The Hallows, page 22
He glanced at me. I had looked up his records from the Utah POST Academy, and they were clear.
“No.”
Pritcher went back to his table and brought out another photo. I hadn’t seen this one before. A blonde woman standing with Howard outside a baseball stadium.
I stood up and said, “Your Honor, the State would object to the use of this photograph. I haven’t seen it before, and a reverse discovery motion was filed.”
“For impeachment, Your Honor, no notice required.”
“I’ll allow it if it pertains directly to impeachment.”
Pritcher approached Howard. When Howard saw the photo his eyes went wide. This wasn’t good.
“Who is she, Mr. Howard?”
“She’s . . . um . . . April Mannis.”
“A former lover, correct?”
“Yes.”
“A former lover who accused you of rape, correct?”
“Objection, sidebar!”
“Approach.”
I stormed over to the bench. “Judge, if true, Mr. Pritcher had an ethical obligation to disclose that information to me.”
“Impeachment, again, Your Honor. I don’t have to disclose anything to the State if their own witness is up there lying, and I catch them in the lie.”
“The lie itself isn’t what I have a problem with. Mr. Pritcher knew about this alleged incident, didn’t inform us, and gathered the photograph without handing it over. Rule seven is clear that all material evidence must be handed over by the defense to the State when the defense intends to use that evidence in trial if a reverse discovery motion has been filed.”
“I didn’t intend to use it. If he had been honest, I would’ve just moved on.”
“You’re so full of shit, Russell.”
“Up yours.”
“Boys, calm down. Mr. Pritcher, you had an obligation to turn this over. I’m striking all of the testimony from the record and excluding the photograph.”
“Thank you, Judge,” I said.
I went back to the prosecution table while the judge informed the jury to disregard everything they’d just heard. We had about as much chance of them forgetting everything as Santa Claus landing on the roof and giving us all presents, but at least they wouldn’t hear more about Howard’s ex.
Pritcher continued pounding on Howard. After forty-five minutes, Howard was red faced and sweating. Pritcher brought up things I’m sure Howard had no idea people could find out about. Like a shoplifting charge he’d had at age eleven and the fact that his father, drunk, had once put him in the hospital with fractured ribs and a busted nose. Information I would’ve gotten if I’d been given my normal six months to a year to prepare a case, along with my team of investigators.
When Pritcher was done, the judge looked to me. I debated getting Howard off the stand, but I could tell the picture of his ex had lingered: Howard looked like a rapist up there, so I had to afford him the chance to explain. I rose and said, “Tell us about the rape allegation.”
“It’s untrue. Completely false. April and I only dated for like a month, and I called it off with her because she kept getting arrested. She had a severe alcohol and drug problem. I have personally arrested her over a dozen times, and she filed the report against me after the last arrest. Internal Affairs already looked into it and decided it was bogus. I wasn’t even in the city at the time she’s claiming it happened.” He looked at the jurors. “As a police officer, we get a lot of complaints filed against us by people that feel the system has treated them poorly. We’re the face of the system to them, so it’s always us that gets it. Almost all of the accusations end up being proven false by witnesses. It’s just part of having the job.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
The judge said, “Mr. Pritcher?”
“Nothing, Your Honor.”
Thank crap.
“You’re free to leave, Detective.”
He stood and then hurriedly got his jacket and exited. I didn’t notice any of the confident swagger he normally had. He didn’t even look back at us.
“Next witness, Mr. Graham.”
63
The next witnesses were the O’Briens. I had them up to describe the condition of the body and how exactly they found it. Nothing earth shattering. I finished up with each of them in about fifteen minutes and moved on.
The ME from the state crime lab was next, but by the time we took a break, got him sworn in, and had gone through his qualifications, it was almost one. The judge called it a day fifteen minutes early and released the jury, telling them not to discuss the case with anyone else. I asked to have the jury sequestered, and Judge Allred laughed.
As everyone filed out of the courtroom, Jia came up to me and said, “That made Howard look like an idiot, but Russell didn’t contradict anything Howard had said.”
“It’s just the first little gash. He’s going to attack and attack until the gash becomes a gaping hole in our case, and the jury starts thinking they can’t trust us. What do you got on the stalking injunction?”
“It’s legit. It didn’t come up on a regular search, though, so I searched by initials. According to the system, a ‘PW’ tried to take out a stalking injunction against ‘SB’ four months ago. I thought it’s gotta be them. I doubled-checked the birthdays, and it’s Patty and Steven Brown. I don’t know why someone entered it with just the initials since no one searches that way. Probably a new clerk at the court or something.”
“Do you have a copy of the injunction?”
“No. Nothing was there. I’ve never seen that before.”
“It means the report was taken, but no injunction was ever filed.”
“Who would do that? I mean, I can see Nathan Ficco having the ability to get it dropped, but Steven doesn’t have any money or connections besides Anderson.”
“No idea who, but job number one for you is to dig deep and find out who took that report when Patty came in.”
“So can we not use Steven now?”
