Accused

Part 1 – Accused

Saturday morning
Little village somewhere near the coast in North Carolina
Gomez Supermarket
"I didn't do it!" the boy screamed. "I did not!"
"Yeah, right!" was the shop owner's incredulous retort. "Just like you didn't shoot Mrs Williams' cat or scared old Mr Jenkins almost to death. Now get lost!"
Angrily the boy ran off, slamming the shop's door close behind him.
"What was that about?" Harm asked.
The shop owner shrugged. "Nothing but trouble with that kid. About a half year ago he and some friends started to terrorize the neighbourhood. There was an incident almost every week, smearing windows, throwing snowballs, making a rude snow man. You could say, just boys' pranks but it got worse. Mrs Griffin almost broke a leg because of them making a slide and not covering it, broken windows, people's cats were shot at, things like that. And now that boy tightened a wire over a footpath nearby and Miss Bennett drove into it and was almost killed."
"That boy?" Harm said, tilting his head towards the direction the boy had gone off in.
"Yes. Trial is end of the week."
"So they can prove he is the culprit?"
"Naah, if it was that clear, he would have been in juvenile by now. But everyone knows he did it. Little bastard." He changed into the polite salesman again. "But Sir, what can I do for you?"
"Two bottled waters and two bags of crisps, sea salt and cheese and onions, please. And can you tell me how to find the Blue Bell House Bed and Breakfast?"
A few moments later Harm left the shop with his purchases and directions how to find his place to stay for the next days.

Sunday morning
Blue Bell House Bed and Breakfast
Refreshed Harm awoke, momentarily a bit confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. But then he remembered: he had a few days off and was staying in a bed and breakfast near the coast. A week of sleeping, walking, reading and most of all, relaxing. He could so use that after the busy weeks, correction, months of difficult and tedious investigations and dragging trials.
He hopped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. For a moment he considered skipping shaving but since he didn't like stubbles he quickly slid his razor over his face.
Then he headed for the small breakfast room his hostess had shown him the previous day.
"Good morning, Sir. What would you like for breakfast?" the waitress, according to her name tag going by the name of Jayla Hicks, asked.
"Cereals, please. Whole wheat, if possible. And some fruit."
"We have bran, whole wheat and muesli, plain or with seeds and nuts. For fruit, you can chose from peaches, pineapple, blue berries, strawberries or melon. Or any combination thereof. Coffee, tea or juice. We have grapefruit and orange juice."
"I like bran, a mix from blue berries, strawberries and melon, coffee with a splash of milk, no sugar, and a glass of grapefruit juice, please."
"It will be there in a minute," the waitress promised, leaving it to Harm to pick a table.
True to her word she was back in minutes, carrying a tray with his order. To his surprise Harm saw she was quickly wiping away a tear. He wondered whether he should ask; after all, it was none of his business. But to his surprise he heard himself ask "What's wrong?"
The waitress looked caught and embarrassed. For a moment it seemed she was going to tell him to mind his own business, then she said "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't want to bother you. It's just some family problems."
"Something I can do to help?"
"No Sir, unless you're a lawyer."
For a moment Harm was tempted to lie. After all, he had a few days off, hadn't he, to rest and recharge. But he couldn't.
"As a matter of fact, I am. A Navy lawyer, that is."
The woman looked up and there was an expression of hope in her eyes.
"I know I shouldn't ask you, Sir, but please can you give me some advice? It's about my son."
Harm supressed a sigh. He shouldn't have said something but now he could just as well at least listen to her. He pointed to a chair.
"Take a seat."
Jayla went to pour herself a cup of coffee as well and while Harm ate, she told her story.
"My name is Jayla Hicks. I'm a widow; my husband died in Iraq, eleven years ago. My son Brandon has no memories of his dad; he was only seven months when Jake fell in battle."
Harm bit his teeth; fatherless boys were his weak spot and he knew it.
"It's hard as a single mother to raise a son all on your own," Jayla went on. "He lacks a father figure, a male role model. A couple of months ago he got into trouble. At first nothing but mischief but then things became more serious and someone, an elderly lady got hurt. I already got complaints but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I made sure he realized what he and his friends were doing and next to losing computer time and being grounded for a week, had him make amends. After that things approved. Not that he became a poster boy overnight, after all he is a boy …" She shrugged. "I'm sure he was no part of it but there were more incidents. Rather innocent ones but also … things were demolished, a cat was shot and a man scared to death, causing him a heart attack. Brandon was accused of being the culprit. He admitted some but he denied ardently the vandalism, the cat and scaring the old man and I believe him. Whatever he may have done, he is not a liar."
