The Black Aura - 5. Moving On Up

Some'll win, some will lose
Some are born to sing the blues
Whoa, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Journey - 1981

14

Needless to say, Keith Fuchs was exonerated of the crime and Simon Durgess taken to trial for the same crime. Belton Garber felt it wouldn't look good if I handled that prosecution. I had to agree. Simon got the seven years in prison that Keith otherwise would have.

I spent five years in Philadelphia. After four years of college, three as a corrections officer, another three as a policeman, and yet another three years of law school. At thirty-nine, I felt it was time for another promotion. I'd heard the District Attorney for Lehigh County was retiring, so I threw my hat into that ring. With the full knowledge of my current boss, of course. We had two more children by then, another boy, Peter, and a girl, Madeline, after Lindy's mother. They were both yellows.

I recruited some locals, college students primarily, to help me with my campaign. We had signs printed up, used Internet and radio ads, even mass mailings to get my name out there. Some people would have heard of me from appearances on the news. Philly wasn't that far away. They even got the Philly television stations up there.

I spent most of my days off making appearances around the Lehigh Valley. I hit the top ten most populated cities and towns, with multiple visits to the top three, and a few more of the smaller towns. My opponent apparently wasn't very well liked, even the earliest polls had me just shy of even. As November approached, the polls predicted I'd get seventy percent of the vote.

November second came along, and by the time all the votes were counted, I had gotten seventy-two percent. As part of my acceptance speech, I apologized to Tony Carey for butchering his lyric, but it truly was a fine, fine day for Avery Noonan. The lyric is actually "It's a fine, fine day for a reunion." You can see how easily my name slid right in there.

Allentown, the third largest city in Pennsylvania, was the county seat, and come January, twenty thirty-six, my new home. Well, technically, my home was in Whitehall, a suburb of Allentown. But I spent more time in my office and the courthouse than at home, so...

I was in office for just over a year and a half when I hit the national news.

Sunday, July tenth started out like any ordinary summer Sunday. By mid-afternoon, ordinary was left far behind, with chaotic taking over the day. Reports came in of a hostage situation at a wealthy man's home in Bethlehem. Apparently, a kidnapping was foiled by the housekeeper, when she stumbled upon the potential kidnapper hovering over the ten-year-old boy. During the negotiations, the suspect offered to let the housekeeper, and the boy go, if the father could be used as bait to try to escape. The police didn't like the idea, the father insisted he become the hostage. The police chief grudgingly gave in. The chief had placed snipers on the rooftops of three of the nearby houses, hopefully to get a shot at the suspect during the transfer.

The suspect didn't appear, but rather requested the father come inside one door, and when he was inside, the housekeeper and boy would be released through another. The transfer went fine, with the chief mildly angry that the kidnapper never appeared. They'd get another chance when the suspect left with the father. He requested a limo be brought to take him and the father to the airport. Like every other kidnapper who tried that tact, it didn't work out too well for him.

The car parked as close to the house as possible, but the kidnapper would still be exposed from both sides when walking out to the car, mistakenly thinking he'd be shielded by the father in front of him. The snipers on the roofs to the left and right of the house would have approximately five seconds to take their shots at a fast-moving target.

It took less than two seconds. Both snipers fired at nearly the same time. Both sides of the kidnapper's head vanished at once, and he dropped to the ground, never to contemplate another kidnapping again. Never to contemplate anything else for that matter, either. Case closed, right? Not with District Attorney Avery Noonan on the case.

There was still clean-up to do, including trying to ensure there were no accomplices still out there. The case was almost closed until reading through interview transcripts, I noticed a discrepancy in the housekeeper's answers. At one point she said she didn't know the deceased. At another time, she said there were no other accomplices. She tried to clarify that statement by adding that the kidnapper never mentioned anyone else. No "other" accomplices lit a fire in my head. I went back to the home to question the housekeeper once more. Asking for and getting approval to record our conversation. As I surmised, answering very similar questions, her aura shimmered when she phrased an answer, "I don't think the kidnapper had any accomplices."

"Why don't you think there were no accomplices?"

"Nobody else was ever there, and he didn't mention anyone else to me."

"Could there have been someone else, maybe he called after you and the boy were released?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so."

"Are you aware that his phone records indicate he did make a call?"

This wasn't the case, but I knew I needed some trickery to trap her.

"No, I couldn't have known that."

"If there was another accomplice, would you have been angry at him for lying about it?"

"No, why would I be angry if he had another accomplice?"

"You have said once before, 'no other accomplices,' wouldn't that imply he had at least one?"

"I don't know what it would mean."

"But you thought there wasn't another accomplice?"

"Right."

"You knew there wasn't another accomplice, didn't you?"

"No. I had no way to know."

