An Insignificant Case

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

If Charlie Webb were a grade, he would have been a C, which was the average grade he received starting in elementary school and ending in law school. Charlie had average looks too—brown hair, brown eyes, a pleasant smile, and a nice but not awe-inspiring build.

Charlie never raised his hand in class, and his teachers rarely called on him. He wasn’t in any extracurricular activities, except football. He was always big for his age, so his high school coach put him on the offensive line. Charlie was a serviceable guard without the talent it took to get a college scholarship, so he started at a community college, then got his four-year degree at Portland State University, where he graduated—surprise—in the middle of his class.

Charlie watched a lot of lawyer shows on TV, so he applied to law school. He was self-aware enough to forget Harvard, Yale, and any other school in the top fifty, but it was discouraging to be rejected by every second-tier school to which he applied. Then, just when it looked like he was going to have to figure out another way to earn a living, he was accepted at Oxford School of Law, a third-tier law school that had no connection to the Oxford University and gave its students loans at suspiciously high interest rates. Three years later, Charlie passed the bar and was forced to hang out a shingle when nobody offered him a job.

Charlie’s law practice limped along on court appointments, divorce clients referred by family members, and referrals from two of his fellow high school linemen, who were members of the Barbarians motorcycle club. The Barbarians were always running afoul of the law and supplied his only steady customers.

On Monday morning, Charlie was assigned to the courtroom of the Honorable Iris Carter, who was going to hear the case of State of Oregon v. Peter Easley .

Peter Easley’s gift was the ability to blend in. His height and weight were average. His hair was a dull brown shade, and he had no tattoos, scars, or other features that would attract anyone’s attention.

Easley’s nickname among the Barbarians was “the Ghost” because of his supernatural ability to move illegal drugs without being detected. Unfortunately, Easley had run into some Ghostbusters during a traffic stop, and a packet of cocaine had been found in a secret pocket in the headrest on the driver’s side of his dull brown Toyota.

Charlie had filed a pretrial motion to suppress the evidence on the grounds that the cocaine had been found during an illegal and unconstitutional warrantless search of Peter’s car that had been conducted without probable cause. His motion had been met with disdain and derision by Bridget Fournier, the Multnomah County deputy district attorney who had been assigned Easley’s case.

Charlie hadn’t slept very well the night before the hearing. This was the biggest criminal case he’d handled for the Barbarians or any other client, and Bridget Fournier had a terrifying reputation. Charlie had asked some of his friends in the criminal defense bar about her, and they all gave their condolences. The consensus was that Fournier was very, very smart, had no sense of humor, and gave no quarter.

Many of the members of the Barbarians were waiting for Charlie and his client in the corridor outside Judge Carter’s courtroom. They wore their colors, sported beards and tattoos, and would have seemed very scary to the average citizen. Charlie was on friendly terms with many members of the gang, but he was always on his toes around them because he was well aware of their capacity for violence.

Bob Malone and Gary Schwartz had played on the offensive line with Charlie in high school. They clapped him on the back and gave Charlie a thumbs-up. Then they yelled, “Go, Stallions!” the nickname of their high school football team, before following Charlie and Easley into the courtroom, where they found seats on the spectator benches with other members of the club.

Charlie said hello to Bridget Fournier when he walked through the bar of the court on the way to his seat at the defense counsel table. She returned the greeting with a terse reply before turning her eyes back to the memo she had written in opposition to Charlie’s motion.

Fournier, who was in her early thirties, used the bare minimum of makeup and wore no jewelry. She had pale blue eyes, a straight nose, thin lips, and a full figure that would have been sexy in the fifties when movie stars like Marilyn Monroe carried a few extra pounds. Fournier’s courtroom ensemble consisted of a white blouse and a gray pantsuit. Her straight black hair fell just below the shoulders of her suit jacket. Charlie didn’t think Fournier was pretty, but she wasn’t plain. He did think that a touch of makeup, a brighter outfit, and some nice jewelry might have tipped the balance to the pretty side.

Easley’s case had been assigned to Iris Carter, a slender African American in her early fifties who had been appointed to the Multnomah County Circuit Court ten years earlier after a successful career in private practice.

“The State calls Portland police officer Garrett Strom,” Fournier said as soon as Judge Carter took the bench.

Charlie had made a motion to have the witnesses, who were all police officers, wait outside the courtroom so they couldn’t hear one another’s testimony. He’d made an exception for Strom, who was the first witness.

Strom was a shade over six feet with a compact build, a buzz cut, and dark brown eyes.

“Officer Strom, how long have you been on the force?” Fournier asked.

“Ten years.”

“On the evening of December tenth of last year, were you on patrol in Southeast Portland?”

“I was.”

“Did you come in contact with the defendant, Peter Easley?”

