"A few hours?" I whisper with stunned disbelief. It already looks like they've been here for hours with a wrecking ball.
"We want to be thorough," she says with a playful grin, and it pisses me off this woman is enjoying tearing people's lives up this much. I believe I might actually hate her.
"What the fuck is going on?" I hear from behind me and spin around to see Beck standing in the doorway. His gaze sweeps the open interior of the condo, finally landing on me with carefully veiled agitation.
The assistant district attorney says, "Ahhh...Beck North. I recognize you from the news coverage."
"And you are?" he asks.
She doesn't respond but instead says, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
We watch as she spins on her sensible shoe and heads back down the hallway to our bedroom. Beck steps in immediately and whispers, "What's going on?"
I lean into him, hands on his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat racing away. "She said they had a search warrant. Denning has it back in the bedroom with her."
His eyes cut to the hallway quickly and then back to me. His hands come to my shoulders and he squeezes. "It's fine. It's going to be fine. There's nothing here for them to find."
I nod quickly in agreement, not because I actually agree but because I'm terrified to doubt his word and jinx the fuck out of us.
The clicking of heels alerts us to Hammond returning and we look over to see Detective Denning following behind her. She doesn't look smug the way the attorney does, but she does look motivated. Hammond stops in front of Beck and me and folds her arms over her chest to watch as Denning walks up to Beck.
"Mr. North...this is a search warrant signed by Judge Reyes this morning authorizing the Sausalito Police Department and District Attorney's office to enter your home to search for evidence. The summary of probable cause presented is there if you wish to read it as well as a list of the items we're looking for."
Beck takes the document and opens it up as it's folded into thirds, but before he can read it, Denning hands him another document. "And this is another search warrant for your Townsend-North office. We already have a team there conducting the search."
Irritation flashes on Beck's face as he takes the warrant. He's not worried though. There's nothing at the office at all that will aid them.
"And finally," ADA Hammond says as she uncrosses her arms and reaches into the inside of her gray jacket. She pulls out another document, folded into thirds as well, and my stomach cramps in fear. She hands it to Beck. "This is a warrant for your arrest, Mr. North, for the murder of Jonathon Townsend. I'll give you a moment to read it, but then I'm going to ask Detective Denning to place you in custody."
"What?" I practically screech at the top of my lungs. "No...you can't do that."
Before I even know what's happening, Beck is pushing the warrants at Caroline, who takes them without question, and his hands are on my shoulders, his fingers digging in with painful pressure so he gets my attention. He's very aware we have an audience but he pins me with an intent look.
"Sela," he says calmly. "It's going to be fine. I've done nothing wrong, so you've got nothing to worry about. Now I want you to take these warrants and call Doug Shriver. Have him meet me at the police station. He'll handle everything, and you're going to sit here with Caroline and relax while we get this figured out. I'll handle this, okay?"
Translation: You are absolutely not going to say a fucking word about your involvement in JT's death. You're going to sit back like I'm telling you to do, and we're going to let this play out.
"Okay?" he asks again.
I'm forced to nod my acquiescence because he's asking me to do so.
To trust him.
Beck pulls me in, moves his hands from my shoulders to my face, where he cradles it gently. His eyes look at me with such tenderness and fierce love that I immediately start to cry. He leans in and gives me a kiss, and when I mean a kiss, I mean a kiss. It's openmouthed, deep, and possessive. He doesn't give a fuck we're being watched and he's making sure I understand that I am his and he's going to protect me no matter what.
"That's very touching," I hear Hammond's bitchy voice penetrate through the kiss. "But it's time to go."
Denning steps forward, pulling a pair of cuffs clipped to her belt. "Mr. North...if you could turn around and put your hands behind your back?"
"Do you have to handcuff him?" I ask pleadingly.
"It's protocol," Denning responds briskly.