I waited her out at this point.

"Shouldn't I have a lawyer here, or be read my rights?"

"Having a lawyer is always an option, but all I'm doing is confirming that to the best of your knowledge, he had no outside accomplices."

"I already told you he didn't. Can I get back to work now? DD made a mess of the house chasing me down."

I let her slide with her slip of the kidnapper's nickname and let her get back to her duties. That wasn't a fact that was made public. On the way back to my office, I stopped at the police station to inform the chief what I suspected, specifically mentioning her use of 'DD.'

After their investigation, the police did find some links between the kidnapper and the housekeeper that led directly to her involvement. I assigned one of the most senior Assistant District Attorneys to the prosecution. My presence might have been questioned by the defense when my earlier involvement was uncovered. Technically, I didn't do anything wrong, like I told her I was 'confirming that to the best of her knowledge, he had no outside accomplices.' But juries could be fickle. The defense could have made it sound like I entrapped her, though she never said anything specifically implicating herself. My conversation came up anyway. The defense subpoenaed me. I had transferred the recording to a DVD and my assistant had it for his cross.

"The defense calls District Attorney, Avery Noonan."

That sent some ruffles through the gallery. They apparently wondered, rightly so, why the defense would be calling the enemy.

"Mr. Noonan, isn't it true that you questioned Miss Lape about her involvement in this case?"

"No. That isn't why I questioned her."

"Oh, and what reason did you have?"

"I simply wanted to get her perspective on the possibility of an accomplice."

"Couldn't that be seen as assuming she was?"

"People interpret things the way they want to. It wasn't like that."

"So, you say?"

"Yes."

"Did Miss Lape request an attorney at one point in the interrogation?"

"She asked, 'shouldn't she have one,' and I told her she could, but all I asked after that was for another confirmation that she felt there was no other accomplice."

"Nothing further."

The defense apparently planted the seed that I manipulated her, which was his plan by making me testify. We quickly discovered his client never told him the conversation was recorded. My assistant stood up.

"Mr. Noonan, do you have any proof that your conversation with Miss Lape was anything other than you say."

"Yes. With her permission, I recorded the session."

The defense attorney looked like he both wanted to vomit and smack his client.

"With the court's permission, I'd like to play that recording and enter it into evidence."

"Mr. Plaket?"

"I object, Your Honor. A recording of someone made without their permission is not permissible."

The Judge turned to me, "Mr. Noonan, you stated you had her permission to record her. Do you have any proof of that?"

"Yes, Your Honor. It's the first question I asked her after I started recording. If she didn't allow it, I would not have recorded further."

"I will allow the first question and answer to be played before ruling on the admissibility of the rest."

Burt Menson, my assistant, hit play,

AN: "Present are District Attorney Avery Noonan, and a witness to the attempted kidnapping, Miss Edrienne Lape. It is the third of September, twenty-thirty-five. May I continue recording, Miss Lape?"

EL: "Go ahead. But I can stop you if I want, correct?"

AN: "That is correct."

Menson hit stop.

"The defense's objection is overruled. You may continue the recording Mr. Menson."

The rest duplicated the discussion, transcribed above.

"Nothing further."

"Redirect, Mr. Plaket?"

"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Noonan, what did you do after completing the interrogation?"

"After the conversation, I went to the police station and expressed my suspicions that Miss Lape was involved."

"So, their involvement was a direct result of this interrogation?"

"Yes, and that discussion is now in evidence as legally obtained."

"Um... You didn't point the police at anything specific?"

"I did. The fact that she called to suspect DD, which was not common knowledge."

"So, once again, you took action based on her testimony, given in absence of her getting the Miranda rights, as she implied on the recording?"

"I took action on a fact raised during a conversation between her and me."

"Acting as an officer of the court?"

"I believe it is a fairly well-known fact, just about everything I do is as an officer of the court. So, yes."

"I move that the recording and all references to the defendant's referencing to the suspect as DD be stricken from the record."

"Arguments, Mr. Menson?"

"Yes, Your Honor. During the police's investigation, the first mention of DD was made by the defendant, after the defendant was read her rights, and with no direct prompting, as we had seen earlier, during the prosecution's presentation of our case. Although the police knew of her previously mentioning DD, there was no entrapment."

The Judge thought for a moment. "Motion denied, the recording and all references made by the defendant to DD remain on record. Anything further, Mr. Plaket?"

"Yes, Your Honor. The defense calls Miss Edrienne Lape."

The defense tried to undo the damage that was done, but barring getting the evidence removed, it was a lost cause. Miss Lape was sentenced to twenty years. The press had a field day. I gave close to twenty interviews explaining why the tactic was allowable. All of the major networks carried snippets of those interviews, and many showed the recording of the interview that sealed Miss Lape's fate.

