Michael Gresham: Secrets Girls Keep Part 19

Marcel and I stare at each other, our mouths hanging open.

"No."

"Not that I know, no."

She looks at both of us in turn.

"Well, there you are," she says, "the possibility of a smoking gun."

"Except the detectives, one, don't know Jana uses mice, and, two, won't know where he gets them."

"Well, all I'm saying is you better hope it remains that way. This case needs to be pled out to a lesser included charge before they find out about his mice. That would put him away for life."

"She's right," Marcel says.

"I know," I agree. "She's absolutely right. But d.a.m.n, I'd like to see the M.E.'s mouse get sampled and compared. Who knows what might turn up?"

"What if-" says Danny, still playing devil's advocate, "what if they sampled the found mouse for Jana's DNA on its body? Has that been done?"

"We don't have any reports indicating that," I say.

"Yet," she says.

"OMG," I whisper. "That in itself could be the smoking gun, if they found Jana's DNA on the dead mouse."

"Or if they matched the Superglue to his tube of Superglue," she says.

"Why, did you find Superglue in his room?"

She draws a deep breath and shudders.

"I did. About half a tube."

"Oh, my G.o.d," I say. "This isn't good."

"So we don't have to turn over evidence of a crime to the police, do we?"

"We do if we don't want to be charged with obstruction of justice if they find out," I reply. "Let me do some reading on it."

"Please do."

27.

Sheriff Thomas Meekins' widow, Greta, is a medium height, large framed woman wearing her long hair up in a bun and her octagonal eyegla.s.ses high on her nose. She seems warm but clearly is operating inside a fog of shock as she enters my office, barely speaking, scarcely looking at Attorney Larry Glickstein, whom I have asked to meet with us. Larry is a long-time friend, the attorney to whom I often refer civil cases where my criminal law skills are of no use. This time around, it is my intention to see him take on Mrs. Meekins' wrongful death case.

"Mrs. Meekins, this is Larry Glickstein. Larry is Chicago's top civil litigator in the area of police abuse and I believe he is the man who can best help you at this point."

She holds out her hand and makes eye contact with Larry and offers him a small smile in response to his warm h.e.l.lo.

We all take a seat and I briefly hit the high points of the factual situation that has brought us together.

Then Larry takes over, asking follow-on questions about Sheriff Meekins, the family, and any financial issues they might be facing with his sudden loss.

"We've had a visit from the county board supervisor. He's explained all of the benefits my family qualifies for. Also, I'll be seeing Social Security next week about survivors' benefits and children's' benefits."

"That sounds excellent," Larry says. "I would also like you to consider allowing me to seek a pre-filing settlement with the Chicago Police Department. I say this because this is a case they will never win and, if they act forthrightly and honestly, they can avoid some of the negative publicity and expense of litigation they will otherwise be facing."

"I hadn't thought of that. But I don't see why not. The main thing, Mr. Glickstein, is I want to make sure this never happens to another prisoner. He should have been medicated, he shouldn't have been allowed to have anything he could kill himself with, and so on. It's a terrible loss to a family and I don't want anyone else to ever have to go through this."

"We'll make every effort to impose new directives on the Cook County Sheriff in how he runs his cells. Plus, there's the medical aspect of providing inmate care. I quite agree; this was a senseless tragedy that could have been avoided by the simplest of precautions. Let's you and I work together to see if we can protect the next Tom Meekins from hurting himself. I invite you to do that with me."

"We should-I accept. Also, the kids want to go to college and who's going to send them now with Tommy gone? Who do they turn to? All I have is high school level clerical skills. I was a stay-at-home mom who was and is on-call around the clock, so I won't be able to help much. My heart is broken, but so are my kids."

"Well," I add, "I am so glad you were both able to come here today. It sounds like you can help one another achieve some very worthy goals and especially providing for Tom's children. I like what I'm hearing."

With that, the conversation drifts along and plans are made for the two of them to meet later in the week in Larry's office. There are papers to be drawn up and signed and jail reports to be obtained. After that, I am certain Greta Meekins is in the best hands possible.

I have carried Tom's water as far as I can.

It is time for me to move on.

28.

We are just sitting down to supper-Danny and I-with Dania in her high chair where she is mas.h.i.+ng peas with the heel of her hand, when the doorbell sounds.

"Police!" I hear a male voice call out, "Open the door!"

Danny and I trade a quick look. She shrugs and I'm standing and moving into the hallway and up to the front door. I pull it wide open.

There, standing on our porch is a group of six police officials, two in plainclothes, two in the uniform of the CSI, and two uniformed CPD patrolmen. The nearest plainclothes officer hands me three papers stapled together.

"Search warrant, Mr. Gresham, please stand aside."

Without waiting for my response, they enter, the uniforms waiting outside, presumably to provide perimeter security while the search progresses. Unless I miss my guess, there are probably two more uniforms already around back watching the back door and yard.

As they bustle past me, I scan over the doc.u.ments. What I've been handed is a search warrant signed by a Cook County Judge, directing these CPD representatives to enter my house and search for evidence of the crime involving Amy Tanenbaum's murder. The mayor has been busy, I see, motivating the cops to go the extra mile and search the home of Jana's attorney. Then it suddenly becomes clear to me: they're here because Jana at one time lived here. That's really why they're searching.

"Mr. Gresham, I'm Detective Singh," says the first detective through, who has now doubled back, "would you show me the bedroom where Jana Emerich was housed while he was living here."

"Certainly."

I lead him back to Jana's old bedroom. He touches my shoulder so that I do not enter.

