Judge Me When I'm Wrong Page 6

  “Don’t let Maya look at these,” Gil said when he closed his phone.

  Carrie shook her head.

  “By the way, were you the one who told the police where they could find these videos?”

  Carrie squinted at Gil. “Thanks for the food,” she said, turning and going back into the store.

  # # #

  “Wanna get some lunch?” Don peeked up at Charlie from his paperwork.

  “I have to get these checks signed for Judy, and I have four more calls to return.”

  Disappointment crossed, then swiftly disappeared, from Don’s face. He grabbed his revolver from the top drawer, and stood to secure it in his shoulder holster.

  “Where are you eating?” asked Charlie.

  “I’ll probably just go to the deli. I can bring something back. You want a Reuben?”

  “You know, on second thought, I’ll come with you.”

  Charlie and Don crossed State Street and walked against a steady stream of pedestrians heading south toward Cobo and city hall. The deli was housed in a narrow storefront wedged between two office buildings. There were counter diners and people eating at a half-dozen small tables, competing for space with those edging forward in a serpentine takeout line. Don and Charlie stepped around the queue hoping to find seats, and saw two at the farthest end of the counter, but separated by a lone male diner.

  “Excuse me?” Charlie smiled at seventy-five watts to a middle-aged white businessman. He was hunched over a burger and a plate of fries. He glanced up with sandwich-bulging cheeks and a look of suspicion. “Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask if you might move to the other seat, so my friend and I could sit together?”

  Don hovered behind Charlie, looking over her shoulder and not smiling. He and his demographic cohort made quick eye contact. The man didn’t even reply, just shoved his plate and drink over and, with a bounce, shifted from one stool to the other.

  “Thank you.”

  The man grunted.

  Charlie and Don grabbed menus, scanned them for the daily specials, and quickly returned them to the slot in the metal condiments rack.

  “What’s up?” Charlie asked. “You seem distracted, and more surly than usual.”

  Don snatched a few napkins from the dispenser just to have something to do, then blurted: “Rita’s pregnant.”

  The man with the burger glanced at them quickly, then down at his plate.

  “Congratulations,” Charlie said in a lowered voice. “It’s time Rudy had a little brother or sister. Right?”

  Don didn’t respond. Charlie waited. She watched the waitress fill water glasses and top off coffee cups before making her way to their end of the counter. They ordered, and the waitress returned with glasses of water and Vernors. Don sucked half the ginger ale through his straw before talking.

  “Things are not all that simple, Mack. Because Rudy is on the autism spectrum, there’s a chance the baby will be, too.” Don leaned on his elbows and looked at Charlie. “Rita is good with everything. She never worries. But I’m scared stiff.”

  “Is there some kind of test you can do?” Charlie asked.

  “There’s no prenatal test to determine autism, and Rita wouldn’t stand for it even if there was one.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “We go to see a specialist next week.”

  “Do you know the baby’s sex?”

  “Rita doesn’t want to know that either.”

  The food arrived, and they made small talk. Charlie provided colorful descriptions of the other jurors and the prosecutors. Don asked about some of the specifics of the trial, and to keep his mind off his worries Charlie offered a few details.

  “You’d think with the attention the FBI is giving Detroit right now, everybody would know to bury the evidence,” Don said.

  “These aren’t recent charges. Canova allegedly offered these bribes in 2005.”

  “Rumors have swirled about that guy for twenty years. He cracks the law, but doesn’t quite break it. Sounds like he’s not sparing any expense on his defense.”

  “Nope.” Charlie grabbed a pinch of runaway sauerkraut and stuffed it back into her Reuben. “And having a celebrity attorney has not been a waste of his money. Bateman’s handling himself well.”

  They left the claustrophobic diner and Charlie took a deep breath. Clouds kept the temperatures near fifty degrees, but the day was pleasant. They took a detour to Hart Plaza to stay outdoors a while longer and walk off lunch. When they stepped into the elevator of their office building, Charlie touched Don’s arm.

  “For what it’s worth, I believe everything will work out with the new baby.”

  “Thanks, Mack. It’s good to have someone I can talk to.”

  , , ,

  Gil arrived at the office at three-thirty. Charlie settled into the chair she normally occupied in their conference room. It wasn’t at the head of the table, but nearest the whiteboard so she could use the colored Post-it notes that helped her visualize the questions, facts, and assumptions of a case. It was a low-tech method, but had the combination of the tactile and Socratic elements she found effective for her problem-solving. Charlie was rarely more comfortable than in this room, with this group of colleagues. They were her extended family.

  “Whaddya got, Gil?” Charlie asked.

  “Things are looking up. I met with Maya Hebert today.”

  “The girl who was raped?” Judy asked.

  “That’s right. Maya’s girlfriends, Amy and Carrie, brought her along to our meeting. She gave me her side of the story.”

  “That’s excellent,” Charlie said. “I hadn’t been able to reach her.”

  “She’s purposely stayed out of sight. For a while she was hounded by the press, and she and her family have been harassed. Her parents added security cameras to their house after Maya received death threats.”

  “That’s messed up,” Don said.