15

Six and a half years later, I was elected as the Attorney General for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, there was a lot of effort spent on things that would be seen as boring to the general public. But like before, there's always one thing interesting enough.

Avery junior started looking a little bluer after we moved to Camp Hill. Lindy became a stay-at-home mom along with the move. My salary as Attorney General gave her the flexibility to do so. We started getting Avery tested for all sorts of illnesses every three months. At twelve and a half, nothing turned up.

A little over two years into my second term as Attorney General, I had the misfortune to represent the Commonwealth in a lawsuit against the state police. There was a high-speed chase on Interstate eighty where a State Trooper apparently caused a car to go off the road. Unfortunately, the driver of that car, Pan Austin, a married father of three, was killed in the crash. Kale Austin, his widow, was suing for nineteen and a half million dollars. Six point five for actual damages, the amount calculated the twenty-nine-year-old Pan might have made in income before his seventieth birthday, and double that amount for pain and suffering.

Needless to say, a lawsuit against a state police organization was big news. One where it appeared obvious that the trooper involved was completely at fault was extremely interesting to the major network talking heads. Nathan Bartholomew, the Colonel and acting commissioner was being inundated by the press and consumer advocate groups. I had reviewed all the case information, and despite the sympathy I may have held for the widow, I had concluded the accident wasn't even the Trooper's fault. It was going to be a bloody trial. Mrs. Austin's lawyer was unwilling to discuss any kind of settlement. He was confident a jury would rule in his client's favor. He also had that client essentially brainwashed to believe that was truly the case. Unfortunately, the facts would confirm the Trooper was not directly responsible for Mr. Austin's vehicle for leaving the road surface.

During the trial, the most damning evidence for the plaintiff's case was the dash camera footage from a vehicle immediately behind and to the right of the Trooper's vehicle. The dash camera footage from the Trooper's car had been seen by nearly the entire country. It apparently showed the Trooper bumping a third vehicle, which in turn was sent careening into Mr. Austin.

The bystander's dash camera, along with the cell phone footage from the fourteen-year-old boy sitting in the passenger seat told another story. The Trooper came up behind a vehicle, getting extremely close to the left rear bumper of the intermediate vehicle. At the same instant the Trooper swerved left, to avoid hitting the intermediate vehicle, the driver of that vehicle swerved right, unaware that he had not yet cleared Mr. Austin's vehicle. Both of the back two cars spun. Unfortunately for the trooper, the spinning middle vehicle caught his car on the right-front corner, with its left rear. The damage done in that mild tap appeared to confirm the fact the Trooper had indeed made the initial contact.

The intermediate vehicle caught the left-front quarter panel of Mr. Austin's vehicle, sending it on a collision course with the beginning of a guardrail meant to protect vehicles from leaving the road into a severe drop-off. Mr. Austin's vehicle, an Anzen Matterhorn, a pick-up truck with a very high center of gravity, clipped the beginning of the guardrail, flipped into the air and flew, upside-down, to the riverbed nearly one hundred feet below. Mr. Austin was killed immediately on contact with the ground.

After both the witness's dash camera, and cell phone camera footage were shown to the jury, the plaintiff's attorney had a quiet discussion with his client, after asking the Judge for a moment to confer with his client. Mrs. Austin apparently agreed with the attorney, because he immediately called for and received a recess.

He met me in the hallway, "Mr. Noonan?"

"Avery, please."

"Avery, then. Will you rethink a settlement?"

"You were dead set against that as recently as three days ago. You want me to settle now on the cusp of your client getting nothing?"

"Yes. What do you think your and the Governor's chances of re-election look like if Mrs. Austin walks away with nothing?"

"My chances are nil, this is my second term. The Governor... You'd have to ask him. But once the public knows the truth, it won't matter."

"Oh, come on Avery, even you must know that truth is a casualty of politics."

He had a point, "What do you propose, Mr. Hartlee?"

"Bob, please. Six and a half, the actual damages request."

Looking at my watch, "You know I'd have go to Governor Sansone with that number. That won't happen in the... twenty-eight minutes we have."

"What can you do?"

"Three and a quarter."

"That will only get her halfway to retirement. Five."

"Not if she gets a job."

"Come on, Avery, have a heart."

"Bob, you're killing me here. That's a quarter of the whole total. A number I'm sure she can stretch for what, thirty-seven years."

"That's less than a hundred thou a year!"

I poured on the sarcasm, "Oh my God, barely above poverty level."

"If that's your best offer, I'll make sure the public knows you wanted to give her nothing."

"Let me try to get hold of Donny. Worst case you can ask for a recess until the morning, saying we're working on it."

"You know where I'll be."