Silenced Justice: A Josh Williams Novel (3 page)

Chapter 4

March 23, 1972

7:30 PM

Detectives Squad Room

Major Crimes

Providence Police Headquarters

Providence, Rhode Island

The two Providence detectives dragged Darnell Grey into the squad room. Pushing him onto a wooden bench, they handcuffed him to a pipe attached to the front. Old blood, sweat, and other unidentifiable stains covered the bench and wall.

Grey sagged in the seat, one eye swollen shut, dried blood on his cheeks. The side of his head a purplish-blotchy discoloration, hair matted down; his body wracked in shaking spasms of fear.

The lead detective, George Weslyan, went to his desk and started to type out the complaint forms.

"That the stovepipe that killed the girl?" the Detective Commander, Captain Anthony Gemma, asked.

"Yeah," Detective Alfred Georgiana answered. "Uniforms grabbed him trying to run from the stolen car. Piece of shit just dumped the body.” He lashed out, kicking Grey in the legs, causing him to recoil back, straining at the handcuffs, the fear rising in his face. None of the other detectives in the smoky squad room paid much attention, beyond a couple of chuckles.

"Get the line-up paperwork done and take him down to the cellblock until we're ready," the captain ordered. "No phone calls. Let the intake center deal with it."

Georgiana stood in front of Grey. "So, asshole, you like fucking white broads, huh?" slapping Grey across the face.

Grey looked up, his one good eye glaring. "I told you man, I had nothing to do with that girl. That uniform guy came running up to me and grabbed me. I was just sitting there, doin' nothin'."

"We'll see about that, asshole. We got witnesses put you there. You're going away for a long fucking time."

"I want a lawyer," Grey demanded.

The detective turned and smiled at his partner, "He wants a lawyer. You hear him? This piece of shit wants a lawyer," turning, he grabbed Grey by the throat. "And who's gonna pay for it, nigger. You want it for nuttin’, don't you? Fucking mulignan, no fucking mouthpiece for you here. We own your ass, like the good 'ole days."

The complaint finished, the detectives unhooked Grey from the pipe. Cuffing him in the back, holding the man's handcuffed hands high up behind him, they forced Grey to bend forward at the waist. The detectives paraded him through the squad room. "Anybody interested in a broken down nigger?" Weslyan asked, laughing. "I'll sell 'em cheap. No? Okay, then off to the cages he goes with the rest of the monkeys," heading out of the office.

The entertainment over, the other investigators returned to their reports.

Hauling Grey into the cellblock, they stood him in front of the booking desk. The sergeant in charge glanced up, looking him over. "Have rescue come take a look at him," he ordered, returning to his newspaper.

"Sarge, the asshole killed a white girl and raped a couple of others. Screw him, no rescue."

"Oh, this is the prick, huh?" the sergeant replied, now a bit more interested. "In that case, put him in A-5. Are you guys doing a lineup?"

"Yeah, just waiting on East Providence PD to bring their victim here. She's a cop's kid, a retired trooper."

"No shit?" the sergeant said. "We should just give the trooper a few minutes alone with the cocksucker. Save us all some headaches."

Weslyan removed the handcuffs and pushed Grey into the cell. Closing the door, he looked up and pointed above door. Georgiana looked and saw the words
Monkey Exhibit
written there.

"Perfect," he smiled.

* * *

Two hours later, Weslyan and Georgiana brought back Grey from the cellblock and took him to the lineup area. They put him in the first position. Five other black men completed the array.

"What about the blood and the swollen eye?" the assistant AG, Robert Collucci, asked. "A potential problem don't you think?"

"Want me to go smack the other five?" a detective suggested.

"No," Collucci replied, "Go clean him up first."

A short time later, the prosecutor's concerns satisfied, the lineup was ready.

Five men waited in the viewing area, Collucci, two detectives, the uniform officer who arrested Grey, and Captain Gemma.   

Two East Providence PD detectives came in with the twenty-five year-old victim from one of their cases. Collucci explained the procedure as they opened the curtain covering the view window into the lineup room.

The victim, Sheila Monson, looked at the six men. She studied them, one by one. "I'm not sure; I don't think he's there."