  “Maya understands we’re working for Jason, but she also seemed to believe me when I told her we aren’t the ones who want to hurt her.”

  “What’s she like?” Judy asked.

  “A nice young lady. Sad. She was very forthcoming. She admits she and her friends had too much to drink, and she believes a date-rape drug was put in the punch she drank at the party. She really has no recollection of being carried upstairs. All she remembers is feeling woozy, and then waking up as she was being raped. She couldn’t even move.”

  “How can people do such things?” Judy asked. “That’s just sick.”

  “I agree,” Gil said.

  “These assaults are becoming too common,” Charlie said. “I can think of a half-dozen I’ve heard about this year.”

  “Maya is courageous to put herself through the prying and threats and the sideways stares she must be getting,” Gil said. “But by speaking up, she’s really made a difference in the way her university responds to sexual assaults. That’s a positive.”

  “I’m glad there’s something positive in all this,” Judy said dourly.

  “What did Maya have to say about Jason?” Charlie asked.

  “They had a class together, but she didn’t really know him before the party. I don’t think she knew anyone from the fraternity very well. She doesn’t know if Jason participated in the assault or not. She just can’t remember.”

  “Who invited her to the party?”

  “It was a girlfriend of one of the Gamma boys. I have her name, and I’ll check her out.”

  “I’m really sorry this happened to her,” Charlie said.

  “I said exactly that to her.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Something helpful. I told you the police were aware of videos of the assault?”

  Charlie nodded. “The lady cop told you.”

  “Right. And she sent me a link to one of them. But now I have a second one.”

  “Good work, Romeo,” Charlie said.

  “It’s nothing like that. Maya’s friend, Carrie, showed me how
to get it from the internet. She downloaded it to my phone.”

  “Damn, you can do that?” Don asked.

  Gil began pressing his phone keyboard.

  “Wait,” Judy said. “Let’s just put it on the monitor.”

  “You can do that?” Gil asked.

  “Sure.”

  Charlie, Don and Gil watched in awe. Judy was the oldest person in the agency and managed the office filing system like a 1950s secretary. Everything was a hard copy with a backup—color-coded and cross-referenced—but with teenagers at home she had the best knowledge of new communications technology. She’d programmed all their ring tones, set up the conference room for video meetings, and showed the Mack partners how to sync their digital cameras to their laptops. She turned on the conference room laptop and connected it to the TV monitor.

  “What website has the video? YouTube?”

  “No. It’s called Flickr.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Judy began typing into the laptop. “I have it.” She turned the laptop toward Gil. “Here, put in your user name and password.”

  Gil punched in the info and pushed the laptop to Judy.

  “What’s the name of the file?” she asked, moving her cursor.

  “Unfortunately, it’s called Gamma Fun.”

  They watched the forty-inch monitor as Judy scrolled through a list of files.

  “That’s the one,” Gil said. “Gamma Fun by Xtopher.”

  The two-minute video was dim, shot from a distance, but it clearly showed a rumpled bed in a small room, and a girl being sexually attacked. The walls of the room were lined with onlookers—young men and women. Thankfully, there was no sound on the video, but you could see some of the people laughing, their faces contorted in excitement. The person taking the video shakily zoomed in to the bed, and Maya’s horrified face was clear for a moment, as a boy on top of her held her arms down.

  “Damn,” Don said when the video ended.

  The others sat in stunned silence.

  “Do you want to see it again?” Judy finally asked.

  “No.” Charlie spoke for everyone. “No, we don’t. Judy, is there a way to make a copy of the footage?”

  “Yes. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you think I should show it to the Ferrys?” Gil asked Charlie.

  “I don’t think so. But if the video somehow disappears from this site, I want us to have a copy. Jason may be guilty of wit-nessing the assault and not doing anything to help Maya, but so are a lot of other people in that room. At some point, Jason’s lawyer may want him to identify the others on the video.”

  “I don’t think he’ll want to do that,” Gil said.

  “He may not have a choice if he wants to stay out of jail.”

  Judy requested a fifteen-minute break. She was shaken by the video and wanted to call her kids—two teenaged boys, and a preteen girl. Don used the time to return a phone call to one of the subcontractors. Charlie and Gil remained at the conference table.

  “That video is tough to watch.”

  “According to Carrie, Maya hasn’t seen any of the footage. I hope her parents haven’t either.”

  “You liked her?”

  “I really did. And her friends. Teenaged girls are a whole special kind of human being.” Gil chuckled. “One moment they were thoughtful and sensitive, the next giggling about the boys at the restaurant. Carrie taught an old guy like me how to use his own phone. I could tell she was angry and disturbed about the videos, but then she was off to buy headbands and get her nails polished. It was quite head-spinning, but they all seem very resilient.”

  “Even Maya?”

  “I think she’ll be all right. She’s an intelligent girl. She’s still dealing with the pain of what’s happened to her. She’s cautious about who to trust, and I don’t blame her. Maya strikes me as someone who will use this horrible event to become a stronger person. She doesn’t want to be seen as a victim.”

  “Between Jason, and now Maya and her friends, you’re spending a lot of time with young people.”

