Chapter 5
Radcliffe practically skidded to a stop
outside the doors that led into Judge Colin Fraser’s arraignment court. She had
cut it pretty close, but was reasonably sure her client hadn’t been called yet.
As she finger-combed her short blond hair into place, her pale blue eyes
quickly scanned several small groups of people. The majority were men, so she
narrowed her search down to the handful of waiting women. It took a second more
to spot a somewhat familiar woman dressed in a business suit standing alone,
whose slightly slept-in appearance indicated that she had most likely spent the
night in a holding cell.
She approached the woman. “Sara?”
Grayson turned to look at her. “Yes?”
The attorney took a deep breath. “I’m Brenda
Radcliffe, the public defender assigned to represent you. We only have a
minute, so I need you to listen carefully. When we go in and the bailiff calls
your name, you and I will walk up together and stand before Judge Fraser. After
the charges are read, the judge will ask you for a plea. You will answer, ‘not
guilty’. The judge will then ask the prosecution for a bail recommendation. The
A.D.A. assigned to this case will either ask for ridiculously high bail or for
remand, which means you will be held at Riker’s. Our goal is to get the bail
down to a reasonable amount so you can go home to your kids tonight. Any
questions?”
“No,” Grayson answered slowly. “But I had
intended to plead guilty. I didn’t think I had a choice; I already told the
police that I killed my husband.”
“What you told the police doesn’t matter.
Right now, it’s important that you plead ‘not guilty’. Otherwise, getting
released on bail will be out of the question. You will remain in custody until
you are sentenced for second degree murder. We need to get those charges
reduced, which means sitting down and working out a plea bargain with the D.A.
Pleading guilty will eliminate our options.” Putting her hand on the shoulder
of the shorter woman, Radcliffe began to steer her toward the door as the
bailiff appeared to call the next group of defendants into the courtroom. “I’m
your lawyer and I’m here to look out for your interests. You have to trust me.
Take my advice and plead ‘not guilty’. It will all work out, I assure you.”
Grayson entered the courtroom with her
attorney as her name was read along with a list of others. She watched
apprehensively as one after another defendant took their turn in front of the
judge. Thankfully, the wait was relatively short as hers was the fourth name
called.
She stood beside Radcliffe and listened to
the charge.
“Murder in the second degree.”
“How do you plead?” the judge asked without
looking up.
With a quick glance and a nod from Radcliffe,
she answered, “Not guilty.”
“Bail?” Judge Fraser asked.
“Your Honor,”
“My client isn’t going anywhere. The police
found her at her place of employment. She is the sole financial provider for
her three children,” Radcliffe argued. “She should be released in order to be
with them at this difficult time in their lives.”
“Her children are presently in the care of a
capable friend, and the only reason this is a difficult time in their lives is
because their mother murdered their father,”
“Your
Honor…”
“I’ve heard enough, Ms. Radcliffe,” Fraser
decided, picking up his gavel. “The defendant is remanded. Next case.”
Radcliffe turned to her client and spoke
quickly, as the waiting officer came forward to escort Grayson out. “I’m sorry,
Sara. Sometimes these things don’t work out the way we want. I’ll gather all of
the police and forensics reports and meet you out at Riker’s tomorrow. We’ll
sit down and decide how to approach the D.A., then settle things as quickly as
possible. Try not to worry,” she added reassuringly.
Sara Grayson looked at her with tired eyes
and nodded in resignation.
***“I
was really hoping you would return my call last night,” Sandy Hamilton said as
she led the way into her living room.
“We were tied up with an investigation until
pretty late,” Green explained. “We thought we should wait and call this
morning.”
“Please sit down,” she invited. After the
detectives had done so, she continued, “Sara called after she was arrested
yesterday to check on the children and let me know she wouldn’t be coming home.
If I had known you were going to arrest her, I wouldn’t have told you where to
find her until after I had a chance to talk with you about her husband.”
“Talk to us about what?” Briscoe asked.
“Yesterday you said you had only met him once. Are you now saying that isn’t
true?”
“No, I’m not,”
“So what do you want to tell us?” Green
asked. “You said on the phone that you had some information that pertained to
the case.”
“What did Sara tell you about the situation
with Mitchell?” she asked.
