Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel) (11 page)

"You were worried, but you didn't know. For all you knew he could be waiting just inside the door, hoping you would follow. I am missing the tactical decision here. Why did you go in, alone, before you were certain what you were facing? For all you knew at this point he already held a hostage.

Remember, juries watch TV. On every damn TV show in the country it takes 5 seconds for a fully deployed SWAT team to surround the bad guy. That is what they expect. We have to convince them the reality is not so immediate and what you did made sense, under the circumstances, with what you knew at the time."

"He just shot two people." Josh said.

"You believed he did, now we are getting somewhere, you chased a man, fitting the description of someone involved in a double shooting. You believe he has already taken lives; you were trying to prevent him from taking others.

That makes tactical sense, the rounds have already been fired, and talking is no longer an option. See, Josh, this is what I need to know. I need to know what you thought, why you thought it, and what you did as a result. Then, I can teach the jury what they need to know to decide things from your perspective, not some Hollywood cop fiction."

Chris picked up her drink, walked over, and stood behind Josh. "Make believe I wasn't there and you were telling me the story."

Josh smiled at her. "I was thinking about Father Jim as I went up the stairs. I know he spends a lot of time in the church during the day. You can usually find him there. I was worried this guy might come upon Jim and shoot him."

Hawk face lit up "Priests may not be held in as high esteem as they once were, but, this being Rhode Island, the most Catholic state in the country, a police officer chasing a bad guy into a church to protect a priest can help us. Go on Josh."

Josh took another drink and continued. "I went up to the front door; the middle door had just shut behind him so I decided to go in one off to the left, in case he was expecting me to follow him. I opened the door and went in fast and low, getting behind the last pew. I could hear movement and took a quick glance over the backrest. I could see movement between the seats; he was crawling toward the front. I came around on the far side as he moved onto the altar. That's when I yelled for him to stop moving."

"In those words," Hawk said sarcastically, “calm as could be?"

"No,” Josh shook his head, “I yelled 'Stop right there you motherfucker or I will blow that fucking hood off with your head in it."

"Hmm, not very eloquent or grammatically correct, but it was meant for effect not to impress him I suppose." Hawk interjected, talking a drink of the martini, "Did he respond to your instructions?"

"No, he kept looking toward the door of the Sacristy and then back at me. His legs were, well, something was not right with his leg. One was bent like a sniper, the other was straight back, his foot was moving but the leg was not. I noticed it when he was running also. I thought he had the shotgun stuffed down his pants."

"You noticed what when he was running? Everything Josh, I need everything." Hawk said

"When I first spotted him there was an awkwardness to his movement. He was fast but one leg didn't move as fluidly as the other one did. I thought he might have tried to hide the shotgun in his pants," Josh replied.

"Josh, these little details are the critical pieces that I need to show the jury you were acting reasonably, and lawfully, based on what you knew and saw. Information discovered later, while unfortunate, is not relevant. We need them to understand the basis you relied on to make decisions. Please go on. Don't leave anything out."

"Okay, the guy wouldn't listen; he kept trying to move toward the Sacristy door. I tried to spot his hands, to see if there was a weapon. One of his hands was underneath him and the other started to come up, first toward the door and then swinging back toward me. I yelled again for him to stop moving and, ah, wait a minute, as I am going over this I can see him now, his mouth is moving, he's talking but can't quite make it out, then he says 'I tried...',but I can't hear the rest, I think the guy's a nutcase and his hand continues toward me. He has something in his hand, I think it’s a gun and raise my weapon. I aim center mass on his chest. Then I hear a loud sound, metal striking metal. I think he's pulled the trigger and it misfired. I fired, two times, and waited a moment. It is known as double tap, fire two rounds, check for effect, fire again if needed. He kept moving, raising the weapon, well," pausing a moment, "what I thought was a weapon, so I fired again, hitting him in the head."

Josh put his head down and rubbed his eyes. Chris puts her arm on his shoulder.

