Death of a Pharaoh (7 page)

I sat there trying
to come up with a convincing story when the door opened and Detective Angelini
walked in with a notepad, a file folder, a cup of foul smelling coffee and
something far worse brewing on his face.

“Counselor, it’s
been a long time,” he remarked. “Isn’t this slumming for you?”

“His father is an
old friend,” my lawyer explained then cut right to the chase, “Why is my client
even here?”

“Because he stole
a taxi and used it to commit voluntary manslaughter. Motor vehicle theft is a
felony the last time I looked and unless he starts talking, the manslaughter
charge just might become murder.”

“My client had no
intention of killing Mr. Slomkowski. It was an accident,” he insisted. “Aren’t
you forgetting about the young boy he saved, detective?”

“Sure his actions
allowed us to recover the boy before he’d been harmed, but my question is how
did your client know that Samuel was in the house?”

Both of them
looked at me.

“Mr. Slomkowski
told me,” I confessed.

“You expect me to
believe that the perp walked up to you on the street and just spilled to you
that he was holding an eight year old boy captive. Do I look stupid, son?

“Yessir… I mean no
sir; just pissed!”

My lawyer coughed
to cover his amusement.

“Let me tell you
what I think happened,” the detective offered. “Your client knew the victim.
Maybe he had been his favorite when he was younger but when he reached puberty
he was already too old for Mr. Slomkowski’s prepubescent tastes.”

He scrutinized me
for a reaction.

“Didn’t like that
did you Ryan?” He goaded. “Made you angry, mad enough to want to kill him?”

“Not true,” I
protested, “I never met the guy until today.”

“Counselor, we
believe the pedophile wasn’t acting alone, that he had an accomplice who could
win the trust of the young boys he liked. We think your client was helping him.
That’s the only explanation for how he knew where Samuel was hidden.”

“That is
preposterous,” my lawyer blustered.

The detective
ignored him. “Problem is your client got in over his head and started to feel
guilty. What about the time he set fire to a video store? Maybe he’d been
lining up kids to star in those twink porno flicks? How come your client always
seems to know everyone’s dirty little secrets?”

“Those records are
sealed,” my lawyer reminded him. “They are not admissible in court.”

“The District
Attorney is filing to have them opened for the Grand Jury. He will charge your
client with serious crimes and he is going to do time. I would suggest you
consider a plea bargain.”

I swallowed hard.
Even I knew things weren’t going well.

“We’re done here
Counselor. The arraignment is at 8.00 AM tomorrow. He’ll have to spend the
night in lock-up.”

“He’s only a
teenager; you can’t leave him overnight with hardened criminals off the
street.”

“He should have
thought of that before he killed someone. I doubt any of his cellmates tonight
will have as many serious charges pending against them as your client. Maybe
they’re the ones who need protection?” he ironized. “His parents can have a
minute before the officer takes him away,” he conceded then gathered up his
papers and left.

I understood I had
to go to jail but I didn’t look forward to the experience. If you think visions
from the general population were rough, the memories of the bunch of criminals
that awaited me in lock-up would be a nightmare.

There was a
constant stream of depravity even without touching anyone. I finally sat beside
a nice Puerto Rican girl arrested for soliciting. She let me rest my head on
her shoulder. All she thought about was getting back to her young daughter when
she made bail. The four year old was safe with her mother. She couldn’t wait to
make enough money to go back to school and leave the streets. She hoped it
would be soon. She had to do it for her daughter. I finally fell asleep.

My lawyer arrived
first thing with some clean clothes for my appearance in court.

“How was the
night?”

“I slept a bit,
thanks. What’s going to happen now?”

“In a few minutes
they will take you to the holding pen just outside the courtroom. It shouldn’t
be a long wait. When they call your name, they’ll bring you before the judge
who will decide on bail. I’ll be there. Let me do the talking.”

“Yessir,” I
assured him.

The holding area
was packed. I squeezed in between two guys on a bench. The one on my left faced
a charge of DUI. The man he hit was hanging on for life in the trauma ward. If
he lived, he’d never walk again. The driver barely had a scratch. All he could
think about was how much he needed a drink.

Asshole, I mumbled
to myself.

The man on my
right congratulated himself for only getting collared on a simple attempted
B&E. I saw the entire rape and murder of the woman whose body he left in a
townhouse two doors down from where he had been apprehended trying to pick a
lock. He figured he’d be out on bail and over the state line long before anyone
missed the waitress, since she worked the night shift at the diner over on
McCall from where he followed her home last night.

A little voice
told me it wasn’t any of my business. I was already in enough trouble, thank
you very much. But I knew if he got away he might kill again. I walked over to
the bailiff on duty and asked if I could make a phone call.

“Do I look like
Verizon?”

“Just one call,” I
pleaded. “It’s urgent.”

“It always is kid.
Now go sit down and wait your turn.”

Before I could
consider another plan, the door to the courtroom opened and a woman called out
my name. An officer led me to where my lawyer stood. Family and friends of the
arrested packed the courtroom, including my parents, attorneys waiting for the
next cases, social workers and even Detective Angelini.

“Does your client
wave the reading?” the judge asked in a bored voice. He looked like he had
slept worse than I had.

“Your honor may I
approach?” I blurted out interrupting my own lawyer.

“Mr. Murphy this
isn’t Judge Judy, we have procedures here and wasting my time isn’t one of
them.”

