The Archangel Drones (21 page)

“My apologies, Your Honor,” Adam added before he was warned from a frowning bench. “I will rephrase my question.”

After receiving a nod from the judge, Adam continued, “Dr. Okan, would it be an exaggeration to state you are one of the world’s top experts in the countless methods and techniques used by police to restrain suspects and prisoners?”

“I don’t believe that would be an exaggeration, sir,” the witness responded in a flat, matter of fact tone.

Adam moved to a large projection screen mounted nearby. Peering up at the judge, he stated, “With your honor’s permission, I would like to show the witness a videotape and have him answer questions as the images progress.”

The judge had previously agreed to the defense’s request in a lengthy session of pre-trial haggling. In addition, previous experts had stipulated that Chip’s video was indeed taken during the night of the incident in question, and that Officer Marwick was the officer who starred in the recording.

Positioned where both the jury and witness could clearly view the images, the video began with Jacob on the ground, surrounded by several police officers. Marwick was standing at the prone suspect’s side, screaming, “Stop resisting! Stop resisting!”

The operator running the computer-controlled projector froze the image, clicked a few keys, and a box appeared in the middle of the screen, magnifying a portion of the recording. It was a close-up of Jacob’s already handcuffed arms, the silver metal of the restraints clearly visible on the boy’s wrists.

“Doctor, in your expert opinion, is there any chance of this suspect harming any of the officers surrounding him?”

“No, even I would be unable to strike or harm if I were in the position of the handcuffed man. No question. His fight is over.”

Adam nodded to his associate, who again tapped at the computer keyboard. This time the zoom focused on Marwick’s upper body, a short duration of film showing the officer motioning to one of the other cops, making a lifting motion with his hand.

“I’m going to have the projectionist loop that last section of video, to make sure everyone on the jury can see.”

After three repetitions, Adam said, “Now we will let the video continue.”

The officer signaled by Marwick bent over, grabbed Jacob’s bound wrists, and then began to lift, twisting the boy’s arms up and back. Adam had to subdue a smile when two members of the jury winced at the display.

“Dr. Okan, does the technique being applied by the officer have some specific justification or purpose in subduing a suspect?”

“Yes. The human body will automatically react when reverse pressure is leveraged against the shoulder’s joint. You can see the effect on the video as the suspect raises his hips to relieve the pain being inflicted on his shoulders. This method has been banned at most police training facilities, however, as it is very easy for an officer to dislocate both shoulders.”

“So you are testifying that the man on the ground has no choice but to raise his hips.”

“That is correct. If the officers believed the suspect was hiding a gun in the front of his person, they could employ this technique to force him to raise up off the ground.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Please continue the video.”

The next frames did indeed show Jacob raising his hips, but rather than check for any weapon, Marwick and another officer began screaming, “Stop resisting!” while repeatedly kicking the teen in the ribs.

“Doctor,” Adam continued after giving the jury a chance to absorb the scene. “Can you see any justification for the officers’ actions, specifically in kicking the suspect repeatedly?”

The martial arts expert responded in a clearly dejected voice, “No, I cannot, other than they are obviously trying to inflict pain on the suspect.”

Adam signaled to resume the video, freezing the image just a few frames later. Marching to the large screen, he pointed to another officer who was placing his hands around Jacob’s ankle. “I would like to identify this officer to the jury, his specific actions critical to our cause.”

The video then began repeating less than five seconds of images, over and over, complete with sound. Big Jim could be seen nodding at the cop gripping Jacob’s ankle, the man in charge clearly indicating he wanted some action performed.

“Doctor,” Adam began, “Are you familiar with the maneuver being performed by the officer manipulating the suspect’s ankle?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And what purpose does it serve?”

“If the suspect was utilizing his knees in an attempt to rise off the ground, then pulling his legs back into a straight configuration eliminates any weight bearing capability. This forces the suspect back to a prone position, flat on his abdomen.”

“And what about the twisting motion being employed by the officer on Jacob’s ankle?”

“That is an unauthorized, extremely dangerous technique that can lead to excruciating pain and permanent damage to the knee.”

The image on the big screen changed, the video now replaced with a still photograph showing Jacob’s knee. The clearly tortured joint was inflamed, grotesquely swollen to three times its normal size. A murmur rose throughout the courtroom, including several gasps from the jury box. Adam timed it perfectly, “Damage like this, Doctor?”

“Yes, damage like that.”

Adam didn’t miss a beat, his pace perfect. “I’m going to let the video loop one last time and show the next few moments of the morning in question.”

All eyes were fixated on the wide screen as the patrolman pulled and twisted on Jacob’s leg, the computer operator letting the scene continue. Jacob’s face showed in the foreground, a pale glow in the swirling background of blue police uniforms. The teen’s whole body jerked as more torque was applied to his leg, then his spine rearing in protest just before a howl of pure agony sounded deep from his throat.