“We don’t have a choice, he’s our star witness. And there’s no actual injunction, just a report, so it’s not official. We go with the game plan we got for now.”
We walked out of the courtroom, and I turned my cell back on. I saw I had a missed call and a voice mail.
“Lunch?” Will said.
“I’ll catch up. You guys go ahead.”
I checked the voice mail in the hallway: it was from a Dr. Thomas. The doctor that had treated Anderson’s eye injury.
I returned the call. “Doc, hey, this is Tatum Graham with the County Attorney’s Office. Just returning your call to my call.”
“Yes, what can I do for you? You said it was urgent.”
So far, Will hadn’t dug up any evidence that Roscoe was involved with Patty as more than a teacher, and he also hadn’t been able to confirm that the girl Anderson supposedly groped was Patty. If I were able to prove that Anderson had gotten in trouble for groping her, it would help me counter the stalking allegation against Steven.
“So, Doc, I’m in a bit of a bind and need some clarification. I know my investigator and associate already spoke with you, but I was wondering if there’s anything else you can tell me about Anderson Ficco’s eye injury that could help me. Did they find the pipe, or did his father speak with Coach Mallory or—”
“Speak with him?”
“Yeah. Do you know if his father spoke with Coach Mallory about the injury? I know you don’t live in River Falls, but Coach Mallory is pretty recognizable.”
“I know who he is. He was here with him.”
I could take a lap around this place. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’ve been to several of the football games.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Say? No. We just discussed Anderson’s history and the injury itself. When we were finished, they thanked me and left. Oh, I did ask if Coach Mallory was injured because of the blood. There was blood all over his clothing, which I assumed was from Mr. Ficco.”
An electric shock went through my guts. “Doctor, did Coach Mallory have any hand injuries or was he wearing gloves when he came to the hospital?”
“You know . . . I don’t completely recall. This was a long time ago, Mr. Graham.”
“Well, thanks anyway. You’ve been a big help.”
I hung up and checked my watch before deciding to drive over to the high school.
64
I got to the high school around two in the afternoon, and it looked like school was getting ready to get out. As I was walking up, a bell rang and kids started filing out of the place.
The front office told me Roscoe was finishing up teaching social studies upstairs, so I went to his classroom. He was speaking with a student who had stayed after class, and I waited until they were done and the student had left.
“Tatum, back again? You must not be as traumatized by this place as you let on.”
“Varies day by day.” I glanced around the classroom. On the back wall was a time line of various events throughout history, starting with the founding of America.
Roscoe began collecting his papers. “So what did you need?”
I folded my arms and approached him but didn’t get too close. “I had an interesting talk with a doctor today. Dr. Thomas. You remember him?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“He was the doctor that treated Anderson’s eye injury last year when you took him in.”
He put his papers in his bag and then looked at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That hospital has video,” I lied. “When I get that video and watch it, what’s it going to show me, Roscoe? I’m getting it this afternoon, so it’s best we not lie to each other right now.”
He sighed and sat down in his seat, rubbing his head. “I was just trying to protect him.”
“Tell me what you know, and maybe we can help each other.”
“This can’t leave the room.”
“We’ll see. What happened?”
“It’s Anderson’s father.”
“What about him?”
“There was no pipe. I swore to Anderson that we would make something up and stick to the story.” He exhaled and looked down to his desk. “His father was upset over something Anderson had done. It didn’t even seem like a big deal to me, an arrest for DUI. I mean, it is a big deal and it isn’t. Kids do stupid things. So when practice was finishing up, I was speaking to Anderson about how to go about fixing it when his father showed up.”
“And?”
“And he was furious. I’d never seen him like that. I tried to calm him down so the three of us could talk, but there was no talking. He grabbed Anderson and pinned him against the wall with one hand and pounded him with the other. I mean, just pounded the poor kid. I managed to finally pull him off, and when I did, I noticed the brass knuckles.”
“What?”
“He was wearing brass knuckles to beat his own son. What kind of man does that, Tatum? Beats his own kid to the point he deforms him?”
I was silent a second. “Assuming I believe you, why didn’t you call the cops?”
“You don’t know how much influence the Ficcos have. I mean, I guess you probably do, but it’s gotten even worse since you left. I mean, Nathan owns like half the land around this town. Whoever he wants elected to office is who’s going to get elected to office. The sheriff was elected almost exclusively by money the guy donated to him.”
Huh. Guess that would explain how Pritcher is getting such good intel. He wasn’t bribing anyone. He didn’t have to: the sheriff’s office was probably handing him the information on a silver platter.
Roscoe rose and picked up his bag, slinging the strap around his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you before, but I want to keep my job. I have a child to support. If Nathan Ficco wanted to, he could have my job with a snap of his fingers. And Anderson made me promise not to tell anybody. He said it would be worse if his father got in trouble, so I respected his wishes.”
I nodded as Roscoe walked out of the room. His story struck me as plausible. And I preferred thinking Roscoe hadn’t been involved with Patty.
