Insurrection (eBook)

Chapter 2

A nervous hush swept over the courtroom as I stared at the roster and searched my brain for a plausible explanation. Bert Wheeler stared at me helplessly, and even Judge Breen seemed to have a hard time understanding the obvious discrepancy. Meanwhile, Cliff Stone looked at me with a smirk on his face. I wanted to reach out and rip it off.

Finally, I said, “There must be some error here. I know for a fact that Deputy Toliver attended that class. How his name got omitted from the class roster is truly a mystery, but I’m sure it can be explained.”

I looked uncomfortably at Bert Wheeler. The look in his eyes said, I surely hope so!

“Your Honor,” Stone said, obviously enjoying my discomfort, “perhaps this will provide an explanation.” He returned to the files on the table and withdrew another document, saying, “I’d like to introduce Defense Exhibit 34 at this time.”

Judge Breen, who seemed as confused as anyone, nodded, and Stone handed the document to me. It was a letter from Charles Abrams, the director of the Law Enforcement Training Academy. The letter was dated April 22, just two months before Ramirez’s trial began. I scanned the letter and quickly realized that the case against Ramirez had just gone down the drain like so much waste water. I struggled to control the rage and disbelief that swept over me, but it was no use. We had just lost the case, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Stone grinned in anticipation and asked me to read aloud the damaging portion of Director Abrams’ letter. It read as follows:

“In the case of Deputy Claude Toliver of the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Department, our records indicate that Deputy Toliver failed to complete the required training by virtue of being absent during the last week of training due to, according to Deputy Toliver, ‘personal reasons.’”

The letter went on to say that, due to Toliver’s failure to complete the required course of instruction, no certificate of completion would be issued in his name.

The implication of what I’d just read was obvious. Toliver had, for whatever reason, dropped out of the class before completing the training. Without that certification, any evidence handled by Toliver would be ruled inadmissible. Santiago Ramirez was going to be set free. And it would all be the fault of my department—the organization I’d tried so hard into making a model of efficiency and professionalism.

Bert Wheeler was quick to grasp the gravity of the situation. He leapt to his feet, saying, “Your Honor, may I have a moment to confer with Sheriff Harrison?”

Judge Breen nodded, and Cliff Stone returned to his seat, quite confident that he’d succeeded in derailing the state’s case. The ultimate conclusion was obvious, and he knew it. Bert Wheeler and I also knew it.

Speaking in whispers, Bert asked me, “What the hell just happened here, Clint? How can we fix this?”

I shrugged, frustrated. “I have no idea, Bert, but I intend to find out. Can you buy us some time?”

“I’ll try,” he said, but without much conviction. Bert turned and addressed Judge Breen, “Your Honor, it’s nearly time for the lunch break. Can we have an hour to respond to this new evidence?”

Judge Breen glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall and nodded. “Very well, Mr. Wheeler. We’ll adjourn until 2:00 p.m.”

With that, the morning session was over.

“Give me thirty minutes,” I said to Bert, “and let me have your copy of that letter.” He handed it to me, and headed for the door.

He nodded, then shook his head in frustration.

I wasted no time getting back to my office, where I would have a talk with Deputy Claude Toliver. He was working the day shift and I asked Myrna, our lead dispatcher, to have him report to my office.

While I waited for Toliver, I did my best to control my anger and frustration. Toliver was a good man, but he had failed to complete the required course of instruction and then had covered it up. Now a man guilty of the murder of an innocent woman was going to be set free. I’d worked hard to strengthen the integrity of the department, and I could not simply overlook such a serious violation. I had no choice but to terminate Toliver. But in all fairness, I wanted an explanation for what he’d done.

Fifteen minutes later, Toliver entered my office. “Sit down,” I said, then handed him a copy of the letter from Director Abrams. “Can you please explain this?”

He took the letter from me and briefly examined it. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. I saw the guilt in his eyes, and I could feel his pain. But there was nothing either of us could do to make things better, and we both knew it. The evidence he’d recovered was essential to convict Ramirez of first-degree murder. But now that evidence was going to be ruled inadmissible.

He knew what he’d done was inexcusable, and that he could not be forgiven. What was about to happen would be painful for both of us, but I wanted him to give me some explanation for what he’d done.

“Tell me what happened,” I said.

He looked at me with sadness and remorse, searching for the right words. But there was no adequate explanation for what he had to say.

Finally, as tears welled in his eyes, he said simply, “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I have no excuse. And I won’t try to make one up.”

“I need to know what happened, Claude.”

Now the tears were streaming down his cheeks, and I could feel his pain.

The story Claude told me was simple enough but tragic at the same time. It was the age-old story of allowing your emotions to override your own innate sense of right and wrong. And now Claude Toliver was going to pay a very heavy price for his failure to do what he knew was the right thing. It all boiled down to a romantic interlude that got in the way of his professional responsibilities.

Toliver told me that there were actually twenty people who began the course of instruction. One of them was Jennifer Golden, a very attractive female officer from Casa Grande Police Department. Toliver, I knew, was single and had the reputation of being somewhat of a “ladies man.” He got involved romantically with Jennifer. This, in itself, did not pose a problem. The crisis occurred when Jennifer informed Toliver that she was probably going to flunk out of the final exam and pleaded with him to help her. Toliver made a very bad decision that he would later regret. On the day of the final exam, Toliver found a way to “share” his answers with Jennifer. But his actions were detected by the instructor, who reported the transgression to the academy director, Charles Abrams.

Upon being questioned by Abrams, both Toliver and Jennifer admitted their transgression. They hoped that Abrams world overlook the offense and allow them to complete the course. However, Charles Abrams was a former Navy SEAL and veteran of three tours in Afghanistan. He was not sympathetic to such a serious violation of the rules. Both Toliver and Jennifer were allowed to withdraw from the class for “personal reasons” and were left to find a way to explain to their employers how and why they had failed to complete the course of instruction.

Toliver compounded his infraction by failing to report his dismissal. This left me with no choice but to terminate his employment. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew his fate was sealed. Without another word, he stood up, handed me his weapon, shield, and ID card, then walked out the door.

I sat for a while, feeling like hell and thinking about the terrible situation this man had created for himself and for our department. There was nothing left for me to do but return to the courthouse and give Bert Wheeler the bad news. Maybe he could find an ace up his sleeve to salvage the case, but I knew the chances of that were slim and none.

I walked to the courthouse and found Bert Wheeler in his office where I told him the whole terrible story. The pain in Bert’s eyes was palpable, and I shared his misery. But there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“I’m sorry, Bert,” was all I could say.

“Yeah, Clint,” he replied. “It’s a damn shame, but it looks like Ramirez’s gonna walk. Without that evidence, we have no case.”

At precisely 2:00 p.m., Judge Breen returned to the bench and Cliff Stone immediately rose to make his motion to have the evidence collected by Deputy Claude Toliver ruled inadmissible.

Judge Breen grimaced. “Does the state have a response to this motion, counselor?

Meanwhile, members of the jury, perhaps sensing what was happening, murmured anxiously.

“No, Your Honor,” Bert Wheeler said sadly. “I’m afraid that we have no response.”

“Very well, then,” Judge Breen said, shaking his head. “As much as it distresses me, I have no choice but to rule in favor of the defense.”

Then, scowling at Ramirez, Judge Breen said, “Mr....