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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781462006618 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 03/24/2011 |
| Pages: | 344 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.72(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Liberty AND Justice FOR SOME
By Ted Paulk
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Ted PaulkAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0661-8
Chapter One
Jenny Meets Marcus
Her name was Jenny. She'd pulled into the deserted patch of dirt that overlooked the beach below and parked in her usual spot under a large pine tree. Her pink Focus was the only car in the sandy lot, but this was normal for this time of day, late afternoon, during the week. Most people were just getting home from work and getting ready for dinner or watching the news.
She checked the area without much thought of danger lurking; after all, this was her jogging trail. She'd been coming here for almost a year now, it was all perfectly safe. Before she got out of the car and locked the door, she placed the keys in the cup holder, knowing she would use the keyless entry access to get back in when she had finished her evening run. She started down the trail at a slower pace, warming up before she began to sprint.
She had just turned seventeen, exhibiting the innocent beauty that nature bestows on girls of that age. The new Focus had been her birthday present. Clad in running shorts and a tank top that showed her lithe body and long legs, she was indeed a sight to behold. He watched from the bushes further down the running path. He had arrived thirty minutes earlier in order to position himself in the best possible location; one that provided cover from any curious onlooker or Good Samaritan that might be passing by.
He had picked a spot just far enough from the parking lot where she started her run to allow her time to become slightly winded by the time she reached the secluded spot where he was waiting. It was at the top of a slight incline, but not so slight that it didn't cause the runner to experience some labored breathing by the time the hill topped out. He wanted as little resistance from her as he could get.
He had thought it out very carefully, stalking her for two weeks now; learning her routine; watching to see if she ever varied it; so far she had not. She would come here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday without fail around five thirty. The sun was just starting to set on this fall afternoon.
He was breathing through his mouth to lessen the noise of his heavy breathing which was coming in fast, short bursts as he anticipated what was about to happen. He was having trouble getting air deep into his lungs, making him angry at this loss of self-control.
He had gone through almost this same exercise a year earlier in a wooded park two miles up the highway. After the passage of the year, the body of Becky, the girl he had raped and murdered, had yet to be found. The story of her disappearance was no longer of importance. News coverage of the missing girl had ceased months earlier.
He smiled to himself as he savored the idea that he had succeeded in getting away with the previous crime; playing the vicious assault he had performed on her over again in his mind and getting excited at the memory. He was too smart for them. He was determined to make no more mistakes like he had made with little Lacey. There were no witnesses in the area this time.
His armpits were sweating profusely and had soaked the tee-shirt he was wearing. He could smell himself and the testosterone reeking from his body. The smell excited him further. He felt the stirring in his loins as his erection grew harder. He wondered to himself if she would like it. Probably not, Becky hadn't. It didn't really matter though; it could only end in one way, just like last time.
As she came even with where he was waiting, he stepped out and hit her with almost as much force as his two hundred and twenty pound squat body could muster. He pulled his punch a bit; after all, he didn't want to kill her ... yet.
She was dazed at first, knocked to the ground, lying in the dirt path, but as she became aware of what happened, she attempted to scream. He pulled a cloth strip from the pocket of the loose shorts he was wearing as he slipped them down around his ankles and then kicked them out of the way. He wrapped the bandage-like cloth around her head, covering her mouth to shut her up. He then dragged her into the underbrush and went to work on her. Other than his heavy grunting and raspy breathing, her muffled sobbing was the only sound in the deserted park.
Chapter Two
Introduction to Josh O'Brien
Josh O'Brien: It was 6:00 in the morning in Arizona as I watched the national news. I was getting ready to head out to the jobsite where one of my customers was refurbishing the old dam at Roosevelt Lake. I sold heavy construction equipment, the big dozers and other earth movers in and around Phoenix.
I also covered the copper mines around Globe and Miami which were located in Gila County. I'd been doing this for several years and found it to be the most satisfying work I'd ever done. I enjoyed the time I spent with the hard working men that made their living in the construction industry. "Building America" is how I jokingly described the activities of my clients. I knew that I had a part in making their business a lucrative endeavor for my customers.
Over the years, I'd earned a reputation for honesty and tenacity when it came to insuring that my customers were dealt with fairly. One of my several mottos was "Friend to all; fool to none". With the larger machines I sold priced at over a million dollars apiece, there was lots of room for manipulating deals. I avoided such tricks, preferring to deal fairly with all my customers who had learned to trust me, thus earning their respect and loyalty.
I could be counted on as a trusted friend who kept an open mind ... most of the time.