She took a deep breath. "People didn't believe him and it was annoying but not too bad. However, a month ago someone tightened a wire over a footpath and Miss Bennett hit it while driving her mobility scooter. It hit her on the throat and had she been driving a bit faster, it would have done serious harm and might even have killed her." She willed back her tears. "Sir, my son is accused of attempted murder, trial is in five days and his lawyer just called to say that he quits, since Bandon doesn't want to take a plea-bargain. He never believed my son is innocent in the first place."
Harm heaved a silent sigh; he knew what he had to do.

Sunday afternoon
Jayla and Brandon's home
The first cup of tea emptied and the friendly chitchat over, it was time to come to the point.
"Well, Brandon, tell me what happened. How did you end up in this situation?"
The boy looked embarrassed.
"Last year we, me and my friends, that is, well, we were in a bit of trouble."
"You mean?"
"They had formed a secret club and were more or less a nuisance to the neighbourhood," Jayla explained. "Taking turns in doing mischief, mostly to impress each other. They dared each other to do more and better 'stunts', or so they called it."
"But I'm not doing that anymore," Brandon was quick to point out. "But people still think I am."
"What things did you do? Not you in person but you as a group."
Brandon shrugged. "We played ding-dong ditch. We smeared windows with soap and candle wax. Or sprayed fake snow on peoples' car windows. We kicked over trashcans. Once we stole clothing from the washing line and used it to dress a scarecrow. Things like that." He looked at his mother. "When mum found out I was in lot of trouble."
"We, that would be you and?"
"He and five friends," Jayla told him. "Do you need names?"
"Not this moment, but later on I will need those names," Harm confirmed.
"So you were found out. How?"
Once more Jayla took over "I got complaints from several neighbours, telling me what he had done and demanding action."
"How did the complainers know it was you?" Harm asked Brandon.
"Sometimes we were not fast enough and they spotted us and since I was the only black boy …"
"Do you mean it's racist motivated?" Harm asked alarmed.
The boy hesitated and considered. "No, I don't think so," he finally said. "I think it's more ... when you have a gang of boys who look very much the same, all white and with fair or light brown hair and all more or less similar clad but one boy stand out for he is a redhead or has a limp or …"
"Or is black like you, it's easy to say: I don't recognize all of them but I'm sure he, the kid who stands out, was one of them?" Harm filled in. "That's what you mean?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Okay. Well, you said you once were a part of that group of boys. When and why did you stop being a member? What happened?"
"Last winter it was snowing and we made a snow slide. We had lots of fun. I mean, we didn't mean to hurt someone but we didn't think about covering it when we were done and then old Mrs Griffin stepped on it and she slipped and she sprained her ankle. She had to stay at home for two weeks and mum made me go over each day and ask whether she had errands to run. After a few days I stayed each day for a moment to chat and it was then that I learned what our pranks did to people." He shrugged like it was no big deal. "It's not that I never do something anymore. They are still my friends."
"So you mean you're still into doing some mischief but you're more observant about what the consequences are for other people?"
"Yes."
"Okay. What was next?"
"There was Mrs Williams' cat. It was shot at and again they accused me."
"Why?"
"I like shooting, Sir, but I don't have an airgun. I always use a catapult. And I love animals. I would never shoot at them. Not for target practise and not for anything else."
"You never shoot any animal?"
"Two or three rats, Sir. But they are filthy and transmit diseases and destroy things."
"Is there more?"
"Old Mr. Jenkins. He is a bit …" He looked ad his mother for help. She came to his aid.
"Mr. Jenkins is a bit, or should I say very, superstitious. He believes in ghosts and bad omens like black cats and broken mirrors and so. Some kids thought it funny to scare him, making ghostly noises and rattling chains and when he finally dared to come out to investigate, they released a black cat and had made sure there were smithereens of a broken mirror on the footpath for him to see. One of them had dressed up with a sheet and gave him quiet a fright. They almost caused him a heart attack."
"You had no part in it?"
