“All rise,” came the monotone drone of the bailiff, who clearly hadn’t slept well. The shuffle of chairs and feet and purses waxed and waned.
Gus’ phone buzzed in his pocket. Eyes wide, he slapped it down, as if he could keep it from making noise if he just pressed hard enough. A few heads glanced briefly in his direction, and he too turned, trying to pass blame to someone else. When they looked away, Gus slipped his phone out of his pocket and tried to check it discreetly.
A text from Theo. It could wait.
The judge was seated, the jury was seated, and the bailiff instructed everyone to take their own seats as well. Gus knew he should be listening to what was being said—the importance of the grand jury, the seriousness with which they should take their role, yada yada yada—but a knot was tightening around his stomach that he couldn’t shake. Ignoring Theo’s text felt too much like the next item in a decades-long pattern that he didn’t want to continue, but pulling out his phone to text his son back would not be a good look for his slump-ending performance. Especially since Gus was almost certain he’d seen the word “work” in Theo’s text. He didn’t need anyone asking any questions about Theo’s internship.
An elbow in his rib drew him out of his thoughts.
“Mr. Butler, are you ready, sir?” The bailiff’s voice had shifted from bored to mildly annoyed. Gus inhaled sharply, stood up, and adjusted his sport coat. Time to put on his big boy hat and blow these suckers away.
“Yes, thank you. I’d like to call my first witness, Miss Leonora Harvey.” He gestured to Miss Harvey, who stood up, and the two of them walked toward the podium at the front of the room. Gus nodded politely to the jury as Miss Harvey took her seat and was sworn in by the foreman.
Another deep breath, a silent affirmation that this wouldn’t be a catastrophe, and a brief moment of eye contact with the witness. Gus couldn’t quite read her—she didn’t seem nervous, per se, but she didn’t seem relaxed, either. Tightly wound, maybe.
“Miss Harvey, can you state your full name for the court?”
“Leonora Nicole Harvey.”
“And what is your relationship to the accused?”
“I was an employee at the McNeill Institute for many years—for four years as an intern, and another three as a full-time staff member.” She hesitated. Gus nodded microscopically in her direction, trying to encourage her to say the rest of what she’d told him. “And I was engaged to Jude Junior for about a year.”
Gus released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. “And did your relationship with Mr. Pierucci and your employment at the Institute terminate at the same time?”
Her jaw clenched. “Yes."
“When was that?”
“April of last year.”
“Can you describe the circumstances surrounding your termination of employment and the end of your relationship with Mr. Pierucci?” She winced again at the word ‘termination’. Gus made a mental note to find a synonym and to ask her about it later. She hadn’t struck him as squeamish during their initial interview, but it seemed relevant.
“Yes. I had been assigned to a PR project at the Institute, responding to some public backlash about what I was assured was simply a smear campaign. The Institute was working with Scarlett Bay Correctional Facility outside of town to develop a program that would allow inmates to be more successfully rehabilitated without adding to prison sentences or increasing costs dramatically, and rumors were circulating that the program’s success rates were due to abuses happening in secret. As I said, I was assured that these rumors were unequivocally false and unsubstantiated… however, in my research, I discovered that there were some truly frightening things happening at the prison, and once I’d got my nose on the scent, I couldn’t let it go.”
She paused, swallowed, and blinked heavily. Gus’ eyes wandered toward the jury box, where things looked fifty-fifty as far as he could tell. Miss Harvey wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic witness, and her meandering storytelling wasn’t doing her any favors.
“Program participants being killed off the record. Treatment of inmates that couldn’t be classified as anything short of torture. Once I started learning more, I had to operate in secret because I was beginning to see that I would be in grave danger if my research was discovered.”
Gus took the chance to interrupt her and get her back on track. “Was your work discovered?”
Leonora nodded. Her expression was distant, and Gus’ stomach sank. Was this going to be too much for her? He wouldn’t have pegged her as the wimpy one in the lineup. “Yes,” she replied. “I slipped up. Jude Junior noticed that I was working in the project files, and without knowing that I didn’t have clearance, mentioned it to his father. Within about a week, I was no longer working with the Institute and Jude had ended our engagement.”
Her eyes flew toward McDowell, almost fearful. Was there something he wasn’t telling her? Surely they wouldn’t hold anything back after everything they’d been through, right?
“Did Dr. Pierucci give a reason why he was letting you go?”
“He told me it was such a deep and personal betrayal that he could no longer respect me as an individual or an employee.”
Gus raised his eyebrows, in spite of himself. A quick glance at the jury revealed that the line had landed with them too.
“And did Jude Junior give you a reason why he was breaking up with you?”
She winced. “His father told him to.”
Damn. Gus let that one sit in the air for a while before continuing. “Miss Harvey, when you were doing this forbidden research on a project to which you’d been assigned, did you take notes on your findings?”
Inhale. Exhale. Shoulders dropped. “I did.”
“Did you find the substance of the allegations to be credible, in spite of the original parameters of your assignment to disprove them?”
“Generally credible. There were a few outlandish rumor-mongers capitalizing on the story for their own ends, but there was much more truth than I originally anticipated.”
“And how long had this been going on, by your estimation?”
“Several years by the time I discovered it. The earliest substantiated incident I could find was about ten years ago, but some of my sources suggested it was earlier.”
“So you documented about ten years worth of crime, then?”
“I did.”
“And what did you plan to do with your documentation? Did you confront Dr. Pierucci directly?”
