Murder in the Courthouse

by

Joseph P. Rogers

Monica Greff was a trim, athletic-looking brunette in her late thirties.  She and the other jurors had just returned to the jury room after being in the courtroom all morning.  Now most of the jurors gathered their jackets and umbrellas as they prepared to go out to lunch at various cafeterias and diners around downtown St. Louis.

Monica looked down at Violet Valentine, who had sat down at the large wooden table.  "Aren't you going out to lunch?" Monica asked Violet.

"No, I 'm going to forgo lunch so that I can do some shopping,"  Violet said.  "I'm just going to drink my Dr. Pepper and read some magazines for a few minutes before I go."

"During our breaks this week, I've been competing with you for those computer magazines that they keep in here," Monica said.  "Now is your chance to get hold of the magazines that I've been monopolizing."

Violet laughed.  "Almost everyone is interested in computers these days.  You're not the only one that I've been wrestling for the magazines."

"That's true.  See you later."  Monica departed, leaving Violet alone in the room.

Several minutes later Violet completed her soda and tossed the empty can into the wastebasket of the jury room.   Now I still have an hour to spend at Union Station, she thought as she stood up.

She walked down the hallway to a waiting elevator, which she took to the ground floor of the courthouse.  She stepped off the elevator into a scene of chaos.  Security guards and courthouse visitors were rushing toward the elevator next to the one in which she had ridden.  As someone began screaming, a guard shouted at persons to stand back.

Violet stared in horror at the scene on the elevator.  A man, whom she immediately recognized as one of her fellow jurors, lay sprawled on the floor of the elevator.  He was clearly dead.  His hair and face were bloody, and his left leg contorted at an angle that a leg does not bend.

Several police officers arrived to assist the courthouse deputies, and within a few minutes, a police detective came through the front door of the courthouse.  Violet was surprised that the detective was her brother-in-law, Charlie Valentine.

Charlie shook the water from his umbrella as he closed it.  "That rain is torrential," he said to one of the policemen.  "What have we got here?" Charlie asked, glancing toward the elevator.

"It looks like he was beaten to death, Lieutenant," the policeman said.  "We wanted to leave the crime scene intact, so we haven't checked for any identification on the victim."

When Charlie came forward for a closer look, Violet approached him.

"Oh, hello, Violet.  Are you still on jury duty?"

She nodded.  "This is my fourth day, Charlie.  I'm serving on the jury for a burglary trial."  Violet pointed at the body on the elevator.  "That man was one of the jurors."

Charlie's eyes widened.  "What was his name?"

"I don't know.  He was rather quiet.  On breaks during the trial, he would usually read a computer magazine in the jury room."

"I don't think that a juror has ever been killed in the courthouse before today," Charlie said.

The police photographer and evidence technicians arrived and began to do their work.

"I'm going to keep out of their way for a couple of minutes before I begin to look for clues," Charlie told Violet.  "Your jury duty might end later this afternoon.  The judge might decide to declare a mistrial."

"We have two alternate jurors.  The judge could replace the murdered man with an alternate."

"Yes, that's possible, but the judge might fear that the murder of a fellow juror would prejudice your group against the defendant."

"Well, we'll soon find out," Violet said.  "We're supposed to be back in the courtroom in forty-five minutes."

"Excuse me for a few minutes, Violet.  The photographer seems to be finished, so I'm going to examine the body."

Charlie walked onto the elevator.  Crouching on one knee beside the body, Charlie examined the man, his clothing, and his possessions.  Charlie stood up and spoke to several bystanders and police officers.  He looked around and saw that his partner, Jenny Halloran, had arrived and was talking to Violet.

Jenny was a slim, 29-year-old with short, brown hair.  She came from a police family; her father, Wally Halloran, was a retired sergeant.

Charlie approached the two women.  "Hello, Jenny.  I suppose that Violet has already told you that she was serving on a jury with the victim.  At first glance it would appear that he was killed by a robber.  The victim's wallet is missing.  We'll need to get his name and address from the court clerk.  The victim was beaten to death; his left knee is broken, and there were numerous blows to the skull."

