Web of Justice

Book 7: Mara Brent Legal Thriller Series

by Robin James

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Hard-Boiled; Female Sleuths; Crime Fiction; Legal Thrillers

Synopsis

A missing child. A web of lies. A lone prosecutor must unravel the truth before it’s too late.

Smack in the middle of a capital murder trial, small-town Prosecutor Mara Brent gets a cryptic note from the defendant. He wants to cut a deal. His freedom in exchange for information about the kidnapping and murder of a young girl that made national news a decade ago. Is he telling the truth? Or is this just the desperate ploy of a marked man?

As Mara tries to delve into the man’s story, she hits roadblocks at every turn. Her boss just wants a conviction at all costs. The town sheriff refuses to reopen the old case or interview Mara’s informant. Even the missing girl’s family takes Mara to court to stop her.

But when key witnesses start turning up dead, Mara knows she can’t let this one go, no matter who she has to cross to get to the truth.

With her career on the line, what Mara learns will reveal long-buried secrets that could threaten those she loves the most.

Release date: September 13, 2023

Publisher: Robin James Books

Print pages: 360

Sample

Copyright © 2023 by Robin James

All Rights Reserved

There’s a thing that happens in murder trials. It’s not something they teach you or something you can prepare for. But I’ve seen it with my own eyes, every single time. As I stepped up to the lectern after Judge Ivey told me to call my first witness, I locked eyes with the twelve members of my jury. Seven women. Five men. Median age, fifty-two. They took a collective breath, as if they could somehow prepare for what was about to happen to them. The thing I called The Change. 

Sure, they’d all grown up with a television in their house. Been desensitized, or so they thought, by the news or the ever more graphic violence in cop shows and thriller movies. 

Then they came here. 

Because of a random drawing based on their voter registration, they were called in to sit in those seats and hear about something most would never understand beyond what they had seen on a screen. 

“The state calls Detective Brody Lance,” I said in a clear, strong voice. 

Lance was young, still. Two years younger than me. He’d cut his teeth in property crime before being called up to replace Sam Cruz when he made lieutenant. Now Sam was the sheriff. 

Lance stood straight as the bailiff swore him in. He smoothed down his tie as he took his seat and met my eyes. 

I quickly took him through his background. His ten years with the Maumee County Sheriff’s Department. How he was plucked from field ops in his second year to serve as an undercover Vice-Narcotics detective before moving into property crimes. Young, yes. But experienced. Fully capable of handling the grisly reason for his testimony today. 

“Detective Lance,” I said. “Will you please tell me how you became involved in the Robert Forte matter?”

Lance shifted in his seat. He turned his gaze from me and looked directly at the jury box. He was getting better and better at this. Over my left shoulder, I could feel the eyes of two men boring into me. One of them, the defendant, Darryl Cox, had spent my entire opening statement smirking at me. 

“I received a call from the first officer on scene, Stacy Kaminski. Deputy Kaminski had responded to a 9-1-1 call from a trash collector working his normal route along Mullins Drive in the south part of the county. That’s an industrial drive. It was my understanding that this individual came upon what he believed to be human remains dumped in a drainage ditch. I responded to the call and arrived on scene at nine forty-one a.m. on Tuesday, December 7^th of last year.”

“What did you observe when you arrived?”

“Deputy Kaminski had blocked off the road leading to the drainage ditch on Mullins. He set up road flares and barricades. I parked my vehicle at the barricade next to mile marker fourteen and approached the scene on foot. Deputy Kaminski and her partner, Deputy Boyle, were making sure no one else was coming in or out. There was a Maverick garbage truck parked along the side of the road. Deputy Kaminski had the driver and one other crewman, who I later learned was the individual who spotted the remains and called 9-1-1, seated in the back of her patrol car, waiting for me to question them.”

“What did you do first?” I asked. 

“I approached the drainage ditch. There was a body lying on its right side in what I’d call a loose fetal position in about two inches of water. Male. Caucasian. He looked to be about six feet tall, maybe two hundred pounds. I could see two wounds to the victim’s body. What looked to be a gunshot wound to the left side of his head. Part of his face was gone. Then, there was another massive wound between his legs. As I said, the victim was lying on his side, his right leg drawn up, his left leg almost straight down.”

“We’ll come back to that,” I said. I introduced the first of the crime scene photographs Lance had taken. The mild ones, showing the long stretch of road along Mullins Drive he described. There were shots of Deputies Kaminski and Boyle standing just as Detective Lance said they were. I stopped at one shot, looking lengthwise down the drainage ditch. You could see one white leg sticking up a bit on the wall of the ditch. But from this angle, the rest of the body nor the wounds Lance would later describe in more detail were visible. 

