Chapter 12
Monday was chaotic at the station. Everyone was buzzing about the trial starting. Regan heard through the grapevine that a few officers were planning to stop by to support Colin. She assumed her seat and put on the headset, waiting for her first call of the day.
“Psst, Regan,” Amy, another dispatcher, called from the next desk over. “Did you hear about Colin and Jack?”
Regan looked away from her screen listing all the calls. “No, what?”
“Colin moved out. You knew he was staying with Jack, right?”
Regan nodded.
“After the incident at the party, Colin went back to the house and moved his stuff. I think he moved in with Rebecca.”
Regan felt like she’d been stabbed with a ten-inch knife. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt lightheaded.
“Guess you didn’t know,” Amy said before she sat back upright in her chair. “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
Regan stared blankly at the screen. Her phone didn’t ring and she was grateful. Ruining Colin and Jack’s friendship hadn’t been in her list of consequences when she planned the divorce. Telling Jack the truth wasn’t an option right now, but she considered it so Colin would have someone to confide in, someone other than a hussy, who should remain nameless. They’d both been friends with Jack for many years and she couldn’t imagine their lives without him.
Her phone rang. She answered it, glad for the distraction.
~ ~ ~
Colin sat bolt upright in the courtroom. The judge was taking his time getting out to preside over this fiasco. The jury was fidgeting in their chairs, and every time someone shifted, the seats squeaked, grating on his nerves.
“All rise,” the bailiff said. “The honorable Ronald Lynch presiding.”
Colin stood with the rest of the courtroom. He glanced over his shoulder. There was a group of officers in the back in their duty uniforms. Grateful for their presence, he sat down with the knowledge that not everyone in the department thought he was guilty.
The video had gone viral over the weekend. The media showed it on all of their newscasts, and it was uploaded to YouTube by Blulineh8r. When Colin realized it was receiving more hits than there were people in Port City and Southport combined, he felt his career and future tumbling out of his grasp.
The opening ritual of the trial started and he watched the blah, blah, blah of the players. It was like watching a movie. One he didn’t want to be a part of. Colin leaned back against his chair. “Don’t look so defeated,” Petrowinski murmured. “You’re giving the other team confidence.”
Colin sat up straight and looked over at Brian who was grinning from ear to ear at something his client had said.
“Attorneys, your opening statement.”
Brian stood slowly and deliberately. He clutched his leather folder holding a yellow notebook like it was a life preserver and he was on the Titanic. “Your honor. Members of the jury. Today we will prove that our clients have suffered mental anguish due to the death of their son, Rodrigo Ramirez, who was a good citizen and never did anyone harm. His body has not been recovered.”
Mrs. Ramirez choked out an extra loud sob. “That man killed my baby,” the woman cried out, throwing herself on the table.
“Mrs. Ramirez, this is not the Great White Way. Save the theatrics for the theater. They won’t help here,” Judge Lynch said. “Counsel, control your clients. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get started.”
Brian shook his head at his client, then turned to the judge. “This man, Officer Colin Rourke, is seen in a video that you, too, will see, tossing Rodrigo off the bridge between Port and South Cities. This act of violence is only one in a stream of excessive force complaints charged to Officer Rourke.” Brian returned to his seat and looked over at Colin. Colin’s skin crawled from the hatred that radiated in Brian’s eyes.
It was Petrowinski’s turn and Colin felt his stomach knot. He’d picked the guy to represent him, hopeful that he would do a good enough job to get him free of the charges.
“Your Honor, and members of the jury, thank you for your time in this case. Our job will be to discredit everything that the plaintiffs think they have against my client. We will talk about an officer who works the swing shift and is well acquainted with the underbelly of Port City life. He was also familiar with Mr. Ramirez in a professional capacity, having arrested him before. The video you will see could have been created by my twelve-year-old daughter. It’s grainy and no one can claim beyond a reasonable doubt that the officer in the picture is Colin Rourke.”
He paused for dramatic effect, or maybe because he was thinking of what to say next. Colin couldn’t tell. He looked up at him expectantly.
“Colin Rourke is a good officer. He’s received awards for his bravery, his heroism, and for his commitment to the people of this city. He does not deserve to be accused in this case. Thank you.”
Petrowinski sat in his chair with a thud. Colin could see the sweat on his upper lip and brow. “Good job,” Colin whispered because he didn’t know what else to say.
“Hold your compliments until the trial is over. We’ve got a long way to go,” he replied, his voice just as soft.