"There is a fair amount of traffic on these elevators, Charlie," Jenny said.  "The murderer was lucky to have gotten away unseen."

"Yes, he was.  We know that he didn't get off on this floor; there were two ladies waiting for an elevator when the doors opened and they saw the body.  Since there was no one on the elevator besides the victim, the murderer must have gotten off in the basement."  Charlie pointed at the illuminated "Up" arrow beside the elevator.  "It was coming back up."

"So our juror was killed as the elevator went down to the basement or when it reached the basement," Jenny said.  "I'm going to take a couple of officers down there to look around a bit."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the basement in a few minutes," Charlie told Jenny as she walked away.  He returned his attention to his sister-in-law.  "Violet, I'd like to get some more information from you.  Can I stop by your house this evening?"

"Sure, Charlie.  Why don't you come for dinner?"

"All right.  You talked me into it."

"You certainly don't need much persuading," she said wryly.

"I never do," he said with a grin.  "I'll see you at about six o'clock."  He walked back to the elevator where the coroner was removing the body.

A few minutes later Charlie walked down the stairs leading to the basement.  As he emerged from the stairwell, he came upon Jenny rummaging through a trash can.

Jenny looked up in surprise when Charlie stepped out of the stairwell.  "They do have other elevators in this building," she said.

"Yes, but I wanted to look around in the stairwell.  After getting off the elevator down here in the basement, the murderer might have walked up the stairs."

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

Charlie opened his hand to reveal a candy wrapper.  "It's possible that the killer likes Milky Way bars."  Grinning sheepishly, he tossed the wrapper into the trash can.  "Then again, perhaps not."

Jenny smiled at him.  "Charlie, what would I do without you?"

"Probably complete your investigation much more swiftly.  Did you find anything of interest in the trash can?"

"No," Jenny said.  "I have the two officers that I brought down here with me going through the other trash cans on this floor and outside on the street.  I'm hoping that we can find the victim's wallet.  If the murderer discarded it after taking out the money, we might be able to get his fingerprints off the wallet."

She led Charlie over to the elevator doors.  "The murderer definitely got off on this level," she said, pointing to drops of blood along the floor of the hallway.

"I might have found something here," one of the policemen said as he approached the detectives.  He gingerly handed Jenny an umbrella.  "Careful, there's blood on it.  I found it when I was going through that trash can right next to the street entrance."

"This is certainly strange," Jenny said as she carefully rotated the umbrella.  "This couldn't be the murder weapon, yet it must belong to either the murderer or the victim."

"It probably belongs to the murderer," Charlie said.  "If it belonged to the victim, the murderer would have left it in the elevator.  The umbrella got so much blood on it that the murderer didn't want to risk taking it outside with him, and he didn't want to leave it behind in the elevator for fear that we could trace it, so he dumped it in the trash."

"Let's hope we can get some fingerprints off of it."  She gave the umbrella to Charlie.

"Even if there are no usable prints, it might be a useful clue.  What ordinary robber carries an umbrella with him when he goes to commit a crime?"

"I don't believe that robbery was behind this murder," Jenny said.  "Why commit a robbery in a courthouse where there are sheriff's deputies roaming around?  And why kill the victim?"

"I agree.  I'm anxious to have a long talk with the judge, lawyers, and other jurors."

"So am I.  They'll be back from lunch soon.  We'll have time to complete our search down here and out on the street.  We still might find the victim's wallet."

"Or perhaps we can find a murder weapon.  Unless the killer was a martial arts expert, he used something to club the victim in the knee and head."  Charlie reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out his retractable baton, and snapped the steel club open to its full length of two feet.  "The murderer could have used one of these batons."  He retracted the club and returned it to his pocket.

"Yeah, I bought one of those clubs last year, too.  They're pretty cool."

"Well, I'll take this umbrella upstairs and give it to the evidence technician," Charlie said.  "Then I'll go tell the judge about the murder and get the identity of the victim."

"Okay, I'll meet you upstairs in about fifteen minutes," Jenny said as Charlie headed back toward the stairwell.

