The Archangel Drones (23 page)

Gabe scratched his chin, still mentally playing all the angles. “Why wouldn’t the good guys want the thugs out of their departments? I don’t understand this ‘All for one, one for all’ attitude.”

“Because the guy we would call an overly-aggressive, domineering abuser of power is the same officer other cops want with them when things get rough or out of hand. He’s the guy who kicks in the door and rescues the hostage, or the cop who throws th
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methamphetamine-craze
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suspect with super-human strength to the ground. I know your son suffered, but often the attitude of a playground bully is exactly what the police need to do their jobs. You have to keep in mind that we expect them to deal with the absolute dredges of society. We pay them to hold the 5-year old girl who was just raped by her drug dealer uncle, and then expect them to smile 20 minutes later when they pull us over for speeding.”

Gabe tilted his head, “It almost sounds as if you’re on their side.”

“There’s a balance, Gabe,” the attorney responded. “And I agree, Marwick shouldn’t be on the streets. But if you go posting that video, you’re going to hurt every cop, good and bad alike. Aren’t they innocent until proven guilty as well? People only see the uniform, authority, and the capability to alter lives. Citizens lump them all together. The general public doesn’t look at individual faces or badge numbers.”

“If you were in my shoes, what would you do, Adam? I can’t let Jacob’s death become another meaningless statistic. I need to associate some meaning to his loss.”

The attorney was normally the one asking questions, Gabe’s turning things around catching Adam off guard. He toyed with his fork, pushing small bits of food around on the plate while he contemplated a response. He seemed almost embarrassed not to have a good answer to his client’s query. With a hesitant voice, he ventured, “I suppose you could donate money to the police so they could buy body cameras and better dash cams.”

“Marwick had a dash cam, and that didn’t help. Besides, they all know how to defeat the cameras. You told me that they practice huddling and piling around suspects so any cameras can’t see what’s going on.”

Adam sighed, “I can’t really tell you how to change the system. But I do understand your need to do something. Post the raw video from an anonymous account if you must. Don’t go near the modified version we used at the trial because they would know in a heartbeat who had access to that. For now, that’s about the best advice I can give you.”

Sandy answered the call on the second ring. “How are you, Gabe?” she said with a warm tone.

“I doing okay, I guess. I miss you terribly, you know.”

“Is it over? I will come home the moment you tell me it’s over,” she said gently, a wisp of hope in her voice.

He didn’t answer the question, choosing instead to ramble on about investments, the yard crew asking for a raise, and the neighbor’s new car.

She listened politely, occasionally posing a question of clarification, letting her mate jabber as if she were just down the street or out shopping for the afternoon. Finally, when he’d exhausted the small talk, she gently submitted her question again. “Is it over, Gabe? Can we move on… together?”

Gabe hesitated, despite having known the question was coming. He had rehearsed the answer a dozen times in his mind. “No, my dearest, I won’t lie,” he finally managed. “Our victory in court… the money… it was hollow. Until that man is off the streets, it won’t be over.”

“That might be a long time,” she answered sadly. “That might be forever.”

“No, I won’t let it go forever,” he promised. “But it burns inside of me, Sandy. It is a fire I have to extinguish before I can have peace. I hope you still understand that. I pray you still love me.”

“I’m afraid that fire is going to burn you up, Gabriel darling. It’s a scorching, unbearable inferno too hot for me to stand beside, or I’ll be consumed as well. I hope you understand that. I pray
you
still love
me
.”

“I do, Sandy. I swear I do. I know this is hard for you to understand. I know you are healing your grief in an entirely different manner.” Like a wordsmith considering his next query, he paused to ensure that every phrase was selected to perfectly convey his meaning. “I wonder… is it too much for me to ask if you will give me more time to work through this?”

Now, it was Sandy’s time to reflect on her husband’s words. She sighed and then responded, “Yes, of course I will wait. I have faith you’ll come out the other side as the man I fell in love with. I know you need to quench this fire in your belly. But then I want you to come back to me as the man I love. I just wish I were strong enough to be there and help you. Understand I’m not that brave or strong just yet. But I hope you will never doubt my love, Gabriel William Chase.”

His heart warmed at her understanding, his voice cracking slightly at the depth of affection and insight from her words. “Do you need anything? Money? Anything from the house?”

Her gentle chuckle was reassuring, the highlight of the call. “No, I don’t need anything except my husband. I’ll be waiting, Gabe.”  