I watch in despair as Beck is handcuffed. She then puts one hand on his elbow and leads him to the door. She says, "Mr. North, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
Her voice drones on as I follow them numbly out the door, Caroline right behind me and Hammond following all of us. When we reach the elevator, I start to follow them in, but Denning says, "Miss Halstead...you really should stay here."
Her voice actually sounds sympathetic.
"I'm going down with him," I say firmly, and I dare her to tell me no. This elevator and this building are mine by rights. That man is mine by rights.
She nods and pulls Beck to the side to make room. I enter and stand by his side, Caroline behind me and Hammond in last to stand in front of us as the doors close. Hammond actually taps her shoe and hums a little song I don't recognize, but it's a happy tune and I can tell she's eating this up.
I hate her.
I press in closer to Beck, touch my arm to his. He doesn't respond but he doesn't need to. I know how he feels.
When we get to the lobby, our doorman, John, looks stunned to see the procession walking toward him. His eyes go to Beck's in shocked surprise but he scrambles to open the door.
And the throng of reporters swarm us as we step out.
That fucking bitch tipped the reporters. It's all clear now. Her smug attitude. The triumph in her eyes. Denning pulls Beck to the side toward the unmarked car, but I'm rooted to the spot as I watch Hammond almost trot down the three steps to come to stand before the reporters.
"Miss Hammond, are you taking Mr. North into custody for the murder of Jonathon Townsend?" a reporter calls out, but I can't see who it is. So many of them are holding up recording devices and others are snapping pictures.
"Yes," she says with a confident smile. "Mr. North has been served with an arrest warrant for the murder of Jonathon Townsend. We'll be booking him today and he'll be arraigned tomorrow. Now, I've got some time to answer questions, but let's try to do it in an orderly fashion."
That fucking bitch. I want to claw her eyes out. She's a media whore, plain and simple. She's eating up the attention and she's going to use Beck to put her name in the spotlight.
I turn back to look at Beck as Denning is helping him into the backseat with a protective hand on his head so he doesn't bump it. He looks at me briefly, mouths the words I love you.
I mouth the same words back to him, and hope to God I get to tell him that in person again sometime soon.
I'm led into the courtroom of the Marin County Courthouse in cuffs, but I'm spared the khaki-colored jumpsuit I was given last night to sleep in while I enjoyed overnight accommodations at the Marin County Sheriff's Department. Sela had brought one of my suits to Doug, who met with me in a private counseling room just off the courtroom where my arraignment would be held. He went through the process again of what would happen, although he'd talked to me about it briefly last night after I'd been booked.
He tried to be reassuring, telling me the evidence was all circumstantial, but I was not reassured, since he told me just a few days prior that most convictions were based purely on circumstantial evidence. The arrest warrant was lean on details, but he said it met the probable cause standards. Motive and DNA were mentioned, but none of that surprised me. The police had made it clear they felt I had plenty of motive in the questions they'd asked me, and like I told them, I'm sure my DNA was all over JT's house, since I'd been there numerous times in the
past.
My eyes immediately go to the front row behind the defendant's table, where I'll be sitting with Doug, and I can feel my body swell with confidence when I see Sela and Caroline sitting side by side. I give them an encouraging smile but they're hard-pressed to give it back. I can see terror in both their eyes.
Just behind them, I see Linda sitting there, her gaze holding me solidly with support and sympathy. She presses her fingertips to her lips, kisses them, and sends it to me with a subtle blowing of her breath. I smile differently for her; it's one of gratitude for her being here. I have to assume my arrest was all over the news and I'm worried sick about the stability of The Sugar Bowl, but I'm going to have to assume our VP of operations will be working closely with all departments to keep things running. That's her job on any given day.
The deputy leads me over to the table I'm to sit at, and I note Doug is bent over at the table set about ten feet from ours, talking quietly with ADA Hammond. She has a stubborn set to her chin as he motions toward a file she has sitting before her and shakes her head to deny whatever he's asking. He straightens up and turns to me, and after the deputy removes the handcuffs, he walks over and gives a hard squeeze to my shoulder.