When all of the jurors had returned from lunch, a deputy escorted them into the courtroom.  They sat in their designated seats in the jury box.  While everyone waited for the judge to arrive, they talked excitedly amongst themselves.

"All of the local television stations have their cameras and reporters downstairs!" a tall man named Rein Simon told them breathlessly.  "A reporter from Channel 2 wanted to interview me, but I told her that I couldn't do any interviews as long as I'm on this jury."

An elderly juror named Marge Mitchell glared across the room at the defendant, who was seated with his lawyers.  "Look at him over there with his taxpayer-paid lawyers.  Why does he get two free lawyers?  Isn't one enough?  They'll be trying to find some loophole to get him off now."

Monica Greff was seated next to Marge.  "I don't think that what happened today will help him to get away without punishment," Monica told her.

"I'll bet that one of his buddies killed that man!" Rein Simon said in a low voice.

Everyone became silent when Judge Edwin Simpson entered the courtroom from his office behind the judge's bench.  The clerk called the court into session, and everyone stood briefly until the judge told them to be seated.

"Ladies and gentlemen, by now most of you know that a tragedy has occurred in this courthouse this afternoon.  Mr. Drew Tyers, one of our jurors serving in this trial, was found murdered on an elevator.  This is a shocking event, and I hope that the murderer is soon apprehended.  Although we have two alternate jurors available from whom we could select a replacement for Mr. Tyers, I believe that it would be best to declare a mistrial.   Therefore,  I am going to order that this case be retried in two weeks with a new jury.  At the conclusion of this session I'll meet with the attorneys so that we can schedule the new trial.   And now, ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for serving on the jury this week.  Even though we were unable to complete the trial, you should be proud of your service."

Violet glanced over at the defendant, a man in his thirties.  He seemed mildly pleased by the declaration of a mistrial, but there was no sense of jubilation.

The deputy escorted them back to the jury room where they gathered their belongings.

"This is a courthouse, but justice is not always done here," Rein Simon said to Violet as they left the jury room.

Violet nodded.  "Human laws are never perfect, and we must constantly strive to improve our laws and the enforcement of our laws."

"Human laws fail too often," Rein said.

"True, yet we must work within the framework of that law," Violet insisted.  "In Robert Bolt's play, A Man for All Seasons,  Thomas More asks his future son-in-law whether the young man would break any law while in pursuit of the devil.  When the son-in-law answers affirmatively, More asks him what he would do if the devil stops, turns around, and comes in pursuit of him.  With all the laws lying in shattered ruin, what could the son-in-law turn to for protection?"

"I'm familiar with that play," Rein said.  "The law didn't save Thomas More from being executed.  Henry VIII twisted the laws to suit his own selfish purposes."

"And, in this imperfect world, the law will often be twisted.  Remember, though, that there is a higher law that is eternal and incorruptible.  You can call it the natural law or divine law.  Some might call it the 'Tao.'  Basically, our good actions have a positive effect on our soul, while evil actions have a negative effect on the soul, both in this life and in the next.  When someone sins or commits a crime, he never gets away with it.  The sin or crime creates disharmony in his life, and he can only be restored to harmony with the natural law by repenting and making restitution."

"Well, I hope that more persons start repenting and making restitution," Rein said as they got on the elevator to the lobby.

At six-thirty that evening Charlie parked his blue Chevrolet in front of the house belonging to his brother and sister-in-law.  As he bounded up the steps onto the porch, the front door was opened by his cherubic seven-year-old niece, Lauren.

"Hi, Uncle Charlie!" she chirped.  "I've been looking out the window, watching for you!"

"I'm a bit late.  I hope that you didn't have dinner without me."

"No.  Mommy got home late too.  Supper isn't ready yet."

Charlie reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.  "What's this in here?" he asked in pretend amazement.  It was a ritual that he often went through for the amusement of the three Valentine children.  "Why, it's a pack of wintergreen Lifesavers!  The elves must have placed them in my pocket!"

Lauren giggled as Charlie gave her the candy.  "Thanks, Uncle Charlie."

"And here's two more packs that the little fellows slipped into my pockets.  Give those to your brother and sister."