Green shrugged. “Very little. Only that she
wanted out of the marriage and her husband didn’t believe in divorce.”
“What do we need to know?” Green asked.
“First of all, it’s important for you to know
the kind of person she is.”
“That’s all very interesting, but what does
any of it have to do with our case?” Briscoe interrupted impatiently.
“You think her husband was abusing her?”
Green asked.
With a nod,
When she finished, the detectives regarded
her silently for a moment. She seemed earnest enough, but Briscoe wasn’t
convinced.
“Did Sara ever tell you that her husband had
hit her?” he asked.
“No, she never admitted it.”
“What did she tell you about what happened
last week?”
“Only what I’ve already told you, that she
and the children needed a place to stay. I had no idea what had happened until
she called from the police station yesterday.”
Green shook his head in disbelief. “You had
no idea? If you were friends for five years, it seems to me you would’ve
noticed that something was wrong. Wasn’t she upset? Didn’t she seem nervous?”
“Not really. I just thought she had finally
had enough and left him. But we hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk about it.
She was trying to keep up with work, get the kids settled into their new
schools, and spend as much time as possible with them. I didn’t see her much.
There was one odd thing, though. The morning after they arrived to stay with
us, she asked me to go with her to see a lawyer and sign an agreement to become
the children’s legal guardian if something were to happen to her and Mitchell.
I thought it was because she was afraid of him, but when I asked her, she said
the paper was only a formality so she could leave my name with their schools in
case of emergency.”
“Do you have a copy of the agreement?” Green
asked.
“Yes.”
“Could we could look at it?”
“I don’t know,”
“We need all the facts if we’re going to help
her,” Green said persusively.
She returned a few moments later with the
document. Handing it to Green, she said, “This is what I signed.”
Briscoe stood up and walked across the room
to look over Green’s shoulder as he studied the form. “Have the children said
anything, or acted upset in any way?”
“They’ve been quiet, but not upset. All three
have been perfectly well-behaved since they arrived. When I told them their
mother wasn’t coming home yesterday, they were a little concerned. She told me
not to tell them she was in jail, so I didn’t. I said she had to stay at work.
Alissa is fifteen, though. I don’t think she bought it. I don’t know what I’m
going to tell them if Sara doesn’t come home tonight.”
“We’d like to talk with them,” Green said.
“If they can confirm your suspicions of abuse, that could really help Sara.”
“You said you wanted to help her,” Briscoe
reminded her. “We need to be able to prove that what you say about her husband
is true. If she won’t tell us, and the children aren’t allowed to, then it’s
only your word. We need proof.”
“Unless Sara tells me otherwise, I won’t let
you talk with the children.”
“Then how are we going to know if you’re
telling us the truth?” Briscoe asked. “How do we know you aren’t saying what
Sara told you to? You could just be trying to help a friend out of trouble.”
“If you need proof, why don’t you look into
the religious group that Mitchell belonged to? I mentioned the name of it to
some of my friends and one of them said the Fellowship of the Harvest was a
cult. She said they feel women were put on this earth to serve men. It sounded
pretty strange to me.”
Green looked up at her sharply. “Are you sure
it was Fellowship of the Harvest?”
“Positive,”
Green stood up. “We’d like to hold on to this
agreement you signed for the time being. If you need a copy for any reason, you
can call our precinct and we’ll fax it to you. And we’ll do what we can to help
Sara.”
“Thank you. Please let me know if there’s
anything I can do.”
Once they were outside, Briscoe turned to
Green. “So, you want to tell me what the deal is with the Harvest people?”
“When I was at the 34th, I heard
about a case where a woman was beaten to death by her husband. They were
members of the Fellowship of the Harvest, too.”
“What happened with the investigation?”
Briscoe asked as they continued to the car.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t my case and I was
transferred before it got very far. But I know someone at the 34th
who can tell us.”
As Green drove toward his old precinct,
Briscoe said, “You know, I’ve been at this a long time and I’ve seen more than
my share of abused wives who have taken matters into their own hands, and I
don’t think Sara Grayson fits the bill in any respect. In most of the cases,
the women came in on their own and they were basket cases. They couldn’t tell
you enough how sorry they were for what they had done. This woman showed no
regret. I think we should pay a visit to some of her other coworkers and old
neighbors. Maybe she needed to get rid of her husband to make room for someone
else. It wouldn’t be the first time a spouse offed their other half because
they had someone waiting in the wings.”