Leah barked a harsh laugh. “I did not. I sent it to the FBI, as it was a serious matter that technically crossed jurisdictions.” Her face fell. “I went back and forth for a long time about what to do, and it wasn’t until I began to realize that Dr. Pierucci knew what I was doing that I finally acted. But I think the point of diminishing returns had come and gone by then, and I often wonder how much harm I could have prevented had I acted sooner.” Her gaze fell on the Rodriguez widow, and Gus noticed tears in the corner of both women’s eyes.
Time to wrap this up.
“What were you worried would happen if Dr. Pierucci found out about your research?”
Leah swallowed hard, sniffled once, and met his gaze. “I worried he was going to kill me.” Before Gus could ask his final follow up question, Leah added, “which, I might add, was not a baseless fear, in light of how everything went down in the end.”
Gus nodded. She’d remembered to set him up for his line of questioning with the other witnesses. Emotional and jumpy she might be, but she seemed a woman of her word, and he appreciated that.
“Well, Miss Harvey, that concludes my line of questioning for now. I will let you know if you are needed again.”
She nodded and allowed the bailiff to escort her back to her seat. Gus stepped over to his desk and shuffled a few papers around, eventually pulling out the evidence that McDowell had given to him. “Your honor, I’d like to submit Miss Harvey’s research notes.”
At least one juror gasped when they saw the huge stack of paper Gus was carrying up to the judge’s bench. He couldn’t blame them—it was basically a novel, and just as sensational as he knew they’d want it to be. A smug sense of satisfaction swelled in his chest as he prepared his notes for his next witness. McDowell for the details of the research and the arrest, the doctor for the confirmation on the poison, Bailey for the background, and the Rodriguez widow for the emotional clencher. They had this in the bag. Overkill, if anything.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Glancing back momentarily, he saw Miss Harvey walking to the back of the room, and McDowell’s eyes trailing her. Probably just needed a glass of water or something. But his confidence wavered when he called McDowell to the stand and there was no sign of Harvey. McDowell kept his eyes glued on the back door of the room for a long minute before blinking deliberately and giving Gus his full attention.
Gus sped through the opening formalities mindlessly, hoping his witness would get pulled out of whatever mental space he was in and back to the present moment.
“Agent McDowell, can you confirm that you were the recipient of Miss Harvey’s research notes in April of last year?”
“Yes. She submitted her data through our tip line, which dropped the case in my lap. I can honestly say that in my ten plus years with the Bureau, I’ve never seen such a thorough report.” His eyes darted back toward the door. Just for a moment.
“And when you received the information from Miss Harvey, what was your next step?”
McDowell shrugged. “I spent a few months just doing basic follow up. Checking her facts, establishing credibility, making sure that this wasn’t a case where specificity was part of some sort of petty revenge scheme. And then I went undercover for about a year as a patient of Dr. Pierucci, which gave me access to his clinic and other patients, while simultaneously continuing my own research on his work.”
“Did you typically find Miss Harvey’s information to be credible and accurate?”
“Yes.”
“No further comments?”
“None. Her work was exceptional. She’d’ve made an excellent agent.” He seemed restless, shifting his weight from one side of his body to the other. What had gotten into all these idiots?
“Miss Harvey mentioned several alleged murders. Were you able to locate the bodies of these individuals?”
The witness grimaced. “We were unable to locate bodies on site. Jude Junior admitted after the sting operation that the bodies were transported to a local police precinct where they were autopsied, processed, and buried as victims of a serial killer invented for this purpose. One of the detectives was on the payroll, and he was responsible for the disposal of the inmates who had been terminated from the program.”
There it was again—terminated. Made sense why Harvey would have flinched at it. Must have been the language Pierucci used. Gus filed the information away and continued his line of questioning.
“Did you access the coroner’s report for these individuals?”
“Yes.”
“And what did these reports show?”
McDowell turned toward the witness bench, eyes heavy. “The bodies had been mutilated immediately after death to obscure the actual cause, but all reports showed the presence of midazolam, bromide, and potassium chloride, which is the chemical cocktail used on death row. This was also the protocol Dr. Pierucci intended to utilize to execute myself and Miss Harvey during our sting operation.”
A quiet, sighing whimper behind Gus distracted him from the jury’s reaction. He turned back to the bench and saw that Miss Harvey had returned. She had an arm around the Rodriguez widow, who was crying quietly into a handkerchief. Gus reminded himself to be gentle with her when it was her turn on the stand.
He turned back toward the witness and nodded. “Can you tell me more about the alleged execution you just referenced?”
“We—” He hesitated. “As part of our—” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, then ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” A long moment passed before he exhaled and looked back up at Gus. “We were taken to the prison by Dr. Pierucci and Jude Junior, where we were restrained and prepared for execution. My team was on-site throughout, and they stepped in to intervene before any injections were given to either of us. This can be confirmed by my agents as well as staff at the prison.”
Gus opened his mouth to ask his final question, but before he could do so, McDowell spoke up. “I’m sorry, can we… can I request a brief recess? I need a few minutes before I’m ready to continue.”
“Granted,” replied the judge, and the courtroom filled with the chaotic, quiet shuffle of chairs and purses and whispers.
Damn these witnesses.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping a couple quarters in my digital typewriter case!
You’re reading What I Have Failed To Do, a serialized first-draft from Sara Dietz at Blinking Blue Line. If you’re new ‘round these parts, welcome! If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read, I’d love to have you stick around.
And if you’re in the mood for your next favorite story, check out my crime/medical thriller, Remembrance, or my fantasy-quest serialized novella, The Ravenswing Report.
Hiii friend! Been awhile!!! How are you?
....and I'm reminded once again of how much I don't like Jude, even thought we haven't seen him onscreen yet (so to speak).