Lady Justice in the Eye of the Storm Read online

  REVIEWS

  With instantaneous and persistent news coverage from all over the world, everyone has now heard of the rioting and mayhem in a small town in eastern Missouri which occurred when an unarmed young black man was shot to death by a white police officer.

  A few weeks later the world was held captive by the pictures of destruction in the resort town of Cabo San Lucas on the Baja Peninsula, Mexico. What are the odds that a mystery writer would live in Missouri and be on vacation in Cabo when the hurricane hit? And what better material to use in his next book? This is just what Robert Thornhill has done in his new mystery-comedy novel, Lady Justice in the Eye of the Storm.

  As usual, Thornhill weaves an exciting, action packed story around social commentary of today’s moral issues. His close proximity to the actual events, and his well-researched story line, produce a thought provoking novel.

  Walt is a crusader, but he now questions whether what he does really matters, and if he really wants to fight the battles anymore. When good men like Walt give up, does that mean the bad men win?

  Christina Jones, Independence, MO.

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  Walt and Ox are caught in the middle of a violent outbreak when a young black man is shot. As they are set for trial, they realize they are caught in the eye of something much bigger than an attempted arrest gone bad.

  Sent to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico on assignment, they soon find themselves in danger from an even bigger storm, Hurricane Odile.

  A fascinating, controversial story of a black suspect and white police officers. Every day we read more and more about the violence that occurs in these situations. Also, the back story is intense as Walt and Maggie endure the fury of the hurricane.

  The pictures before and after Hurricane Odile were an added bonus and unimaginable.

  Another 5 star read by Robert Thornhill!

  Sheri Wilkinson, Princeton, IL.

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  I have come to enjoy this author and the various stories that have come out in his series of Lady Justice Novels. Robert Thornhill provides you a way to relate and become close to the characters.

  Walt and Ox, along with their wives (Maggie and Judy) become friends over the years. The common factor is both gentlemen are policemen and Judy had served as an MP in the service.

  In Lady Justice in the Eye of the Storm, the phrase ‘Eye of the Storm’ could be referenced three times in this story, to me. The first with Ox shooting a black man he thought was going to hurt his friend Walt while they were on duty. The second was a vacation to remove the gentlemen out of the area before riots hit the streets and to keep an eye out for anything that dealt with drugs coming in or going out of the area. Vacations are for relaxation, yet when these two couples landed it was right before the strike of Hurricane Odile. This is where Judy’s MP survival skills came in handy. The third occasion included another shooting of a police officer this time with Walt and Ox mixed in at the scene due to a friend asking for help.

  I laughed at his opening when he said “sometimes you can’t make this stuff up”. I’ve known couples like this and could only imagine what Hurricane Odile was like, but you could feel the author pulling you in and becoming a part of that catastrophe. At the end of the book, there are pictures of before and after of the resort area and what a mess. Another common theme throughout his books is a take away message in life. In this book, there is a reference made to an older song, Ebony and Ivory, fitting the take away message of finding a way for various races to live in harmony. I found the book enjoyable, a quick read and I’m always ready for his next one. Robert Thornhill never disappoints me. Mary Stanhope, Article Write Up

  LADY JUSTICE

  IN THE EYE

  OF THE STORM

  A WALT WILLIAMS

  MYSTERY/COMEDY NOVEL

  ROBERT THORNHILL

  Lady Justice in the Eye of the Storm

  Copyright October, 2014 by Robert Thornhill

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way, by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, incidents and entities included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America

  Cover design by Peg Thornhill

  Fiction, Humorous

  Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General

  DEDICATION

  To Armando Navarro, the General Manager of the Bel Air Resort, Maura, and the rest of the staff, who came to our aid in the aftermath of Hurricane Odile.

  Even though they had experienced personal loss of their own, they were at the resort immediately after the storm to provide food, water and security for the guests of the resort.

  Thanks to these brave people, we were all able to survive the storm and return to our homes unharmed.

  FOREWARD

  On September 13, 2014, the author and his wife landed in Cabo San Lucas.

  Twenty-four hours later, Hurricane Odile hit the Baja Peninsula, resulting in widespread destruction, including the airport and the Bel Air Resort.

  With the exception of their friends, Ox and Judy, and the police references, the story of Walt and Maggie’s ordeal is a factual account of the author’s experience from the moment he and his wife, Peg, stepped off the plane in Cabo, until they landed in Kansas City.

  Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

  LADY JUSTICE IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

  CHAPTER 1

  My coffee was cold and my Wheaties were a soggy clump.

