Dead River (29 page)

 63

HARLEY BUCKWALD ARRIVED at the Brevard County Jail in Sharpes before Sikes. The police officers transferring Sikes took their time leaving Cocoa Beach. There was a good reason for the delay: they figured the media would be waiting for them when they escorted Sikes to their patrol car. They were not disappointed. Outside they spotted at least five video cameras and twice that number of reporters, some shoving microphones toward Sikes and shouting questions as the two officers dragged Sikes to the black-and-white.

The questions were basic: why had he killed the Riley girl? Was Tami Breckenridge his work too? One reporter asked him if he’d had sex with the two girls. Sikes was silent. He lowered his head to his chest so his face was not exposed. But the experienced cameramen were able to follow his contortions and catch a glimpse of his face.

Harley waited an hour at the county jail for Sikes’s arrival. He spent the time reading through the information his legal assistant and private investigator had gathered on short notice. So far it didn’t look good for his client, but there was no witness to the crime.

A deputy sheriff entered the room where Harley was sitting and told him Sikes was available to talk. The deputy led Harley to a small room painted light green and unlocked the door. There was a guard sitting in the corner of the room on a tattered wooden chair, and David Sikes sat in one of two chairs placed at a table.

“Just let me know when you’re finished talkin’ and I’ll let you out,” the guard announced. “I’ll be outside the door.”

“Sure will,” Harley said.

Harley marched toward the table where Sikes was sitting and eased down in the chair opposite him. Sikes’s hands were cuffed in front of him, so Harley extended his hand, and Sikes reached out with both of his bound together.

As usual, Harley was dressed in a three-piece suit. This one was a silver-pinstriped, navy-blue Hart, Schaffner Marx. His silver-peppered hair was neatly combed back, save for small tendrils framing both of his ears. The buttons on his vest were drawn tight by his barrel chest.

“Is it all right to call you David?” Harley asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay, David, I would like to tape-record our conversation. Is that all right with you?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

“Good.”

Harley took a small recorder from his briefcase and pressed the record button, and then placed it on the table between them.

“Friday, September 7,” Harley droned. “This is the first consultation with Mr. David Allen Sikes at the Brevard County Jail in Sharpes, Florida.”

Harley folded his hands on his lap and looked at Sikes. He paused several seconds and gave Sikes his signature fatherly, concerned gaze. He always tried to put his clients at ease, for a better chance of honest responses to his questions.

“David, I want you to sit back and answer some questions.”

“Okay, Mr. Buckwald,” Sikes agreed.

“Good.”

Harley again paused momentarily, but this time he looked behind him toward the door and then back at Sikes. He reached for the tape recorder and pressed the stop button.

“Keep your voice down, son, so the gentleman outside the door over there doesn’t hear us, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Harley reached for the tape recorder and again pressed the record button.

“Son, I want you to know that I’m a very to-the-point kind of lawyer.” Harley waved his hands in front of Sikes. “I don’t like a lot of double talk, and I don’t want to hear any mumbo jumbo. I expect you to answer my questions completely and honestly.” Harley shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “Remember, I’m here to represent you, and the only way I can successfully do that is for you to tell me the truth. So every time I ask you a question, I expect to hear an honest and complete answer. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Sikes in almost a whisper.

Harley again stopped the tape recorder.

“You’ll have to speak up just a bit. If you talk at the level I’m speaking, he won’t be able to hear us outside there. Just don’t blurt out your answers to my questions.”

“Is this better?”

“Sure is, son.”

Harley looked directly into Sikes’s eyes for a few seconds then restarted the tape recorder.

“David, did you kill Sara Ann Riley?”

 64

SIKES’S EYEBROWS slowly moved upward, wrinkling his forehead, and then he looked to his right, then back toward Harley. He appeared puzzled by the query. “No. I don’t even know this girl, this Sara. What’s her name?”

“Sara Ann Riley.”

“Nope, don’t know her.”

“Remember, son, I’m your attorney. Anything you tell me stays with me. In fact, if I told someone outside my legal team representing you something that you told to me, I could be disbarred and not allowed to practice law in this fine state.”

“I know that, Mr. Buckwald, but I’m tellin’ you I don’t know this girl, and I didn’t kill her.”

“Okay. Do you remember where you were on Saturday, August 18?”

“August 18, Saturday—uh—let me think.”

Sikes’s forehead again wrinkled. He looked down and gazed at the table for a moment. Harley’s eyes were fixed on him, watching every nuance, his expressions, his movements, even how he breathed. Finally Sikes looked up at Harley.

“I was at Joe and Sally McCarthy’s place.”

“Who are they?”

“I work for Joe part time. I’m an electrician, and he has me work on some of his jobs when he needs extra help.

“Why were you at their place?”

“Because they went to Colorado to see his brother for a couple of weeks. I watched their house, you know, while they were gone.”

“So you stayed at their house for two weeks while they were out of town? Why would you do that?”

Sikes appeared annoyed. He placed his cuffed hands on the table. “Because Joe is my friend and I wanted to help him.” A half-smile formed on Sikes’s face. “Besides, he’s got a great TV set. It’s one of those projection TVs with a theater system. It’s like being at the movies.”

“So, you like to watch movies.”

“Sure do. But I don’t like movie theaters.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s annoying. Too many people talkin’, you can’t hear what they’re sayin’ in the movie.”

