’ve been charged with murder. I didn’t know Ms. Wentworth. I mean, I saw her one time in a restaurant, but I was too shy to approach her. That was the only way that I even knew Ms. Wentworth. Except for seeing her in movies.”

  “You do understand that your hair was found at the murder scene?”

  “I do. But I don’t know how it got there.”

  I thought that I might have guessed, when I got Senator Nash on the stand, that he might have been behind that hair making its way to the scene. I was a little unclear about how that might have happened, however, but I had decided that a decent strategy would be to have Carter testify that his mother was a drunk and a prostitute who would sell him down the river for a dime. I would then make the connection in my closing statement, saying that Shaylene Dixon would be just the kind of person who would sell Carter’s hair to the highest bidder. That was the only thing that I could think of that might have engendered reasonable doubt on how that hair got to the murder scene.

  It was a long-shot and I hoped that I could get through this testimony without getting shut down.

  “Mr. Dixon, how is your relationship with your mother?”

  He cleared his throat and got closer to the microphone. “Not good. She’s always treated me like I’m just a pain to her. She’s told me, ever since I was born, that she wished that I had never been born.”

  “Does she know quite a few people?”

  “No. I mean, she does and she doesn’t. She doesn’t actually have any friends or nothing like that. But she meets a lot of men because of the way that she looks and because she’s uh, very aggressive with meeting people.”

  “What do you mean by aggressive?”

  “My mother’s a prostitute. She has to prostitute herself because she’s hooked on alcohol and meth. She doesn’t make money. She lives on my father’s social security money, which isn’t much. If she didn’t prostitute herself, she wouldn’t be able to buy her booze and drugs.”

  I nodded my head. “She’s a prostitute. Would you say that she has met quite a few men that way?”

  “Yes. I would say that.”

  “Mr. Dixon, would it be beyond your mother’s capability to sell a man a hair of yours? Is that something that she would be beyond doing?”

  He shook his head and tears came to his eyes. “No, Ms. Justice. That would be something that she would do.”

  “And why would she do something like that to you?”

  “She hates me.” He shook his head. “She would do anything to get me out of the house. She needs money, too, so selling my hair would be something that she would definitely do.”

  I decided to pivot. “Mr. Dixon, would you be able to get onto Ms. Wentworth’s grounds?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “There’s no way that I would be able to get onto her property. There’s no way that I would be able to get into her house. No way.”

  “Because you had never met Ms. Wentworth, right?”

  “Right. I didn’t know her. I’m a kid from Skid Row. That’s all I am. I would never be able to get close to a legendary actress like Ms. Wentworth. Never.”

  “And Mr. Dixon, you read those postings on that Reddit site. Did you write any of them?”

  “No. God, no. I would never, ever write things like that. That’s not me. I don’t write things like that. Those messages were sickening. Gross. Violent. There’s just no way that I would ever write something like that about anybody.”

  I shook my head. “I have nothing further.”

  Neera got up and she was loaded for bear. “Mr. Dixon, you don’t actually know that your mother sold your hair to somebody, do you?”

  He shook his head. “N
o, but that’s-“

  “She never told you that she did something like that?”

  “No, but-“

  “You never caught her doing that to you, did you?”

  “No, but-“

  “And you actually don’t know of anybody who knows your mother who would be willing to buy your hair to frame you, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother doesn’t know somebody who knows Ms. Wentworth, does she?”

  “Of course not, my mom doesn’t run in that kind of circle.”

  “Mr. Dixon, admit it. That whole line of questioning about your mother possibly selling your hair was based on absolutely nothing, wasn’t it? You have no evidence of that, do you?”

  He looked down at the stand. “My mom would do something like that. She would.”

  “But you have zero evidence that she did do something like that, right?”

  He took a deep breath. “Right.”

  “I have nothing further.”

  Carter hung his head and the judge excused him. I could see that he was still holding back tears. “I didn’t do this,” he said. “I swear, I would never do something like this.”

  I went up to the stand and put my arm around him. “Come on, Mr. Dixon, let’s take a seat.”

  He finally stood up and looked right at the jury. “I didn’t do this,” he said. “I swear.”

  He took his seat, and I put my arm around him while he cried. I think that he knew where this was going, as did I. I didn’t want to believe that way, though. I couldn’t possibly believe that way.

  Yet, the writing was on the wall.

  We were going to lose.

  After Carter, it was time for closing arguments.

  Neera went, and then I did. As I did my arguments, I could see that the jury still wasn’t convinced. I still didn’t have a good answer for that goddamned hair. I gamely tried to explain it away by pointing out that Carter’s mom was a prostitute who was the type of person who would sell his hair, but I could tell that that argument was falling on deaf ears.

  I felt that I did a good job on the computer hacking, but that was an issue that was so technical and esoteric that it was tough to sell to the jury. I did a good job in showing that Addison’s property seemed to be impossible for my client to get onto, but I could tell that even that argument wasn’t hitting home. The hair thing was something that was easier for them to hang onto and understand. All that they knew was that Carter’s hair was at the scene and that I really couldn’t explain why.

  And that was that.

  Three hours later, we got the jury verdict.

  Guilty.

  Chapter 43

  When the jury foreman stood up and announced that they had found my client guilty, I felt like crumpling into a little ball.

  I lost. This kid was going to go to prison for the rest of his life.

  He was standing next to me, crying, and my heart was ripped out. Completely ripped out.

  I held him for a few minutes while he bawled, and the bailiff came and led him away.

  “Carter, we’re going to appeal,” I said. “As soon as I can, I’m going to file a notice of appeal.”

