Silenced Justice: A Josh Williams Novel (9 page)

Charland nodded, looked at Josh and the Homeland Security agent, and then left the office.

"That should keep him busy for a bit. Come on in gentlemen, you're gonna love this."

Josh and Peterson followed Brennan into the office. There were two others inside. Brennan introduced them as FBI Counterterrorism agent Zach Kennedy and US Deputy Attorney General Frank Lachance.

"Okay, now that we know one another, why don't you explain the nature of your visit," Brennan said.

Kennedy opened a briefcase and took out a small digital recorder. "What you are about to hear is not to leave this room, understood?"

Josh looked around the room and joined Brennan and Peterson in nodding agreement.

"The conversation I am going to play for you is from a court-authorized wiretap. The order came from the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court," Kennedy said. "This is serious stuff. We are monitoring an individual known to have connections to Chechnyan Terrorist organizations. I remind you, gentlemen, this is for background information only. We are here because Agent Peterson and the FBI Special Agent in Charge in Providence reached out for our help. He said we owed you one."

Lachance interjected, "I looked into the case against you, Lieutenant Williams. I wish I could say it never happened but we know that's not possible. Let's just say once the Providence SAC explained the circumstances, I agreed we did owe you one."

"I appreciate it, sir," Josh replied.

"Frank, please Lieutenant. No need for formality."

Josh nodded.

Lachance looked at Kennedy and motioned for him to play the recording.

As the recording started, a voice came on speaking something other than English. The call was brief.

Kennedy explained. "What you heard was Russian. Here's a copy of the translation," placing a document on the desk.

Josh read the file.

Subject Shashenka Dmitriev, referred to as Sub SD

Unknown Caller referred to as Unsub Caller

Sub SD:              "Yes."

Unsub Caller:              "We need to meet, tonight."

Sub SD:              "That is not possible."

Unsub Caller:              "Make it possible."

Pause. Muffled background voices likely Russian.

Sub SD:              "Tonight, 11 o'clock, same place as before."

Call ended

A second call followed, Kennedy explained, taking place three days after the first call. He put a second document on the table.

Unsub Caller:              "You have the asset?"

Subject Shashenka Dmitriev (SubSD): "Yes, where does it need to go?"

The next few words froze Josh's heart. He heard a description of his home address, his personal vehicle, and usual route in the morning to the station.

"What the hell?" Josh said.

Kennedy held up his hand, "Keep listening, there's more."

Unsub Caller:                            "Use someone local to drive him there. I want it done quickly. We don't need anyone looking into our agreement."

Sub SD:                            "I will see to it."   

Call ended.

Josh slammed his hands on the table, glaring at Kennedy. "You guys knew this and didn't tell me they were coming. What the hell? Your idea for making amends is bullshit."   

"Josh, listen to me for a minute,” Kennedy said. "The caller never said what city or state. It was just an address. There were hundreds of similar addresses in the country. We had no idea which one."

Josh stood glaring at the agents. "Bullshit, same old fucking federal bullshit. What was so important you thought it okay to let them try to kill my wife?"

"Josh, listen to me. We looked at as many addresses as we could. This is a terrorist group we're looking at. We were focusing on high-level targets, something that would give them a splash in the news. These guys don't kill cops except as collateral damage."

Brennan spoke up. "Calm down, Josh. You're not a high-level target. You're not even a low-level target; except perhaps for Keira, when you wreck her car."

This caught Josh off guard. He didn't realize Brennan knew about his wrecking Keira's car.   

"Not much gets by me, son," Brennan said, catching the surprise in his eyes. “Sit down and listen to what else they have. These are good guys this time, trust me on this."

Josh walked back to his seat, "Sorry, I don't like it much when the job reaches my family."

"Understandable," Kennedy replied. "Let us explain something else and I believe you'll see this in a different light."

"Okay," Josh nodded, "I am all ears."

Kennedy stood and leaned against the wall. "After the first call, we weren't able to trace the caller. They use burner phones, one time use, and they dump them. After the second call, we got lucky, or they got lazy. They made a second call with the burner phone, to a number we could trace."

Josh sat up a bit. "Please tell me we know where this guy is now."