“Detective,” I said. “Were you able to make an identification of this individual?”

“I was,” he said. “Fairly quickly, actually. The victim had a series of tattoos down both arms. Tribal symbols. A skull and crossbones. Also a date 9-18-2007 surrounded by angel’s wings.”

“Those had meaning to you?”

“They did,” he said. “I recognized those tattoos as belonging to an individual by the name of Robert Forte, who goes by the street name of Big Robbie.”

“Big Robbie,” I repeated. “And how did you come to know him?”

“Years ago, when I worked undercover in Vice, Robbie was a well-known dealer. I arrested him twice on drug trafficking charges.”

“I see,” I said. “So, what did you do next?”

“I immediately called for more units to come out and assist Deputies Kaminski and Boyle with protecting the scene. I wanted that section of Mullins to be completely secured until I could get a crime scene unit out. I called Agent Kimberly Moss from the Bowling Green office of the Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation. She and her crew arrived at ten forty-two a.m. and began their work processing the scene. Taking more photographs, searching the area for more potential evidence, that sort of thing. I also called the county medical examiner. Dr. Pham arrived just before noon as BCI was finishing their work.”

“And what did you do, Detective?”

“Well, as I said, I was familiar with Robert Forte and some of his associates. I had Deputies Kaminski and Boyle work on canvassing the area, talking to employees at the nearby tool and die plant to see if anyone had seen anyone dump the body or anything suspicious.”

“Dump the body,” I said. “You were operating under the assumption that the body was dumped there rather than being shot there? Why is that?”

“Well, it took a few hours for BCI to confirm it, but the body was covered in a white substance that to my eye and nose appeared to be lye.”

“Understood. So what did you do next?”

“I reached out to an old informant of mine to find out who Mr. Forte might still be associated with. That’s when the defendant Darryl Cox’s name first came up. Also, Forte and Darryl Cox had been arrested together just six months ago for drug trafficking. I decided that’s where I’d start. I found Mr. Cox’s address and went to his residence hoping to speak with him.”

“What happened next?”

“Mr. Cox wasn’t at home, but his girlfriend answered the door. She identified herself as Tamara Harvey. I had immediate concerns about her well-being. Ms. Harvey had visible bruises on her arms, a black eye, and a cut lip. They looked to me like fresh injuries. I told Ms. Harvey that I was investigating the potential murder of Robert Forte and asked her if she would mind coming down to the Sheriff’s Department and answering a few questions for me.”

“Did she?”

“She became very upset. I would describe her behavior as bordering on hysteria. Uncontrollable crying. Hyperventilating. I took her outside and had her take a seat in the backseat of my cruiser. Ms. Harvey, when she was able to compose herself, told me she was in fear for her safety. I’ll be honest. So was I based on her appearance and injuries. I asked her who hurt her. She repeatedly stated that Darryl was going to kill her too.”

“Objection, hearsay.”

I looked over my shoulder. Darryl Cox was using the services of a public defender. Nearing ninety, Earl Grandy might just have been one of the oldest still-practicing members of the Ohio bar. He’d worked in my office roughly fifty years ago. A good guy, prone to bluster, he liked to haunt the courthouse coffee shop regaling younger lawyers with stories of his glory days. He’d survived four different types of cancer and had new hips, ankles, and a pacemaker. For all of that, Earl had a mind sharp as an icepick, though he tried to disguise it with folksy charm. 

“Your Honor, Ms. Harvey’s statements were made during intense, physical duress as Detective Lance has stated. They fall under the category of an excited utterance and are also being offered to establish Detective Lance’s motivation and course of action rather than for the truth of the matter asserted.”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Donald Ivey said. Grandy huffed, but sat back down.

“What did you do next, Detective?” I asked. 

“At that point, I called for backup,” Lance said. “Ms. Harvey indicated she didn’t know where Darryl Cox was but that she was fearful of when he might return. She was concerned he was hiding, lying in wait, watching her. She indicated he had done this before. I assured her I wouldn’t let anything happen to her but I did become concerned that perhaps her fears were well-founded, so I wanted to make sure Mr. Cox wasn’t in the area. I told her that I could take her someplace safe if she were in fear for her life. I asked her to pack a few things and I would help get her into a safe house or a shelter. She asked me if I would come inside with her. At that point, Deputies Millburn and Harris arrived. I instructed them to do a search of the perimeter around the house and speak with some of the neighbors about whether they had seen Mr. Cox recently. I walked into the house with Ms. Harvey and followed her to the back bedroom while she packed an overnight bag with some clothes and toiletries. She then walked back through the house, exiting through the garage. She couldn’t find her purse and wondered if she’d left it on a hook at the back door. I followed her at her insistence. As we stepped into the garage, I noticed three cans of lye stacked along the back wall.”

