Murder on the Down Low (23 page)

“And before you say anything about that homosexual crap,” he said, “we’re looking into it. I still don’t believe it, but that angle is being quietly investigated. But we can’t go public with it until we have solid, irrefutable evidence to support it.”

J.C. welcomed the news and her face showed it. “Why aren’t you taking advantage of this photo op yourself, Lieutenant?”

He chuckled and swiveled in his chair. “I thought it would be a great opportunity for you, Detective. Give you some visibility. I’ll let you know the date and time once everything’s scheduled.”

J.C. almost laughed in his face. The lieutenant wasn’t doing her any favors. He was protecting himself. When any controversial issue had even the slightest potential of hitting the fan, Wilson stayed far enough away so that not even a speck of crap landed on him. That was the primary reason he had survived three mayors.

“Is that it?” J.C. asked.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

“I … uh … I was out of line during our last conversation.” Lieutenant Wilson gazed at his candy dish, not her.

J.C. nodded, surprised, but pleased by his attempt at an apology. She wouldn’t push the issue. “I hope I’m not expected to say anything at this press conference.”

“You’ll get some talking points from Media Affairs telling you what to say.” He reached for a Snickers from his hand grenade candy dish, but did not offer her one. “What’s most important is that you know what
not
to say.”

O
n the morning Judge Fuller was set to announce his decision on the gag order, the crowd outside the courthouse had ballooned at least threefold. Pro and anti-gay groups hurled insults at each other through bullhorns, while TV cameramen stood at the ready, hoping that a full-fledged melee broke out. Vernetta and Special had to practically fight their way to the courtroom.

Just as Vernetta was about to step inside, she noticed Eugene and Eagleman at the opposite end of the corridor being interviewed by a reporter from the
L.A.
Times
. She hurriedly nudged Special inside, fearing that if she spotted Eugene’s impromptu press conference, she might pop a blood vessel.

“I’m so hot I don’t know what to do,” Special said, as they took seats near the back of the courtroom. “This case needs to be publicized.”

Vernetta agreed with her, but if the judge did ban cameras from the courtroom, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Even if the trial isn’t televised, reporters will still be in the courtroom covering the case.”

“That’s not good enough. I want cameras in here broadcasting every word.”

J.C. joined them just before Sam and Nichelle walked down the center aisle and into the well of the courtroom. They handed business cards to the court clerk and took seats at the plaintiff’s table. Nichelle turned around and smiled back at them. Special flashed her two thumbs-up.

Eugene, Eagleman, and three other men entered the courtroom to murmurs of recognition.

“That don’t make no sense.” Special’s voice was both louder and nastier than it needed to be. “So now his ass has four attorneys?”

“Shhhhh,” Vernetta said.

But Special ignored her. “Every time I see that asshole he looks healthier than he did the last time.”

“You better cool it,” J.C. warned. “If you go off in here, I guarantee you’ll be spending the night in jail.”

Special smacked her lips and clutched her purse to her chest.

The bailiff called the court to order and everyone rose as Judge Fuller took the bench. Instead of focusing on the judge, Special was glaring at a petite woman sitting directly behind Eugene and his attorneys.

“That’s Church Girl over there.” Special rudely pointed in the woman’s direction.

Vernetta grabbed her hand and forced it back into her lap. “Didn’t your mama teach you not to point?”

Belynda, or Church Girl, as Special liked to call her, appeared to be in her early thirties. She was an attractive woman despite her somber expression. Eugene turned around and winked at her. Special was about to say something when J.C. gave her a silencing look.

“When addressing the issue of a protective order,” Judge Fuller began, “it’s important for the court to balance the rights of the parties against the public’s right to know.”

Vernetta grabbed Special’s hand, ostensibly to comfort her friend, but also to calm her own fractured nerves.

“I find that the weight here lies with the defendant, Mr. Nelson. The plaintiff’s counsel, Ms. Ayers, has made it her business to use every possible opportunity to personally attack him. Her conduct will no doubt make it more difficult for this court to seat an unbiased jury. For that reason, I’m issuing a limited protective order.”