Another lawyer from the other side of the aisle stood with his notebook and a DVD, which Colin suspected was the video of Ramirez getting tossed off the bridge. “I’d like to submit this DVD as evidence,” he said, handing the disc to the deputy, who then marked it before handing it to the judge. They also called their first witness to tell the court about the video. He was introduced as the bridge guard the night of the alleged event.
The bailiff rolled a TV out from a back corner of the court and placed it in front of the jury. The judge moved to get a better view. Colin had seen the video, so he stayed put and listened to the breathing of the jurors.
Brian stood next to the TV with a metal pointer. “Is this the video from the tower camera on the bridge from the night of January third?” Brian asked his witness.
“That is correct.”
“I am to assume that there is no sound on this camera.”
“True. You wouldn’t hear anything from that far away anyway.”
Brian squatted in front of the TV to press play.
The jury members leaned in closer to the TV and Colin suspected it was when the officer was getting out of the car.
“Here you see the officer getting out of the cruiser. He is the same height, build, and stature of Colin Rourke,” the witness said, pointing to the screen.
“Objection,” Petrowinski called. “Speculation.”
“Sustained,” Judge Lynch said.
“We will prove that with some of the other witnesses we will call.”
The video ended with Ramirez going over the railing into the freezing water below. A few of the women gasped. Ramirez’s family sat stoic in their chairs. Brian turned the TV off and glanced over at Colin, then back to the jury.
Brian then called some forensic guy who Brian said was an expert in determining height and weight of people, even on surveillance videos. He presented the judge with Colin’s vital statistics and his professional opinion as to the height and weight of the man on the video.
Colin held in a scoff. Was this guy from the carnival traveling through town? Could Colin win a prize if this bozo guessed the wrong weight? Brian continued his assault on Colin, calling witness after witness, talking about his record in general terms, discussing the dissolution of his marriage and throwing in various other tidbits. Colin was fuming by the time lunch recess was called. If crossing the room and punching the guy in the nose wouldn’t help prove Brian’s point, he totally would have.
Petrowinski took Colin by the arm and led him out a side door into an antechamber room where there were two brown bags packed. “I brought lunch for us,” he said, motioning to the chair near the windows. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea to try to get outside with the media circling.”
The hour lunch went by quickly. Once back in the courtroom, Colin looked around for familiar faces while Petrowinski looked over what he’d written that morning. He also had a yellow legal pad that he constantly jotted notes on. Hopefully it was more than “pick up the dry cleaning” or “buy milk.”
When court was back in session, Brian took the stage again and presented witnesses who gave information about Ramirez, everything from the award he received in elementary school for citizenship to his work at the local shelter. He conveniently left out the city workers who could testify about Ramirez living at the shelter and the rap sheet that was at least two pages long. Colin mentioned this to his lawyer and Petrowinski wrote down ‘pull rap sheet.’
After two more hours, Colin was getting fidgety. Sitting still for hours was not his forte. He shifted in his seat again. Brian was droning on, pulling additional lies or veiled truths from his witnesses, manipulating their testimony to his needs.
Nice sideshow Regan’s brother and his team were running, Colin thought. He could have worked for Broadway with moves like that, and if he took his clients along . . . whoa . . . a Tony could be in their futures. The Ramirez family hadn’t said much all day. Colin glanced over at them and thought they looked more bored than he felt. The missus was filing her nails. Colin had to look twice to make sure he was seeing it correctly. After her initial outburst, she’d calmed herself. He shook his head.
Regan would have loved seeing this. She used to love watching Judge Judy and Judge Joe and commenting on all of the pathetic people airing their dirty laundry to the viewing public. As if thinking about her conjured her up, he saw Brian’s grin grow until the corners of his mouth were almost at his ears. Colin turned to look at the door, and there she was.
It was like a breath of life entering the stuffy, dead courtroom. She was wearing dress pants and a sweater set he hadn’t seen before, but he really didn’t care if she’d been wearing a prom gown.
He’d told Regan not to come, but he was happy she’d ignored him this time. His confidence soared. Catching her eyes wasn’t possible as she kept her gaze down and looked around nervously for an empty seat. She must have just gotten out of work, he thought.
Colin shifted his gaze to Brian, who had paused in his soft shoe, still watching Regan as she shuffled into a row filled with police officers. Once she was seated, Colin saw her look up, but he had to look away before he could signal her because Petrowinski jabbed him in the ribs.
“Face forward. The jury is watching.”
Sure enough, every pair of eyes was looking at the rear of the court room, watching Regan like she was some secret key to the case.
