Milo forced him down on the ground and put one foot on the small of his back.
A pat-down produced a wad of cash, a flick-knife with a black handle, a vial of pills, and a cheap plastic billfold stamped RENO: NEVADA’S PLAYGROUND. Milo pulled three different driver’s licenses out of the fold.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? Sobran comma Karl with a K, Sebring comma Carl with a C, and... Ramsey comma Clark Edward. Which one’s real, turkey, or are you suffering from multiple personality syndrome?”
The man said nothing.
Milo nudged one of the black shoes with a toe.
“Good old prison clumpers. County or state?”
No answer.
“You need new heels, genius.”
The man’s back muscles moved under his shirt.
Milo turned to me. “Find a phone and call the Devonshire substation. Tell them we’ve got a suspect on a Central Division homicide and give them Dawn Herbert’s full name.”
The man on the ground said, “Bullshit.” His voice was deep and muddy.
One of the young students came out onto the stairs. Twenty or twenty-one, short blond pageboy, sleeveless white dress, Mary Pickford face.
She said, “Kristie’s pretty upset,” in a very timid voice.
“Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute,” said Milo.
“Um... sure. What did Karl do?”
“Sloppy homework,” said Milo.
The man on the ground growled and the girl looked startled.
Milo kept his knee on the man’s back and said, “Shut up.”
The blond girl gripped the doorjamb.
Softening his voice, Milo said, “It’s okay — nothing to worry about. Just go inside and wait.”
“This isn’t some kind of experiment or anything, is it?”
“Experiment?”
“A role-play. You know? Professor Jones likes to use them to raise our awareness.”
“Bet he does. No, miss, this is real. Sociology in action. Take a good look — it’ll be on the final.”
36
The envelope arrived by messenger at 7:00 P.M., just before Robin got home. I put it aside and tried to have a normal evening with her. After she went to sleep, I took it to the library. Turned on all the lights and read.
TRANSCRIPT OF INTERROGATION
DR# 102–789 793
DR# 64—458 990
DR# 135–935 827
PLACE: T/DATE: L.A.C. JAIL, BLOCK: HIGH-POWER
6/1/89, 7:30 P.M.
JONES, CHARLES LYMAN III, MW, 6′3″
SUSPECT: BRO, BLU
AGE: 38
DEF ATTORNEY: TOKARIK, ANTHONY M., ESQ.
MILO B. STURGIS #15994, WLA
LAPD: (SPEC, ASSIGNMENT)
STEPHEN MARTINEZ, #26782, DEVSHR.
DET. STURGIS: This is video-audiotape session number two with Suspect Charles Lyman Jones the Third. Suspect was informed of his rights at the time of arrest for attempted murder. Miranda warning was repeated and taped at a previous session, eleven A.M. June 1, 1989, and transcribed on that day at two P.M. Said session was terminated on advice of suspect’s counsel, Mr. Anthony Tokarik, Esquire. This session represents resumption of interview at request of Mr. Tokarik. Do I need to re-Mirandize him, Counselor, or does that second warning hold for this session?
MR. TOKARIK: It will hold, unless Professor Jones requests re-Mirandization. Do you want to be warned again, Chip?
MR. JONES: NO. Let’s get on with this.
MR. TOKARIK: Go ahead.
DET. STURGIS: Evening, Chip.
MR. TOKARIK: I’d prefer that you address my client respectfully, Detective.
DET. STURGIS: Professor be okay?
MR. TOKARIK: Yes. However, if that’s too difficult for you, “Mr. Jones” would suffice.
DET. STURGIS: You just called him Chip.
MR. TOKARIK: I’m his lawyer.
DET. STURGIS: Uh-huh... okay... sure. Hey, I’d even call him “Doctor,” but he never finished his Ph.D., did you, Chip — Mr. Jones? What’s that? Can’t hear you.
MR. JONES: (unintelligible)
DET. STURGIS: Got to speak up, Mr. Jones. Grunts don’t make it.
MR. TOKARIK: Hold on, Detective. Unless the tone of this interview changes, I’m going to call a halt to it immediately.
DET. STURGIS: Suit yourself — your loss. I just thought you guys might want to hear some of the evidence we’ve compiled against old Chip, here. ’Scuse me — Mister Jones.
MR. TOKARIK: I can get anything you have from the district attorney under the rules of recovery, Detective.
DET. STURGIS: Fine. Then wait till the trial. Let’s go, Steve.
DET. MARTINEZ: Sure.
MR. JONES: Hold on. (unintelligible)
MR. TOKARIK: Wait, Chip, (unintelligible) I’d like to confer with my client privately, if you don’t mind.
DET. STURGIS: If it doesn’t take too long.
Tape off: 7:39 P.M.
Tape on: 7:51 P.M.
MR. TOKARIK: Go ahead, show us what you’ve got.
DET. STURGIS: Yeah, sure, but is Mr. Jones going to be answering questions or is it gonna be a one-way show-and-tell?
MR. TOKARIK: I reserve my client’s right to refuse to answer any questions. Proceed if you wish, Detective.
DET. STURGIS: What do you think, Steve?
DET. MARTINEZ: I don’t know.
MR. TOKARIK: Decision, gentlemen?
DET. STURGIS: Yeah, okay... Well, Chip — Mr. Jones — I’m glad you’ve got yourself a high-priced lawyer like Mr. Tokarik here, ’cause you’re sure gonna—
MR. TOKARIK: This is definitely getting off on the wrong foot. My fees have nothing to—
DET. STURGIS: What are we doing here, Counselor, interrogating a suspect or critiquing my style?
MR. TOKARIK: I strenuously object to your—
DET. STURGIS: Object all you want. This isn’t court.
MR. TOKARIK: I request another conference with my client.
DET. STURGIS: NO way. Let’s split, Steve.
DET. MARTINEZ: You bet.
MR. JONES: Hold on. Sit down.
DET. STURGIS: You ordering me around, Junior?
MR. TOKARIK: I object to—
DET. STURGIS: Come on, Steve, we’re outa here.
MR. JONES: Hold on!
MR. TOKARIK: Chip, it’s—
MR. JONES: Shut up!
MR. TOKARIK: Chip—
MR. JONES: Shut up!
DET. STURGIS: Uh-uh, no way do I proceed with this kind of friction going on between the two of you. Then he complains he wasn’t represented by counsel of choice? No way.
MR. TOKARIK: Don’t play lawyer with me, Detective.
MR. JONES: Just shut the hell up, Tony! This whole thing is preposterous!
DET. STURGIS: What is, Professor Jones?
MR. JONES: Your supposed case.
DET. STURGIS: You didn’t attempt to inject your daughter, Cassandra Brooks, with insulin?
MR. JONES: Of course not. I found the needle in Cindy’s purse, got upset because it confirmed my suspicions about her, and was trying to see if she’d already—
MR. TOKARIK: Chip—
MR. JONES:... jected it into Cassie’s I.V. Stop giving me looks, Tony — it’s my future at stake here. I want to hear what kind of folderol they think they’ve got, so I can clear it up once and for all.