Wrongful Convictions, page 12
Chad arrived back to his hotel with plenty of time to take a shower before Joanne arrived. After his shower, he planned to link up with Tavian and get him up to speed. The bathroom was exceptionally clean. One characteristic Chad insisted on was the cleanliness of the bathroom of a hotel. He insisted on seeing hotel rooms before signing any rental agreement and always checked the bathroom first. There needed to be a wrapped bar of soap in both the bathtub and on the sink. The grout around the tiles had to be spotless and full, he could handle age discoloration but not the discoloration caused by soap grime. There could not be any chips or dings in any of the fixtures or countertop. The mirror had to be spotless and he preferred if the toilet paper were folded neatly but if it wasn’t he could live with that. There was more than one occasion he had walked out of a hotel as a result of the quality of its bathroom. This bathroom clearly fit his criteria and he had no problem climbing into the shower. He put the water on a little extra cold, it wasn’t just hot outside it was also humid and he needed a little extra help cooling down.
While washing his hair, he thought he heard the door. He hadn’t been in the shower that long and assumed it was Tavian; Joanne couldn’t possibly have arrived yet. He and Tavian had exchanged their extra room keys just in case they needed access to anything in each other’s rooms. He considered for a moment that Joanne maybe arrived early. That would be an awkward moment. He would have to walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel because he had failed to bring his clothes into the bathroom with him. It made him laugh to himself a little at his micro obsessions. He hated to bring his clothes with him, partly because of the steam, it made them damp, but much worse than that, it made them hot. Chad absolutely hated warm clothes. He supposed this was a symptom of living in Texas and the inescapable heat.
He finished his shower, dried and wrapped himself in the towel. He rubbed the steam off of the mirror in a tight circle and checked his facial hair. He was in need of a shave. He felt that stubble gave him a rugged look…”white trash”..., which he hated. He considered himself refined. He had spent his life running from his backwoods southern heritage and wanted no part of it. Facial hair reminded him of home. He turned and cracked open the door.
“Tavian?” he questioned out the crack
No response. He opened it wider and stepped out.
“Joanne?” He stepped out of the bathroom completely.
There was no one there. He walked into the room and looked around, then went and checked the front door. It was closed, he opened it and looked left then right, the hallway was deserted.
He walked back into the bathroom puzzled. Maybe he hadn’t heard the door. He decided it must have been an adjoining room. He knew how sound carried from room to room in some hotels, but the fact that he had not heard anything else like that in this hotel yet bothered him a little. He shaved quickly and got dressed. He wasn’t certain how to dress for the occasion. Normally his hotel attire was a sweatsuit because he appreciated the comfort, however it didn’t seem appropriate in this setting. He decided to go a little more formal, but not so much that he wouldn’t be comfortable. Khaki pants and a polo shirt is was what he settled on finally after a mental debate over blue jeans. He got dressed and sat down into the uncomfortable lounge chair. He picked the remote up off the lamp table and tuned the television to MSNBC. It wasn’t long before he dozed off in the chair. He slept there until Joanne’s rap on the door woke him up.
The sleep was light, and he awoke easily. He walked to the door and answered it.
Joanne stood in the doorway. She looked sober, but she also looked different to him. Joanne had always presented a strong exterior, a nothing-could-hurt-me façade, that at times was enduring. At other times it came off as self righteous. That façade was gone tonight. Standing there in the doorway to his hotel room she was the poster of vulnerability.
“Come in, Joanne.” He stepped back allowing her to come through.
“Where is Tavian?” She looked around the room.
Shit! He had completely forgot about Tavian. He pulled out his BlackBerry and dialed Tavian to let him know that Joanne was back in town.
26
Tavian hadn’t needed the call from Chad to know that Joanne had arrived. Tavian now had full audio access to the room, as did the agents in the truck on the street. Tavian had spent the last hour wiring up Chad’s room, including the phone, and making sure that they had one hundred percent coverage throughout. He couldn’t risk anything getting missed. Tavian was so thorough that when the agent in the Taurus had radioed him that Chad was on his way back, he hadn’t gotten it because he was in that giant bathroom completely blocked by all the granite. He had played a nifty shell game, hiding in plain sight while Chad was going through his bathroom routine, and finally slipping out the front door while the man showered.
Tavian had been working in the Drug Enforcement Agency’s deep cover unit since his hire five years prior. He was very good at what he did. The most difficult part of the job was believing the lie himself, especially the details of his life. Most people who got caught telling lies did so because they tripped up on a detail and forgot a previous lie they told. It was easy to do because there weren’t real memories to recall. That wasn’t the case for Tavian. When he became a character, he lived their life mentally and actually had memories to recall about the circumstances of their lives. When he told a lie, he lived it in his mind and burned it into his memory.
This case was going to be his last in the deep cover unit. Deep cover had taken its toll on him. For the last two years he had been living as Tavian Springs, a young lawyer from North Carolina. Before that he had been a gangbanger from Oakland for six months. Comparatively this was a much safer assignment, but it was much more difficult as well. His subjects were intelligent, highly educated people. He figured Joanne was the type that would skip town if she discovered his identity. The Rollin’ 70s, on the other hand, would have left him in a ditch. Of course they hadn’t yet gotten to the source of the drugs yet, and those people were much more likely to have violent intentions towards the authorities.