“This is real
important, sir, honest.”

He shot me an
exasperated look but motioned me forward.

I walked to the
front, leaned on his bench then tapped his microphone, “Is this still on?”

The judge covered
the microphone with his right hand.

“Sir, there’s this
guy in there,” I pointed to the holding room, “and he told me that he is
getting away with murder since no one knows about the body two doors down from
where the cops arrested him trying to break in.”

“He told you
that?” The judge sounded skeptical.

“Yessir.”

“Why?”

“People always
tell me their secrets,” I told him truthfully.

The judge stared
at me for a moment.

“Bailiff, call a detective
in here right away,” he ordered. “Court adjourned ten minutes.”

Detective Angelini
came forward and showed his badge to the bailiff.

The judge turned
and looked at me over his reading glasses, “Don’t know what game you’re playing
but I’ll get to you in a while. Go back with you lawyer. Get!”

A buzz of chatter
filled the courtroom while everyone wondered what had happened. My parents
looked anxious. My lawyer looked annoyed. The judge motioned for Detective
Angelini to approach. He looked confused. I couldn’t hear their whispered
conversation. The magistrate handed him a paper with what I assumed was the
address of the break-in. The detective put it in his pocket then gave me a sour
look as he left. We all stood as the judge retired to his chambers.

We waited in the
courtroom for almost an hour. When the judge returned, he looked preoccupied.
“Do the People wish to proceed with the charges?” he asked.

“Yes, your honor,
the information provided by Mr. Murphy in an unrelated case only supports our
theory that he is an accomplice in several serious crimes. He always seems to
know where an offense has been committed but can never explain how. We are
certain further charges will be added to the case.”

“Once again,
Counselor, does your client wave the reading?”

“Yes, your honor”

“How does your
client plead?”

“Your honor,
against my advice, my client wishes to plead guilty.”

The Assistant
District Attorney was about to speak when the judge interrupted her.

“Mr. Murphy, do
you understand the consequences of a guilty plea? It does not necessarily mean
that you will receive a lesser sentence. You will be convicted of serious
crimes and no matter the time given, a criminal record will follow you for the
rest of your life,” he warned.

I nodded my head.

“Counselor, do you
think you can change his mind?”

“No your honor, he
appears determined.”

“We’ll need a
psych evaluation. I want to make certain he understands what he is doing.”

“Mr. Murphy, I am
sending you back to lock-up until this is sorted out. Counselors, I want to see
both of you in my chambers. Now!”

I wondered if I
had made the right move while they cuffed me and led me away. The murderer
looked a lot less sure of himself when I strolled back into the holding cell.
He paced nervously around the room as if he sensed that the delay was not a
good sign. I had barely sat down when the detective came to read him his rights
on the new charges. I guess they’d found the body. On the way out, Angelini
made a face that said, “I’m coming for you later.”

It didn’t matter.
For the first time in years, I felt 100% certain about a decision. I didn’t
know what prompted me to make the guilty plea but I couldn’t shake the feeling
that it was what I was supposed to say, like my destiny or something. I
actually smiled when a court officer came in and escorted me to a small
interview room where my lawyer waited.

“Am I in more
trouble?”

He ignored the
question.

“Ryan, you need to
change your plea to not guilty. As your attorney, I can’t allow you to make
such a grievous error. If you refuse, you will be sentenced to an adult
facility for several years and I don’t have to tell you what will happen to a
young guy like you in a real jail.”

“But I did kill
that man. I am guilty and I’m not going to lie.”

“We all know that
everything you did was to try and help that kid. You don’t deserve to go to
jail for that.”

“Yes I do. Murder
is murder and my mind is made up. I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.”

The court
psychologist met with me later that same day. He asked me a bunch of questions
to see if I truly understood everything that was happening. I think I convinced
him. My second night in remand was better. I found a corner where I didn’t have
to touch anyone and fell into a deep slumber but even there my nightmare came
back.

The next morning,
my lawyer looked like he had lost his best friend.

“This is your last
chance, Ryan, I beg you to reconsider your plea.”

“Thanks but no
thanks,” I reaffirmed, “Can I see my parents?”

“You’ll have a few
moments with them before you are sentenced. This is going to be hard on them.”

They looked
devastated. I felt I had let them down. I wondered if they ever regretted that
they hadn’t picked a different baby that fateful day sixteen years ago. They
deserved better. We hugged. My mother cried softly until the clerk called my
name for the second time.

The judge was more
somber than yesterday and the Assistant District Attorney didn’t seem that
thrilled with what would be an easy victory.

“I’ve read the
psych report. It appears that Mr. Murphy is fully conscious of the implications
of a guilty plea.”

He paused as he
searched for the next words. I smiled at him to make it easier.

“This is your last
chance Mr. Murphy. How do you plead to the charges?”

“Guilty, your
honor.”

“Do the People
agree with the proposed sentence?”

“We do.”

He reached for his
gavel.

“Mr. Murphy, it
has been a difficult day. I feel that I should be thanking you for your
meritorious service to that young boy and to the memory of the women murdered
early yesterday. I do not understand how you came to know of these crimes but
at the same time, common sense supports the theory of the People that somehow
you were involved or at least aware. It is the only explanation. I have
struggled all morning with my decision and I will forever carry the burden that
someday when I meet my maker, I may be called to task for sending one of his
angels to jail.”