The Road Not Taken
Chapter 31
June 21, 1974
The night before was a blur. He'd been brought into the booking area of the county jail where they'd taken his clothing and issued him a jumpsuit to wear while incarcerated. He'd submitted to the process of fingerprinting followed by having three pictures of his head taken - one straight on and the other two in profile, recording both sides of his face. Once the initial processing was completed, they were going to take him to interrogation but he'd asked if he could make a phone call first. The detective had nodded reluctantly but had taken him to a phone. He called his home.
The phone picked up and a male voice answered, "Beckett residence."
For a moment he didn't know what to say. "Dad?" he asked tentatively, not exactly sure how to tell his father what had occurred.
"Sam?"
At his name, the words flowed out, rushing in a flood, "Oh God, Dad! Katie's dead!"
"What the hell?!" His father's voice had held disbelief and anger.
Sam turned to the wall, his eyes shut tight. "Katie's dead. Chuck shot her."
His father's voice exploded. "That bastard! I'll kill him, I swear by all that's holy, I'll kill him!" Sam had never heard his father speak like this but understood that he meant every word he was saying. In some ways, it was a relief to tell him he didn't need to.
"He's dead too, Dad." Sam heard silence on the other side of the other side of the phone. He continued quietly, the semi-confession coming to his lips, afraid of how they would be taken. "Dad, I think I killed him. I think I crushed his windpipe. They've booked me into the county jail."
Silence again. Tears began to trickle down Sam's face as he waited to hear his father's verdict.
"Dad, are you there?"
Finally he heard him speak, a tired sadness present in the words. "Yes, Sam. I'll call our lawyer, Doc Crosnah. You just keep your mouth shut until you see him."
"I already told them that Chuck shot Katie and that I don't remember anything after that." It was true. Everything after Katie's death was a blur of images, a sort of surreal macabre montage in his mind.
His father's voice was adamant. "Sam, don't say anymore." Sam wasn't certain but he thought he caught the sound of fear tingeing his father's words. "Sometimes what you say can be twisted. I know why you did it, Son, but for now, just keep quiet. Mr. Crosnah will be there soon."
"Okay, Dad." he agreed readily. Sam faltered for a moment, swallowing tightly before confessing. "Dad, I'm scared."
The words were compassionate now and Sam felt some relief as he took them in. "Yeah, I'd imagine so. Just sit tight, Sam. We'll get through this."
He knew he wasn't alone. "Okay."
His father cleared his throat. "I need to make that phone call now. Your mother and I will be right down after that, Sam." Gently, he gave Sam an order. "Hang up the phone now, son."
Sam didn't want to. He wanted to hold onto the only thread left for him. But he obeyed. "Okay. Bye." He took the receiver and placed it in its cradle slowly. The police officer who had been sitting a slight distance away, watching him stood up and indicated the direction he should move to go to the interrogation room.
When they arrived, Sam was seated in a chair and two detectives came in to question him. He stated simply that he wished to see his lawyer before saying any more than he had on the drive to the jail. The two detectives looked at each other before nodding. Sam was taken to his cell to await the arrival of his attorney.
His cell. It sounded absurd. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have believed that he'd be in this situation. He walked to the location indicated and soon found himself the sole occupant of a small five by eight foot room. He lay down on his side upon the bunk attached to the back wall. His back was turned to the room as his eyes faced the painted cinderblock wall to which the bed was attached. Pulling himself subconsciously into a fetal position, he brought his knees to his chest as he tried to figure out how to make sense of the direction his life had suddenly taken. Tears fell onto the thin vinyl covered mattress, pooling as the staccato visions of the day and evening played before his eyes. He felt the tightness of the dried blood that still clung to his upper body, residue from the violence that had become reality to him, knowing that the majority had been taken with his shirt when he'd arrived. Evidence they had called it. He wanted to wash the horror off but found he didn't have the strength to do so yet. Instead he just lay there, still in shock.
Sam wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when Mr. Crosnah arrived but the corrections officer that had led him to his cell reappeared to take him to his lawyer. Sam was taken to a room with a single table. Along one wall was a mirror. Mr. Crosnah shook his hand as he put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, are they treating you okay?"
