One Life for Another, page 17
Because of the size and aura of the courtroom, some lawyers were intimidated by federal court and would never practice there. If they secured a client who needed help in federal court, they would refer it to a colleague. Steve, on the other hand, actually felt more comfortable in this setting because of the countless hours he had spent working here with these judges. The federal court would always be his first home.
As he walked down the aisle between the rows of pews in the gallery, Steve saw a well-dressed woman sitting at the opposing counsel’s table. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with auburn red hair, glasses, and a frumpy build. She looked up and stood when he came in. As Steve crossed through the small swinging doors separating the gallery from the courtroom, she approached him with her hand out.
“Hello, Mr. Hanson,” she said. “I am Assistant Attorney General
Julie Bass. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bass,” Steve said as they shook hands.
“I heard you were young but didn’t realize how young. Of course, I should have guessed when I read your motion about a ‘threat.’ Only someone as inexperienced as yourself would make up some Snapchat threat to try to persuade the court to give him a police file from a case that was about as open and shut as they come.” Ms. Bass gave him a disapproving frown. “Scottie Pinkerton killed his wife. That is clear. Why are you wasting time trying to pin the case on someone else?”
Steve started to answer, but Ms. Bass interrupted by raising her finger at him. “Don’t answer. That was a rhetorical question. For the record, your brash exuberance and your ‘emergency’ are causing me to miss my son’s science fair.”
Then, while continuing to glare at him, she said, “Let me give you a little free advice. When there is this much evidence and the jury has already convicted your client, you are better off making constitutional arguments about some alleged trial error rather than trying to find a ghost killer. And more importantly, always ask opposing counsel before you get anything set for hearing. Some of us have lives outside of the courtroom and, occasionally, activities occur that actually take precedence over our careers. It’s called ‘professional courtesy.’ You should ask Ackerman about it sometime; I hear you know him.” With that last jab, Ms. Bass briskly turned and walked back to her seat.
Well, ain’t she a peach, Steve thought as he sat down at his counsel table. But I guess I should have called her Monday morning to make sure she didn’t have any time conflicts this week. He made a mental note to never make that mistake again.
Steve opened his briefcase and removed the outline he had prepared. As he reviewed the argument one last time, he heard the door open at the back of the courtroom. In walked Brent Whitmore, Ashley’s brother. He glared at Steve, then at Booger as he walked down the aisle toward them. He sat in the first row directly behind the defense table, his eyes never leaving either of them.
A short time later, the door behind the judge’s bench opened and the bailiff called out, “United States District Court for the Northern District of Oklahoma, Case No. CJ-2015-347, is now in session. The Honorable Judge Michael W. Henry presiding.” Judge Henry walked through the door and took his seat on the bench, which was positioned several feet above the courtroom floor.
He looked down at the people present and said, “Good afternoon, counselors. Thank you for coming during the lunch hour for this hearing. It was the only time this week I could get you on my docket, and after what I read yesterday morning, I felt this needed to be heard sooner rather than later.
“Before we begin, I notice there is someone in the audience. Sir, normally these hearings are public record, but today, one of the motions to be considered was filed under seal. That means there is a good reason to keep it out of the public forum until further consideration. Can I please ask you to leave the courtroom? You are welcome to wait in the hallway, out of earshot of these proceedings, but I am afraid you cannot stay.”
Whitmore stood up. “Your Honor, my sister was the one killed in this case. I don’t want to do nothin’ to upset Your Honor. I just want to know what’s going on, and I feel like I have that right.
Doesn’t the Constitution or some law give me some rights?”
Judge Henry answered in a compassionate tone, “Sir, you probably have more right as a human to know about these proceedings than even myself. Unfortunately, the law has certain rules in place that give me privileges I probably don’t deserve and takes rights away from people like you that it probably shouldn’t. However, these laws do exist, and I have sworn an oath to uphold them. So, I am going to have to ask you to wait outside until we finish the sealed portions of this hearing. Marshal, please escort this gentleman into the hallway at a far enough distance from the doors that he cannot hear what is being said and stay with him until we have concluded the first part of this hearing.”
The U.S. marshal guarding the bench area raised his wrist to his face and said something as he walked toward Whitmore and escorted him out. A second marshal came out from the entrance the judge had originally entered from and took up the post the first marshal had vacated. Whitmore was clearly not happy about the unfolding events, but he knew better than to argue with a federal marshal acting upon the direct orders of a federal judge. Thus, he begrudgingly followed the marshal out the door.
“Now that the court room is clear, Mr. Hanson, please explain to me why I should order the Rogers County Sheriff’s Office to release their entire investigative file in this matter to you?”
Steve stood, gathered his notes, and approached the podium.
“Your Honor, when I was appointed to this case, everyone asked me how it felt to represent a murderer. I usually answered with some sort of holier-than-thou constitutional argument. Then, I met Scottie Pinkerton—a man who is not a murderer. No, not a murderer. He is merely a man who was wrongfully convicted of capital murder.”