Collucci looked at the Providence detectives and shook his head.

The door to the witness area opened, slamming into the wall. The victim's father, retired Rhode Island State Police Lieutenant Alfred Monson, barged in. "Which one is it, Sheila? Just tell me. Which one?"

"Why is he here?" Collucci asked.

"Hey," Monson said, taking a step toward Collucci, fists clenched. "This is my daughter that piece of shit attacked. You wanna try to keep me out of here? Go ahead, try."

Captain Gemma stepped between the two.

Collucci backed up, raising his hands, "Okay, okay. Just let her look them over. We don't want the lineup thrown out." Turning back to Sheila he said, "Take a good look again, Miss. Take your time."

Monson looked again, shaking her head, "I'm not sure. It might be number three, but I can't…I'm just not sure." Looking to her father for help, all she saw was his disappointment and rage.

"Give me a minute with her," Alfred Monson said. "She's just nervous."

Collucci looked at Captain Gemma. He shrugged his shoulders, nodded, and they both walked out. Monson and his daughter walked to the squad room. The two Providence detectives followed, standing with Monson as he talked to her.

Weslyan tapped the father on the shoulder and made a head movement to follow him. As they walked outside to the hallway, Captain Gemma saw them, raising an eyebrow. Weslyan smiled. "No problem, Captain. We're all set now."

Gemma walked away and Weslyan turned to Monson. "Tell her to pick number three. She thought he was the guy. I'll move the son-of-a-bitch to the third spot. No problem."

Monson smiled. "Thanks, can I have five minutes with the asshole after?"

"I'd love to but that fucking AG would shit himself."

"What about him?" Monson asked, motioning towards Gemma's office. "He gonna be good with a second look?"

'What second look?" Weslyan replied. "Only one lineup happened here, that's what the reports will say."

Returning to the squad room, Monson sat next to his daughter, speaking to her in a soft, yet insistent tone. She looked at him, wide-eyed, afraid. "But I wasn't sure."

"Yes you were, Sheila. You were just nervous. You don't want that piece of shit to get away with this do you?"

Sheila shook her head, "No, of course not. But I want to be sure."

"I'm sure," Monson said. "Go back in there. You know what to do. Listen to me Sheila; do the right thing for once in your life."

Weslyan came back into the squad room. "All set Sheila, come on back and take a look."

The group returned to the lineup viewing area, Collucci and Captain Gemma absent this time.

Two minutes later, Weslyan and Georgiana took Grey back to the cellblock.   

"She didn't pick me out, did she?" Grey said. "She couldn't, I didn't do nothin’. I wasn't there."

Weslyan smiled, "She picked you out, asshole. We made sure of that."

* * *

Detective Weslyan called the shift commander. He asked for a wagon to transport Grey to the Adult Correctional Institute, known as the ACI. A short time later, two young Providence patrol officers walked into the cellblock.

Grey, chained to a wall, face bruised and swollen, watched the officers. There was blood on his shirt. He was having difficulty breathing.

"Hey, Sarge. What's up?" one of the officers asked.

"Take that fucking stovepipe over to the hospital," the sergeant ordered, looking up from his desk. "Tell the ER doc to just clean him up. When the ER’s done with him, take him to the prison," handing the officer some paperwork.

The younger of the two officers walked over to Grey. He looked at the man’s injuries, "What the hell happened to him?"

The sergeant slammed his hands on the desk and rose from his seat. On the job 35 years, he didn't feel the need to explain anything to this snot-nosed, slick-sleeved, boot patrol officer. Backing the officer into the wall, he smiled. "He fell down. Twice. That fucking okay with you?"

The officer swallowed hard and said, "Ah, yeah, sure. The hospital's gonna ask how this happened. I didn't know what to tell them."

"How about you don't tell 'em a goddamn thing, stand there like a dope and smile. Think you can handle that? Just let them patch 'em up. Now get the hell out."

At the hospital, the charge nurse took one look at Grey and called for the resident on duty. "I am not letting any of my nurses near this. That man needs to be admitted and the two cops are insisting they're not leaving here without him."

"I'll deal with it," the resident answered.

