He didn’t reply at first, and she asked what he was thinking about. The screen door slammed: Jeannie with coffee. Their time together alone was almost up.
“I was thinking about the universe. There really is no end to it, is there? And no explaining it.”
“That’s right,” she said. “No point in even trying.”
(August 10th)
4
Flint County district attorney William Samuels strode to the podium in the courthouse conference room with a slim folder in one hand. He stood behind a cluster of microphones. TV lights came on. He touched the back of his head (no cowlick), and waited for the assembled reporters to quiet. Ralph was sitting in the front row. Samuels gave him a brief nod before commencing.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I have a brief statement to make in regard to the murder of Frank Peterson, and then I will take your questions.
“As many of you know, a videotape exists showing Terence Maitland attending a conference in Cap City at the same time Frank Peterson was being abducted and subsequently murdered here in Flint City. There can be no doubt of this tape’s authenticity. Nor can we doubt the statements given by Mr. Maitland’s colleagues, who accompanied him to the conference and attest to his presence there. In the course of our investigation we have also discovered Mr. Maitland’s fingerprints at the Cap City hotel where the conference was held, and have obtained ancillary testimony that proves those prints were made too close to the time of the Peterson boy’s murder for Mr. Maitland to be considered a suspect.”
There was a murmur from the reporters. One of them called, “Then how do you explain Maitland’s prints at the scene of the murder?”
Samuels gave the reporter his best prosecutorial frown. “Hold your questions, please; I was just coming to that. After further forensic examination, we now feel that the fingerprints found in the van used to abduct the child and those found in Figgis Park were planted. This is uncommon but far from impossible. Various techniques for planting bogus fingerprints can be found on the Internet, which is a valuable resource for criminals as well as law enforcement.
“It does suggest, however, that this murderer is crafty as well as perverted and extremely dangerous. It may or may not suggest that he had a grudge against Terry Maitland. That is a line of investigation we will continue to pursue.”
He surveyed his audience soberly, feeling very glad indeed that he would never have to run for re-election in Flint County; after this, any shyster with a mail-order law degree could probably beat him, and handily.
“You would have a perfect right to ask why we proceeded with the case against Mr. Maitland, given the facts I have just reviewed for you. There were two reasons. The most obvious is that we did not have all these facts in hand on the day Mr. Maitland was arrested, or on the day he would have been arraigned.”
Ah, but by then we had most of them, didn’t we, Bill? Ralph thought as he sat dressed in his best suit and watching with his best law enforcement poker face.
“The second reason we proceeded,” Samuels continued, “was the presence of DNA at the scene, which seemed to match that of Mr. Maitland. There is a popular assumption that DNA matching is never wrong, but as the Council for Responsible Genetics pointed out in a scholarly article titled ‘The Potential for Error in Forensic DNA Testing,’ that is a misconception. If samples are mixed, for instance, the matching can’t be trusted, and the samples taken at the Figgis Park scene were indeed mixed, containing DNA from both perpetrator and victim.”
He waited until the reporters had finished scribbling before going on.
“Added to this, the samples were exposed to ultraviolet light during the course of another, unrelated, testing procedure. Unfortunately, they are degraded to a point where they would have been, in the opinion of my department, inadmissible in a court of law. In plain English, the samples are worthless.”
He paused, turning to the next sheet in his folder. This was mere stagecraft, as all of the sheets in it were blank.
“I only want to touch briefly on the events that took place in Marysville, Texas, subsequent to the murder of Terence Maitland. It is our opinion that Detective John Hoskins of the Flint City Police Department was in some sort of twisted and criminal partnership with the person who killed Frank Peterson. We believe Hoskins was helping this individual to hide, and that they may have been planning to perpetrate a similar horrible crime. Thanks to the heroic efforts of Detective Ralph Anderson and those with him, whatever plans they may have made did not come to fruition.” He looked up at his audience soberly. “Howard Gold and Alec Pelley died in Marysville, Texas, and we mourn their loss. What we and their families take comfort in is this: somewhere at this very moment, there is a child who will never suffer the fate of Frank Peterson.”
A nice touch, Ralph thought. Just the right amount of pathos without getting all sloppy about it.
“I’m sure many of you have questions about the events that occurred in Marysville, but I am not at liberty to answer them. The investigation, which is being jointly conducted by the Texas Highway Patrol and the Flint City Police Department, is ongoing. State Police Lieutenant Yunel Sablo is working with both of these fine organizations as chief liaison officer, and I’m sure that he will have information to share with you at the appropriate time.”
He’s great at this stuff, Ralph thought, and with real admiration. Hitting every damn note.
Samuels closed his folder, lowered his head, then raised it again. “I am not running for re-election, ladies and gentlemen, so I have the rare opportunity to be entirely honest with you.”
It gets even better, Ralph thought.
“Given more time to evaluate the evidence, this office almost certainly would have dropped the charges against Mr. Maitland. Had we persisted and brought him to trial, I’m sure he would have been found innocent. And, as I hardly need to add, he was innocent, according to the laws of jurisprudence, at the time of his death. Yet the cloud of suspicion over him—and consequently over his family—has remained. I am here today to dissipate that cloud. It is the opinion of the district attorney’s office—and my personal belief—that Terry Maitland had nothing whatsoever to do with the death of Frank Peterson. Consequently, I am announcing that the investigation has been re-opened. Although it is currently concentrated in Texas, the investigation in Flint City, Flint County, and Canning Township is also ongoing. Now I will be happy to take any questions you may have.”
There were many.
5
Later that day, Ralph visited Samuels in his office. The soon-to-be-retired DA had a bottle of Bushmills on his desk. He poured them each a knock, and raised his glass. “Now the hurly-burly’s done, now the battle’s lost and won. Mostly lost in my case, but what the fuck. Let’s drink to the hurly-burly.”
They did so.
“You handled the questions well,” Ralph said. “Especially considering the amount of bullshit you slung around.”
Samuels shrugged. “Bullshit is every good lawyer’s stock in trade. Terry’s not completely off the hook in this town and never will be, Marcy understands that, but people are coming around. Her friend Jamie Mattingly, for instance—Marcy called to tell me that she came over and apologized. They had a good cry together. It’s mostly the videotape of Terry in Cap City that turned the trick, but what I said about the prints and DNA will help a lot. Marcy’s going to try to stick it out here. I think she’ll succeed.”