"The second call went to a woman, a working woman so to speak, in the DC area. We've had surveillance on the house since then. So far, it's been the usual collection of upstanding citizens. Lawyers, city councilmen, two or three Members of Congress, and an aide to a Senator. But nothing so far as we know connected to anything of significance."

Josh looked at Brennan, "Couldn't be, could it?"

Brennan chuckled. "This is Rhode Island, Josh, anything is possible."

Kennedy looked at the two, "Something you'd like to share?"

"The Senator's aide," Josh asked, "wouldn't happen to be the aide to Senator Robert Michael Collucci?"

Kennedy looked at Lachance, "Perhaps we all have something to share."

Josh explained the nature of the Grey investigation to Lachance and Kennedy. "I know I may have stepped on Collucci's dick with my little surprise visit, but having me killed over it is a stretch. There must be something else here. Shit like this doesn't happen here. It's East Providence for Christ's sake, not Moscow."

"Obviously," Lachance answered. "Look, we took a chance bringing you guys into this. Now I think we may have a common interest in your matter. How about I have Zach provide you with any help we can offer and see if we can figure out Collucci's association with these guys?"

"We'll take all the help we can get," Brennan said. "I won't tolerate people trying to kill one of my cops, or their family, and I want the bastards who did this. We'll do whatever we have to do. You'll have our full cooperation."

Kennedy and Lachance shook hands all around and headed out. "We'll be in touch. Meanwhile, here's my private cell number." Lachance said, handing the cards to Josh and Chief Brennan. "You run into any roadblocks, you call me. Anytime."

After the Feds left, Josh, Brennan, and Peterson went into a side conference room. "Josh, I don't want to bring any more paranoia into this but I want you to use this room to store any case information. I don't want any prying eyes seeing things and running to the press. There'll be rumors enough circulated by whoever saw the Feds here. Between that, and the little fiasco on Route 44, they'll be all over this shit."

Josh smiled, "Tell `em they're trying to indict me again. The weak, lame, and lazy will believe it and it'll give them something to speculate about."

Brennan smiled, "A little disinformation campaign. I like it. Okay, I’ll tell Charland to keep it confidential, which will guarantee every politician in the city finds out by the end of the day."

Chapter 16

April 8, 1972

Criminal Division

Attorney General's Office

Providence, RI

There is a hierarchy within the Rhode Island Department of the Attorney General. At the top is the Attorney General, an elected position. He or she appoints Deputy Attorneys General. They head the various divisions, Criminal, Civil, Appellate, and others.   

Next in line are the Assistant Attorneys General, career prosecutors with extensive experience. Usually, they rise from the ranks of the special assistants through talent, dedication, or just hanging around long enough. Last in line comes the Special Assistant Attorneys General. The AG appoints them, sometimes as political favors to campaign supporters or other influential people.

Cops, lawyers, and judges refer to the various levels within the Attorney General's office as the AG, or the AG's office. A collective expression for all prosecutors. The abbreviation pronounced as if the A and G were separate words.

The Criminal Division at the Attorney General's office held a weekly meeting to assign and discuss cases. As in most organizations, shit rolled downhill. The worst cases went to the newest Special Assistant AGs. They rarely, if ever, caught a good case, let alone one involving rape and homicide. They spend most of their time at arraignments, violation hearings, and bail hearings doing the unglamorous work of the office.

When the Deputy of the Criminal Division assigned the Darnell Grey case to George Tucker, the consensus was the case had problems. Big problems.

After the meeting, Tucker went to see the Deputy Attorney General, Robert Collucci.

Knocking on the office door, he poked his head in. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Bob?"

"Of course," motioning for him to enter. "Close the door will you, George?"

Tucker sat in the chair next to the window and waited several moments for Collucci to look at him.

"What can I do for you?" Collucci asked.

"Well, to be frank, why did I catch the Grey case? It's high profile. Is there something about it I need to know?"

Collucci paused a moment, then smiled. "You know, I've been watching your progress here. Your case preparation is thorough and comprehensive. You excel in the courtroom. I've heard many complaints from the defense side, which I take as a good sign." Rising from his chair, he came around to lean against the front of the desk, arms folded, looking at the young prosecutor.

"George, there comes a time when you have to move into the majors. Show us what you can do. This is your opportunity. From what I know of the case, it's solid. Witnesses, including cops, to his dumping the body. A solid lineup identification by one of the rape victims and some good circumstantial evidence to support the case. I see no problems.” Waving his hand in the air, "That's not to say there won't be the usual issues, but nothing that can't be overcome."