“Could be,” Green agreed. “But what Sandy
Hamilton said has to make you wonder. I’m sure not every woman who is abused
fits into the same pigeon hole. When we found her, Sara did confess right off
the bat and she did say she was expecting us. If she really had been running, I
don’t think she would have gone back to the same job she’s held for several
years. She would have put some distance between herself and the life she had
before she killed her husband. Maybe it’s like she said; maybe she only wanted
to make sure her kids were taken care of.”
“Killing your husband doesn’t win you ‘mother-of-the-year’ in my book,” Briscoe argued. “She seemed cold and calculating to me. I think Sandy Hamilton’s story was concocted to save Sara Grayson’s hide.”
***Radcliffe
chased the last bite of cheese burger down with a swallow of root beer, then
gathered her trash and deposited it on the way to the ladies room on the second
floor of the criminal courts building. After washing up, she found an empty
bench near the elevator and sat down. She had a few more minutes before she was
due to appear before Judge Driesser for the long-awaited sentencing of one of
her clients, and took the opportunity to pull out her cell phone and make a
call.
“
“Abbie, this is Brenda Radcliffe. Sorry I
didn’t get a chance to speak with you after the arraignment, but I had to rush
to meet another client.”
“No problem,”
“I’m going to meet with Sara out at Riker’s
tomorrow to go over all the evidence. You know, you could’ve agreed to bail and
saved us both the trip out there. It would have been a lot easier to work
things out at your office.”
“And if I had, I might now be preparing an
arrest warrant as a result of your client trying to skip town,”
“If there are no snags, we should be ready to
talk by tomorrow afternoon. I have some time free around
“That sounds fine. I’ll put you down on my
schedule.”
Radcliffe glanced at her watch. “I’ll call if
anything comes up between now and then. Otherwise, I’ll see you at Riker’s
tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll be there,”
***Green
approached a man with jet black hair and crinkled brown eyes, sitting at one of
more than a dozen desks occupying the 34th precinct’s squad room.
When the man looked up and spotted him, he broke out in a broad grin and stood
up, coming toward him with outstretched hand.
“Ed Green, as I live and breathe. What on
earth brings you across town? I thought we had seen the last of you two years
ago.”
As he shook the other man’s hand warmly,
Green answered, “Sorry to disappoint you, Nick, but you should’ve figured I’d
come back to haunt you. I’m not that easy to get rid of.” Turning slightly, he
added, “Nick Russell, this is my partner at the 27th, Lennie
Briscoe.”
Russell nodded toward Green as he gripped
Briscoe’s hand. “You must have done something unforgiveable to be forced to
ride shotgun with this guy. You have my sympathies.”
“Oh it’s not all bad,” Briscoe insisted. “He
does have a knack for sniffing out the best prime rib in town.”
“Yeah, he always did know his beef,” Russell
agreed. Motioning to a couple of near-by chairs, he said, “So what does bring
you to our neck of the woods?”
“We’re investigating a homicide,” Green
explained. “A woman stabbed her husband to death. It’s been mentioned that they
were members of the Fellowship of the Harvest. I remembered that case you took
on right before my transfer where the man beat his wife to death. Weren’t they
part of the same group?”
With a nod, Russell opened a filing drawer
and began riffling through it. “They sure were. And what group they are.” He
pulled a file folder out and laid it on his desk. “I’ve never seen a bunch of
people with more warped notions. As far as I’m concerned, they all belong in
“So why didn’t you shut them down?” Green
asked, looking up from the report in his hand.
“Ever heard of the First Amendment? As long
as they hide behind freedom of religion, and as long as none of the members
come forward, there’s not a thing we can do about them. And if there’s one
thing you can say about the members of their group, it’s that they’re loyal. My
partner and I couldn’t get anyone to speak out against the others. I’m sure a
lot of it was out of fear, but we never found any proof we could use to put
them out of business. It was a frustrating case.”
“How do you know all of the women were
abused?” Briscoe asked. “Maybe it was only one isolated incident.”
