find, we may need to keep the evidence sealed for trial. I can find
out about her keys for you, if you'd like."
"Whatever. I can get a new set cut at the store tomorrow. Am I going
to have to come to any of these things? I can't afford to take time
off work."
"You're certainly welcome to come with Kendra as support, but I don't
think you'll need to testify until the trial. I'll make sure Kendra
has transportation to the courthouse when she needs to come down
here."
"Alright, then. I better be going. You need anything else?"
"Would it be OK if I dropped by your home tonight to meet Kendra?" I
asked.
"You'll have to talk to her about that. You want me to get her?"
"No, that's OK, I'll try talking to her later." If Mom didn't care,
I'd rather just drop in on Kendra unannounced. Wouldn't want her
running off anywhere. "Feel free to call me if you have any questions.
Let me give you my direct line."
"Um, I can't find a pen right now. If I need anything, I can look it
up, right?"
I told her that she could, even though I knew she wouldn't.
I devoted the rest of my day to the routine drudgeries of the drug
section of the Drug and Vice Division. The DA assigned me to DVD
because I used to prosecute drug cases when I was in New York. I
accepted the assignment because I wanted to keep working as a
prosecutor when Roger and I moved, and the Portland U.S. Attorney's
Office wasn't hiring. In most people's eyes it was a step down: I went
from handling cases involving nationwide distribution conspiracies and
literally tons of dope to prosecuting sad-sack hustlers for dealing
eight-balls of methamphetamine and as little as a single rock of crack
cocaine.
But while I may have lost the prestige of a federal prosecutor's
office, I had developed a niche as part of the vice section of DVD,
prosecuting the monsters who lure, coerce, and force women into
prostitution. The less-experienced DVD attorneys shied away from those
cases because they were hard to prove, hard to win, and hard to take.
The career prosecutors who handled the major felony person crimes
didn't want them because they were viewed as less important than
murders and other violent offenses. But I felt more rewarded by those
cases than I'd ever felt prosecuting even complex federal drug
conspiracies.
Today, however, my plate was full of drug charges. No surprise, the
grand jury returned indictments on all four of the cases I presented.
Most drug-related cases are pretty much the same. The only variation
tends to be in the type and degree of stupidity involved.
Usually it was a matter of poor strategy. My daily caseload is full of
tweekers who agree to let the police search them, even though they're
carrying enough dope to land them in the state pen for a couple of
years. Apparently, an undocumented side effect of dope is a gross
overestimation of one's own intelligence. Dopers become convinced
they've hidden their stash so well a cop won't find it. They're always
wrong.
But sometimes it goes beyond poor strategy to straight-out stupidity.
In one of today's cases, two men did a hand-to-hand drug deal standing
two feet from a Portland police officer. What stealth tactic had this
shrewd officer used to avoid detection? He was part of the city's
mounted patrol unit, which covered a downtown beat on horseback. When
the men were arrested, one of them said to the officer, "Dude, I didn't
even see you up there, man. I just thought it was cool that a horse
had found its way to the park." It hadn't dawned on them to look up
and see whether someone might have accompanied the savvy equine.
Despite all the talk about the modern "war on drugs," the truth is that
most police don't go out of their way to investigate minor drug
offenses. They don't have to. There is so much dope out there, and
the people taking it are so dense, that the cases literally fall into
the cops' laps, whether they want them or not. The upside is that it
makes my job easier.
When I was done getting my cases indicted, I called MCT to see if a
detective could drive out to Rockwood with me to interview Kendra. I
wanted to talk to her tonight, before she got antsy and ran away again.
Grand jury was Friday, and I needed to know what to expect from my star
witness.
I try to have a police officer or DA investigator with me whenever I
talk to someone who will be testifying in one of my cases. If the
witness ever went south on me, I'd want a person present who could
testify about the witness's statement, since lawyers are not allowed to
testify in their own cases.
Someone picked up after four rings. "Walker."
"Detective Walker, it's Samantha Kincaid at the DA's office. I'm
calling about the Derringer case."
"Sure. What can I do you for?"
I told him what I'd found out the day before from Deputy Lamborn and
Dave Renshaw.
"Oh, hang on a sec. The rest of the guys have got to hear this." I
heard him put me on speaker. "You want to tell 'em or should I?"
Figuring I was more likely than Walker to keep the conversation on
track, I repeated the information about Derrick Derringer's previous
offer to serve as an alibi witness for his brother and then got to the
part about Derringer's body hair.
Walker couldn't help himself. "Can you believe what a fucking waste of
time and money that is? Everyone knows these guys never change. They
just get off having someone watch them watch that smut. But the system
manages to find the money to pay some doctor to handle these guys'
Johnsons, when it could use the money to keep them in the pen where
they belong."
I heard Ray Johnson nearby. "How many times I gotta tell you that you
make my workplace hostile when you call something like that ajohnson,
man? So, Kincaid, what's the doctor say about Derringer's broken
pecker?"
I certainly didn't know what it meant. "Look, five different shrinks
could probably come up with five interpretations. What's important is
that we know Derringer shaved within a few days of the attack. That's
big. Any news on that end?"
"No," Walker replied. "The lab's still working the rape kit and the
other evidence. No leads on who this second guy is. Ray's looking at
Derringer's known associates from before he went to the pen, but
nothing yet. So far, Derringer's only calls from the jail have been to
his brother. He's playing it cool."
"Alright, let me know if you get anything new. Also, I need one of you
to come out to Kendra Martin's with me tonight. Grand jury's on
Friday, and I want to prep this girl while she's still on board."
"Geez. I really want to help you out on this one, since you're going