Tucker listened, watching the animated Collucci's performance.
The guy is a real showman; you make a great speech, coach.

"I understand you supervised the lineup?" Tucker asked.

Collucci paused a moment, returned to his desk, and looked at his appointment book. "I believe I did, I may have, sure. It will be in the file. I have a meeting in five minutes with the AG. Is there anything else?" dismissing Tucker by his inattention.

Tucker stood. "No. If I find any problems, I'll let you know. Do you happen to know who's representing him?"

"Public Defender, of course. Those bastards never have any money."

Tucker took offense at the patent implied racism. He wanted to say something, but knew it was useless. Now was not the time or the place.

Returning to his office, Tucker called and had the Grey file sent up. Resigned to the inevitability of the coming discussion, he called his wife, telling her he'd be home late.

They had their usual argument about the time he put in, not making enough money, not being home enough. He listened, phone held away from his ear as he opened the file, and promised to be home as soon as he could.

After making a full pot of coffee, he settled in for a long night of reading about the evil men do to their fellow human beings.

* * *

Tucker finished the file review around 11 pm. He filled two legal sized notepads with items he needed to address. One stood out from all the others. He needed to clarify this first.

The next morning, Tucker called the Providence PD Detective Division and spoke to Captain Gemma. Addressing his concerns to the captain, Tucker asked for the Gemma's help in resolving the conflict. Gemma assured him he would research the matter and get back to him as soon as possible.

Tucker hung up, closed the file, and put it on the cabinet in his office.   

Later in the morning, on his return from court, Tucker found Detectives George Weslyan and Jimmy Calise in his office. More troubling was the fact they had the Grey file opened on his desk.

"What are you doing in here? Who let you in?" Tucker asked.

"Your boss did," Weslyan replied. "You called about a problem. Gemma sent us to fix it," smiling at Tucker. "We're fixing it."

Tucker moved toward the desk, trying to grab the file. Calise stepped in to block his path.

"Did you remove anything from that file?"

Weslyan sneered at him. "Look, Mr. Special Assistant AG. There was a mix-up in the report on the lineup. My fault, I started to type it out then got distracted. I made a mistake on it. The one that ended up in the file was the wrong one. I put the right one in there. This one," pulling a paper from his inside jacket pocket, "no longer exists. Understand?"

"No, I do not understand. If you made an error, it's no big deal. We can address it in discovery. But you cannot remove items from the file," Tucker argued.

"Well, too late. I already did. It shouldn't have been in there anyway. You just make sure the motherfucking stovepipe stays behind bars where he belongs. Don't let chicken shit procedures screw this up," Weslyan answered.

"What did you just say?" Tucker was angry; he really hated this attitude of white superiority.

"Stovepipe, mulignan, whatever, I suppose you'd prefer black male?" the words spat at Tucker. "Just keep that 'boon in a cage where he belongs. Understand?” Turning to the other detective, "Let's go Jimmy, We’re done here."

Tucker was shaking. Calming himself, he took the file and walked to Collucci's office. Collucci was not there. He wanted to go to the AG with this, but knew it was useless. He would have to wait for Collucci's return.

"Janice, would you please ask Mr. Collucci to call me as soon as he returns?" Pausing a moment, “Better than that, call me when he gets back and I will come right over. Thank you."

He should have known better than to rely on Collucci's personal secretary.

He waited several hours for the call, unable to focus on anything else, his phone ringing just before the office closed.

"George Tucker," he answered.

"George, Bob Collucci. Sorry I missed you. I won't be available until later tomorrow morning. Is that okay?" he said, not waiting for the reply. "Come over to my office around noon. We'll go to lunch."   

The dial tone bored a hole in Tucker's brain.

Son-of-a bitch, no good rotten son-of-a bitch.

* * *

At 11:45 AM, Tucker sat outside Collucci's office, drumming his hands on the case file and glaring at the secretary. He rehearsed in his mind what he would say, ending with his resignation if Collucci let this slide.

The door to the office opened. Collucci came out, followed by three other men. He stood at the door as they filed by. Tucker recognized Detective Weslyan from the incident in his office; he didn't know the other two. The group ignored Tucker, talking among themselves, as they left the office. As they left, Attorney General William Patterson came out and walked over to Tucker.