I took out my phone and texted Will to meet me at Nathan Ficco’s house.
Will was there before I was. I parked next to him in the horseshoe driveway and got out. We walked up to the door and he said, “What’s up?”
“You’re just here as a witness. Don’t say anything, and whatever you do, don’t upset him. We need him talking.”
A housekeeper answered and I asked for Nathan. Without a word, she left to get him. Nathan wore a full business suit, though he was retired and it was the middle of the day.
“I’ll refer you to speak to my attorney, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Pritcher is technically Anderson’s attorney, Mr. Ficco. And we just want five minutes of your time. No more.”
“I will not help in this witch hunt to condemn my son.”
“I’m not asking you to. I want to ask about something else that may be related. Five minutes, and then you’ll never see me darken your doorstep again.”
He shifted his gaze from one of us to the other and said, “Fine. Five minutes.”
We entered the home and followed him to his study. He sat down in a chair. There was a glass of whiskey next to him, and he took a sip and said, “Do you want a drink?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And the pope here doesn’t drink.” I folded my arms. “Where’s Mrs. Ficco, by the way?”
“Out. Now what is this about?”
“She’s been out every time we’ve been here.”
“Yes, women can actually leave the house, Mr. Graham. Miracle of miracles. Now what do you want?”
“I want to talk about Anderson’s eye injury.”
“Why?”
“Call it curiosity.”
He took another sip. “The damn fool never was very coordinated. When he was six I tried to teach him how to ride a bike, and he broke his leg falling off. He’s fragile.” He raised his glass to take a sip. “Might as well have had a girl.”
“Well, regardless, what do you know about what happened?”
He shrugged. “Just what he told me. He tripped on the field and hit the jagged edge of some pipe.”
I nodded and glanced around the study. “You got any brass knuckles around, Mr. Ficco?”
“Any what?”
“Brass knuckles. You know, metal, several holes for your fingers to fit through?”
He chuckled. “You think I injured Anderson’s eye? Trust me, Mr. Graham, if I wanted to hurt him I wouldn’t need brass knuckles to do it.”
“See, ’cause I heard you showed up to the football field and did a little number on your son.”
“That’s preposterous. Who told you that? Roscoe Mallory?”
“Does it matter?”
He stared at us a moment. “I wasn’t going to help you anyway, Mr. Graham, but perhaps you need to look a little more closely at dear Coach Mallory.”
“For what?”
“For the fact that he was sleeping with Patty Winchester.”
Will and I glanced at each other. “Bullshit. You would’ve said something to help your son from the beginning.”
“Mr. Pritcher recommended not saying anything and instead surprising you in court with it when he called Roscoe to the stand. But seems appropriate now. He became obsessed with her. Patty once confided in Anderson that she was frightened of him.” He finished his whiskey. “Drop the charges against my son and go get the real killer. That’s what the taxpayers are paying you for. Now get the hell out of my house.”
Once outside, we stopped on the porch and I looked back at the Ficcos’ home. Near the roof was a wasp’s nest tucked under the gutter.
“Looks like you were right,” Will said.
“We need confirmation. You didn’t find anything?”
“Not much. Got Roscoe’s bank accounts, and there weren’t any large transfers in or out in the past year. But there were three charges to the State Street Motel downtown. The times were all in the afternoon.”
“Go talk to Cecily. If anyone might know if Patty was sleeping with him, it’s her. Then head down to that motel and show Roscoe’s and Patty’s pictures to everyone that works there and see if they ever showed up together.”
“What about the eye injury? You still think Anderson’s dad hurt him?”
“Roscoe said he beat him with brass knuckles over a DUI arrest.”
“DUI? I don’t remember that coming through the office.”
“Which means either Roscoe is lying or Daddy used his influence to get rid of it. I need you or Jia down at the station digging through the files. And then pull Nathan Ficco’s criminal history. I specifically want any times where the Department of Child Services was called out to investigate reports of child abuse.”
“Got it. Out of curiosity, though, why are we so interested in his eye injury? I mean, however it happened doesn’t change the fact that Anderson murdered Patty.”
“It’s an unknown, and I don’t like unknowns. They have a nasty little habit of coming back and biting you in the ass.”
65
That night I headed over to my father’s house. He was in the kitchen frying potatoes and eggs. Will had called me and said that Cecily was up in Zion National Park and she would be back tomorrow. I’d told him to hit up every one of Patty’s friends with Jia and find out if anyone knew anything about her sleeping with Roscoe.
“Don’t people knock anymore,” Adam said, “or is that not the custom in Hollywood?”
“I didn’t live in Hollywood.” I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched him. A rag with blood on it was lying on the counter, a beer next to it. “Adam, you can’t drink with your pain meds.”
He waved me off. “In my day we drank with everything, and we weren’t keeling over dying every five minutes. Now they’re warning us against this and that, and people are dying younger and younger. Gotta be tough and take some pain. Take small pain now and you can handle big pain later when it comes.” He coughed into his rag a few times and said, “And the son of a bitch always comes.”
