Scott Pratt - In good faith

“Didn’t make it. Levi shot him in the head. They sent another deputy along for extra security, a kid named Huff. Killed him, too.”

My stomach started churning and I suddenly wished I’d skipped lunch. Both of our murder suspects were dead, one killed by a codefendant in a holding cell at the jail and the other a suicide. Two deputies were dead. We had a third suspect in the murders, but we didn’t have enough evidence to arrest her, and now the only two people who could have provided us with that evidence were dead. I wondered how much Alexander Dunn’s little leak to the media had to do with what happened.

“So where does this leave us?” I said.

“If you want to look on the bright side, it leaves us with two dead scumbag murderers. I say good riddance. Now we don’t have to prosecute them, don’t have to feed and clothe and shelter them, and we don’t have to waste electricity killing them.”

“Your compassion never ceases to amaze me.”

“My compassion is with the innocent people they terrorized and murdered. But if you’re anxious to look at the bleak side of things, we’re pretty much left with our dicks in our hands as far as Natasha goes.”

“What are we going to do about her?”

“Let me drop this little tidbit on you. I drove up to the detention center when I heard the chatter about the shooting. While I was there, I went in and asked the guards about Levi’s visitors. He’s only had one besides his aunt. Guess who?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Three days ago. Signed in under her own name and everything.”

My phone rang and I picked it up.

“Is Special Agent Fraley back there with you?” It was Rita Jones.

“He is.”

“Mr. Mooney would like to see both of you right now.”

Fraley and I made the short walk down the hall to Mooney’s office. We found him pacing back and forth between his flags with his hands folded behind his back. Instead of sitting, Fraley and I both stood behind the chairs in front of his desk. He paced for more than a minute, occasionally fingering his handlebar mustache. Finally, he spoke.

“This is a clusterfuck,” Mooney said, “a clusterfuck of magnanimous proportion. Do the two of you have any idea what happened today?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question to me. Of course we knew what happened, but I’d learned long ago that the best answer to a rhetorical question was no answer at all, so I kept my mouth shut. Fraley did the same.

“Do you know that the reputation of law enforcement in this community was ruined today? Ruined! I’ve spent the last two years of my life trying to make the people here feel safe, make them feel confident about the men and women who are responsible for providing them with safe streets and an efficient court system. I’ve tried to hire people who are fair and compassionate to victims and defendants alike. And now, in a three-hour span, every bit of credibility we’ve been able to establish is gone.”

I stood there staring down at his desk, focusing on nothing. I told myself that the man had given me a job, and since Caroline had come down with cancer, he’d also probably saved me from bankruptcy. The least I could do was stand quietly while he ranted. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and turned towards us.

“I want you to know that I hold the two of you at least partially responsible for this,” he said.

Fraley and I exchanged an incredulous glance. Since Mooney was my boss, I thought it best that I do the talking.

“Lee, I know you’re upset,” I said. “Everyone is. But pointing fingers won’t do anyone any good.”

“Bullshit!” he snapped. “When bad things happen in an organization people get blamed. It’s called accountability, in case you’ve never heard of it. Those held accountable for whatever has happened usually resign or get fired. At the very least, they change the way they do business. So pointing fingers is exactly what I need to be doing. I have to show the people of this district that we’re accountable when something as monumental as this goes wrong.”

“Explain to me how any of this was our fault in any way,” I said.

“ You’re the one who ordered arrests on the basis of information you received from a confidential informant,” he said, pointing at me. He turned to Fraley. “And you, a veteran TBI agent, went along with it. And as I understand it, your confidential informant had absolutely no personal knowledge of what happened. She didn’t see a thing. Because of that, you gave an opening to the defense. Because of that, they filed motions to suppress and a hearing was scheduled. And because of that, Boyer and Barnett wound up in the same cell and now both of them, along with two police officers, are dead! Do you see what I’m getting at?”

I’d read plenty of appellate opinions in which judges convoluted logic to the point of sophistry, but this was beyond even them.

“Our informant was exactly right about everything, and without her, we would’ve had more victims,” I said.

“We do have more victims! Three more! And we all look like idiots!”

He was shouting now; his face looked like a candy apple with eyes.

“What do you want us to do, Lee?”

“What do I want you to do? I want you to make this right! I want you to redeem yourselves and this office! I want that girl arrested. I want her kept alive long enough for you to convict her of first-degree murder in a very public trial. And then I want her executed. That’s what I want you to do!”

“We don’t have enough evidence to arrest her, Lee. We needed Boyer.”

“Then find some! Plant some! Manufacture some! Do whatever the hell you have to! I want her locked up by the end of the week.”

“We’ll do what we can, Lee,” I said.

“Good. Now get out.”

Fraley and I spun and walked out as quickly as dignity would allow. Instead of going back to my office, I turned towards the stairs and started down. Neither of us said a word until we were outside. I stopped by a bench that sat next to a Civil War-era cannon.

“Can you believe that? He actually tried to blame us for Boyer and Barnett.”

“He seemed a little out of sorts,” Fraley said.

“And do you know what’s even worse? He thinks the only way to redeem himself and the office is with an execution. Redemption through bloodshed.”

“Redemption through bloodshed. Sort of like salvation through bloodshed, isn’t it?”

“If we don’t come through for him, it sounded to me like the ax is going to fall on somebody’s neck, and I’ll bet you a dollar to a doughnut that somebody will be me.”

Fraley reached out and patted me on the shoulder and I saw the glint in his eye.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Ol’ Fraley’s got you covered.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back when I first got out of the academy, an old buddy of mine told me that if I was going to last in this business, I’d need to learn to deal with bosses and politicians who were looking for fall guys. He taught me to cover my ass. So when we were walking back towards Mooney’s office, I turned on my cover-your-ass gadget.”

Fraley reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a device that was thin and shiny.

“What is that? An iPod?” I said.

“No, no, no. This, my friend, is a digital voice-activated recording device. Top of the line. I never leave home without it.”

“And it was on while Mooney was ranting?”

Fraley pushed a button, and I could hear Mooney’s voice.

“Wait, let me find my favorite part.” He searched through the diatribe for a few minutes.

“Here it is,” he said, and Mooney’s voice came through loud and clear: “Then find some! Plant some! Manufacture some! Do whatever the hell you have to! I want her locked up by the end of the week.” Fraley looked at me and grinned.