The doctor examined Grey and then called the officers outside the exam room. "Listen to me. I do not care what some sergeant at the police department thinks. I am admitting that man," turning from the officers and reentering the exam room.

The officer got on his portable radio and told the shift commander.   

Fifteen minutes later, Detective Weslyan and another detective charged into the ER. The uniform officer pointed to the exam room. Throwing the curtain back, Weslyan had a short and angry exchange with the resident. The pasty white looking resident left the room, went to the desk, and spoke to the charge nurse. She glared at the officers, shook her head, and turned away.

Weslyan had Grey back in cuffs and pushed him towards the uniforms. Turning to the young detective he said, “See, nothing to it. We decide, not some fucking fairy doctor."

* * *

The Providence paddy wagon pulled into the sally port area of the ACI Inmate Intake Center. Dragging Grey from the back of the van, he fell to the floor in front the admitting desk.

Glancing over the desk, the guard looked at Grey. "Let me guess, unpaid parking violations?" laughing at his own humor.

"Nope, rape and murder,” the officer answered.

"No shit?" the guard answered. "Okay, got my paperwork?"

After handing the guard the forms, removed the handcuffs. Two guards came out of the backroom and took Grey. The officers headed back to their van.

"Well, that was a fun field trip. What say we stop somewhere for coffee and kill the rest of the shift?"

"Sounds good to me, as long as I don't have to deal with that fucking sergeant anymore.” The young officer looked out the window, "So do you think he did it?"

"What do ya' mean? Of course he did."

"I heard the guys in detectives talking; the girl got coached by her father and they did two lineups."

"So what?"

The officer didn't answer.
If I ever get to detectives, I ain't doin' this shit.

Chapter 5

August 12, 2009 7:00 PM

East Providence Police Headquarters

East Providence, Rhode Island

Josh returned to the East Providence PD headquarters after his meeting with Vera and Chris.
No better time to poke around old files than in a closed Records division.

Unlocking the archive storage room, he searched through the case files. After an hour, he'd found some of the investigative reports. Placing the files in his briefcase, he walked out into the corridor and back to his office.   

He read the file, fascinated by the differences in the language used. Case reports were different back then. One of the reports, by Joe McDaniel of all people, caught his eye.   

Joe McDaniel was a legend in the department. Josh, and many other cops, learned a great deal from working with him. McDaniel had retired six months ago. Josh made a note to call him about the case.

After an hour of reading, he realized how hungry he felt. This was usually a late night for his wife as well, but he thought he'd take a shot and see if she'd like dinner.

Picking up the phone, he called her.

"Law offices, Keira Williams."

"Hey, how you doing?"

"Fine, sitting here reading files and you?"

"Funny you should ask," he answered. "I am doing the same, reading a case file. Want to meet for dinner, or should we try to cook at home?"

"That would involve shopping; I'll let you take me to dinner. I can leave here in five minutes. Bonefish okay? Meet you there."

Josh packed up the files and headed out the door
. Nobody better to discuss a screwed up police file than my wife. Her Innocence Project work might be just what I need for this.

Arriving at the restaurant, they sat at a table in the corner.   

"Tell me about this case that commands your attention," Keira said.

"A thirty-seven year old rape case in East Providence with two victims. Connected to two other rapes and a murder in Providence."

"A bit of a history lesson isn't it? What spurred your interest?"

"This is the case Vera and Chris asked me about. You told them how to get me to help them."

"I thought it was just to find some info on her niece's father," she laughed.

"Yeah, well. Nothing is ever easy with those two. Would you look at the file for me? Your perspective might be helpful."

Keira feigned shock, hand covering her mouth. "Are my ears deceiving me? You want my perspective. The jaundiced, distrusting, suspicious of anything official view?"

"Yeah, because if you don't see anything wrong, then it's not there."

Keira's work with the Innocence Project had sometimes caused issues between them, some of them severe. No one understood how they remained together. But they did. It worked for them.

"Well, my dear, I'd be happy to look them over for you. What do I get for this?" her smile having the wanted effect.

"The fee is negotiable," returning the smile. "Perhaps a retainer after dinner?"

"My retainer needs are high."

Josh laughed. "I'll see if I can measure up."

"I'll be the judge of that," reaching over and taking his hand.