"Okay.  They're at the library.  They should be home in a few minutes."

Violet came into the living room.  "Hi, Charlie.  The kids wanted to have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  I hope that's okay with you."

"It's my favorite meal."

"But, Uncle Charlie, when you came to dinner last week, we had chili, and you said that was your favorite meal!" Lauren objected.

"Your mother is such a good cook that anything she prepares is my favorite meal."

"Charlie, when you made that trip to Ireland last year, you must have kissed the Blarney Stone," Gregory Valentine said as he entered the room.

"Alas, Blarney Castle was not on my itinerary," Charlie said.

"Your brother is simply an excellent judge of fine cuisine," Violet said.

"Speaking of judges, I hear that there was quite a bit of excitement at the courthouse today," Gregory said.

"Yes," Charlie nodded.  "It was a strange crime.  I assume that Violet has already told you that the judge declared a mistrial."

"I never dreamed that my jury duty would come to such a sudden and dramatic end," Violet said.

Twelve-year-old Penelope and ten-year-old James arrived home from the library, and the family went into the kitchen for dinner.  Afterwards, when the children went upstairs to do their homework, the three adults went to sit down in the family room.

"During the lunchtime recess today I had planned to walk over to the model train shop at Union Station," Violet said.  "I've been thinking about buying one for the kids.  However, with the murder and all the commotion, I never got the chance to go there."

"Well, you might have another chance to go downtown tomorrow," Charlie said.  "I might request all the jurors return to the courthouse tomorrow afternoon."

"Was the man killed by a robber?" Gregory asked.

"Jenny and I don't think so.  The murderer tried to make it look like a robbery, but we believe that there was some other motive.  Since the victim was a juror, we've been considering the possibility that the murder had something to do with the trial.  And, Violet, since your jury has been dismissed, you're now free to talk about the case.  I know the basic facts, but I'm sure Greg and I would both be interested in your impressions."

"My impression was that the defendant was guilty of burglary," Violet said.  "We have heard three days of testimony, and the lawyers were supposed to present their closing arguments this afternoon, but they never got the opportunity.  Both lawyers were pretty skillful.  The defendant was caught red-handed with stolen video equipment in his apartment, but his lawyer tried to confuse the case by claiming that some friends of the defendant had stored the stolen merchandise there.  The lawyer said that his client had not known that the equipment was stolen.  However, the prosecutor did a good job of proving that the defendant was, in fact, the ringleader of the bandits.  So, unless the defense attorney had devised a truly spectacular closing argument, I would have been inclined to vote guilty."

"The defendant in your case was Drake Eisley," Charlie said.  "I've reviewed his record.  The prosecutor wasn't allowed to tell you that Eisley has a long arrest record, but just two convictions, one for assault and one for burglary.  He has served a total of three years in prison."

"So do you believe that Eisley and his gang had anything to do with the murder of the juror?" Gregory asked his brother.

"We're checking out that possibility, but I doubt it.  Eisley himself was in the custody of deputies at the time of the murder.  We're trying to account for the whereabouts of his friends and family members.  We've already cleared two who were with Eisley's lawyers when the murder occurred.  We need to confirm some other alibis; however, the murder of this juror doesn't help Eisley at all.  A new jury will be selected in three or four weeks, and Eisley will remain in jail until that new trial.  Frankly, Eisley and his associates don't seem especially violent to me.  They're the sort of burglars who simply run away if someone catches them breaking into a house or a car."

"So who do you think committed the murder?" Violet asked Charlie.

"My hunch is that the person responsible for the murder had a personal grudge against the victim.  The dead juror's name was Drew Tyers.  He was thirty-four years old.  He owned a small firm that produced computer software.  Tyers was divorced; he had no children.  He had one sister who lives here.  His parents live in Kansas City.  I've spoken briefly to his sister, and I've gotten the juror data sheet about him from the court clerk."

"Perhaps his ex-wife hired a hitman to kill him," Violet suggested.