"Can I say hi to Sela and Caroline?" I ask him, as it's driving me crazy to have them both sitting not five feet away.
He shakes his head and pulls his chair out from the table. "Sorry. Those cuffs only come off for you to sit at counsel table, so go ahead and take a seat."
With a sigh, I look over my shoulder at my lover and my sister and give them a small smile before I sit down beside Doug. The courtroom is abuzz with idle chatter. It's filled to almost capacity and I'm wondering how many of those people are reporters versus perhaps family members of other defendants who are awaiting arraignment. Or maybe even family members of victims.
My head snaps to the right and I look over my shoulder at the rows of benches behind the district attorney's table. And sure enough, Candace and Colin Townsend are sitting there, both of them staring straight at me with cold, hard eyes. My chest squeezes painfully, because while I'm not exceptionally close to them, I'd been fond of them just from years of knowing them, despite Candace's illicit relationship with my father. They've never looked at me with anything but the same fondness coupled with respect for my achievements.
I almost half expect my parents to be close to the Townsends, so my eyes scan the rest of the seats, but I don't see them. Never in a million years would I expect them to be sitting on my side of the courtroom in support of their son, and I can't really expect differently. In the past two days, I'd cut both of them out of my life, and I'm still fine with that decision.
Besides, had they shown up for me, that would have just been all kinds of awkward. My guess is they're both holed up in the house right now probably cowering in shame over what their son has allegedly done.
"All rise," I hear as a door behind the judge's bench swings open and a bailiff steps through calling the room to order. I stand along with every other person in the courtroom. Judge Reyes--the man who apparently signed my arrest warrant--walks up the dais in a swirl of black robes. He's a small man with ink-black hair and caramel-colored skin, and I would have thought he was Latino, but Doug told me last night he was actually from the Philippines but had dual citizenship.
Doug and I discussed Judge Reyes at length last night, because it seems that is the one good thing that has happened to me since I was arrested. Judge Reyes used to be a criminal defense attorney, and while judges are supposed to be impartial, he has a slight bend in favor of the defense side. It's not to say he's going to wave a magic wand and release me, but Doug assured me I couldn't have landed a judge more devoted to ensure the prosecution plays nicely by the rules.
He also told me that nothing much was going to happen today. The arraignment was nothing more than to advise me of my constitutional rights, read the charges against me, and give me the opportunity to plead guilty or not. Then Doug will have a slight battle on his hands to try to get me released on bail.
"All right," Judge Reyes says as he picks up a file from his raised desk. He opens it, peruses a document. "We have the matter of the State versus Beckett North before us."
The judge looks up from the document to me, and Doug stands from his chair and I follow suit. "Mr. North...you've been charged with first-degree murder by the state of California. It's my job to advise you of your constitutional rights. First, you have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, the state will appoint one to you at no cost. I see you're represented by Mr. Doug Shriver though, so that's a moot point. Second, you have the right against self-incrimination. That means at no point can you be compelled to give testimony that could implicate you in this crime. You are also entitled to a speedy trial as well as a trial by a jury of your peers. Now, I'm sure your attorney has gone over these with you, but do you understand these rights as I've just read them?"
"I do, Your Honor," I say confidently, although quite frankly, my knees are shaking.
"And how would you like to plead to these charges, Mr. North?" he asks.
"Not guilty," I reply with even more strength in my voice.
I didn't fucking do it, so it's not like I'm acting.
"Duly noted," Judge Reyes says, making a notation in the file before him. "I'm going to set the preliminary hearing for Monday at ten A.M."
This surprises me. It's Friday and I didn't think things would move that fast.
ADA Hammond stands swiftly from her chair. "Your Honor, the state would ask for a bit more time. The law states the preliminary hearing can be set up to ten days from arraignment."