Aside from work, I couldn't help but exhibit an unrelenting hatred against child molesters and men who hurt women. I'd experienced some beatings from a step-father who seemed to delight in beating both my mother and me. Mom was old school and refused to leave the asshole. She had married him right before my sixth birthday. When I finally gained some size and could defend her and myself, the man left. We never saw him again even though he left a son, Jody my little brother, behind as a reminder.
I never resented Jody and spent a lot of energy in looking out for him over the years. My love for him was unshakable and since I had to play the role of both big brother and father we were always close. At least something good came out of the union between my mom and the child beater ... until that day.
I was away at college when I got the call from mom. It had happened when Jody was on his way home from school and had stopped at Alvin's, the little grocery store in town. Turned out a robbery was in progress as my little brother walked into the building; talk about bad timing. The owner, Alvin Cutler, was confronting a would-be robber who was wielding a baseball bat while demanding the contents of the cash register.
Alvin stood behind the counter. Furious at the boldly rude actions of the masked intruder, after all this was the South and Alvin's property was being threatened, the supreme outrage to this regional mindset; the proprietor grabbed a pistol from the shelf under the cash register and raised his hand firing. He emptied the revolver before he finally stopped squeezing the trigger. The robber ran away but Jody took a shot in the chest. He died on the way to the hospital. He was ten years old.
The robber and an accomplice were caught in record time as there were only four roads leading out of town. This turned out to be my first encounter with our justice system. Johnny and Jackie Riggs were the sons of HC Riggs. HC was a rancher who had a spread 30 miles away, over in Ellis Country. His holdings included over a thousand acres of good Trinity River bottom land. He ran five hundred head of registered Santa Gertrudis cattle along with a remuda of registered Quarter horses needed to work the cattle. HC was a good buddy of the county judge so a deal was cut.
HC hired a noted defense lawyer out of Dallas to handle the negotiations. At the hearing the conversation went thusly, "Your Honor, there was no deadly force used by these boys and no money was actually taken. If we follow the letter of the law, we have to admit that no crime was actually committed by these lads other than a few threatening moves. These young men have not had any run-ins with the law prior to this. We certainly would not want to ruin their futures by hasty judgments.
"Of course the death of young O'Brien is sad indeed, but the whole thing was just one big misunderstanding. Mr. Cutler thought he needed to defend his property, but he used excessive force. Under the circumstances, I believe the best course of action here is just to forget this unfortunate incident ever took place. My client, Mr. Riggs, has offered to pay for the boy's funeral and he has offered make a monetary donation to help the older brother with his college bills."
The judge concurred and that was the end of it. HC sent a check for $5,000 to me. I've yet to cash it. The death of my little brother left a bitter taste in my mouth along with a feeling of being robbed myself. In my own mind, I'm still searching for the justice that has been denied me since that awful day.
I believe in doing the right thing and I've expected the same behavior from others with whom I have dealings. In fact this has been my personal definition of integrity; "Do the right thing because it's the right thing to do". It's a simple philosophy that's proven easy for me to live my life by.
I'd majored in history and psychology in college and I tried to stay current. I watched a lot of network news, going back and forth between the major networks. Sometimes my wife, Susan and I watch the pundits on FOX just for laughs.
In the past, I've found Glenn Beck to be hilarious, up to a point. But lately, it only took a few minutes of Beck's "crazy bullshit" conspiracy theories that he pulled out of his ass, to make me switch channels to keep from throwing something at the TV. The message of fear and hate-mongering repeated over and over by the self-proclaimed reformed alcoholic and drug addicted Mormon had begun to wear thin faster. As Beck wrote his stupid conclusions on his grease board followed by slamming a red button that said FACT next the scary words he had scribbled, Susan and I would burst out in laughter. "And to think, some people believe this crackpot and his endless conspiracy theories!" I once said.
Susan replied, "They must but I sure can't understand it. A recent article in Newsweek revealed that he makes something like thirty million dollars each year. Besides his radio show and this fear-mongering TV nonsense, he hawks gold and survival food packages to the people he has frightened into believing that the end of the world, or at the least; the end of society as we know it, is near. He really knows how to instill paranoia in his viewers."
"Yeah, but what must he be telling his children and the rest of his family about what is happening in the United States? Does he try to make them as miserable as he does his viewers or does he just say, 'Pay no attention to what Daddy says on TV. It's just how I buy you all these wonderful things'?"
"I hadn't given it that much thought," Susan replied, "and frankly I don't really give a shit what goes in that cretin's home or head." That put an abrupt end to the discussion that day.