"The same idea occurred to me.  We'll need to look into that possibility.  I've also been wondering whether he made any dangerous enemies through the years.  Before I came here, I arranged to have a detailed computerized background check run on him.  There should be a printout waiting for me in the morning."  Charlie paused.  "While I was driving here, it occurred to me that I don't know much about jury duty.  I've been a cop for my entire adult life, so I've never been summoned for jury duty.  Could you tell me about your experience?"

"Sure, but there's not much to tell," Violet said.  "When you arrive at the courthouse on a Monday morning, you take the elevator up to the juror assembly room, which is as large as a gymnasium.  After you're assigned a number, you go sit on one of the wooden benches.

"There are about two hundred potential jurors gathered in the room.  Eventually, a judge comes in, and he allows anyone needing a postponement of jury duty to come forward to talk to him.  The judge usually grants the postponement.

"Most of the day is spent sitting around waiting for your number to be called.  Some persons watch game shows on television, a few play cards, and many read the newspaper.  If you're really desperate for something to do, you can always read the "Handbook for Potential Jurors" that is given to you when you're assigned your number.

"People read the most curious things.  A man on the bench in front of me was reading a book called The Tao of  Pooh.  Did you know that Winnie-the-Pooh was a Taoist philosopher?"

"Actually, I've heard of that book," Gregory said.  "In fact, the author has also written one about Piglet."

"Is that what you read when you were on jury duty last year?" Charlie grinned as he asked his brother.

"No, as a matter of fact, I brought a book on chess strategy.  When I completed the lessons in that book, I started reading Care of the Soul by Thomas Moore, a modern Thomas Moore, not the Saint Thomas More of A Man for All Seasons.  It’s quite an interesting book; Moore says that every wedding takes place at Cana because of the transformation that occurs.  Water is changed into wine."

"Well, I didn't read anything so profound during my jury duty," Violet said.  "I brought a couple of computer magazines with me, but there wasn't much of interest to me in them.  On Monday morning I mainly watched the game shows on television.  About every half or so a new group of potential jurors would be assembled,  so it was necessary to listen for whether your number was called by the clerk.  My number was called on Monday afternoon.  A deputy took about thirty of us to a courtroom.  Then the lawyers questioned us so that they could select the twelve jurors that they wanted.  Two alternates were also chosen.  We occasionally had breaks during the trial, so I was able to read the magazines in our small jury room next to the courtroom.  There were several computer magazines that looked good, but a couple of other jurors always seemed to get hold of them before I did.  In fact,  the murdered man was one of them."

"Ah ha!" Gregory exclaimed.  "Now we have a motive!  My homicidal wife killed the poor man because he hogged the magazines.  Charlie, do you have your handcuffs with you?"

Charlie and Violet both laughed, and Charlie said, "I think that I'll need to find a better motive than that one."

The next morning Charlie brought a computer printout to Jenny's desk at the police station.

"Here's the report on our victim," Charlie said, handing her the printout.  "He was arrested by the FBI four years ago.  Apparently, he created a computer virus that he released into the Internet computer system.  As you know, a computer virus is a small program that replicates itself and causes various degrees of damage in the systems that it infects. His virus caused valuable data to be lost on thousands of computers in this country and around the world.  However, because he had no previous arrests, he was allowed to plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge and was given a fine and probation, but no jail time.  He seems to have stayed out of trouble for these last four years.  I'm having background checks run on the other jurors.  Hopefully, we'll have the results by early afternoon."

"Do you think one of them killed him?" Jenny asked incredulously.  "Why would one of them do it?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out by running the background checks," Charlie said with a smile.  "I've never heard of one juror killing another, but it has probably happened somewhere at sometime."

"Almost every possible crime has happened at least once.  It's a statistical probability that if a person can mentally conceive of something to do wrong,  someone will eventually do it."

"Then maybe the judge murdered the juror.  I've never heard of that happening either, but apparently there's a statistical probability that it has to happen eventually."

Jenny laughed and shook her head.  "Charlie, let's stop theorizing and do some work.  I'll split the list of jurors with you; we'll each call half and arrange to meet with them this afternoon."