"No, but I was in the neighbourhood. Mum sent me out to buy some milk and the shop is …"
"The supermarket is only a block away. By a back alley it's no more than a minute or so," his mum took over once more. "People saw him at the shop and said it would have been easy for him to participate."
"But you were not?" Harm scrutinized the boy's face for sighs he was lying but Brandon straightened his shoulders.
"No, Sir."
By now Jayla got angry. "You don't believe my son?" she wanted to know.
"I do," Harm stated calmly. "But at the trial the prosecution will do anything to attack his credibility and make him incriminate himself."
"What does that mean? He will be under oath, won't he, and so will the other witnesses?"
"Yes, he will. But that doesn't necessarily mean the prosecution will believe him. Or won't do everything to make the jury disbelieve him. Instead they most likely will try to discredit him and throw him some loaded questions. Like about Mrs Williams' cat. They might ask you if you ever touched the cat. Not 'Did you shoot it?' or 'Did you hurt it?' but 'Did you touch it?' The moment you say no, they produce a witness who saw you pet the cat. When you protest, saying you meant you never harmed the cat, they will say they asked 'touch' and not 'harm'."
"That's devious!" the shocked mother cried out.
"It is. And it's common practice. If you think I'm giving your son a hard time, wait till the trial. That's why it's so important I know everything. About previous incidents and about this one. And why I need to prepare you."
Visibly shaken Brandon nodded.
"Right. Anything more they accuse you off? Things you did and things you didn't, please." Harm had to hide a smile. He so could relate to the boy; after all, many of those things he had done himself, with friends either in his own hometown or during vacations at his grandmother's farm.
"There was Miss Windermere's greenhouse but I wasn't there. And the snowman. She was very upset about it."
"What snowman?"
"Well … do I have to call names?"
"I'm afraid so," Harm quietly said. The boy had to understand how serious the trouble was he was in. This was no time to protect his friends.
Brandon shrugged. "Thom and Ricky and Peter and two others, I don't know who, were throwing snowballs at Miss Windermere's greenhouse and they broke a window. They were caught and Miss Windermere and her neighbour yelled at them. They are a couple of old tarts." His mum gave a warning cough.
"Sorry, Sir. The next day they went back and made a large snowman. But instead of a carrot for his nose they used the carrot and two potatoes for … well, they placed them somewhere else on the snowman." He grinned. "Peter told Miss Windermere and Miss Alcott were very shocked when they saw it."
Harm bit his lip. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch.
"That is not nice," he said nevertheless.
Jayla stood and poured another cup of tea. There was a short moment of respite and then Harm came to the most important subject.
"Right. What did you do the day the wire was tightened? In as much detail as you remember."
"I didn't have school so I decided to go over to Miss Julia to see if I could help her."
"Who is Miss Julia?"
Jayla answered "An elderly lady, living just outside the village. She has been living here all her live. She used to be the schoolteacher but she retired five years ago. I don't think you will find many people, natives that is, who haven't been under her care one year or another. After she quit teaching she started an animal sanctuary. She is very outspoken. Some people, mostly people who didn't grow up here, call her a crazy cat lady."
"She is not," Brandon said angrily. "She is not crazy and she helps all animals."
"I know," his mum soothed. "But Mr Rabb has to ask."
"Your mum is right. But go on, what time did you go to Miss Julia?"
"About 8.30. I was on my bike. When I was almost halfway, I heard a dog. She was barking and whining and yelping. You could hear something was wrong. So I followed the noise and that's when I found her. She was trapped in a snare and her paw was bleeding from trying to pull herself free. There were two puppies with her."
"What did you do?"
"I couldn't touch her; she was so upset. I went back to the road, hoping I could stop someone to help me. That's when I saw Mr. Bailey. I waved him down and he was willing to come with me. He took the bench out of the car and followed me to the dog. There he helped me free her and catch the puppies."
"Okay. What happened then?"
"The dog didn't want to go. She kept struggling and yelping and staring at one point. Mr Bailey told me to go and have a look and that's when I found two more puppies. When I put them in the bench as well, their mum settled down. Mr. Bailey and I carried the bench back to the car and he and I drove to the vet's clinic."
"Why did he have a bench with him?"
"He was on his way to pick up one of his own dogs at the vet's. He had the bench with him to transport that dog."
"What happened to your bike?"