When we grew tired of watching depressing news, which happened a lot, we looked for a lighter slant on current events by tuning into the Comedy Channel. We enjoyed watching the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert were irreverent to all of the talking heads that practiced pomposity. These two sharp entertainers took no prisoners when it came to poking fun at pundits who took themselves too seriously. Beck, with his fake tears and hand wringing, was a frequent target.
Their writers seemed to hit the nail on the head time and again through humorous interviews and faux news reports, exposing the self-importance and hypocrisy of the many so-called public figures. Colbert and Stewart never ran out of targets and ammo, they just ran out of time. Thirty minutes, four days a week is not nearly enough time to cover all the foibles made the politicians and wanna-be leaders.
This particular Monday morning while I was finishing my coffee a more serious breaking news story came on that caught my attention immediately. Susan, in the other room, wasn't talking to me or anyone else for that matter, as the Cleveland Browns had gotten their asses handed to them the day before ... again, and this was just a pre-season game. She was an avid fan, while I only watched sports to keep her company.
We watched the games at the local Browns sports bar where the banter among the boisterous fans would get really loud and crude in an especially exciting game. Browns fans are notorious for being loud and obnoxious; Susan was no exception. She would pass out insults to her own team when they made a stupid play or fumbled an easy pass as readily as she jeered the competition.
I'd say to her, "I think you Browns backers are all pissed because you can't be in Cleveland with the rest of the Dog Pound right now." She'd had season tickets when she lived in Ohio. Now in the Phoenix area it was often hard to find a sports bar that would show a game with her beloved team playing. This added to her frustration.
Susan could yell insults with the best of them, "Season ending injury", or worse yet, "Career ending injury" would often be her battle cry against the opposing team. She took her various sports teams seriously and she stuck loyally with them whether they were winners or losers. The last few years had been particularly tough on Susan due to the lack of success on the part of the Browns. She took each loss personally and would become depressed for a few days with each loss. Today was one of those days.
It was almost time for me to hit the road when the story came on that had stopped me in my tracks. It was a follow-up about the young girl, Jenny, who had been jogging in a park north of Los Angeles. She had gone missing two days before.
The reporter stated that her bruised and naked, body had been found this morning. She had been raped and savagely beaten before her attacker had cut her throat. According to the news bulletin, the short release issued by the police spokesman stated, "It's difficult to tell which had occurred first, the sexual assault or the murder. We can only hope she was at least unconscious while the assault was taking place".
The authorities already had a man in custody. A lady by the name of Mrs. Elmore, who was taking her German Shepherd for a walk, had spotted a man trying to break into Jenny's car. She'd yelled at him causing him to flee the scene in his own vehicle. The witness had written down the license number at the time, but had not reported the incident since the break-in had been foiled. She reasoned that since no crime had been committed, there was no point in calling the cops. Once the news story broke, Mrs. Elmore had put two and two together and called the authorities.
She had been asked as she was being interviewed if she'd been afraid to yell at the suspect, who later turned out to be accused of murder. She answered with a wicked smile, "My dog, Gustaf, who weighs around a hundred pounds, won't let anyone mess with me. I wasn't afraid to yell at the guy."
The owner of the suspect vehicle had been picked up at his home last night. The alleged person of interest in the case, Marcus Regan, was said to be a convicted sex offender who had been released from the state pen just over a year ago. He had molested an eight year old girl some four or five years before. Regan had been sentenced to five years for this crime, but had been released after serving only three years of his sentence. His early release was attributed to his good behavior while in prison.
The news anchor was saying, "A semen sample taken from the girl's body has yielded a DNA match to Regan. The matching sample in police files that links Regan to the crime had been drawn several years earlier, while he was in prison. At that time he was serving a sentence for having been convicted of committing a sex crime against a child."
The reporter gave some background about how the sample had been obtained. "All the prisoners in Regan's cell block had been ordered to give samples when the body of an inmate who had been raped and murdered was found in the showers. Regan was exonerated when he was found not to be a match, but the DNA sample had not been destroyed, much to Mr. Regan's chagrin.
"Regan's defense attorney, the renowned Robert Marius, is already trying to suppress this DNA evidence as self-incriminating. Marius has stated his client did not give his permission for authorities to take the sample; thus it should have been destroyed after the prison murder investigation had proven his client was not involved in that particular crime. Marius has further gone on record as noting that decisions handed down in prior cases support his argument that this particular piece of evidence is inadmissible."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Liberty AND Justice FOR SOME by Ted Paulk Copyright © 2011 by Ted Paulk. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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