  I didn’t quite know what the grounds were going to be for that appeal, but I knew that I could find ample areas once I got a look at the trial transcripts. There was always something in those transcripts that could support an appeal, and I knew that this trial was no different.

  I felt Declan’s arm around my shoulders and I couldn’t help it.

  I bawled like I hadn’t bawled in my entire life.

  About an hour later, Declan and I walked out into the street, where reporters were lying in wait. “The jury found your client guilty. Do you have any comment?”

  “Yes. We will be appealing the verdict as soon as possible.”

  I walked away while Declan spoke to the reporters. I had asked him to do that, because I had to be alone.

  I made my way to my SUV, and I broke down. All the stress, all the doubt, all the emotions - it was all expunged in my hot and salty tears that were now covering my steering wheel.

  I lost.

  Carter was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, and it was my fault.

  Chapter 44

  I got home, and my mother came up to me and put her arms around me. “Dear,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I saw on the news that your client was found guilty.”

  “Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “He was.”

  “Are you going to finally go to Rome?” she asked me.

  “Mom,” I began. “I can’t think about that. I need to go and visit Carter and tell him not to despair. I’m going to appeal his case, get a new trial, and-“

  Mom’s hands were on her hips. “And, what? What? The commentators were all agreeing that the presence of Carter’s hair at the murder scene sunk you. If you can’t figure out how that hair got there, you can get 10 new trials and you’ll lose every one.”

  “Mom, I-“

  “You’ve got nothing to lose,” she said. “Go over there right now. Or as soon as possible, but tonight would be preferable.”

  “Why so soon?”

  “Because Carter won’t last in jail. Time is of the essence. You have to go to Rome as soon as you can.”

  “What do you mean that Carter won’t last in jail?” I was alarmed, to say the least. I knew what she was saying. I felt the same way about Carter, because I knew that he was so fragile. I also knew that he no doubt had a bounty on his head.

  The reporters on TV were breathlessly announcing that Carter was not only in protective custody, but he was also on suicide watch.

  I closed my eyes as I watched the news coverage on Carter. This isn’t happening. You didn’t lose that case and Carter isn’t on suicide watch. His life isn’t ruined.

  I opened my eyes and got my car keys. “Okay, that does it. I’m going to find a flight to Rome tonight. Tonight.”

  I got on the Internet and saw that Norwegian Airlines had a 10:50 PM flight out of LAX, arriving the next day in Rome at 7:45 PM.

  I went in and packed up my suitcase, quickly. I was going to have to make that late flight. I didn’t even call Declan. I was too in my head at that moment.

  I needed the long flight over to Rome to clear my mind, and the only way that that could happen would be if I made this trip myself.

  I packed up my suitcase and I started to head for the door. “Mom, I’m going to go to Rome,” I said. “Watch the girls while I’m gone. You know the drill.” I had actually grown to trust mom with the girls over the past few months, which astounded me. She rose to the occasion when I asked her to, and I was forever grateful about that one.

  “You know I will,” she said. “Now, go. Go and see what you can find.”

  I nodded my head, no longer hearing her. My mind was preoccupied on one thing and one thing only.

  I was going to Rome and I was going to find…something.

  I just hoped that what I found was something that was going to save Carter.

  Chapter 45

  I arrived in Rome at around 8 PM their time, feeling jet-lagged and out of sorts. It was a long plane ride, much longer than what I was used to, and I thought about Carter the entire way.

  I had called Declan to tell him what I was doing, and he naturally thought that I had lost my mind. “What do you hope to gain if you go there?” he asked me, again and again, and I kept having to answer that I didn’t know.

  Because I didn’t know. I only knew that I was supposed to go to that Cinecitta movie studio and that was going to reveal…something. I didn’t know what.

  “Please go and see Carter,” I said to him. “Tell him that I’ll be seeing him as soon as I get back. It’s very important that he knows that I didn’t abandon him and that I won’t abandon him. Ever. I’m going to file an appeal as soon as I get the trial transcripts back. I’m-“

  “An appeal on what grounds? Listen, I know that you have a special spot for this kid, and I do
too. But you know as well as I do that the presence of his hair at that murder scene sunk him. We’re no closer now in knowing about how that hair got there than we were when we started. Go ahead and try to get a new trial based upon any number of errors that the judge made during the trial, although I don’t know of any obvious errors Judge Carson made, but if you get a new trial, things won’t turn out differently unless your psychic friend can tell you how that hair got to that murder scene and that same psychic friend better tell you how you prove it.”

  I sighed. “You sound like my mother now.”

  “Well? You won’t get his conviction overturned. You can only hope for a new trial. And I’m telling you, a new trial won’t do a goddamned thing. It’ll only waste everyone’s time and resources. Not to mention the fact that Carter won’t have that Go Fund Me money for his appeal or for a new trial, so you’re going to be doing it all on your own dime.”

  That was true - Carter’s Go Fund Me specifically was for this trial, not for any appeals. But maybe his benefactor would give him money for an appeal, too.

  “Listen, I have to go.” I wasn’t in the mood for Declan’s gloom. “Please go and see Carter and tell him that I’m still in his corner. I would have gone to see him myself, except I felt the need to get on the first flight out.”

  “And why was the first flight out so important?”

  “I don’t know. It just was.”

  I arrived in Rome, and went right to that movie studio. I was happy that I was able to get an Uber to the studio. I was less happy that my driver spoke not a word of English.

  I got out my English-Italian dictionary, and told him, as well as I could, where I needed to go.

  “Si, si,” he said, nodding his head. Then he started saying something and I tuned it out.

  He got to where the studio was, and dropped me off.