"He loaded it into the car as well. He has a pick-up truck. At the vet's the doctor looked at the mama dog's leg and bandaged it and gave her some shots. Then they phoned Miss Julia whether she could take care of the dog and her puppies. Miss Julia works with them, the vet that is, often. Mr Bailey drove us to Miss Julia. I stayed there for the rest of the day, helping to clean cages and walking her dogs."
"What time were you home?"
Brandon looked at his mother.
"Within curfew," Jayla said drily. "By one minute or so. Six o'clock."
"So when the accident happened ..."
"I was on my own, trying to help the dog. It was about nine when I met Mr Bailey."
"So in theory you could have been on the spot of the accident. I'm not saying you were but we can count on the prosecution to point that out."
Jayla frowned. "That path is very busy during the vacation season but not as much now. Mostly regulars, people going or coming from work."
"You mean the same people use it on roughly the same time each day? "
"Yes, Miss Bennett always comes to the village's centre to have a coffee and pick up the paper. Always coming at 8.45 and going home again forty-five minutes later. But there are more people. I think I can give you a list."
"That would be very helpful," Harm admitted gratefully. "Since we have only a few days till the trial I need all the help I can get. I need to speak to Mr Bailey as well and to Miss Julia and the people at the vet's clinic. Tomorrow they pick the jury members; I have to be present then."
In the meantime Jayla had found a piece of paper and was scribbling down names.
"You have to be there?" she asked. "I thought the court was to select the members of the jury."
"Yes, that's true but both the persecutor and the defence lawyer have the right to exclude a certain number of people as well. Normally the court calls twelve people in and the judge tells them what they are supposed to do and asks whether there is any reason the potential jurors cannot serve. Maybe they already have knowledge of the case or are related to one of the parties. If either the judge or one of the lawyers thinks they might be biased or unfair, it will be the judge's decision whether they will be dismissed. Next to that both lawyers are allowed to exclude a certain number of potential jurors just because. So a lawyer can dismiss a juror because he thinks that that particular juror will not serve the best interests of the client."
"So they can compose an all-white jury?"
"No, it can't be used to discriminate on the basis of race or sex."
"But then …? I don't understand," Jayla confessed.
"For instance, men tend to grow more conservative when they get older, while women are more open to new things. On the other hand: men tend to be more forgiving when a youngster reminds them to their own youth. Someone with strong religious beliefs can be very strict but also a firm believer in second changes. It pretty much comes down to the lawyer's judgement of human nature."
"But this was not a prank."
"No it wasn't; this was an attack. Can you think of anyone having a grudge against Miss Bennett?"
Jayla tilted her head to one side, pondering. "She is not that popular. She is nosy, has a sharp tongue and likes to use it. But a serious grudge, I don't know."
"Brandon, you said there was no school that day. Why?"
"The teachers had a meeting, about our grades."
"So that means all kids had the day off?"
"Yes."
"Do you know of any of your classmates, anyone from your school has a grudge against Miss Bennet?"
The boy thought. "I don't know," he finally said. "We ... she is not a person to mess with. She rides a mobility scooter but she walks with a cane and she is very quick with it."
"What do you mean?" his mum and Harm asked simultaneously.
"She will hit you with it, if she thinks you did something wrong. Last month she hit Elvis for no reason."
That evoked a raising of brows.
"For no reason?" Jayla asked, disbelief on her face.
"He hadn't done anything yet," Bandon shrugged.
"But he was going to?"
"Yes, he wanted to toilet paper her mobility scooter but she came back earlier than he anticipated. She hit him twice before he could escape; he showed us the bruises."
"Any other boys she might have hit?"
"She tried to but …"
"Who?"
"Alfred and Jimmy. Caught them when they threw snowballs at the supermarket's windows."
"Mr Gomez's shop?" Harm asked, remembering the name.
"Yes. He was so angry but he is too fat to run after us."
"So you were there, too?"
"Yes. But that was before Mrs Griffin's ankle," Brandon defended himself.
"Okay. What I like you to do now is to write down as many incidents as you can remember. Detailed: who was there, what did you as a group do, what did you do in person."
He looked at Jayla. "And I would like you to write down the names and contact data of all the persons involved. Brandon's friends, Mr Bailey, Miss Julia, the vet, Mrs Griffin, the sheriff, everyone. Next I'd like you to make some phone calls, to announce me coming to speak to them."
Both nodded and grabbed paper and pen.
Harm leaned back in his chair. He had his work cut out for him.