“I did.”

“Did you know Mr. Easley?”

“Only by his reputation as a drug dealer. Before that evening, I’d never met him.”

Judge Carter looked at Charlie, waiting for him to object to Strom’s characterization of his client, but Charlie stayed silent.

“Please tell Judge Carter about your interaction with the defendant on the evening of December 10.”

The officer turned toward the judge. “Mr. Easley’s Toyota was parked outside the Bald Eagle Tavern between two other cars. I was on patrol in the area with Dennis Newsome, a recent academy graduate, when I saw the defendant get in his vehicle and start it. Then he backed into the car behind him with enough force to dent the bumper. He pulled forward and rammed into the car in front of him. Then he managed to get out of the space and drive away.

“I put on my lights and siren and followed him two blocks before he pulled over and jumped out of his car. I had broadcast the defendant’s name and the make of his car when I followed him, because I wasn’t sure if he would pull over.

“Mr. Easley was belligerent, and I suspected that he had been drinking. He swore at me and asked me in a very loud voice why I had stopped him. I told him that he had hit two cars and driven away without leaving insurance information. He denied damaging the cars and began screaming about police harassment. I became concerned about his behavior. I was also nervous because a crowd was starting to form.”

“Did any other officers arrive on the scene?”

“Yes. Sergeant Malcom Broadstreet drove up with Anthony Townes, a rookie he was training.”

“What happened then?” Fournier asked.

“Sergeant Broadstreet asked me why I had stopped the defendant, and I told him what I’d seen. The sergeant appeared to know the defendant, and they got into a verbal confrontation. The crowd was getting unruly, and I was occupied with keeping order. At some point, Sergeant Broadstreet handcuffed the defendant and put him in the back of his patrol car.”

“Did he give you any instructions concerning Mr. Easley’s car?”

“Yes. He told me to have officers Townes and Newsome conduct an inventory search of Mr. Easley’s car, then have it towed to the impound lot.”

“What is an inventory search?”

“When we impound a car, we go through it to record the contents so we have a list of valuables and other things that are in the car in case there is a problem later on with the owner claiming that something is missing.”

“Do you need a search warrant or probable cause to conduct an inventory search?”

“No, ma’am.”

Charlie had researched inventory searches after reading Fournier’s memo, and he knew this was true. He also knew that he would lose his motion if the plan he’d formulated failed.

“What happened during the inventory search?”

“Officer Townes discovered cocaine in the headrest on the driver’s side of the car.”

“I have no further questions, Your Honor,” Fournier said.

“Mr. Webb,” Judge Carter said.

“Didn’t Officer Townes find the cocaine in a secret compartment in the Toyota’s headrest?”

“Yes.”

“Did Sergeant Broadstreet ask officers Townes and Newsome to search for drugs?”

“No.”

“Searching the car for drugs would have been illegal, wouldn’t it, because you did not have a warrant or probable cause to believe that drugs were in the car?”

“That’s correct.”

“So, the discovery of the cocaine was fortuitous?”

“Yes.”

“No further questions.”

“The State calls Sergeant Broadstreet.”

Malcom Broadstreet’s short black hair was streaked with gray, but the rest of his stocky body looked like it was defeating the aging process. He had the broad chest and thick arms of someone who pumped iron and the confident stride of someone who was used to being in charge.

“Sergeant Broadstreet, how long have you been a Portland police officer?” the deputy district attorney asked.

“Twenty years come October.”

“On the evening of December tenth, did you come in contact with the defendant?”

“I did.”

“Tell the judge what happened.”

Broadstreet smiled at the judge. “Good morning, Your Honor,” Broadstreet said in a way that let Charlie know that this was not the first time he’d been in Judge Carter’s court. “On the evening of December tenth, I was training Tony Townes, a new recruit, when I heard Officer Strom on my radio say that he was having a problem with Peter Easley. I drove over to help out and found Easley yelling at Officer Strom and acting in a very aggressive way. I intervened and eventually arrested the defendant. After I placed him in the back of my vehicle, I told Townes and Dennis Newsome, who was also new to the force, to make an inventory search of Mr. Easley’s car before having it towed to the impound lot. While they were inventorying the car, Officer Townes found cocaine concealed in the headrest on the driver’s side.”

“No further questions.”

“Sergeant Broadstreet,” Charlie said, “this isn’t the first time you’ve arrested Mr. Easley, is it?”

“No.”

“In fact, you’ve arrested him six times, haven’t you?”

“That sounds right.”

“Did any of these arrests result in a conviction?”

Broadstreet’s cheeks flushed. “No.”

“Isn’t it true that you’ve told people on several occasions that you won’t be able to have a good night’s sleep until you’ve put Mr. Easley behind bars?”