  My stomach was tied up in knots as I read the headline in the Kansas City Star:

  Preliminary Hearing Today In Officer Involved Shooting.

  The hearing was to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to charge the officer with second degree murder.

  The officer was my partner and good friend, Ox, and his life and career were on the line because of me.

  The nightmare had begun a week ago.

  Ox and I were patrolling the Northeast neighborhood when we heard a broadcast from dispatch that a convenience store a few blocks away had been robbed at gunpoint. The perps were described as two African-American males wearing black hoodies. The two, one large and the other of average build, had fled the scene on foot.

  As we headed to the crime scene, we spotted two young men who were a perfect match to the description that had been broadcast. One was huge, well over six feet tall and at least two-hundred and eighty pounds. His companion was of average build and they both wore black hoodies.

  We pulled to the curb, stepped out of our vehicle and informed the two that we needed to ask them some questions. We fully expected them to run and were somewhat surprised when they didn’t.

  Instead, the big one lashed out that he was sick and tired of being hassled by the cops and wasn’t going to take it anymore.

  I responded that we only wanted to ask where they had been and where they were going.

  He informed us it was none of our damned business and turned to walk away.

  I reached out to grab his arm, not realizing the series of events which would follow would change all of our lives forever.

  He whirled and charged at me.

  I heard Ox bellow, “KNIFE,” followed by the report from his .45 automatic.

  As the big man fell at my feet, his companion scrambled to his side. Ox was on him imm
ediately. When he rolled him off of his fallen friend, he was clutching a knife in his hands.

  Two squad cars came screaming around the corner. Evidently someone had called 911.

  When they arrived, they found one young man in cuffs and the other dead in the street.

  I vividly remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when the officers informed us the perps that had knocked over the convenience store had been apprehended several blocks away.

  The altercation had taken place in a primarily black neighborhood and soon the sidewalk was filled as curious onlookers poured out of their homes.

  Seeing he had a sympathetic audience, the young man in cuffs wailed, “They done shot Tyrell! We wasn’t doin’ nothin’ but walkin’ down the street.” He pointed at Ox, “He shot him in cold blood. Tyrell wasn’t even armed.”

  Poor Ox was almost in shock. He pointed to the knife that another officer had bagged. “He had that knife, and he was coming at --- . ”

  Before he could finish, the man shouted, “That weren’t Tyrell’s knife. That was my knife, and I only pulled it after he shot my friend.”

  You could sense the unrest in the growing crowd.

  I heard people muttering, “Another black boy shot down by cops.” and “How many innocent kids gotta die before we do something?”

  Detective Derek Blaylock out of the Homicide Division arrived on the scene and sensing the growing unrest, quickly cordoned off the area.

  Barriers were erected to keep the crowd at bay and give the crime scene guys room to work.

  Ox and I were escorted to a paddy wagon and quickly whisked away to police headquarters where we were placed on administrative leave as is the normal procedure in all officer involved shootings.

  A grim-faced Captain Short called us into his office. “Give me the whole story --- every detail. We’ve got a bad situation brewing out there and we need to get on top of this thing fast.”

  After Ox had finished giving the details from his perspective, the captain turned to me. “Is that how you saw everything?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you actually saw the knife in Tyrell Jackson’s hand as he was coming at you?”

  I hesitated, knowing full well how my answer would sound. “No, I didn’t see the knife, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have one. Look, the guy was twice my size and a fourth my age. When he turned on me, I was in ‘save my ass’ mode and was trying to get out of his way but he caught me flat-footed. If he did have a knife, Ox’s shot was the only thing that kept me from being skewered.”

  “Shit!” the captain muttered. “We’ve got a problem. Tyrell’s friend, Cleavon Fowler is claiming the knife was his and Tyrell was unarmed.”

  “But that’s an outright lie!” Ox protested. “He picked up that knife after Jackson hit the ground.”

  “That may be,” the captain replied, “but since Walt didn’t see it, it’s your word against his.”

  At that moment, an officer poked his head into the room. “Captain, you might want to turn on the TV.”

  The captain punched the remote and the screen was filled with angry protestors pressing against the police barricade.

  The media, getting wind of the situation, descended on the scene like vultures on a fresh road-kill.

  The camera panned to a middle-aged woman sobbing and being held on her feet by two men. According to the reporter, Lakesha Johnson, the mother of the victim, had collapsed as she saw the body of her son loaded into the coroner’s van to be transported to the morgue.

  The reporter obligingly gave her microphone to members of the restless crowd eager to get their faces on TV and offer their assessment of the situation.

  Without exception, the opinions expressed echoed the same themes, horrible tragedy, racial profiling and police brutality.