"Fine.  Arrange for the jurors that you call to come in at one-thirty.  I'll have my jurors come in at two-thirty."

Later that day Jenny and Charlie conducted their investigation in the jury room next to the courtroom.  Each juror came in the room individually while the others waited on benches in the hallway.  Jenny did most of  the questioning  while Charlie sat off to one side conducting a database search.  He had plugged his portable computer into the telephone connection in the wall.  Although he was busy with his computer activities, Charlie was listening to everything that was said, and he occasionally asked a question .

"So how are things going in cyberspace?" Jenny inquired as a male juror departed from the room.

"Just great," Charlie said.  "I solved the murder five minutes ago."

"You're kidding!"  Jenny said in amazement.

"No, really.   There's no doubt about the identity of the murderer.  I believe that we have three jurors still in the hallway."

"That's right. Your sister-in-law and Monica Greff and Rein Simon are waiting outside."

"We won't need to question Violet or Mr. Simon," Charlie said.  "I think that we can bring this matter to a conclusion now." He went to the door and opened it.  "Miss Greff, would you please come in now?"

Monica Greff  seemed relaxed as she sat down at the table.

Charlie unplugged his computer and folded down the screen.  He sat at the table next to Jenny.

"As you know, Miss Greff, we're investigating the murder of Mr. Drew Tyers, the juror who was beaten to death on the elevator," Charlie said.  "Do you have information that might be useful to us?"

"No, I don't know anything that could help you.  I remember seeing the man on our jury, but I never spoke to him."

"That's unfortunate. You and Mr. Tyers shared an interest in computers.  In fact, he was quite a computer expert."

"Oh, really.  I didn't know."

"Actually, I think that you did know," Charlie said.  "You used to work as the administrator of a medical records service that provided a database for organ transplant donors and recipients.  It was an international service that helped thousands of persons, both in this country and throughout the world."

"Well, you've done your homework."  Monica looked surprised.

"The computer did my homework for me.  Your own experience with computers has been bittersweet, though.  When Drew Tyers released his computer virus into the Internet,  the virus infected the database of your medical records service and destroyed most of your data."

She nodded.  "It was a disaster.  Thousands of records were lost.  We had some back-up files, but they were out-of-date, and we weren't able to rebuild the entire database.  Many persons died as a result of not getting transplants."

"It was a tragedy,"  Charlie agreed.  "The service has never been fully restored.  You were fired soon after your records were destroyed  because the firewall program that you selected was unable to stop the virus. Yesterday, you got the vengeance that you wanted."

"That's ridiculous!  I didn't even know that Tyers was the man responsible for the virus.  He was just another juror to me.  I never paid any attention to him."

"When the lawyers questioned the potential jurors on Monday afternoon, you heard all of Tyers' responses, and you realized that he was the man responsible for your downfall and for the deaths of many persons needing transplants.  Sometime this week you decided to murder him.  Yesterday you saw your opportunity and you acted on it.  You maneuvered so that you would be alone on the elevator with him, then you struck.  You took a chance by attacking him on the elevator; there was a good possibility that the doors would open and someone would see you during the attack or immediately afterwards.  However, you managed to get away unobserved."

"Perhaps if someone had interrupted her attack on Tyers, she would have claimed that Tyers was assaulting her and that she was defending herself against him," Jenny suggested.  "Are you a martial arts expert, Miss Greff?"

"I'm not telling you anything until I speak with an attorney," Monica said.

"That would be  a wise move on your part,"  Charlie said.  "I'm placing you under arrest.  I'll read you your rights."  He proceeded to do so.  When he finished, Charlie added, "When a wild animal attacks prey larger than itself, it frequently severs the hamstrings in order to bring down the prey.  Then the wild animal can go for the throat in order to complete its kill.  You killed Mr. Tyers in a similar manner.  He was six inches taller than you, so you used a karate kick to break his knee.  When he collapsed to the floor of the elevator, you fractured his skull with several additional kicks."

"That scenario is completely implausible," Monica said.  "In the course of your investigation, you'll undoubtedly discover that I've had some martial arts training.  However, to kill a man in the manner that you describe is far beyond my ability.  And, Lieutenant, I believe that you need some evidence before you can send me to prison."