Sam nodded listlessly. He'd met the counselor on several occasions, usually when the man had brought papers to his father to sign for some business situation. He'd always seemed a kind gentleman, each time dressed impeccably in a suit, a pocket watch in his vest. "I guess. I've never been in this situation before." They both sat down at the long table sitting in the middle of the room. Sam took a seat on one side of the table. Mr. Crosnah sat on the other. "They let me use the phone. Afterwards, I guess they were going to ask me questions but when I said I wanted to speak to my lawyer first, they just put me in a room with bars. I've been there ever since." His voice was flat, simply explaining where he'd been.
The lawyer nodded, writing a note on the legal pad he'd brought with him. "That's good, son. I don't want you saying anything without a lawyer you've hired with you." The older man looked at Sam kindly as he led him back into the horror. "Let's talk about what happened, okay?"
Nodding, remembering the conversation he'd had with his father he answered softly, "Yeah."
The counselor took a tape recorder out of his briefcase. Setting it up he said calmly, "Okay, Sam, tell me what happened."
Taking a deep breath, he started his narrative, figuring that going back to the beginning would be best. He recalled his sister's distress about the loss of the teacup and saucer. "Well, Katie had wanted to retrieve Grandma Nettie's china cup that she'd left at her house. I went with her to make sure that nothing happened." He gave a short derisive and bitter laugh. "God, I didn't do that very well at all!" His eyes started to water and he used his hand to brush the tears away. "If not for me Katie would be alive! I should never have taken her there."
The lawyer placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, trying to give him some support. "You don't know that, Sam. Just tell me what happened as you remember it. We'll figure the rest of it out later."
Sam nodded and then took a deep breath, willing the tears away. He tried to pull away from the emotion and continued in an almost detached voice. "He was carrying a gun with him. He pulled it on me, and I think he was planning to injure or even kill me. I think Katie was trying to shield me when the bullet hit her head." Sam stopped talking, as again the vision of what happened played before his eyes. He started shaking and his face contorted with anguish as he became agitated. "Oh, God! Oh God!" his voice cracked. Sam started rocking again as he pressed his fingers into his forehead, his face cradled in his hands. "Her head just exploded! There was nothing left!" He began to cry as he again relived the moment of his sister's death.
The lawyer reached out his hand to Sam's shoulder, again offering what little comfort he could. It took a little time but Sam finally got a handle on his emotions and he went back to stating the facts emotionlessly. "I don't remember what happened next. I just know that what I do remember is coming out of a haze and Chuck was lying on the floor, grabbing at his throat and turning blue."
"Did you do anything to help him?" The man's voice was calm.
Sam's eyes blazed and he lashed out in a louder voice. "Why would I do that? The son-of-a-bitch had just shot my sister! He killed her! Murdered her!"
"I know Sam, but he was still alive. Are you saying that you didn't assist him in any way?" Mr. Crosnah's pen was angled above the yellow pad of paper.
The younger man shook his head. "No, I didn't assist him. I went over to Katie instead. Her body anyway. I just held her until the Sheriff came." This time the tears came in earnest and Sam had no way of stopping them. He just let them track down his face. "I can't believe she's gone," he finished, his voice filled with the sorrow.
The lawyer nodded sadly. "I'm truly sorry that you've had to go through this, Sam," he said as he pulled out a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the distraught man across from him. Sam accepted the proffered cloth and wiped at his eyes and blew his nose. Meanwhile, Mr. Crosnah made a few notes on the legal pad.
After taking care of the evidence of his distress, Sam asked softly, "Mr. Crosnah? What's going to happen now?" His voice held trepidation.
"Well, Sam, You'll be arraigned and charged in the morning. I've been told they plan to charge you with third degree murder."
"Murder?" He didn't understand. He didn't murder anyone, Chuck did. It didn't make sense.
"Yes," the counselor answered. He explained further. "Murder in the third degree."
"What does that mean?" Sam truly was at a loss.