  A middle-aged man shoved his way through the crowd and grabbed the mike from the reporter. He identified himself as Tyrell Jackson’s uncle, and his demand sent chills down my spine. He wanted to know the names of the officers involved in the incident.

  At that moment, a murmur went through the crowd. The camera panned to the far side of the street and focused on a figure making his way toward the bank of reporters.

  The Chief of the Kansas City Police Department had arrived on the scene.

  The crowd hushed, straining to hear the words of the highest ranking officer in the city.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Kansas City, a terrible tragedy has occurred here today. The life of a young man was lost and with any incident such as this, my department will conduct a thorough investigation to determine what actually occurred. Let me say from the outset, that even though two officers from my department were involved, our investigation will be thorough and justice will be served.”

  A voice from the crowd shouted, “Who were the officers? What are their names?”

  I held my breath, hoping to remain anonymous, but it wasn’t to be.

  “I’ve been informed,” the chief continued, “that the officers were George Wilson, a twenty-five year veteran on the force and Walter Williams, a five year veteran. Both men have been placed on administrative leave pending our investigation.

  “My appeal to you today is to remain calm and not let this tragic incident escalate as it did with our neighbor city across the state. Let’s show the world that the citizens of Kansas City respect the law. Again, my pledge to you is that justice will be served.”

  The captain pressed the remote and silence filled the room.

  Finally, the captain spoke. “I’m truly sorry. You are two of my finest officers, but the chief had no choice. After the tragic events that took place across the state, the chief called a meeting and outlined the city’s position should a similar incident occur here --- and now it has. Terrible mistakes were made there that led to rioting, looting and even more deaths. He was determined not to make the same mistakes here.”

  I understood what the captain was saying. A similar incident in which a young black man was shot by a white officer had escalated to epic proportions. The handling of the incident by the police department smelled of ‘cover-up’ from the get go. The name of the officer involved was not revealed until days later and only after angry rioters threatened more violence. While I hated that our names had been broadcast to the entire city, I understood why he had to do it.

  There were other major differences between our situation and the other unfortunate event. In that small town, 67% of the citizens were black, yet only three officers in their fifty-three man force were black. The police chief was white, as was the mayor.

  By contrast, 59% of Kansas City’s population are white and 30% are black. While our police department is 70% white, we have a black chief and a black mayor.

  I was thankful that our chief was doing everything possible to avert the violence that had brought the other city to its knees.

  The captain’s next words were of little comfort. “Now that the two of you have been identified, I think it would be prudent to have a black & white parked outside your homes. It’s just a matter of time until the whole city knows where you both live. Ox, I’m putting Judy on administrative leave as well. As soon as it gets out that you’re married to another cop, she wouldn’t be of much use to us anyway. I’ll have an escort follow you both home. Stay put and I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.”

  As we pulled out of the parking garage, the sidewalk was already filled with people carrying placards with hastily drawn messages, Justice for Tyrell and Police Brutality Must Stop! But the one that frightened me the most read, An Eye for an Eye.

  There was no doubt the dark, angry clouds that had covered the small city across the state had been blown by a malevolent wind to our town, and Ox and I were in the eye of the storm.

  CHAPTER 2

  I live in a three story brownstone on Armour Boulevard. Maggie and I have the whole third floor. The other apartments are occupied by my Dad, Bernice, his current love interest, the Professor, Jerry the Joke
r and my best friend and maintenance man, Willie Duncan.

  As I suspected, all of them were anxiously awaiting my arrival.

  Dad was the first to speak. “We’ve been watching this whole thing on TV. Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “The hell you are! You must be scared to death. They’re saying all kinds of stuff on TV. What happened out there?”

  I knew everyone would be concerned, so I figured I might as well get it over with. “Why don’t you all come up to our apartment and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  After sharing the tragic events of the day, the room was silent.

  Finally, Maggie spoke. “So what happens next?”

  “There will be a thorough investigation of the incident. In the other town, a grand jury was convened to investigate the case.”

  “Grand jury!” Dad barked “Isn’t their job to indict people?”

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” the Professor replied. “Their job is to hear all of the evidence, then decide whether or not the shooting was justified. If their determination is that no crime was committed, then that’s the end of it. On the other hand, if they find ‘probable cause,’ the defendant will be indicted and bound over for trial.”

  Maggie let that sink in for a moment. “So Ox could be charged and go to trial for shooting that boy in the line of duty?”

  I nodded.

  “And what about you? How do you fit into this whole picture?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. The captain said we’d talk tomorrow. I’ll know more then.”

  I couldn’t get to sleep.