  “You’re telling me. Before the other day, I hadn’t set foot inside a high school in a dozen years. It was an experience.”

  “Count it as research. You’ll be having some kids of your own one of these days.”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” Gil said, blushing.

  “What? Is something going on with Darla? Are you guys talking about having kids?”

  “No. No. Nothing like that. But I am thinking about popping the question.”

  “Well, what do you know,” Charlie said, beaming. “My brother-from-another-mother is getting married.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re jumping the gun, Charlie.”

  “What’s this about a gun?” Don asked, returning to the conference room.

  Gil shushed Charlie with a look.

  “Nothing.”

  When Judy rejoined them at the table, it was time for Charlie to present the issue that had been on her mind since yesterday.

  “I need help with something. There’s this guy who’s been at the courthouse. I know I’ve seen him before, but I just can’t place him.” Charlie activated her phone and passed it to Judy.

  “More phone pictures?” Judy asked as she peered at the screen, then shook her head. “I don’t know who that is.” Judy passed the instrument to Don who squinted at the screen.

  “Casper?”

  “Who?” Gil asked, reaching out for the phone.

  “I think that’s his name. Casper, from somewhere in New Jersey. Maybe Trenton. He was involved in a money-laundering case we had at DHS.”

  “How do you remember that?” Judy asked.

  “I’m not just a pretty face, Novak.”

  “You’re not a pretty face at all,” Judy retorted.

  Don ignored the insult with a sneer. “As I recall, we questioned a bunch of people in that case, but we never talked to him.”

  Charlie stared at the screen again. “That doesn’t ring any bells, but I knew he looked familiar. Yesterday was the second time I’d seen him around the courthouse.”

  “Wait a minute,” Gil said. “Let me see that photo again.” Gil stared, adjusting the screen and switching between the longer view Charlie had taken, and the close-up. “I do remember this guy, Don. We didn’t question him because we couldn’t find him. Remember? He fell off the radar. That’s why we started calling him the ghost. Like Casper the ghost.”

  Charlie finally remembered the man with the unique nickname. She agreed to call one of their contacts at Homeland Security to get more information on this elusive criminal.

  # # #

  “Charlene Mack. To what, or whom, do I owe the honor of this call?”

  “Casper, the ghost.”

  “What?” Tony Canterra asked.

  “A guy who was in the mix in a money laundering case we looked at after 9/11. Don remembered his name is Casper. Not sure if that’s a first or surname. We were following a tip about how the terrorists got access to the cash they used for the airplane attacks. We think this guy might have been based in New Jersey.”

  “So, that was five years ago. What’s your interest now?”

  “I think I’ve seen the guy recently.”

  “Oh yeah? Where?”

  “Here in Detroit. Near the courthouses. I’m serving on jury duty.”

  “Wow. Jury duty. Other than that, how are you?”

  “Good.”

  “How’s Mandy Porter?”

  “She’s good too. And you? How’s your life since I saw you last?”

  “I’m engaged.”

  “I bet she’s a knockout.”

  “She is.”

  “That’s wonderful, Tony.”

  There was a brief pause. Charlie didn’t want this conversation to become more personal. She needed to be friendly enough to keep the lines of communication open between the Mack agency and DHS, but she had no interest in revisiting stickier personal issues with Tony.

  “I hope you’re as happy as I am,�
�� Charlie finally said. There was another span of silence before she added: “You think you could send me what you have on this guy?”

  “Sure, Charlie. Is that all you need?”

  “That’s all I need, my friend.”

  “Okay. I’ll have someone pull it together, and get it to you tomorrow.”

  “That’s great, Tony. Thank you. And I’m glad you’re happy.”

  Charlie disconnected the call and folded her arms on the desk. Don stared at her from across the room.

  “Canterra still trying to hit on you?”

  Charlie leaned back in her chair. “Not really. He’s engaged.”

  “So I heard. A woman with a young kid. Divorced, from his hometown. She moved in with him a few months ago.”

  “Wow. I see your DHS pipeline is still open.”

  “It’s a small community. He gonna give us the info on the ghost?”

  “Yeah. We’ll have it tomorrow.”

  Chapter 7

  Friday

  Activity at the courthouse on Friday morning moved at a snail’s pace. The clerk came in the jury room a few times to take a count as jurors straggled in the door. Today they would hear the testimony of live witnesses. As many as eight, according to the clerk. Charlie watched a few jurors huddle near the windows. The flirtatious Mr. Fletcher saw her looking and left the group to join her at one of the work tables.

  “How was your day off?”

  “Good. It was nice to sleep in,” Charlie lied.

  “It certainly was. But I came downtown to the MGM Resort last night. You like to gamble?”

  “Do I wear it on my face?” Charlie laughed.

  “No. But you seem like a sophisticated lady.”

  “I’ve been spending more time doing house projects than gambling lately. That’s what’s saved me from myself.”

  “House projects can get expensive. What kind of work are you doing?”

  Charlie described the plans she and Mandy had to gut their kitchen, and the work they’d already started with new lighting and sprucing up the bathrooms.