Read Broken: A story of hope and forgiveness Page 40

  Chapter 28

  Victim Impact Statement

  Barbara dreaded the conversation she was about to engage in, but she knew it had to happen. Thus far she’d taken her marching orders from the DA, and he had tied her hands somewhat, telling her that the defendant had to plead straight up if he was to be given any quarter at all. Regrettably, his attorney was a shark, one of the shrewdest she’d ever come up against, and he wasn’t averse to taking the case to trial. She had just been served the defendant’s motion to suppress, and it was pretty good. After she finished reading it, she stood up and walked to Jackson’s office. After she glanced in his office to be sure he wasn’t otherwise disposed, she gently wrapped the doorframe with her knuckles and asked, “You have a minute?”

  “Certainly, come on in.”

  He motioned her to the chairs on the other side of his; they were a bit plusher and in better shape than the ones in her office, though they were just as old.

  Tossing the motion in the middle of his desk, she said, “It’s the Thomas motion to suppress.”

  Jackson picked it up and briefly glanced at the front page. “Any good arguments?”

  “A few. I think he’ll win the motion and get the minimum of what he’s asking for. If not, there’s a good case for appeal. Brown really messed up this one. The stuff in the motel room is history, and I must admit that we’ve got some Miranda issues with the defendant’s initial statements.”

  “Deadly?”

  “Not totally, but the investigation was bungled badly. If the evidence in the room goes away, all we have to prove up the aggravating factors is the tarp over the body. That’s it. And that’s a really shaky argument without fingerprints, DNA markers, or anything concrete tying it to Thomas. It would be great if we had some of his DNA on the tarp, but we don’t. If I were his attorney I would argue that he thought he hit a deer or something. Without the evidence in his room and no direct links to the tarp, I would argue that no one can prove who put the tarp on the body, a passerby who panicked, whatever. It could conceivably result in an all-out acquittal. Those bozos didn’t attempt to test his blood for alcohol or drugs. Even if they had, so what? No telling how long he’d been at the motel.”

  “Damn,” Jackson said softly and then followed it up with a silent prayer asking God to forgive him for his momentarily untamed tongue. He saw the problems as clearly as she did, and he’d already told Anderson as much. “Any thoughts?”

  “I’ll get a conviction for hit-and-run, that’s a no-brainer, but the odds of a conviction for aggravated battery and everything else will go down substantially if this motion goes to hearing. We can certainly kiss off the felonies.”

  Jackson shook his head side to side. “Offer him aggravated battery with all other counts dismissed, and recommend three years prison.”

  “Even the DUI?”

  “Yeah. Your assessment is dead on. No blood test.” She nodded in agreement as he said it.

  “What about Anderson?”

  “I’ll worry about him. I want this kid in prison. Period.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Barbara walked out of Jackson’s office, with Jackson close behind. After she left, he gently pushed his door shut and returned to his chair. He stared at the telephone for several minutes before picking it up and then punched in Anderson’s direct line. It rang twice.

  “Anderson here,” he said.

  “Hey, buddy,” Jackson said with a tone of regret. “You have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Brown royally screwed up the Thomas case.”

  “I know that, but it’s still a good one.”

  “That’s what I called about.” Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, he continued. “The evidence in the room is gone, you know that?”

  “I suspected it would be.”

  “Without that, we’ve got a big problem proving the aggravating factors. A bad jury might buy the old ‘I thought I hit a deer’ defense.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Jackson replied. “I authorized Barbara to offer Agg Batt, with a dismissal of the remaining counts. That will put our boy away for a few years. Otherwise, we’ll be lucky if we get a misdemeanor hit-and-run verdict. Got it?”

  Anderson knew he was right; he just dreaded telling Charles. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “We’ll save you the trouble and clear it with the victim and his family.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Both hung up their phones and sat back in their chairs. Jackson spun his chair around and glanced out his window into the parking lot. He shook his head side to side and said to himself, “Just two more years,” referring to the time remaining before he ran for Congress.

  Anderson had similar thoughts as he stared at his door; the blinds of his window were shut tight. “Just two more years,” he said, referring to the time remaining on his appointed position, wondering if running for election was worth the headaches it would obviously bring.

  It’s just one case, he thought. Do I really want more of this?