The lawyer saw the confusion in the younger man's eyes. He explained it fully, watching to see if his charge showed understanding. "Legally, murder means the unlawful killing of a human being with malice of forethought. Third degree means that the killing was done with malice involved but there was not specific intent to kill."
"Oh." Sam thought hard about this. He'd felt animosity towards Chuck Parnell but he hadn't wanted to kill him. He'd just wanted the son of a bitch to leave his sister alone.
Mr. Crosnah looked uncomfortably at the quiet man before him. "Sam, I'm going to help you through the arraignment tomorrow. But I'm in business law and my area is specific to working with farmers. I think you need an attorney that practices criminal law."
Sam's eyes met Doc Crosnah's, his eyebrows going up in surprise. "You've been our lawyer for years. Why do I need another attorney?"
The man nodded. "Yes but I think it would be best for you, Sam. I've got to follow what I think is in your best interests. I have a few contacts in Terre Haute. Do you mind if I contact them on your behalf?"
Sam shrugged. He figured if Mr. Crosnah said he needed someone else, he should listen to him. Still, he was feeling a little bit abandoned. "If you think that would be best."
The lawyer made a few more notes and then turned his attention to his current client. "Sam, I want you to be clear on what I'm going to tell you now. Son, this type of thing can get out of control rather quickly. Under no circumstances are you to talk to law enforcement without your attorney present. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded quickly. "Okay." He again recalled the conversation with his father. He'd said much the same thing.
Tilting his head, he looked directly at the young man. "Do you understand, Sam? I want to hear if you understand what I've just said."
"Yes. I shouldn't talk to any law enforcement without my attorney present," Sam parroted.
Mr. Crosnah smiled. "Good." He turned serious again. "Now your father told me you've already told the police that Chuck shot your sister and that you didn't remember anything else. Have you said anything else?"
Sam thought about it and couldn't remember saying anything else. "I don't think so."
Another note was written on the legal pad. "Is there anything else you'd like me to know? Any questions for me?"
Sam looked over to him, a twinge of longing in his eyes. "When can I see my Mom and Dad?"
The counselor again placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, providing him with human contact, knowing how difficult that this must be for him. "I've told them they shouldn't come down here until the arraignment tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll be able to get you out on bail. This is a first offense and you've never been violent before so I think we can convince the judge you're not a flight risk. If you do get bail, you'll need to stay here in Elk Ridge."
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere else," Sam answered simply.
"Keep it that way." The lawyer began to put the items of his trade back into the briefcase. "Try to get some sleep. You most likely feel that you can't sleep but it would be best if you were rested before the arraignment." Sam nodded. "All right, son. I'll see you tomorrow morning." The lawyer put out his hand. Sam took it and shook it.
Mr. Crosnah called out to the guards and they came to take Sam back to his cell.
Sam tried to sleep but each time he closed his eyes, the horror of his sister's head exploding in front of him came into view. He didn't get any sleep that night and wondered if he ever would again.
The next morning, Sam pulled himself over to the sink in the cell. The bowl was filthy. He washed up as best he could watching the remnants of the night before swirling down the drain. Not having a razor, he was unable to take the stubble off his face, but he did run the bright orange plastic comb that had been provided to him by the corrections officer, through his hair.
He was led into a small sized courtroom. As promised, Mr. Crosnah was there, as were his mother and father. Both of them looked as though they'd had as much sleep the night before as Sam himself. They were given a few minutes to talk before the arraignment began the guard close by but giving the family a semblance of privacy.
His mother took him into her arms. "Sam. It's going to be okay. I know you wouldn't murder anyone, not even Chuck."
"I don't remember much about it, Mom." Tears started gathering in Sam's eyes and he brushed them away. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I tried to protect Katie. I really did. But I failed." His voice broke. "She was trying to protect me, Mom. Chuck was going to shoot me, but Katie stepped in front of me. It happened so fast."
Thelma, crying quietly but openly, took her son's face in her hands. "Sam, we don't blame you for this. Chuck was bad news from the beginning. I'm sure Mr. Crosnah will take care of whatever needs to be done." Thelma kissed his forehead. "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry."
Sam struggled to pull himself together again for his mother's sake if not for his own. He coughed and then said, "He's suggested that we retain someone who practices criminal law. I told him he could look into that."
