CHAPTER 27
The situation was like an ongoing nightmare for William. He closed his eyes and saw the same faces, which revolved in a perpetual circle asking the same questions he had no answer for. Doctors from the psychiatric clinic and hospital, a cashier from the gas station, dozens of different people. Back in the real world, he had a psychiatric examination and a conversation with an appointed young lawyer, who'd been sent in-place of his usually reliable Lawrence Pinky. Lawrence allegedly gave him no chance, so it'd be useful for a young lawyer to practice on a losing battle, which also saved on costs.
Tom was a witness too. The reporter, who looked at William with pity, responded to questioning with monosyllabic answers and felt upset that William didn't say anything. For William, though, all of this was unimportant that the thoughts and feelings of everyone else were left on the ground as he flew to the sky, distancing himself with no thoughts or feelings of his own. He couldn't afford to say that he'd given up the fight, but his problem at the moment just caused everyone to smile in sympathy.
'Do you understand that we've got no argument in your defense?' the young lawyer asked William a week later, looking at him tensely.
'Let's go through this once again. I'll play the part of the prosecution, and you're trying to defend me. What do you do first?'
'I wish to refer you to key pieces of evidence – the hair found in Woodruff's house and car, as well as the results of the DNA swab from his saliva,' the lawyer began, counting on his fingers.
'Fred Brown was paranoid. He made a wig out of his daughter's hair and took it to Woodruff's house. Then, he forced the doctor to leave and, in his car, the psychiatrist took a pill, had a heart attack and died. Another possibility is that Fred took the wig there earlier, and he and Woodruff messed around with it, before Fred demanded it back. Carol was in Woodruff's house too and accidentally drank the alcohol with the antidepressant, causing her to also have a heart attack. Does this stack up?' asked William.
'No, it doesn't. You just asked what I'd do first.'
'You're still too naïve. The jury only really care about who fired the gun. Now, answer these questions clearly: Where was the gun when Inspector Wilson found Lieutenant Lindstone at the Blue Sky Inn?'
'In your hand.'
'Did the examination reveal the presence of gunpowder on the hands and nails of Lieutenant Lindstone?' William asked. 'Yes,' the lawyer agreed.
'Was the shot fired from elsewhere and the gun then placed in Lindstone's hand to make it look like he fired it?'
'No. Tests show that the gunpowder coating was evenly spread, meaning the gun hadn't been separated from his hand at any point.'
'Let's dig a little deeper. Did Fred Brown forge the test results in the clinic four years ago?'
'Yes.'
Did he remove Sofia Lindstone from that clinic?'
'Yes.'
'Did Carol Lindstone, the lieutenant's wife, file for a divorce on the eve of her death?'
'Yes.'
Was Lieutentant Lindstone suffering as a result?'
'Yes, but...'
'No buts! Furthermore, did Lieutenant Lindstone want to find who was responsible for the forgery of the documents?'
'Yes.'
'Did he blame his daughter's death on the breakdown of his relationship with his wife?'
'Yes, there is some evidence of that.'
'Now, pay attention. Members of the jury, did Lieutenant Lindstone have any motive to shoot Fred Brown? A man who attacked him with spray cans?' asked William.
'I don't think so,' said the lawyer.
'Answer the question - yes or no?'
'On the surface, yes. After looking at call logs, it indicates there was a third person who called you – Linda Wu. Statements from the neighbors show that a young man visited Fred Brown several times and can describe him. Therefore, it's possible they had a lot in common,' the lawyer sounded excited.
'Do you remember where they rented their apartment?' William asked. The lawyer nodded. 'So, do you want the prosecutor to accuse one of the many LGBTQ community members in that area of the murder of one of their residents?'
'No, but there is an obvious connection.'
'As you can see, the search for this third, unknown person appears to be separate and has nothing to do with the gun in my hand or the motive that clearly exists here. The jury members are just ordinary people, so all they see is a daughter, a wife, a gun and corpses. What more do they need? They can't unravel this story today and you're most likely not to unravel it at all. They'll say I'm guilty and the death penalty will solve everything for me,' said William.
'Can you really see no evidence? Who called you that day and used what phone numbers? Let's look at the events after Linda came to your house. There were amphetamine traces in your daughter's body, so she'd clearly taken a large dose. Fred Brown quit his job at the hospital for what appears to be no reason. Let's talk about that. Who worked with him at the psychiatric clinic? Maybe there's a lead there?' the lawyer asked the right questions, but they were broken up by William's cast-iron arguments in his acting role as a public prosecutor - that there were two corpses and a pistol in his hand - which appeared to outweigh everything else. 'There is no lead,' William said. 'Any other circumstantial evidence and events need more investigation. Because of the current situation and atmosphere of panic within the city, no one will have the time to try to refute the irrefutable.'
He thought that really no one but Thomas could help but for some reason, his old friend was not here. Sofia's dead and won't come back. She'd sprayed him in the face with the aerosols and he deserved it, but did she deserve death?
William's mind just couldn't accept the investigation's findings, so to survive it, he closed his mind, focusing on working it out for himself. Everything that had been said and the reasons for what happened had to be in his past somewhere. A distant past.
The day before William's trial, Tom appeared. He looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes, the whites of which were red and bloodshot. His lips were dark blue and he just looked haggard. Nevertheless, he'd found the strength to come and see William. He wasn't a pretty sight, but in all the gloom and despair of his own existence, the arrival of an old friend to William was a light in the darkness.
'Hello...' there was a long silence after this single word.
'What's happened?' for the first time in ages, William opened his mouth to feel the stiffness of his tongue. This question was the best he could ask in order to evade those he didn't want to answer.
'I'm being transferred,' Tom lowered his eyes and shook his head. 'To Phoenix. It's in the middle of nowhere.'
'I see,' William whispered.
'If you're interested, Huston's been promoted.'
'Yes, it's O.J. Simpson's case with Robert Kardashian. O.J. was the accused and Robert was his friend and lawyer. We are just the opposite - I am white and you are black.'
'Yes, think you're right. Huston said the prosecution will demand you get the death penalty.'
'State law allows it.'
'What? Aren't you going to defend yourself and fight for your life?' Tom was worried, but knew it was useless. Regardless of the three new investigations starting and even if their results were positive, it wouldn't save William. He was supposed to be sentenced earlier, so that there was no further time for the third person to be found and more compelling evidence could be used in his defence. 'Bill, I really can't do anything now that they've appointed new people in the department,' Tom rubbed his forehead with his palm and sighed, heavily. 'I collected all the papers from your house, collated them in year order and made a to-do list on the computer with last-names and case-numbers.'
'What for? I won't be here.'
'I'm not listening, Bill. Look, I can't do anything as they've appointed a judge from another city.'
'Who?'
'Malta Brows. Remember her? She was always against you and it's rumored she was in their pockets,' Tom continued, trying to avoid any silence.
'Yes.'
'Bill, something's wrong here. I think it's impossible you'd have been able to shoot twice. Can you remember anything at all?'
'I remember her face. Her face, smiling like when she was a child and that's all. It's the only memory I have and it makes me sad.'
'In which case, I'm sure you didn't do it. If you can't remember taking out your gun, removing the safety, pointing it and pulling the trigger, surely you didn't do it?'
'Tom, there are two corpses though. Two. This evidence is far greater than your words, especially now, so don't waste your time. Regardless of anything, I lost and someone else won, so go have a beer and forget about it.'