"I hear him say 'I tried to get him to stop' then he stopped moving."

"Oh my God, why didn't I wait another moment...?” Josh voice trailed off.

"Let me see if I understood this, you fired, and then heard him say something?"

Josh was staring blankly.

"Listen, son. I have been where you are. You start adding things you found out after the fact to what the factors were leading up to your decision to fire, and you'll end up eating your gun."

Josh looked at Hawk, "After I fired, I knew I hit him. I heard him say 'I tried to get him to stop', and then he stopped moving. It happened, just like that."

"I want you to focus," Hawk continued, “What was the noise you heard? Describe it to me in more detail."

Josh raised his head, finished the glass of wine, and continued. "It sounded like I said, metal hitting metal, like a weapon misfiring as I thought at the time. Now that I think about it, it seemed to be from more behind him, echoed perhaps. This all happened in seconds so it’s hard to have much detail."

"What did you do after you fired?" Hawk asked.

"Believe it or not, I tried to do CPR on him. I didn't want him to die." Josh replied. Staring into the empty glass, "Chris came in and pulled me away. She could see it was useless. A few other officers came into the church. That's when the cell phone rang, I realized then there was no weapon, or at least what was in his hand was not a weapon. I found out later the shotgun was recovered at the other scene."

"I am intrigued by this sound. What kind of a cell phone was it? Was it a flip phone? Could that have been the sound you heard?" Hawk asked, without looking up from his notes.

"No," Chris replied, "it was an I-Phone, stolen of course, no part of that moves"

"Then what, or who, made the sound? Can you compare it to anything else?" Hawk asked, motioning to Pablo for another Martini and Scotch and filling Josh's glass with the bottle.

"I don't know, it was a click, loud, as soon as I heard it I made the decision to fire, I don't know what else it could have been." Josh looked to Chris. Chris shrugged her shoulders.

Hawk rose from his seat, "I thought you two were experienced investigators. Think, boys and girls, think. Something caused that noise. It wasn't the cell phone; it wasn't a weapon...metal on metal...a click...loud...echoes...."

Josh looked up, "a door latch, it could've been a door latch, someone closing a door."

Hawk nodded, "now you're thinking like an investigator. You said the place was unlocked for people to come in. You told me Father Jim was usually there most days, I believe, was how you described his habits. Where was he this day? I think someone was there. Someone closed a door so they wouldn't be seen, or see what was happening."

Returning to his seat he continued, "We need to have a chat with Father Jim. If he was not there, perhaps he knows of someone that may have been there. I will call upon the good father tomorrow and see what I can learn."

"I'll do it,” Josh said. "Jim and I have been friends for long time. He trusts me...."

"I think that is unwise, should the good Father have valuable information I do not want it tainted by the object of Mr. Collucci's affection, namely you, having any direct involvement with potential witnesses. You say you are close to Father Jim. Have you heard from him since this incident?"

Josh thought for a moment and said, "No I haven't, but it’s not like he calls me all the time or anything. Just when something is going on."

Hawk looked at Chris and back at Josh, "How many times a day do you shoot someone in his church?"

Father
Jim met Josh during his brief stint as the Police Department Chaplin.

While Father Jim was Chaplin, he would come in and ride with various officers. Most thought the idea of a priest being on calls was a bad idea. The last thing you need is a complete and unfiltered picture of a street encounter. This despite the fact Father Jim carried his own mahogany nightstick, knew how, and was not afraid to use it.

Josh enjoyed having Father Jim along for the ride. They would discuss philosophy, religion, Yankees vs. Red Sox. Jim being a die-hard Sox fan, Josh never failing to point out the difference in the number of Championships held by the teams. The conversations were illuminating for Josh and a catharsis for Father Jim. It was Josh's version of a personal confessional, or a close as an Atheist could come to one.

There were several occasions where Father Jim considered talking to Josh about the good Bishop, but his training on the sanctity of the confessional was too overpowering. At least up to that point.