Steve went on to explain, in detail, the evidence he had discovered which pointed to Scottie’s innocence. He showed the court the picture of the door and other facts that shed doubt upon the conviction. He cited other cases where questions of factual innocence of the defendant had led the respective judge in each case to grant extraordinary relief. Lastly, Steve detailed the threat made against himself. He argued it was proof that his digging around had garnered the attention of the real killer, the real killer who was still roaming free while Scottie Pinkerton sat on death row awaiting his execution.
Ms. Bass went next. She spoke clearly and authoritatively. “The evidence supporting the conviction of Scottie Pinkerton is mountainous, Your Honor. Moreover, a jury of his peers has already convicted Scottie. At this level of the appellate process, it is not appropriate to retry the case. The only true issue before this court is whether or not Scottie received a constitutionally fair trial. The police file can shed no light on that subject. To have the Rogers County Sheriff’s Office turn over the file is a waste of their time and this court’s time. Lastly, we have no true idea where this threat came from. For all we know, it may have even been created by Mr. Hanson himself to lend credibility to his arguments.”
“Ms. Bass,” Judge Henry interrupted as he scowled down at her. “I assume you just misspoke. I know you aren’t accusing a fellow member of the bar of fabricating evidence. I happen to have known Mr. Hanson for over two years when he clerked for me, and I have always known him to be a man of character. Unless you have evidence to support such a serious allegation, I would suggest you move on.”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” Ms. Bass stumbled through the rest of her argument. “I am merely saying this information can do nothing to support any constitutional arguments Mr. Hanson may make at this level. The information in those files may have been useful at the trial level, but now they are not. I respectfully request the court deny the defendant’s motion.” She sat down hurriedly.
“Thank you, counselors,” Judge Henry said. “Let me begin by saying that I, to some degree, agree with Ms. Bass. I can usually only grant habeas corpus relief if the petitioner proves a constitutional violation occurred at the trial level. However, I can also grant relief if the petitioner can prove they are factually innocent of the crime charged. Although the second instance is very rare, it is still allowed under the law. Thus, in this case, if Mr. Hanson can find evidence proving Scottie Pinkerton did not murder his wife, I would then have to grant him relief and order he receive a new trial. At that point, it would be up to the Rogers County district attorney to decide if he wanted to proceed with another trial, knowing the new evidence, or drop the charges entirely.
“In twenty-plus years of sitting on this bench, I have never once granted a habeas petition based upon the factual innocence of a petitioner. As I said before, it is a rare circumstance indeed, but just because something rarely happens does not mean the possibility should not be considered by this court.” Judge Henry frowned. “I would like to add that I was originally inclined not to grant this motion, but when Mr. Hanson received what can only be considered a serious death threat, it caused me great concern. It makes me wonder if this may be the one rare instance where actual innocence will be the reason I may grant Scottie the total relief he has requested. I believe the greatest injustice our government could commit would be the execution of an innocent person. Accordingly, in an abundance of caution not to potentially participate in such a tremendous atrocity, I am ruling in favor of Scottie on this motion. I want to see what else Mr. Hanson and Mr. Thomas can discover.”
Steve knew not to overtly celebrate his victory in the courtroom, but he could not help from allowing a small smile to break across his face.
“Ms. Bass, please inform the Rogers County Sheriff’s Office they need to make their entire investigative file available to Mr. Hanson at a time convenient to both parties within the next ten days. Mr. Hanson, you will be allowed to go to their office and make copies of anything you deem useful. You will not be able to leave the building with anything other than the copies you make. Additionally, since this is a bit unorthodox, Mr. Hanson, I will not allow any additional time or expense on your budget. Anything you do in this regard will be pro bono. The federal government will not pay for you to expend time reinvestigating a case that is officially closed. Do both of you understand?”
Both attorneys stood and said, “Yes, Your Honor.”
“This hearing is hereby adjourned.” Judge Henry struck his gavel and returned through the door he had entered.
Ms. Bass quickly gathered her belongings and stood to leave.
She gave Steve a look that penetrated his soul as she stormed out of the courtroom.
“Does opposing counsel always love you so much?” Booger asked as he and Steve walked out together.
“Yeah. I’m even more popular with the Rogers County District Attorney’s Office, a relationship which will only get better after they hear about this ruling,” Steve said sarcastically.
The two men left the courtroom and decided to walk to Kai Vietnamese for lunch. On the way, Steve’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and saw that he had received a new Snapchat. He showed the notification to Booger.
Booger put his hand on Steve’s and said, “Don’t open it. Call Emily. See if she is available.”
Steve called Emily. She said she could drop what she was doing and told him to come over immediately. The two men left the courthouse and drove straight to her office.
CHAPTER 29
As soon as they arrived, Emily took Steve’s phone and connected it to her computer to similarly make a mirror image containing the recent Snapchat message. Emily sat at her desk, and the two men hovered over her shoulders, watching her computer screen intently. Once the transfer was complete, she opened the message.