Russell shook his head. “It’s group policy. I
had a couple of run-ins with the head honcho over there. He tried to show me in
the Bible where men were given permission to treat their wives in any way they
saw fit, if you can believe that. This guy was a nut case, and he drew other
nut cases as followers. They use physical force and humiliation to keep their
families in line. Granted, they seem like regular people and their strong
family values are even commendable, but don’t let that fool you. These men rule
their roosts with an iron fist. Smacking their wives around is all part of the
program. And either the wives are too afraid or too brain-washed to do anything
about it.”
“Well it looks like one of the wives started
a new program,” Green stated. Indicating the report, he added, “I’d like to
make a copy for our files.”
“You can keep that one,” Russell offered. “I
have another. I hope you can use it to nail those psychos.”
“Much as I’d like to see that happen, I don’t
think this case is going to help do that,” Green said. “Sara Grayson killed her
husband while he was asleep. She’s not even trying to claim self-defense.” He
held out his hand. “Thanks, Nick. I owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that,” Russell agreed. “Come
around sometime when you can stay a while, Ed. You too, Lennie.”
“Nice to meet you, Nick,” Briscoe said,
shaking his hand. “If you ever get over our way, drop in and say ‘hello’. We
owe you lunch at least.”
“Will do,” Russell promised.
Once on their way back across the city, Green
admitted, “I think Sandy Hamilton was right. I think Mitchell Grayson was
abusing his wife.”
“Then why didn’t Sara tell us?” Briscoe
asked. “If he was, it would give her an excuse for acting as she did. I can’t
imagine that she would pass up the opportunity to claim self-defense or mental
distress to get herself off the hook. It doesn't make any sense. The only thing
that does make sense is exactly what Sara said: She killed her husband because
she didn’t want to be married anymore.”
“The things Nick said about the members of
their religion being closed-mouthed and the women being possibly brain-washed
could explain why she didn’t say anything. What was it
“I’m still not convinced,” Briscoe stated
resolutely. “Before I’ll buy it, I need to hear it from an eyewitness.”
“Well, besides Sara, there are three other
people we could talk to who would know for sure.”
“Her kids,” Briscoe supplied. “But how do we
get past
“The oldest daughter is fifteen. We question
kids her age and younger regarding cases all the time without parental consent.
Why should this time be any different? She’s old enough to make up her own mind
whether or not to talk to us.”
“But when we’re told flat out that we can’t
talk with a minor, that changes things,” Briscoe argued. “Without a parent’s or
guardian’s consent, we could find ourselves in hot water up to our necks. And I
don’t want to lose some evidence we might get from this girl on a
technicality.”
“If the kids had witnessed the murder or knew
anything about it, I think
Briscoe studied him thoughtfully, then
shrugged. “Let’s do it.”
Green grew silent for a few moments, then
sighed loudly. “If the kids don’t know anything, this is going to be a pretty
big shock. I’m not looking forward to us being the ones to break the news about
her father’s death to Alissa.”
“Sara was arraigned this morning. By tomorrow
morning, the story will be in the papers. Her kids are going to find out one
way or another. Better her daughter hears it from two of
***As
students began to fill the hallway where they were waiting, the detectives
approached a pretty young girl that another student pointed out to them.
“Alissa Grayson?” Green asked.
When she turned to face them, they found
themselves looking at a younger version of Sara Grayson. “Yes.”
“We’re police detectives. Could we have a
word with you?”
Fear and apprehension immediately lept into
her deep blue eyes as she answered shakily, “I guess so.”
They led the way to an empty classroom and
Briscoe closed the door behind them. Before either of them could speak, she
asked, “Is this about my mother? She didn’t come home last night. Has she been
in an accident? Please tell me what’s happened to her.”
“She hasn’t been injured,” Green assured her.
“But I’m afraid we do have some bad news.” He gestured toward a desk. “Why
don’t you sit down?” After she had done so, he sat facing her and leaned his
elbows on his knees. “Alissa, your father was killed the Sunday before last. We
found his body in the house where you used to live.” He paused, choosing his
words carefully. “Your mother has told us that she’s responsible for his
death.”
The girl let out a breath as if the wind had
been knocked from her, and looked at the floor. Briscoe and Green watched her
closely. The all too familiar disbelief and confusion crossed her face as the
news sank in.