"Please return to the dining room table, sir. I'll take it from here," says the detective.

I do as I'm told. Danny immediately reaches over and takes the search warrant from me and starts reading. Meanwhile, Dania is guzzling milk from her sippy cup, totally oblivious to her parents' dilemma.

"What fruits of the murder would we have?" Danny asks me. "He was only here a short time."

"Relax. It's a fis.h.i.+ng expedition. They don't have any particular articles in mind. They're just nosing around, hoping to come across something useful."

"You seem pretty d.a.m.n sure of that," she says.

"You're angry with me? As I remember, you were in court too when we agreed to take Jana in. You could have told me no and I would have moved along to some other scenario, Danny."

She nods and reaches out to brush a gob of masticated food from the baby's bib.

"You're right. I'm just really upset with this. I feel violated."

"You're not alone there. I do too."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Never."

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I answer.

"Michael? Tim O'Donnell. The cops are here with a search warrant. They want to search Jana's room. They're turning it upside down. What should I do?"

"Not much you can do, Tim. Just let them search."

"They've got me and Jana on the couch in the living room. They're going through drawers, cupboards, unzipping cus.h.i.+ons-the whole nine yards, man."

"Yes, we've got the same thing going on over here, Tim. Just relax. They'll leave in an hour or two."

"Holy s.h.i.+t! They're taking the trap out from under the kitchen sink and pouring its contents into a jar."

"They'll do that. Just sit tight, Tim."

"Okay, thanks."

"We'll talk again when they're gone. I'll call you."

"Fair enough."

We ended the call. What we would later learn from Tim was that the police detectives and crime scene techs entered his house at about the same time they were entering mine. They proceeded to the room where Jana was housed and, basically, stripped it down to the drywall. Everything was removed, including carpet, quarter-round, doorway molding, curtains, books from the bookcase, snake container, mouse box, wood shavings contained in a Petco bag for the snake's bedding, and they even seized and bagged the bedding that was currently in the snake's container. The mice were kept inside a metal toolbox for Leonard when he got hungry. They grabbed that box and its bedding too. Leonard was cooperative and hid in his house while prying eyes and hands examined every inch of his abode. The three mice scurried and scampered and tried to scale the metal walls. They and their bedding were seized as well. The Fender guitar was seized along with, presumably, the set of strings contained in the built-in box within. Jana was roughly shoved up against the wall in the hallway and his pockets turned inside out and hair samples taken from his head-painfully plucked out so that the hair follicles were seized as they contain the DNA that would aid in any DNA study. Then the crime scene techs spread out through the house, searching the other two bedrooms in much the same manner as Jana's, and winding up in the kitchen where the sink trap was removed and its contents saved. The same was done in both bathrooms. Incidentally, Tim would tell us, the cops also didn't bother to put the plumbing back together, leaving that for Tim. Luckily, Tim was a plumber and it was a minor task for him to rea.s.semble the pipes and drains.

Next, the detectives searched Tim and his current lady but didn't seize anything from them.

While the other team was over at Tim's taking his place apart, the team in my house was likewise occupied, pulling the carpet away from the floor in Jana's old room and vacuuming the carpet and pad beneath with a small hand vac that was very loud and, presumably, very powerful. I knew, as I watched and heard what was transpiring, that this wasn't just a hara.s.sment search, though it was certainly upsetting. No, this search was as thorough as any the cops ever performed, always digging down to the next layer and seizing at each opportunity. They even removed the sheets from Jana's bed and seized those, though I couldn't imagine why. Finally, they removed the filters from our washer and dryer and seized those contents, too.

The detectives knew it was futile when they returned to the dining room, sat down with us without being invited, and put a recorder on the table between us. We of course refused to make any statements and they didn't tarry with us, knowing we would refuse to talk. Still, it was departmental policy that they try, so there you were.

"Mr. Gresham, I'm Detective Ngo and we have previously met. You have appeared in court with Jana Emerich and are listed as his attorney. Correct?"

"That's correct."

"And what is your name, ma'am?"

"Dania Gresham. I'm a partner in Mr. Gresham's law firm and, by extension, represent Jana Emerich so neither will I be answering any of your questions."

"And who is this?" says the tall black detective, indicating our daughter.

"This is Dania. As you can see, she's busy reconstructing the crime scene she just made with her supper."

Ngo laughs and the tension is broken.

"Well, sorry for the mess, Mr. and Mrs. Gresham, but it could have been much worse. Hope you'll forgive us."

"I might, but my wife won't," I say. "She's going to be really p.i.s.sed when she sees what a mess you've made of our guest bedroom."

"Sorry, ma'am," says Ngo. "Sincerely, sorry. Just doing our job."

"Sure you were," says Dania. "Pulling up my guest room carpet is in your detectives' manual, isn't it? Right there on page number get hosed."

"Now," I say, and put my hand over Danny's.

The detective sighs and pushes up from our table.

"You'll receive a copy of the search warrant return by mail," he says and leaves. Ten minutes later the team is gone from our premises.

I read the notice contained on the second page of the search warrant he's left behind, outlining what happens next:

Sec. 108-10. Return to court of things seized.

A return of all instruments, articles or things seized shall be made without unnecessary delay before the judge issuing the warrant or before any judge named in the warrant or before any court of competent jurisdiction. An inventory of any instruments, articles or things seized shall be filed with the return and signed under oath by the officer or person executing the warrant. The judge shall upon request deliver a copy of the inventory to the person from whom or from whose premises the instruments, articles or things were taken and to the applicant for the warrant.

Danny reads it over next.