DA Sanders saw Tony approaching, her first reaction being to duck into the ladies room in order to avoid the junior prosecutor. As tempting as the maneuver was, she resisted the urge. There was a long list of people she didn’t want to see these days. So many in fact, there were days when relocating to a remote desert island seemed her only viable option.
Wonder if I could telecommute? I would avoid gridlock, and with what I saved on parking, I could afford a little seaside cabana
, she mused. Only when she contemplated the inaccessibility of Texas barbecue did she dismiss the passing thought.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the young attorney greeted.

Karen merely nodded, her eyes sweeping the busy foot traffic moving through the courthouse hall to make sure no one was listening. “Morning.”

“Is now a bad time? I hate to be a pest, but I’ve been trying to get with you for three days.”

Karen frowned, “Really? Three days? I know I’ve been busy, but I didn’t realize that much time had passed since we’d talked. Let’s find someplace a little more quiet.”

The duo continued on, strolling through a chorus of footfall echoes bouncing off the highly polished, marble floor. They smiled as they passed a judge’s clerk scurrying with an armload of folders, subconsciously nodded at a pair of chatting pedestrians, and then dodged a crime reporter for the local paper. Both avoided making eye contact with the big league defense lawyer working a high-profile criminal case. 

Tony wasn’t stupid, immediately recognizing his boss’s strong desire to avoid addressing his ever-growing list of needs. As they walked, he tried to prioritize and weed out the lesser demons. The tension grew thicker with every step. No way he could avoid the burgeoning elephant in the room.

Finally, they approached an empty courtroom, DA Sanders closing the double doors after they’d entered the vacant space.

“What’s up?” she asked innocently enough.

He quickly ran through three items needing his boss’s attention, receiving her agreement on a plea bargain, approval of a sentencing recommendation, and finally the reset of a pending hearing. It was the fourth topic that both of them dreaded. “Did you have a chance to look over my brief on the Marwick case?”

Karen’s eyes dropped to the floor, but she still responded. “Yes, I’ve read it, and to be blunt, I keep shuffling it to the bottom of the stack.”

Tony understood, his supervisor’s response not totally unexpected. “Normally, I wouldn’t press on a case like this, but somebody keeps agitating the local press and poking social media with a cattle prod. This one’s not going to drift quietly away in the night. I received an email just this morning from the Houston Post, asking why the case had not been added to the grand jury’s docket.”

“I know, I know,” she fumed, clearly frustrated. “But like most of these brutality incidents, we’re between a rock and a hard place. I thought the civil settlement would tamp this down, but obviously it hasn’t.”

The problem the DA’s office faced was well known by both of them. This was a no-win scenario, regardless of the outcome.

The DA depended on the police, worked with them every single day. In private, most cops would admit one of their own had crossed the line in this instance but wouldn’t want Marwick prosecuted. They were dealing with an organization that saw repeat, violent, offenders released with a mere slap of the hand – why shouldn’t the good guys wearing a badge receive the same altruism?

Every day, policemen watched the revolving door of “justice” as it returned hardened criminals to the streets for a variety of reasons. Technicalities, sleazy defense tactics, injudicious rules, or misled juries resulted in the more-jaded cops referring to themselves as fishermen. “We catch and release,” the world-weary officers touted as their feeble battle cry. Karen understood the grievance of good men who risked their lives for the public welfare, only to watch robbers, rapists and murderers walk free. For the DA to drop the legal hammer on one of their own would classify her as someone who lacked the capacity to understand the frustrations and dangers involved in law enforcement. If the prosecution against an officer were successful, she would earn the title of “cop hater.” And ultimately, her office’s primary objective to represent the public would suffer from the black eye a media frenzy would prompt.

Not only would internal department morale be damaged, the public’s interaction with street cops would be impacted as well. It had been well documented that once a cop had been convicted, the public became more aggressive and resistant to the local officers. Witnesses were hesitant to come forward. Informants dried up, and a more belligerent attitude prevailed toward the men and women in blue.

But merely slapping Marwick on the wrist could backfire as well. Public outrage could result in ever expanding rings of negative events. In previous, highly publicized cases, vigilantes had assassinated officers on the street. Demonstrations, some violent, others peaceful, had occurred in numerous metro areas, the cost to the taxpayers mounting into millions and millions of dollars in police overtime, lost business revenue, and frustrated citizens.

“I’m going to take the easy way out, for now,” Karen finally declared. “We’re going to use the tried and true tactic of stalling. Tell your curious reporters that the grand jury dockets are stuffed to the gills at the moment. Assure them that we are going to pursue this case to the full extent of our official capacity, and we want to make sure that a thorough presentation is made on behalf of our citizens. You know the public relations drill, Tony. Do me proud.”

“Yes, ma’am.”