“This ain’t right!” Special seethed. A few people glanced back at her. Thank God the judge was almost deaf.

“Cut it out,” J.C. warned her.

The judge went on to issue an order prohibiting the attorneys from discussing the evidence in the case, the merits of their opponent’s case, or the expected testimony of witnesses. He also ordered the attorneys, as well as the parties, to refrain from disparaging each other in the media. Then he announced that television cameras would be barred from the courtroom.

Special’s knee started bouncing and Vernetta could hear her foot tapping the floor. “This ain’t right. What ever happened to freedom of speech?”

The judge closed a folder, took off his spectacles, and shuffled off the bench. Reporters pulled out cell phones, BlackBerries and laptops and dashed into the hallway. Eugene, smiling from ear to ear, hugged each of his attorneys, then gave them congratulatory slaps on the back.

Still holding Special’s hand, Vernetta finally looked over at her. “You okay?”

“He probably paid off the judge,” she said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. Two local television stations said they’d file amicus briefs supporting our appeal if the judge banned the cameras.” That news didn’t appear to cheer her up. Special stared across the courtroom at Eugene.

When he reached over the railing to hug Church Girl, Vernetta felt Special twitch.

Special made a move to rise. “Let’s go.”

J.C. extended her arm across Special’s chest. “Wait. Let Eugene and his attorneys leave first.”

Even after the victorious defense team and their client strolled past them, the three women just sat there, motionless. Vernetta felt like
she
had just lost a big case.

Nichelle and Sam finally joined them. “Well, we tried,” Nichelle said.

“You’re going to appeal, right?” Special asked anxiously.

“It’s not worth it,” Sam declared. “Fuller will take it personally and I don’t want him taking it out on us at trial. Let’s just move on.”

J.C. stood and Nichelle took the seat next to Special. “You okay, girl?”

“I’m fine,” Special said.

Nichelle took Special’s other hand. “We just have to have faith in the system.”

Special laughed sullenly. “Yeah, right.”

V
ernetta pushed open the courtroom door and was relieved to find the hallway nearly deserted. They trudged in defeated silence toward the bank of elevators.

Special looked totally dejected. She lagged behind, forcing had to slow her pace. Her own emotions were a muddle of anger and confusion. While she didn’t believe Eugene had intentionally infected Maya, his infidelity and deceit put her life at risk and ultimately ended it. The public needed to witness every second of this trial. Vernetta hoped Nichelle and Sam did appeal the judge’s ruling.

J.C. suggested that they exit the courthouse on Grand, opposite the way they had entered. She didn’t say it, but Vernetta knew J.C. wanted to avoid the throng of media camped out at the Hill Street entrance.

When they reached the exit, there wasn’t a reporter in sight. Vernetta figured they had successfully dodged the press until they turned the corner onto First Street and saw a circle of reporters surrounded by a bigger crowd of bystanders. Eugene and his attorneys stood in the middle of the mob.

“No comment,” Vernetta heard Eagleman say. “We’re not permitted to talk to the press.”

“Let’s cross the street.” J.C. was already heading for the crosswalk.

“Good idea,” Nichelle said. “I can’t handle some reporter sticking a microphone in my face.”

“No,” Sam protested. “We can’t talk to the press, but we can at least get our faces in a few camera shots. That’s exactly what Eagleman is doing. This’ll be good publicity for the firm.” He took off in the direction of the reporters.

Vernetta looked over at Special, fearing that she might blow any second. She’d seen her friend go from zero to sixty in a snap. At the moment, Special appeared semi-catatonic.

They watched Sam walk past a line of cameras, ignoring their questions. “That gag order doesn’t apply to me,” Special said. “And since Maya isn’t here to speak for herself, I’m going to do it for her.”

Special was about to head for the horde of reporters, when a reporter from KCBS approached Nichelle.

“What are your thoughts about today’s ruling?” The man aimed his microphone inches from her lips. An accompanying cameraman took a wide shot, then zoomed in on Nichelle.

“Pursuant to the judge’s gag order, I’m not permitted to talk to the press about this case.” Nichelle tried to move past them.