After a few seconds, Green continued, “We’re
trying to do everything we can to help her. That’s why we’re here. We want to
ask you something.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked in a
barely audible voice.
“Your mother’s friend,
Her expression became instantly guarded and
her eyes began to dart nervously from Green to Briscoe. “Why would
Briscoe’s voice was patient. “She knows your
mother pretty well. They’ve been friends for a long time. She feels she has
good reason for her suspicions.”
She jumped up from her seat and walked a few
paces away from the two, then turned back to face them. “My mother would never
hurt anyone. I don’t believe that she killed my father.”
“She confessed on her own,” Briscoe assured
her. “She told us the reason she did it was because she didn’t want to be
married anymore and your father didn’t believe in divorce. We were hoping you
could shed some light on the situation.”
She slowly returned to the desk and sat down.
“Is that all my mother said about it?”
“That’s it,” Green answered. “We know your
parents were part of a strict religious group and we’ve heard that some of
their members believe in physically punishing their wives. Anything you can
tell us about that would be helpful.”
“I can’t tell you anything about the
Fellowship,” she answered quickly, clearly agitated. “What goes on there is
private. People have the right to worship the way they want.”
Green nodded. “We understand. But for a man
to hit a woman isn’t right, even if it is his wife, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her agitation grew and she looked as though
she might cry. “I guess.”
“If that’s something the Fellowship is
promoting, then it’s our job to try and stop them before any more women are
hurt,” Green reasoned. “And if that’s why your mother took the action she did,
it would help her if we knew that for sure. I know you want to do whatever you
can for your mother. If your father was hurting her, you have to tell us.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “I can’t. I
can’t tell anyone. If someone at the Fellowship finds out, it will be bad for
all of us, especially my mother.”
“Going to prison for second degree murder
will be even worse for your mother,” Green insisted. “And that’s exactly what’s
going to happen unless we find out what was really going on with your parents. If
your mother was being abused by your father, she would probably receive a
lesser sentence.” He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “This is
just between us. No one at the Fellowship will find out. But if we’re going to
help your mother, we need to know the truth.”
Through the tears in her eyes he could see
that she desperately wanted to believe him. But she shook her head and pleaded
with him, “Please don’t ask me to tell you anything about that. And please
don’t take my mother from us. What happened to my dad is my fault, not hers.”
“What do you mean?” Briscoe asked.
“There’s a man at our church who told my
father he wanted to marry me as soon as I graduate from high school. My mother
told my father I was too young to get married and that I should be allowed to
choose for myself. She never said things like that to him, but she stood up to
him about it a few weeks ago. She said she wasn’t going to let anything happen
to me or my brother and sister.” She paused for a second and tears began to
stream down her face. “She took us over to
“Protect you from the man who wanted to marry
you, or protect you from your father?” Briscoe asked quietly.
The girl covered her face with her hands and
sobbed. Briscoe exchanged a look with his partner and shook his head slightly.
Green patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s
okay. We’re going to do everything we can to help your mother. You did the
right thing in telling us what you did. Thank you, Alissa.”
***Even
though it was late and raining again, Green had opted to drive. He wasn’t
anxious for a repeat performance of the previous day’s trip with Briscoe behind
the wheel. The stop-and-go traffic was giving him a headache, but at least he
didn’t fear for his life.
“You sure are quiet, Partner,” he noted.
Briscoe continued staring out of the car window.
“I was just sitting here wondering what crow tastes like.” He turned to look at
Green. “Looks like I was wrong about Sara Grayson. I guess she did have a
reason for stabbing her husband. Alissa didn’t have to come right out and say
it. I was convinced as soon as she said her mother didn’t usually stand up to
her father. I’ll bet he beat Sara black and blue when she did, too.”
“Yeah. My guess is Sara didn’t want her
daughter to end up in the same situation as she was. Sounds like Nick was
right; those people are all sick.”
Briscoe nodded. “Now all we have to do is
make sure Sara’s lawyer knows what was going on. When we get back to the
station, I’ll try to catch the P.D. who’s been assigned to the case and pass
along what we heard today. She should be happy; it isn’t often that we make the
defense’s case for them.”