"When you beat Mr. Tyers to death, you got his blood all over your umbrella, Miss Greff," Charlie said.  "You couldn't carry a bloody umbrella around with you, so you dumped it in a trash can.  We found it, though, and we've obtained some good fingerprints off the umbrella.  We've done a computerized search of millions of fingerprint records, but we did not find any match.  Since you have never previously been arrested, there is no existing record of your fingerprints.  However, I'm fairly certain that, after we take you over to the police station, we'll find that your fingerprints match those on the umbrella."

"That won't prove anything."

"I also plan to obtain a search warrant for your apartment.  We can probably find microscopic traces of  Tyers' blood on your clothing or shoes.  We'll have enough evidence, Miss Greff."  Charlie paused and added, "When Tyers released his virus into the computer network, he caused harm far beyond anything that he intended.  He didn't think through the consequences of his actions.  However, you too are guilty of acting without fully considering the consequences.  Tyers has parents who live in Kansas City and a sister who lives here.  As we speak, they grieve over the death of their son and brother.  What right did you have to inflict grief upon them?  What crime did they commit?"

"Now, Lieutenant, you must remember that I haven't confessed to anything."

"Yes, I know.  And you might not even feel any guilt about what you have done.  The hardening of your heart is itself punishment for murder.  You have wounded your own soul."

"Lieutenant, I half-expect you to begin shouting 'Repent!  Repent!' at me as if you're a modern John the Baptist," Monica said.

"His message was good advice two thousands years ago and is still good advice today," Charlie said.

"Well, I'm not sorry that Tyers is dead.  I regret that his death has caused heartache to innocent persons, but there is nothing that I can do.  Tyers got what he deserved from the person who killed him."

"Eventually we all get what we deserve."

"Well, I have done nothing wrong," Monica said.  "Now, if you'll allow me to call a lawyer, I'll get myself cleared of these false charges."

The two detectives stood up, and Jenny placed handcuffs on their prisoner.  They led Monica into the hallway where Violet and another juror were waiting on the bench.

"I'll bring the car around to the front of the courthouse," Jenny said and hurried away.

"Violet and Mr. Simon, you can go home," Charlie told them.  "We've made an arrest, so we won't need to take up any more of your time.  Thanks for coming downtown this afternoon."

Violet's eyes widened when she saw that her fellow juror was the one being arrested for murder.  "I'll call you later this evening, Charlie," she told her brother-in-law.

"I have no doubt that you will," Charlie said with a slight grin.

Charlie led Monica onto an empty elevator, and they descended toward the ground floor.

"If your theory is correct, Lieutenant, you should be nervous about being alone with me in an elevator.  You seem convinced that the previous man in your position met with a violent end."

"I'll take my chances, Miss Greff."

"You're wasting your time by arresting me.  You'll never get a conviction."

"I merely arrest the suspect and give the evidence to the district attorney," Charlie said as they got off the elevator and headed for the doors leading outside.  "That is the extent of my job.  As a young cop, I used to be bothered when a criminal was acquitted or given a light sentence.  Then I came to realize that, in the end, everyone receives justice."

"I am not as much of an idealist as you, Lieutenant,"  Monica said.  "I almost wish that I was."

Jenny had parked in front of the courthouse and was standing on the curb next to the car.  She helped Monica get into the back seat and shut the door.

"Well, Charlie, the statistical probabilities have prevailed again," Jenny said.  "One juror has murdered another juror.  If someone can possibly do something wrong, someone will eventually do it."

"Let's not become cynical, my usually-optimistic partner," Charlie said.  "Our statistical probabilities can work both ways; if a person can mentally conceive of an act of goodness or heroism or kindness, someone will eventually do it."

"No good deed will go undone," Jenny said. "That will be our motto for today."

"That is a great motto for any day," Charlie said as they got into the car.

"I’m glad that you agree.” Jenny smiled. “Perhaps you can think of some good deeds that you can do for me."

Charlie laughed as they drove away.

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This page was last updated: February 7, 2012