While it was impossible to see the manipulating officer’s face, the policeman’s reaction was clear. Both of the visible hands gripping Jacob’s ankle sprang free, almost as if the cop had touched a stove’s hot burner.

Seizures racked Jacob’s still pinned body, his wailing of tortured distress so prevalent that the cops paused their attack.

Fortunately, for everyone in the courtroom, the playback ended.

Adam looked away from the screen and scanned the jury. Every single member was staring at Officer Marwick, the big man’s expression apathetic and apparently unmoved.

The lawyer wanted to hammer the point home. “So, Doctor, in summary, what we see on this videotape is a purposeful, skilled manipulation of Jacob Chase’s body that was intentionally performed to inflict pain and physical trauma. Is that an accurate statement?”

The witness nodded before catching himself and replying verbally. “Yes, that would be my expert opinion. The officers had Mr. Chase in what we call a ‘deadly embrace,’ a term describing the manipulation of one part of the body that causes an uncontrollable reaction by another limb or section of the anatomy. Pull a human’s arms backwards, and the hips naturally rise. Place extreme pressure on the back of the head, and the neck will arch with an involuntary adjustment. The suspect’s movements were not based on any effort to resist, but were in fact being orchestrated by the officer’s actions.”

After a pause to let the witness’s last statement soak in, Adam closed, “No more questions, Your Honor.”

The union lawyer rose from behind the defense’s large table, strutting a few steps toward the witness. “Doctor, in your testimony, I heard you use the words ‘unauthorized’ and ‘dangerous’ when describing the techniques executed by the arresting officers on the video that we all just watched. Have you read the Houston Police Academy’s Training Guide? Specifically the section on subduing potentially violent suspects?”

The witness nodded with a sly smile, “Yes, I’m quite familiar with that document. I wrote it.”

“No more questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

The mid-day recess was called shortly after the doctor’s testimony had concluded. Gabe and Adam exited the courtroom, the attorney briefing his client on their options for a quick lunch. After passing through the heavy double doors, Adam glanced up to see the lead council for the defense waiting patiently in the corridor.

“Could I have a brief moment, Mr. Barlow?”

“Sure, Counselor,” Adam replied, and then turned to Gabe. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the lobby. Be thinking about what sounds good for a quick bite.”

Nodding, Gabe wandered off, only slightly offended at being left out of the legal powwow.

“We would like to offer a settlement on behalf of the named defendants,” the city attorney began. “We believe six million dollars is a fair amount.”

Adam wanted to smile, but held a stern poker face. “That’s ridiculous, Counselor. I can see the jury’s faces, and I think we’ll be awarded full damages.”

The grizzled old lawyer didn’t flinch, “Perhaps. Perhaps not. No one can ever be sure how a jury will find, sir. Be that as it may, what would you consider a fair award, Mr. Barlow?”

“I’m sure my client wouldn’t agree to a penny less than 14 million, sir. He has lost his son forever.”

Nodding, the older man responded, “See if your client will accept 14 million then. I can have the paperwork drawn up this afternoon. I’ll be waiting on your call.” Without another word, he pivoted, walking briskly toward the stairwell where Adam assumed the other members of his team were waiting eagerly for an answer.

Shaking his head, Barlow made for the elevators, wondering how Gabe would react.       

He found his client waiting in the lobby, standing in a corner and watching the never-ending parade of people coming and going from the massive facility. Adam noted Gabe’s reaction as a group of policemen walked by, a dark shadow of hatred crossing behind his eyes.

“Good news,” he greeted. “They want to settle.”

“What? Really? Already?”

“I thought that’s what that old windbag wanted. They’re offering 14 million, and I think you should give it serious consideration.”

Gabe was dumbfounded, unsure of what to say or how to react.

“Come on, we can talk it over while savoring the best pastrami and rye in Texas,” the lawyer suggested, placing a friendly, guiding hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “And I’m buying.”

Five days later, Gabe arrived home, copies of the settlement agreement resting in the passenger seat next to his cell. He wanted to call Sandy, wanted to let his wife know the lawsuit was over, ask her to come home. But he couldn’t make the call, unsure exactly why his brain was rejecting the opportunity to deliver what should be extremely positive news.

He found the same, mysterious barrier impeding any celebration over their windfall.

While his disciplined, engineering mindset had never allowed such whimsical activities as playing the lottery, he had yielded to the occasional daydream, imagining what it would be like to hit a big jackpot. Even as he sat in his driveway, the city’s insurance company was wiring such a life-changing payout to his attorney’s bank. In no time at all, millions of dollars would land in the Chases’ normally meager, joint checking account.

He should be happy, or content, or pleased, or something – but it just wasn’t there. His core remained numb, a soulless void marked by emptiness, melancholy, and dissatisfaction. He had thought the win would breathe life back into his nearly departed humanity, but it hadn’t.