Cases like the Rollin’ 70s hadn’t bothered him; he could live with danger. It was a clean case that wrapped up in six months. His present assignment was a grind. He had been on this case for years with little to show for it. When it came to secrecy, the 70’s had been the National Inquirer. Joanne, on the other had, was the KGB. She didn’t let anyone in. Chad had been with her for years, and Tavian was able to get much closer to him. However, Chad didn’t know shit. The best he could do was speculate on her drug usage.
The grind was about to come to an abrupt end. They had made a couple huge breaks in the case, and Tavian felt that they would be taking Joanne down within the next couple of weeks, all thanks to a car accident in North Dakota. After taking Joanne, it would only be a matter of time until the whole operation would fall. What was next for Tavian, he wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that he wouldn’t be Tavian Springs anymore.
27
Marcel hadn’t seen Shannon since the kiss. Shannon had been called out of town, and he had been focused on his training. The fight was just over a week away. It was an important fight; a title fight, although only for the Minnesota middleweight title. Though it sounded important, it was really nothing more than establishing that he was the best amongst a group of mediocre young fighters and experienced journeyman. There really hadn’t been a serious Minnesota middleweight since Caleb Truax, who had won the IBF title at super middle weight only to lose it in his next fight. For Marcel, this was a stepping stone to bigger things; he had to win this fight.
The current Minnesota title holder was a thirty five year old journeyman named Rico Jones. Jones was a technical fighter, nothing flashy and not a lot of power. The game plan Jarvis had devised was for Marcel to use his athleticism to move, give him different angles, and fight aggressively early. In order to accomplish this, Marcel needed to improve his conditioning. He had ten round stamina, but he didn’t have the stamina to be the aggressor for all all of those ten rounds. He and Jarvis had been putting in extra sprints the last two weeks in between his sparring rounds. This afternoon they were headed out to the railroad track with a couple other guys to run forties. They used the railroad tracks to judge distances. The tracks also provided a relatively even surface, though running on the crushed rock wasn’t as easy as running on a track.
Everyone took the first two sprints pretty easy to loosen up muscles and get a feel for the ground. The third one was all out. There wasn’t one man among them that wanted to finish last. That was the competitive nature of a fighter. Whether it was sprints, push-ups, or simply getting their hands wrapped, everyone wanted to be first. It was a boxing mantra, but Marcel applied it to his whole life. It was part of the reason he tried to be the first one in class every night, and it was certainly the reason he got his homework done without procrastination.
Shannon had beaten him in the latest homework competition. She had taken it upon herself to do the write-up and turned in the next day. Marcel felt that it was her own competitive nature that required she get the write up done since it was he who had developed the theory of the case.
He finished second in the first forty yard sprint, an eighteen year old young gun had edged him out at the very end.
“Exactly.” Jarvis gave him a cold hard stare that pissed Marcel off.
“What?” Marcel barked.
“You got pussy on your mind, and you come in second. You keep this shit up and you gone be looking up at the sky from yo fucking ass. Then you can forget about bein’ world champ and concentrate on all the pussy you want.”
Marcel was pissed, but he knew that Jarvis was right. Shannon had gotten him twisted. Even now running sprints, he was still not focused on the task at hand because he was thinking about her. Hell, she wasn’t even in the Twin Cities right now.
Marcel won the second sprint by a nose.
“Well good, at least you beat JJ by a couple inches.” Jarvis continued to mock him.
“Barely beat a slow mother fucka like JJ, he can’t run for shit, and you just eeking past him.” JJ really was part turtle and everyone out there knew it. Marcel got more pissed.
On the third sprint the fire ignited in Marcel, a fire that had been inside him his whole life. He beat the other men by almost ten yards.
“That’s my muthafucka right there!” Jarvis grabbed him in a big bear hug “Keep THAT shit up.”
The men ran it ten more times. Marcel won all ten. When they were done Marcel’s legs and lungs were on fire, and all he could think about was the pain. He didn’t think about Shannon. He didn’t think about class. He was singularly focused once again.
“We gotta plan, Marcel, but we can only be successful if you want it. I can’t want this shit fo ya, you gotta want that shit.” Jarvis put his arm around Marcel.
Marcel knew he was right; he had to make a choice. If he was going to be a fighter, he needed to be a fighter. If he was going to be a student and a boyfriend, then he needed to be that. For him the choice was easy. Marcel was a fighter. What Marcel didn’t know was that there were a lot of other people with a lot of other plans for him.