"George, right?" the perfect campaign smile anchored on his face. "I hear good things about you. Keep up the good work." Patting Tucker on the shoulder, he ambled past the secretary, and sauntered out the door.

"Come in George," Collucci said, still standing at the door into his office. "No interruptions Janice, none."

"Who was in the office with you and Patterson?" Tucker asked.

Collucci turned on Tucker, started to speak, then took a moment to calm himself. "Captain Anthony Gemma, retired State Police Lieutenant Alfred Monson, and Detective George Weslyan. We discussed some issues with the Grey case."

"Why wouldn't you include me? It is my case, is it not?" Tucker asked.

"Please sit down," Collucci motioned to a chair.

"I'll stand."

The rest of the discussion was brief, but pointed. Collucci was a master at implied threats.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Tucker questioned, his frustration boiling over. "They removed a document and put in a new one. For all we know, the whole file is fraudulent. Weslyan's a bigoted bastard. All he cares is it's a black man they caught. If it's not the right one, it makes no difference to him."

Collucci sat with the fingertips of his hands pressed together, tapping the tip of his nose, looking past them as Tucker raged on.

"Enough," Collucci said. "I looked at the file, and the document they replaced. It was an oversight and nothing more. Weslyan told us he started the lineup report then got distracted. He didn't catch the time error. Look, it's no big deal. Discovery hasn't happened yet."

Picking up a folder and waving it in the air, "This is the reason we review files, to catch these errors before discovery," tossing the file on the desk. "I appreciate your concern. Patterson and I reviewed the file. We are satisfied we've met our obligations. The matter is closed."

Tucker understood the nature of politics better than most. He was a realist, and patient
. I may not be able to do anything about this now…but someday.

Returning to his office, he placed his brief case on the desk. Reaching into the bottom desk drawer, he withdrew a small file folder. He placed the file in his briefcase, and left for the day. He would put this in a place of safekeeping, one day he would be in a position to do something about this.

* * *

April 15, 1972

Department of the Attorney General

Providence, Rhode Island

The phone rang on the Collucci's desk. Picking up the receiver, his irritation evident in his voice, he said, "Janice, I told you to hold all my calls."

"You might want to take this one," the secretary answered, “It's the warden from the ACI."

"Fine, put him through."

A moment later, Collucci spoke to the warden. "What the hell do you mean he's dead?" Collucci listened for several minutes. "How the hell does an inmate awaiting trial end up in the general population? A rapist and murderer for god's sake. What dumb son-of-a-bitch let that happen? What?" listening to the explanation. "Well isn't that convenient? You had better find a way to make this right. I don't care who gets burned over it," slamming the phone, breaking the receiver. "Janice," he yelled, "Get me another phone in here, now."

Jesus Christ, this just gets better and better.

Collucci took a moment to plan his course of action.
First, protect the office, the AG, and himself from the fallout, although not necessarily in that order. Then, make sure Tucker understands enough to let this go. That might not be so easy; I need leverage.

Collucci left his office and walked down the hall to the main office of the Attorney General. It was an ornate but not large office. Dark, wooden paneled walls covered with bookshelves. The impressive centerpiece, a handmade mahogany desk, completed the setting. The office overlooked Dorrance Street with views toward the river.   

Attorney General William Patterson, elected for his third consecutive term, was a cautious man. Collucci knew he would need to be diplomatic. Explaining the circumstances to the AG, he offered his suggestion and assurances. This could have no effect on Patterson's political position.   

Satisfied the AG was on board, he returned to his own office.

Picking up the now replaced phone, he called Tucker's extension.

"George, Bob Collucci. Do you have a moment for me?"

Five minutes later, Tucker was in the office.   

"George, the AG and I were discussing forming a new unit within the Criminal Division. The focus would be on sensitive racial issues. We know you have strong feelings in this matter. We'd like to have you head the unit."

Tucker found himself puzzled, but pleased. He made no secret of his leanings in the Civil Rights area. He proposed something similar as soon as he started in the AG's office. Why now, he wondered. "I'd like that, Bob. As soon as I clear my calendar, I can get started."

"I've already handled it. I arranged to transfer your cases to some of the other assistants. I'll take the Grey case, which frees you up for this new project."