“Sorry,” Brian mumbled. “So tell us, how did you characterize this incident?”
The witness glared at Colin. “As I was saying, Rodrigo was loved by all who knew him, except Colin Rourke, who had an ax to grind with Rodrigo and in a fit of rage threw him off the bridge into the freezing river below.”
The editorializing was getting on Colin’s nerves. It was obvious that this whole trial was going to be a challenge to his patience. He scanned the juror panel. Some of them looked like they were faking interest. He knew how they felt. He needed to be out on the streets fighting crime, not cooped up in here and definitely not sitting at a desk in the station.
It wasn’t more than a half hour before Brian sat down. Colin thought the audience would have clapped because it was over, if that had been appropriate. The judge called a recess until the next morning, when they would start calling witnesses.
Colin sunk down in his chair after the judge left the room. “This has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Colin told Petrowinski.
“Give up yet, Officer?” Brian asked, knocking on the wooden table in front of Colin.
“Sure, Brian. Whatever you want, as long as I don’t have to listen to your rendition of the truth anymore. Did you stay up all night thinking of that crap to ask those guys?”
“They are called facts and those facts are going to cost you.”
“Gentlemen,” a female voice said from behind Colin.
“Regan, I’m so glad you made it to see my first day of court. I expected you to be here this morning for opening statements, but I understand.”
Colin closed his eyes. She’d come to see him, not her brother, right? He opened his eyes again and looked up at her. “Good to see you, Regan. Everything okay?”
“So far, so good,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “I don’t know how you guys survived in here. It’s stuffy and hot.”
“So it wasn’t just me,” Colin said, jokingly forgetting where he was and who he was with.
“Regan, dear, a group of us are going to get some drinks and then dinner, would you like to join us?” Brian asked, circling around the table to get closer to her.
“I don’t think I’d be great company. I’m tired after a long day at work.”
“I could blow them off and take you home. Maybe I could pick up some dinner for us.”
She looked down at Colin, then back up at Brian. Colin didn’t know what to make of her indecision. Did she want to spend time with her brother, listening to him drone on about the trial and how brilliant he was?
Regan touched Brian’s arms. “Not tonight, Brian. Go out with you co-workers. I’m sure that will be fun.”
Colin smiled but knew enough to keep his mouth shut.
Regan smiled back, but stifled it when Brian looked in her direction.
“I’ll take you to your car,” Brian told her, giving Colin a look that intended to show he was the bigger gentleman.
Brian left to pick up his briefcase and Regan haphazardly dropped a folded piece of paper on the table in front of Colin. He scooped it up and tucked it in his pocket. Brian rejoined them, and with his arm around her waist, he guided her out the door.
“I’m guessing that’s the ex-wife?” Petrowinski said, gathering up his belongings.
“Yeah.” Colin hated the wistful tone in his voice. Remembering the note, he pulled it out of his pocket and carefully unfolded it so no one would see it but him.
Colin, Meet me at our spot tonight 9 p.m. R.
He quickly folded the note back up and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood after everyone had left the courtroom. He hadn’t intended to be the last one out, but it suited him. Unlike with a criminal trial, he was still free to work, play, and go home each day, and tonight he would be able to meet Regan.
Cruising down the marble-tiled hallway, his footsteps echoing, he was only thinking about seeing Regan. When he pushed open the door, he realized his error.
The crowd of people rushed him, yelling questions. “Officer Rourke.”
“Colin, how did court go today?”
“What did you do with the body?”
“Will you continue to be a police officer?”
The media frenzy shocked him into reality and out of his fantasy starring Regan. Shouldn’t Petrowinski be here to help him through this maze?
“I have no comment at this time. Once the facts are presented and arguments are concluded, I’m sure I will be cleared. And, yes. I will still continue to be a police officer for Port City.”
He pushed his way through the gaggle of people and made a beeline for his car, forcing himself not to run. Once inside, he took a few steadying deep breaths. This wasn’t a game. Up until the moment when the reporters jumped him, the whole thing had the underpinnings of a game. The divorce, moving in with Jack, dating Rebecca, leaving Jack’s, staying overnight at Rebecca’s apartment: it was like a chess match.
As he sat in his car, the bottom fell out of his bubble and a wave of depression hit him like a tsunami. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming his hands into the steering wheel. Before the crowd located him, he started the car and drove off. He was like a turtle carrying all of his belongings with him. He had no intention of going back to Rebecca’s, and Jack wasn’t speaking to him. He checked his watch at the red light. He still had five hours before he’d see Regan.