28
Joanne pulled a chair from the desk and sat down. Moments later, Tavian appeared in the door. The sight of seeing Tavian here, in this particular setting, turned her on a little. It somehow felt a little wrong being here with the two men in such an intimate setting. It was visceral and maybe that was what sparked her interest. It was that same feeling why she got into defense work in the first place. Somewhere deep down she acknowledged that long ago. Working defense allowed her to live at the edge of society in some grey no man's land between the criminal world and the rest of the squares in society. She was also certain that feeling was why she married her ex. It was why she did her first line of coke. All of those things were wrong. The drugs were wrong. But she was done with the drugs; now her brain searched for other avenues of wrong.
Her conversation with Northbird jolted her to the realization that being high during this case could have damning consequences. If she was going to play through this little game, she realized she better damn well be straight. Northbird was going to make it worth her while; she would be able to retire and disappear. She wasn’t sure where she would disappear to, Montana, maybe? Montana seemed like a place where people disappeared. Disappearing clean was an added bonus. The money, her sobriety, and a whole new life were the incentives for getting straight right here and now. She wished that she had gotten rid of the drugs Nortbird’s “friends” had given her. As strong as she thought she was, the animal within her still called out for them and she hoped to God that she was strong enough to fight the animal these next few weeks.
Tavian sat down. He looked at her, and she knew two things at that moment. One, this would be the last stand; her career in law would be over after the Northbird case. The second, she was going to have to heavily rely on Tavian to carry her through this case because if she stayed sober, she was going to be a mental mess in only a couple of days.
Joanne relied heavily on her abilities to read people. Along with her talent to read liar’s eyes, she had also considered herself an excellent talent evaluator. Shannon and Marcel were her two newest finds, but before they came along it was Tavian who had been her star. It was him she trusted as an attorney above all others. Because he was her star, she decided she was going to place her hopes in his hands.
“Will we need a conference room?” Chad asked.
Joanne thought over his question for a second. Once the team rolled into town, they would certainly have to do something different. For now she thought this would suffice.
“No, this works. When the others come, we will set up a war room. That’s later.” Joanne answered.
“How was your flight?” Tavian asked her with obvious concern.
“Not much different than any other flight. To be honest, Tavian, I am tired of the flying and the travel.” She looked out the window at the St. Paul skyline and she realized she was tired of cities in general. Her mind wandered off to the mountains of Montana again. Then she thought about Grand Marais. She had traveled there before. It was secluded, on the water, and quiet. Quiet is what she wanted more than anything in the world.
“Are you okay, Joanne?” Now it was Chad’s turn for concern.
Joanne could tell Chad was afraid that she was losing it right in front of their eyes. She knew he was afraid they wouldn’t even be able to get this project off the ground. She saw his glances at Tavian and the look he got in return. She knew Tavian was thinking the same thing.
“Guys, we have one hell of a situation. This is a once in a lifetime case, but there is something you should know about me first before we talk anymore about the case.”
She took her eyes from the window and looked at Tavian. She could tell he already knew, but she could also tell that he was willing to help.
“I am an addict,” she admitted.
“To be honest, Joanne, I have suspected that for a while.” Tavian’s tone was full of compassion.
She looked at Tavian. He was brimming with compassion. Then she turned to Chad. She could tell that he too knew. Her words hadn’t surprised him. Sweet Joseph, she thought to herself. She wasn’t as guarded as she thought; did everyone know? She doubted it. These two were her closest confidants and knew her best. If her addiction had been that out of control, others would have said something.
That was the extent of her conversation about her personal demons. Everyone in the room was on the same page and it was time to move forward.
29
“Esteban Diaz is an innocent man?” Chad’s mind couldn’t pivot that fast.
“Yeah, we found the border patrol agent,” Chad answered reactively. He never expected Joanne to admit her addiction and was thrown for a pretty big loop when she did. Her decision to not dwell on the subject, however, did not surprise him one bit.
“Good. Tavian, you are going to take the lead on Diaz. I am going to step away.”
Joanne’s revelation was a welcome relief to Chad. What he didn’t know yet was that it created a whole other set of problem circumstances for Tavian.
“I believe we have another case worthy of our attention,” Joanne continued.
This new prospective case was what had drawn Chad to this meeting in the first place. Joanne was always cryptic; more so recently with the drugs. This was different.
“I met with a prisoner named Ken Northbird out in Colorado. He is innocent. I believe this 100%, but this is a case that is in our own backyard.” It was strange the way she said this. It wasn’t strange that it was in their own backyard, but it was strange that Joanne had completely broken protocol, and she was making an ex parte decision that the guy was innocent without any research.
“Joanne, what are you talking about?” Chad sounded confused.
“Well--” He could tell she was on the defensive, “The eyewitness who testified against Northbird and put him away, is a student in my Wrongful Convictions class.”
Chad watched Tavian’s jaw drop so quickly he thought that the ligaments holding it together were going to snap right off. There was a long silence in the room. Chad got up and walked to the window and looked out. He was stunned. He completely forgot about the deviation from protocol and Joanne’s admission. This was something he couldn’t really wrap his head around. Joanne waited for him to speak before continuing.
“Holy shit.” It was the best Chad could come up with under the circumstances.
“Tavian, this could be the case of the century. Think about the press on this one. The man who put away the accused helps to free him years later upon learning of his innocence.”
