Apathy is grossly undervalued and never there for me when I need it. I
was already sucked in. I'd broken up some escort services and
prosecuted a few pimps, but I'd never had a chance to handle a case
like this one. And, to my mind, with scum like Derringer, it was
better to issue the case and lose than let him walk away up front.
'Alright, let's give it a try,' I said.
Two.
Raymond Johnson was right. Tommy Garcia should run for office. Around
nine o'clock, Tim O'Donnell popped into my office to give me a heads up
that Tommy Garcia might be calling about an assault that happened over
the weekend. I feigned ignorance. According to O'Donnell, the victim
was a strung-out Old Town Lolita who acted surprised that a trick might
want rough sex.
By ten, O'Donnell told Garcia he didn't care what charges were filed if
someone from DVD agreed to pick it up. Once I got the word from
Garcia, I called O'Donnell to be sure he was aware I'd be filing
Measure 11 charges against Derringer. I didn't want him getting ticked
off later.
Oregon joined the growing ranks of 'tough on crime' states a few years
ago when voters passed Ballot Measure 11 by a landslide. The law
requires mandatory minimum sentences for the most violent felonies. Not
surprisingly, once
Measure 11 defendants figured out they were facing long minimum
sentences upon conviction, whether they pled out or not, they stopped
pleading guilty and started rolling the dice at trial. As a result,
the DA's office stopped filing charges that fell under Measure 11
unless the bureau's investigation was flawless. In response, PPB
formed the Major Crimes Team. The precinct detectives weren't too
happy about what they understandably viewed as a demotion.
In theory, the DA's office chose carefully which cases to file under
Measure 11, because the consequences of a conviction are profound. But
when it became clear that pissed-off precinct detectives were slacking
on their general felony cases, the DAs started looking for creative
ways to justify filing cases under Measure 11 so MCT would be
responsible for the follow-up. Once the work was complete, they'd
threaten the defendant with the mandatory minimum sentence in order to
get him to plead guilty to whatever he should've been charged with in
the first place. And now I had to pretend I was doing exactly that so
a loser like Tim O'Donnell would give up a case he didn't even want.
I could hear laughing in the background when O'Donnell picked up the
phone. As usual, the rest of the boys in the major crimes unit were
huddled in his office for mid-morning coffee and a round of 'No, I've
got the raunchiest big-tit joke.'
'Hey, Tim. It's Samantha Kincaid. You were right. Garcia did call me
about that Derringer case. I agree it's a solid Assault Three, but MCT
won't do the follow-up unless we file it under Measure Eleven.'
'Listen, Kincaid, if you want to do the work on it, that's fine with
me. I don't know why you'd want to. I talked to the vie at the
hospital she's a white trash junkie liar, no matter what those MCT guys
tell you. The case is a loser.'
'Yeah, you're probably right, but Garcia seems to think she might be
able to get us some good vice cases.'
'Tell me the truth, Kincaid. Do you actually give a shit about those
whores?' More laughter in the background. I tried to control my anger
as he put the phone on speaker.
'Alright, seriously, you guys. Who in this room really cares if some
sack teaches a drug addict from Rockwood how to sell it to support her
junkie habit?' When no one said anything and the guffawing started
again, he said, 'See, Kincaid? That's why you get all those vice
cases. Ask me, we should give those guys a medal. Without them, those
girls would be breaking into houses and stealing to get the money.'
When he realized I wasn't joining in the festivities, he tried to
cover. 'We're just giving you a hard time, Sam. You know that, right?
Sure you do. Hey, here's a good one. What does a Rockwood girl say
right after she loses her virginity? 'Get off me, Daddy, you're
crushing my smokes.' '
I'd love to be one of those people who could throw off the perfect
zinger. The kind with the optimal amount of sting, but with enough of
the funny stuff to keep you from looking like a freak. But in my
experience, those perfect zingers never leap to mind at the right
time.
'Funny, O'Donnell. Hey, hold on a sec.' I set the phone down on my
desk and rushed down the hall to his office. Standing in the doorway,
I could see their wee brains straining to figure out how I could be in
O'Donnell's office and on the phone at the same time. 'There's nothing
funny about the Derringer case, and there's definitely nothing funny
about some guy getting over on his daughter. You say something like
that to me again, and it'll feel like someone stretched your sad little
ball sack up over that big empty head of yours.'
I stormed back toward my office before I could make things worse.
Behind me, I heard O'Donnell yell out, 'Real nice, Kincaid,' over the
other guys' laughter. I hadn't meant it to be funny, but if they were