Judge Reyes sounds completely bored. "Actually, Miss Hammond, what the law truly says is that it can be set within ten days of the arraignment. I suppose one could argue that I could set it for tomorrow if I was so inclined to bring you good folks back on a Saturday but as it is, I have a birthday party to attend for my granddaughter so you're off the hook. I'll see all parties here Monday at ten A.M."
Hammond sits back down in a huff.
"Now, let's discuss bail," Judge Reyes says.
Hammond jumps back up from her chair so quickly it slides back and knocks into the half wall that separates the seating gallery. "Your Honor, the state would oppose any bail and requests the defendant be remanded. This was a grisly crime fueled by aggravating factors that will be revealed at the prelim, and the defendant is a danger to society. Furthermore, he is a man of immense wealth and has the ability to flee if he were released."
Judge Reyes, still looking quite bored, turns to my attorney. "Mr. Shriver?"
"Your Honor, Miss Hammond is right...this was a grisly crime, but seeing as how they've arrested an innocent man, that shouldn't have anything to do with your decision. Mr. North deserves the presumption of innocence as the law requires. And while we can't do anything about the fact that he is indeed rich, you can set the bail high enough to make it hurt if he runs and merely ask him to surrender his passport, which will ensure he cannot run. Seems quite simple to me."
Man, I love this guy. He's slightly snarky, but so well reasoned you can't argue with what he says. At least I can't.
Judge Reyes nods at Doug and says, "Bail is set at five million dollars and the defendant will surrender his passport until after the trial."
"Your Honor," Hammond says in an almost whiny voice. "If you're not going to remand him, at least order house arrest with an ankle bracelet."
Judge Reyes looks to Doug with his eyebrows raised, conveying it's his turn to counterargue.
"Again, in the eyes of this court, Mr. North is presumed innocent. He has a large corporation to run and over fifty people who depend on him for jobs. He must have the freedom to continue to operate his business. If you must have control over him, simply order him to stay within the state of California unless he has business elsewhere, and at that time, the court can decide whether or not he can travel outside of California but within the boundaries of this country."
/>
Reyes doesn't even pause. "Agreed and so ordered. Is there anything else before I move on to the next case?"
"No, Your Honor," Doug says politely.
"Not from the state," Hammond says in a sulky voice.
"Very well, Bailiff...call the next case."
Over the next hour, I'm shuttled back over to the Sheriff's Department, this time without handcuffs, and I'm processed out of their system. I get back my clothes, wallet, phone, and watch. Doug stays with me the entire time while I insisted that Sela and Caroline go back to the condo. He tells me that the preliminary hearing will be nothing more than the state providing their evidence and Judge Reyes will determine if it's sufficient to push this to trial.
Doug tells me that the prelim is going to make or break me.
He never once asks me if I killed JT.
My fingers slide over the track pad on my laptop, the cursor arrow going where I want it to, choosing a new article to read.
Sugar Bowl Founder Accused of Murdering Partner
(AP) San Francisco--The business and tech worlds were stunned Thursday night when multimillionaire founder and program developer Beckett North was arrested for the brutal murder of his partner, Jonathon Townsend. Booked and then arraigned on Friday with a five-million-dollar bond, North was released on his own recognizance but had to surrender his passport.
Just four days prior, Townsend's body was found in his home by his personal chef, who stumbled onto what she describes as a scene "straight out of a nightmare." While the police have yet to release details about the crime, Rosalinda Patane said that Townsend was on the floor of his den with stab wounds in his neck. Sources within the Sausalito Police Department have refused to disclose the murder weapon, which led many to believe it hasn't been recovered.
Townsend and North, who were childhood friends, went on to open up the controversial Sugar Bowl, a dating website that pairs older, wealthy men with younger women. Many claim the site is nothing more than a means to provide paid prostitution, but Townsend had repeatedly denied that claim in interviews, maintaining no money is exchanged...