“Lye,” I repeated. 

“Yes. In red and white cans. I asked Ms. Harvey if she knew what they were. She said no. But at that point, she started to cry again. She turned to me and asked me if Robert Forte was really dead. I said yes. She told me I needed to find Darryl. That she wouldn’t ever be safe until I found Darryl.”

“Detective, what were the next investigative steps you took?”

“I brought Ms. Harvey to the station for questioning. She calmed down considerably once she was away from the home she shared with Mr. Cox. I interviewed her for more than an hour. She was adamant that if Robert Forte was murdered, Darryl Cox was involved. She indicated that she and Mr. Forte had become romantically involved in the last few weeks before his murder. She told me she was afraid that Darryl had found out about it. She showed me a series of threatening texts Darryl had recently sent her. They were alarming.”

“What kind of threats?” I asked. 

“I would describe them as death threats.”

“Against Ms. Harvey?”

“Against Ms. Harvey and against Mr. Forte.”

Later, I would call Tamara to the stand and have her show the jury the same texts. “Detective, what did you do next?”

“I secured search warrants for Darryl Cox’s home, car, computer, and cell phone. Those came through fairly quickly, by midafternoon on December 7^th. By four o’clock that day, I met with Agent Moss from BCI. She had finished up at the Mullins Drive scene. She met me out at Ms. Harvey and Mr. Cox’s residence, and we executed the search warrant. Mr. Cox’s whereabouts were still unknown at that time.”

“What did you find incident to your search warrant?”

“Well, it took a few weeks before all the phone and computer forensics came back. But that day, at the house, we found a mound of what looked like freshly dug earth on the side of the house.”

I introduced the photographs. The mound was behind a blue garbage can. Lance had the presence of mind to take a video of Deputy Millburn digging through the earth. About a minute into the video, she yelled out, “Gun!” I stopped the playback. 

“What did you find, Detective?”

“We found a 9-millimeter handgun. It was still loaded with a bullet in the chamber and four left in the magazine. Ballistics later matched it as the weapon that was used to kill Robert Forte. There were three fingerprints on the barrel of the gun matching Darryl Cox.”

“What did you do next?”

“I secured an arrest warrant for Darryl Cox for the murder of Robert Forte based on the statement of Tamara Harvey. This was later corroborated by another associate of Mr. Forte’s who had heard Mr. Cox threaten Mr. Forte’s life. Based on the physical evidence on the murder weapon and later, evidence discovered incident to the forensic examination of Mr. Cox’s home computer and phone.”

“What did those examinations reveal?”

“Mr. Cox had made several internet searches about how to dispose of a body using lye and how long it would take for a human body to decompose after being covered in lye. He purchased the lye on the internet, and we found receipts for that transaction.”

“I see,” I said. “Detective, I’d like to direct your attention back to the crime scene on Mullins Drive as you discovered it. Was there anything unusual about the manner in which Robert Forte was killed?”

“Well,” he said. “As I told you, I noticed two distinct gunshot wounds. One to the head, one to the uh … groin area.”

I took a breath. I’d seen these photographs hundreds of times. Knew them by heart. Had prosecuted more murders committed by gun violence than I could count. But still, I had to steel myself for what I was about to introduce to the jury.

The first photograph was a close-up of Robbie Forte’s head. As Detective Lance described, there wasn’t much there on the left side of it. But he’d been moved so there wasn’t much blood. He almost didn’t look human, so it was easier to let the mind disassociate from what this really was. 

“And the second wound?” I said, putting my thumb over the clicker button that would advance the slide. 

Brody Lance’s lips disappeared as he grimaced. “It was tough to look at,” he said. “Especially later after the coroner did his thing. The … uh … theory is … that wound was made while Forte was very much alive.”

“What happened, Detective?”

“The uh … killer … I don’t quite know a delicate way to say it. Ah … Robert Forte’s manhood was shot clean off at very close range.”

I had no choice. This was a capital murder case. The jury had to see. I clicked the button and advanced the slide showing what was left of Robert Forte’s body, lying face up in that ditch. 

A beat. A pause. 

The Change. 

Each member of the jury absorbed what they were seeing on that projector. Then two of the men on the far end of the box doubled over and threw up.