“Well, I can talk,” Special said. “I—”

Vernetta stepped in front of her, fearing that Special might say something they would all regret. “We were all very close to Maya Washington and we feel the judge’s decision to ban cameras from the courtroom interferes with the public’s right to know,” Vernetta said. “The problem of men on the down low is a crucial issue in the African-American community. This case should be televised not just for Maya, but for every woman out there who’s being deceived by a man engaging in this type of fraud.”

“Do you know if there are any plans to appeal the ruling?”

Vernetta looked at Sam, then Nichelle. “It’s my hope that they will. This case is too important to keep from the public.”

A few of the reporters who’d been trying to get Eugene to talk joined the growing crowd that had gathered around Vernetta. Another reporter asked a question and in no time, dozens of people seemed to appear from nowhere. Vernetta looked to her right to check out Special’s reaction. Special wasn’t there. She turned to her left, then did a half circle to search to the rear. Special had been standing right next to her a second ago. Vernetta frantically scanned the area as panic began to mount. She spotted Nichelle and Sam a few feet away, but didn’t see Special or J.C.

More reporters were firing questions at her now, but Vernetta ignored them. Maybe Special couldn’t stand to hear any more talk about the case and had gone back to the car. Vernetta brushed past the reporters, who continued to call out to her, while shoving microphones in her face. There were pockets of people everywhere, and she had to maneuver around them to continue her search for Special.

When she finally did locate her friend, Special was several yards away, marching toward the spot where Eugene was standing. His back faced Special and he did not see her coming.

Vernetta’s body wanted to react, but her brain was momentarily paralyzed. She tried to run, but her feet felt like they were plodding through quicksand. Special was just a few feet away from Eugene when Vernetta saw her stop and reach inside her purse. Special’s hand came out and Vernetta caught the glint of something shiny in the blinding, midday sun. Her mind refused to believe what her eyes clearly saw.

A look of utter terror on the face of one of Eugene’s attorneys caused Eugene to abruptly swing around.

The moment he did Special extended her right arm and pointed a weapon in his face.

“Oh, my God!” Vernetta screamed. “Special, don’t!”

I
hate you!” Special shrieked as she charged at Eugene. “How dare you claim Maya infected you!”

Eugene’s attorneys dashed behind a parked car. Two reporters who had been trying to interview him nearly tripped over each other as they fled in opposite directions. Several bystanders hit the ground.

Eugene held out both hands, his eyes glued to the object Special was pointing at him. “What are you doing?” His voice was rattled with fear. “Are you crazy?”

“You’re the crazy one!” Special roared. “You need to pay for what you did. You’re nothing but scum!”

The whole scene erupted in chaos as people ran for cover. A cameraman, using a big oak tree for cover, captured the melee on videotape. Vernetta finally gathered her bearings and took off toward Special, but her feet got tangled up with someone who was running in the opposite direction and they both fell to the ground.

Eugene suddenly howled in pain as Special ranted at him.

“You’re the one who should be dead!”

What had Special just done?
Vernetta hustled to her feet. She hadn’t heard a gunshot.
Had she missed it?

Eugene was screaming at the top of his lungs now. He dropped to his knees and covered his face with both hands. Belynda ran to his side, pulled a bottle of water from her purse and began dousing his eyes. Only then did Vernetta realize that the weapon in Special’s hand wasn’t a gun, but the copper-colored, plastic pepper spray canister she always carried in her purse.

Vernetta ran toward her, but J.C. managed to get there first. She snatched the canister from Special’s hand and grabbed her from behind, pinning Special’s arms to her sides. Special continued to shout obscenities at Eugene, all the while kicking like a bucking bronco.

“You’re the one who should be dead! You asshole!” Special was sobbing now, struggling with all her might to break free from J.C.’s grasp.

Now that Special was no longer a threat, the cameramen and photographers reemerged, zooming in with their lenses.

“Back up!” J.C. ordered, as she struggled to gain control of an out-of-control Special. “I’m a police officer!” she yelled. “Back up! Now!”