“Okay. Let’s go back to Saturday, August 18. That was about three weeks ago.”

“Yes, I know. It was the day after Joe and Sally left for Colorado. I took them to the Orlando airport the day before.”

“What did you do Saturday, David?”

“I rented four movies that morning. I was at Blockbuster at ten o’clock in the mornin’ when they opened so I could rent movies to watch that weekend.”

“Did you have anyone with you at the house to watch the movies?”

Sikes didn’t hesitate. “No. I like to watch movies by myself. Whenever I have someone with me, they always talk during the good parts, then I have to rewind and play it back.” Sikes smirked. “Can’t do that in the movie theater. But it still pisses me off.”

“Anybody that you know see you that Saturday?”

Sikes thought for a few seconds. “Uh—yes—Bob Anderson. That’s Joe and Sally’s neighbor. He saw me pull my car out of the garage when I went to get the movies. He waved at me and I waved back.”

“Do you recall seeing anyone else that day that you know?”

“No. Wait a minute. Yes, the girl at Blockbuster.”

“What girl?”

“Her name is Carrie; she was the one who rented me the movies. I’ve rented movies from her before.”

“Of course. Did you go anywhere else that day?”

“No. I didn’t need to, I brought some groceries with me. I had everything I needed.”

“David, are you sure you didn’t leave the house any other time?”

He looked down at the table again and then back at Harley. “I’m positive.”

“Did you tell any of this to the FBI agent, Mr. Goldman?”

“Yes, sir, I did. Is that all right?”

“No harm done, son. No harm done. Do you have a girlfriend, David?”

Once again wrinkles appeared on Sikes’s forehead, but he continued to look at Harley. “No, I don’t.”

“The authorities claim they have a note from the Riley girl.” Harley stared into Sikes’s eyes. “You know anything about this?”

“No.”

“There was a phone number imprinted on the paper.”

Sikes again knitted his brow and paused for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know nothin’ about a note.”

Time to hit him with the hard stuff. Harley leaned forward and folded his arms on the scarred wooden table. “Here’s a hard fact, son. It’s been brought to my attention that some hair strands that matched those of the Riley girl were found in the bedroom where you stayed at the McCarthy residence. Can you explain how they got there?”

Sikes’s chin met his chest, and he slowly shook his head from side to side. There was silence for several seconds. “No—no I don’t. Somebody must have put it there.”

“Did you leave the McCarthy house for any extended period of time during your stay there?”

Sikes was still shaking his head. “No.” Then he looked up at Harley. “What do you mean by an extended period of time?”

“Let’s say for more than one day.”

“No. I worked every day during the week and was at the house on the weekends.”

Harley continued to probe, replacing the microcassette in his recorder twice. He informed Sikes that the State would probably want to eventually obtain a sample of his DNA, and that would require drawing blood. Sikes wasn’t keen on someone sticking a needle in his arm. Harley told him it probably wouldn’t happen for a few more days, some time after his initial appearance before a circuit court judge scheduled for late morning the next day. He briefly explained what would happen in court and told Sikes his appearance before the judge was routine. However, Harley made it clear there would be no bail, not in the case of a capital offense. Sikes’s shoulders sunk and his head wobbled. He occasionally rubbed his chin on the sleeve of his bright orange jail attire.

“One last item, son,” Harley said. “Some possible good news.”

“What’s that?” Sikes asked.

“I’m going to file a motion for what’s called an adversarial preliminary hearing.”

“A what?”

“A special hearing. The case against you isn’t a strong one, you know, only circumstantial evidence. This would give us an opportunity to bring that to light. Hopefully the judge will agree to it. But you never know.”

“When will you find out?”

“The judge should let us know at the initial appearance.”

While driving back to Orlando, Harley reflected on his discussions with Sikes. Initially he felt that Sikes had answered his questions truthfully; however, his gut told him something wasn’t quite right. The more he thought, the more doubts surfaced. Could this man have actually committed murder and not remember committing the crime? Is there one part of David Allen Sikes who’s a killer, and another part of him someone that I just talked to? That was certainly a possibility. He would have to hire a reputable forensic psychiatrist who specializes in this area to evaluate Sikes, and then testify in court that Sikes possessed multiple personalities and was insane at the time he committed the murder, if that was indeed what had happened.

Harley was aware that in recent years a plea of insanity due to multiple personality disorder, now more commonly known as dissociative identity disorder, was becoming less effective as a defense strategy. But he was also aware of some cases where dissociative identity disorder was relevant in court. This was definitely something to consider, as it could lead to a solid defense for his client. Besides, this added to his list of challenges for the Sikes case and elevated his level of excitement.

A decision would have to be made soon: to either enter a plea of not guilty or guilty due to insanity, since Sikes wasn’t about to confess to the crime. The latter would entail plea-bargaining with the state attorney. That would be a very involved, if not impossible, task, compounded by another problem unique to Harley. He and the state attorney for this judicial circuit, Owen Jacobson (or Mr. Slick as Harley lovingly referred to him in the privacy of his law offices), were bitter enemies. So a plea bargain would probably be out of the question. In all likelihood, Jacobson would go for murder one and the death penalty. The problems were quickly accumulating, and Buckwald loved it. He felt invigorated.