“I may have said something like that.”

“Did you have a conversation with Mr. Easley in the street before you arrested him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you accuse him of selling dope to little children?”

“I may have.”

“Did he say that he sold dope to your mother?”

“Yes,” Broadstreet answered as the red color of his cheeks darkened.

“You don’t like my client, do you?”

“That’s obvious.”

“You hate him, don’t you?”

“I think he’s scum. Does that answer your question?”

Charlie smiled. “Thank you for your honesty, Sergeant Broadstreet. Were you surprised when Officer Townes found cocaine in Mr. Easley’s car?”

“No.”

“You suspected he might have a controlled substance secreted somewhere in the Toyota, didn’t you?”

“Knowing Peter, I thought it was possible.”

“No further questions.”

“The State rests,” Fournier said.

“I’d like to question Officer Townes,” Charlie said.

Anthony Townes looked like he’d just graduated from junior high school. The slender rookie had wavy blond hair and fair skin, and he fidgeted in the witness-box.

Charlie smiled. “Hi, Officer Townes. You look a little nervous. Is this your first time testifying under oath in court?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give you the advice I give everyone I call as a witness. Just tell the truth and you’ll do just fine. So, I understand you just graduated from the police academy.”

Townes nodded.

“Officer Townes,” the judge said. “You have to answer out loud for the record.”

Townes blushed. “Sorry. Yes. I just graduated.”

“Congratulations. You’re fortunate to have Sergeant Broadstreet as a mentor. He’s a very experienced officer. Was the incident with my client the first time you were involved in an arrest?”

“No. There was one other time a few days before.”

“What about conducting a search? Had you done that before?”

“No, this was my first time.”

“What was the sergeant’s reaction when he heard that Peter Easley was creating a disturbance?”

“He, uh, he got excited.”

“I assume he explained that my client was a notorious drug dealer?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Someone he was dying to take off the streets because of all the harm he caused?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Given Mr. Easley’s criminal history as someone who deals drugs, I assume that the sergeant was certain he’d have drugs on his person or in his vehicle.”

“He said that Mr. Easley never left home without narcotics,” he answered with a smile.

Charlie stared for a moment. Then he laughed. “I get it. That’s like the American Express commercial. ‘Don’t leave home without it,’ right?”

Townes blushed and grinned. “That’s the one.”

“Now, I’ve been to the impound lot and looked inside Mr. Easley’s car. That hidden pocket in the headrest is really hard to see.”

Townes nodded. “Sergeant Broadstreet said the defendant wouldn’t hide his narcotics in any place that was obvious.”

Bridget Fournier had barely paid any attention to Charlie’s direct examination, but now she stiffened.

“Didn’t it make sense that Sergeant Broadstreet would tell you to look for drugs in a hidden compartment in the Toyota since he knew how clever Mr. Easley is?”

“Yes, sir. The sergeant said we probably wouldn’t find the defendant’s stash unless we were really disciplined.”

Charlie noticed that Bridget Fournier was paler than usual.

“How long did it take for you to find the cocaine?”

“It wasn’t easy. I’d almost given up when Dennis—that’s Officer Newsome—told me to check around the headrest.”

Charlie smiled. “No further questions.”

Judge Carter turned to Townes. “Do I understand that Sergeant Broadstreet asked you to search Mr. Easley’s Toyota for drugs?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Townes answered.

“Do you have any questions of this witness, Miss Fournier?” the judge asked.

“No,” Fournier answered. She looked furious.

“Do you have any more witnesses, Mr. Webb?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.”

“Thank you, Officer Townes. You’re dismissed.

“Do you have anything to say?” Judge Carter asked Bridget as soon as the door closed behind Townes.

Fournier looked like she was going to throw up.

“I… No. This is embarrassing.”

“I’ll say,” the judge told Fournier. “I’m going to grant Mr. Webb’s motion, and I suggest that you have a heart-to-heart with Sergeant Broadstreet and Officer Strom. Thank goodness we had the testimony of a naive rookie who hasn’t learned how to cover up illegal conduct yet. Court’s adjourned.”

Easley leaped up and hugged Charlie. “That was fucking awesome.”

Charlie looked over Easley’s shoulder and saw his opponent fight her way through the Barbarians, who were surging toward the front of the courtroom. Charlie actually felt a little sorry for Fournier. He assumed that Broadstreet and Strom had lied to her. He didn’t feel the least bit sorry for the two policemen, but he hoped that Townes didn’t get in any trouble.

“Drinks are on me!” Easley shouted as the crowd dragged Charlie toward the courtroom door. Noon was several hours away, but Charlie knew that the Barbarians would not see that as an excuse for staying sober. So, he accepted the praise and went along with the crowd that was headed for the Buccaneer Tavern.