The Bishop, William James MacLoughlin, formerly the Pastor of St. Domenick's, removed Father Jim from the Chaplin's position citing more compelling Church priorities. Thus ending the ride-along program.

The common belief was it was because of EPPD locking up the good Bishop's brother, Dennis, for DUI. The Bishop, in a testament to his faith in his faith, believed denying the officers access to a priest would hasten their descent into hell.

Apparently the Bishop didn't believe that his brother, driving an unregistered car, after consuming ten to twelve beers and many shots of whiskey, going off the roadway, killing a 9 week-old puppy named Purdy, being walked by 7 year-old Kathleen Ackerly, in her front yard, while her smiling parents took pictures, warranted being locked up.

Perhaps, the Good Shepherd thought he could damn them forever.

Ironically, the Church's own lawyer did a masterful job of finding an error in the complex DUI forms and secured a dismissal.

The bigger irony being the rest of the story.

The brother celebrated his good fortune with dinner and drinks at a Federal Hill restaurant paid for by the Bishop with the charity of parishioners. He managed to liberate the keys of the Diocese's Cadillac SUV from the Bishop's jacket.

On the celebratory ride to Foxwoods to rejoice in the triumph of Justice, the Cadillac's high-efficiency headlights illuminated a large deer in the roadway. The Good Shepherd's brother, suffering from the handicap of alcohol and loss of focus due to his young, female, and well-compensated compatriot's hands in his pants, overreacted, in a different, but nevertheless consistent, pattern of family behavior.

The Cadillac missed the deer, deferring for the moment the brother's bearing the burden of killing another of God's creatures.

It was a brief respite.

It rolled.

It spun.

Once the forces of gravity, friction, and momentum returned to balance, the young woman was dead in the passenger compartment holding onto an item with which she held much experience. Perhaps it provided a familiar comfort in those last moments, in spite of being unnaturally separated from its original location and no longer functional.

The Bishop's brother, if his faith was correct, at that moment was explaining himself to a higher being. If one is required to provide an inventory of all equipment issued when granted existence, he was short one.

Poetic justice, bad luck, perhaps divine intervention, it did not matter. The accident photos were the cause of great joy among the cops.

As a token of their great esteem for the good Bishop, he received several copies of the best of the images in the mail, as a way of helping him remember his brother's many good virtues.

Father Jim and Josh Williams maintained their association in spite of the Bishop's attempts to derail it.

Father
Jim decided he needed to do something. Unsure if there was anything that would help.

Who would best understand the need for confidentiality? The lawyer of course They have an obligation to protect their client and the attorney client privilege was as close to the sanctity of confession as it gets in the secular worl
d.

Father Jim called, asking for the lawyer representing Machado.

"Public Defender's office," the young voice answered, "Kelsey Campbell."

"Do you represent the Machado case?"

"Machado, which Machado, we represent a couple people named Machado."

"I may be phrasing this incorrectly, the one that was shot the other day, and died."

"Ah, well if he died we can't represent him, he's dead."

"I mean, the other guy, the other one that was there, not dead.”

"The one that was where? If it's the case I am thinking about, it was a police officer that shot him, we don't represent him, the city does."

"No, the other guy in the robbery, the one that did the shooting at the Cumberland Farms."

"Ah, Ventraglia, yes we represent him."

"Well, I heard what Machado said; he said 'I tried to stop him."

There was a pause and then, "Sir, could I have your name and a way to contact you? The lawyer representing Mr. Ventraglia is not here at the moment, but I am sure he will want to talk to you."

"Of course, giving the girl his number; my name is Father Jim Swanson."

"Father," pausing to figure this out, "you're a priest?"

"I am."

"Oh, well then I am sure he'll want to speak to you, I will call him now, expect a call back within the hour."

Before Father Jim could say goodbye he heard the connection drop. Kelsey was already on the line calling Harris.