Thelma looked shocked. "Criminal law? Sam, you're not a criminal."
A slightly amused grin crossed his face. There was nothing funny about the situation, but the irony wasn't lost on him. "My understanding is we'll need to prove that."
"I thought you were innocent until proven guilty." Confusion lined his mother's face.
Sam nodded. "That's true, but I'm being charged. That means that I'll probably go to trial. At least, that's the way they show it on TV." Sam didn't really understand much about the legal system. It had never been a huge interest of his, although like most people his age, he'd seen a number of shows dealing with the subject including the classic 'Perry Mason.' He just wished his parents didn't have to face any of this.
Mr. Crosnah indicated that the arraignment would be starting soon and asked Sam's parents to take a seat in the gallery. He and Sam took their seats as well. At that moment, the Judge entered the room and the bailiff announced that all should rise, proclaiming that court was now in session, Judge Morton presiding.
After going through some administrative activities the actual arraignment began. The prosecutors stated their position indicating that Sam was being charged with third degree murder. They did not recommend bail due to the seriousness of the crime. Doc Crosnah countered that Sam had never before had any previous offences of any type and was not a flight risk. The judge, after hearing a few more arguments, agreed to allow Sam to be released into his parents' care setting his bail at $10,000. The court date was set for August 26, 1974.
After the proceedings were completed, Sam was lead back to jail to await the posting of his bail, which was accomplished within the hour. Once released, he and his parents met with Doc Crosnah at the house.
"What's next, Doc?" asked John, giving the man his full attention.
"Well, John," the lawyer started, taking a sip of the coffee that Thelma had placed before each person at the table, "the next step is to get Sam a new lawyer."
John looked over at his son. "Sam indicated you wanted him to do that. You've been our lawyer for years, though. I'm not sure I want to change."
The older man took off his glasses and pulled out a clean handkerchief, cleaning them carefully. He put them back on before glancing at each person directly while giving his advice. "I know you trust me and I'm proud to have that trust. It means a lot to me. However, with that trust comes the responsibility to advise you on what's best legally. The situation doesn't look good for Sam. He's admitted he was there when your son-in-law killed Katherine and he was certainly there when the police arrived. His martial arts training is sufficient to show he caused the injuries that lead to Chuck Parnell's death. Finally, the fact that several persons heard Sam all but threaten him a few days before the death could establish malicious intent."
Thelma asked, "Doesn't the fact that Chuck was about to kill him…" She took a deep breath before continuing, "…and then with what happened to Ka..Ka…" she couldn't finish, breaking into tears.
John hugged Thelma to him as she buried her head in his shoulder, weeping. Sam looked on, the look on his face speaking volumes as to how much this situation was affecting him. John looked to the lawyer. "I think what Thelma was getting at is, wouldn't self defense be a factor?"
The counselor answered, "That's why you need a criminal law attorney, John. He can answer that. I can't. I could give my opinion but it wouldn't be worth much in these circumstances." He opened his briefcase. "I've taken the liberty of checking with a few colleagues and I have a several names for you." He handed the paper to Sam. "Son, this is your life we're talking about. You've got to be comfortable with anyone you choose. I've put the names on the page in the order I would recommend them. All of them are good, but Marcus Bennett is, in my opinion and many others, the best choice for you. I've let him and the others know you may be calling."
Sam took the paper and scanned the names. "Thank you."
John nodded, still holding Thelma. "Okay Doc, your point is taken. Thank you for the help you've provided."
Doc nodded. He got up to leave. "I'd like to know when the service will be for Katherine. You know I'll be there."
John nodded his face becoming stoic. "We've set it for this coming Monday."
Mr. Crosnah nodded again. "I am sorry for your loss. Katherine was a fine girl."
John nodded and held Thelma tighter as her sobs became deeper.
Sam got up and walked the man to the door thanking him again for his help and then returned to his parents. His mother had pulled herself together more but it was obvious how deeply the situation affected her. After a short discussion, Sam made the call to Marcus Bennett. He agreed to represent Sam and said he'd be out the next day to speak with them.