A picture of Steve appeared on the screen. It was a duplicate of one of the photos he used on his website. After a few seconds, a gunshot could be heard, and a hole appeared in the middle of his head. Blood oozed out of the bullet wound as the words “Stop Digging or Die” appeared in red, one letter at a time, across the screen. They all looked at each other.
“Well, no doubt about this one being a death threat,” Emily said, attempting to bring levity to the situation. She began to search the file’s metadata. Soon, she was on the cell tower website. The message originated from downtown Tulsa, and the specific tower was on a building directly across the street from the federal courthouse.
“Whitmore was downtown less than thirty minutes before I got this message,” Steve said. “The judge threw him out of the courtroom before the hearing began. It looks like we’ve got our man. It was Ashley Pinkerton’s brother!”
Emily and Booger looked at each other with the knowing smiles of two people that had done their fair share of investigative work. Their shared expressions clearly showed what each of them was thinking. He’s smart, but a bit naïve.
Steve recognized the look immediately and said, “Or… maybe it was someone who was not foolish enough to be seen by us before sending me a death threat twenty-some minutes later from the same part of town.”
“Maybe. However, in your defense,” Emily said, “whoever’s doing this doesn’t know we are able to track the location of where the messages are being sent from. Thus, Whitmore actually is my number one suspect. But it is still conceivable that someone else was downtown, and that this other person sent the message. Everyone interested in this case likely knew you had a hearing set for today. Anyone could have been down there in hopes of finding out the ruling as soon as you were done.”
“That’s right,” Booger said. “We haven’t exactly matched James Marshall’s discovery of gold in California, but we do have ourselves one helluva good suspect.”
“Listen,” Emily said, “I know I am not an official part of this investigation. I assume there is a lot of information you are not sharing with me. But can I be your official computer forensics investigator? This whole situation has certainly piqued my interest, and my investigative mind has been doing backflips trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. I don’t know if you call it OCD or what, but whenever a problem or riddle gets in my head, I can’t get it out until I find the solution. In this case, the threats you have received, and my wonderment as to where they came from, have officially locked into my mind. So, I will help you voluntarily. But if you agree to let me participate, then you have to show me everything you have—everything about the case you are working on. It’s the only way I can get a full grasp on what is happening here.”
“That would be awesome,” Steve said. “Let me check my appointment order to see what the rules are regarding volunteer experts and investigators. If it is okay with the federal judiciary, then it is more than okay with me. I would love to have you on our team. But until I figure that out, you are definitely a part of the team investigating these threats.” He paused to take out his wallet. “Here’s a dollar. I am officially hiring you to help me find out who is threatening me. Let’s focus on that for now. Once I get the court’s approval, I will be able to show you the entire file. Then, you will know everything, including any privileged information.”
Emily smiled as she pocketed the dollar. “Perfect. What I’m thinking is that we come up with a way to lure whoever is sending these threats out into the open. Since he or she doesn’t know what
I am capable of doing, I think we can trick them.”
Booger raised an eyebrow. “By we, I assume you in fact mean you?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “And I have an idea on how we are going to do it.”
“It’s all you,” Booger said with a sheepish smile. He raised his arms in an “I’m out of this” fashion, stepping back from Emily’s workstation and sitting down off to the side.
For the next hour or so, Steve and Booger sat and watched Emily doing who-knows-what on her computer. Steve noticed she brandished Hermoine’s wand on more than one occasion as she sat staring into nothing. Finally, Emily’s head arose from her desk in a manner that made Steve think he saw a light bulb flick on above her.
“I think I’ve got it,” she said confidently. “All we need now is some cheese to lure out your little mouse.”
“Okay,” Steve said. “What is the plan?”
Emily opened one of the many windows on her screen. “This is the Roach company website. I have hacked their system and can track usage of the number from cell tower to cell tower using the other website. It shows here, on this monitor.” Her computer was actually connected to four different monitors on her L-shaped desk. She opened two windows, each on their own monitor so they were larger and easier to see.
“Now, all we need is for our mouse to start using the phone. For simplicity’s sake, let’s assume it is Whitmore. Every time he uses the phone to get on the application, make a call, check the internet, whatever, the phone will connect to the nearest tower. We can track his movements as long as the phone is being used regularly. Although we could just wait for him to use it, my guess is that he is only using this phone to send you threats. So, we may have to wait a long time if we go that route—”
“I could send him a Snapchat message back,” Steve interrupted.
“Yes,” replied Emily. “That is exactly what I was about to say. I have no doubt he will check the first time we send a message. But we also need to come up with something that will get him engaged in a Snapchat conversation. That way, we will be able to keep a continuous monitor on his location. I can watch from here as you two follow the signals. When you find him, we will send another message. If you can witness him using the phone to review that message, then we’ve got him.”
Booger nodded. “I like the plan, but we must remember that we are dealing with a very angry person here. We need to use that against him to get him engaged in the communication.”
“What should I say in the first message, then?” asked Steve.
