The relevant pages were dog-eared and grease-stained from my fingertips. The dramatis personae of the courtroom were identified by our roles: the Prosecutor (Attorney General Henry “Hal” Hildreth), the Court (the Honorable Martha Meade), the Defense (Mark Clark, Esq.), and the Witness (me).
PROSECUTOR: Warden Bowditch, where were you when the defendant shot and killed Todd Pelkey?
WITNESS: I was on the top of the gravel pit.
PROSECUTOR: And you had an unobstructed view of the bottom?
WITNESS: Yes.
PROSECUTOR: And you knew he was dead?
WITNESS: I suspected he was dead.
PROSECUTOR: Where was Lewis Beam relative to the defendant at that time?
WITNESS: On the ground. Ten to fifteen feet away from Billy.
PROSECUTOR: And what was he doing?
WITNESS: Crawling away.
PROSECUTOR: It was the defendant who had broken his arms, correct?
WITNESS: It was a life-and-death struggle. Billy was just defending himself.
THE COURT: Witness is instructed to answer the question.
PROSECUTOR: It’s all right, Your Honor. The witness has affirmed that the defendant was the one who shattered Mr. Beam’s arms, rendering him helpless to defend himself.
DEFENSE: Objection. The prosecution is assuming facts not in evidence. We can’t know whether Lewis Beam was helpless or not. Neither could my client at the time.
THE COURT: Sustained.
PROSECUTOR: Warden Bowditch, did you see any weapons on Mr. Beam?
WITNESS: At that point, no.
PROSECUTOR: Did you see any weapons on the defendant?
WITNESS: Yes, an AR-15 rifle. He’d used it to save my life by killing Todd Pelkey before Pelkey could shoot me.
PROSECUTOR: We’re not talking about Mr. Pelkey now, Warden Bowditch. We’re talking about Lewis Beam, who was trying to crawl to safety while the defendant pointed a loaded rifle at the back of his head.
DEFENSE: Your Honor!
THE COURT: Is that an objection?
DEFENSE: The prosecutor is testifying again.
THE COURT: Sustained. The prosecution will refrain from making speeches until closing arguments.
PROSECUTOR: I apologize, Your Honor. Warden Bowditch, in your statement you said that you called to the defendant, “Billy, don’t do it.” What was it that you thought he was going to do?
WITNESS: I didn’t know what he was going to do.
PROSECUTOR: Your Honor, permission to treat the witness as hostile.
THE COURT: I was under the impression he was your witness, Mr. Attorney General.
PROSECUTOR: So were we, Judge. So were we.
THE COURT: You have my permission.
PROSECUTOR: Warden Bowditch, isn’t it true that having just watched the defendant shoot and kill Todd Pelkey, you believed he was about to do the same to Lewis Beam?
WITNESS: What I was trying to tell Billy—Mr. Cronk—was that in my opinion Beam no longer posed a threat.
PROSECUTOR: Did the defendant give any indication he had heard you?
WITNESS: He seemed to be having a flashback to his time in combat.
PROSECUTOR: Are you an expert in post-traumatic stress syndrome?
WITNESS: I have personal experience with it.
PROSECUTOR: And yet the defense hasn’t included you on its list of expert witnesses to testify on the subject of flashbacks in combat veterans.
DEFENSE: Your Honor, the prosecutor is badgering now.
PROSECUTOR: The Court has already ruled that the warden is a hostile witness. It’s understandable and admirable that he wants to defend his friend, the man whom he believed had just saved his life.
THE COURT: Let’s hear a question, Mr. Attorney General.
PROSECUTOR: Of course, Your Honor. Warden Bowditch, how did the defendant respond to your concise communication to him that you were no longer facing a material threat to your lives?
WITNESS: He shot Lewis Beam in the head.
PROSECUTOR: He blew apart the skull of a man with two broken arms. Is that right?
WITNESS: Yes.
THE COURT: Louder, please, Warden.
WITNESS: Yes.
As always happened after I reread the transcript, I felt as hollow as the abandoned house down the road.
“Damn you, Billy,” I said to the empty room.
Against my better judgment, I opened my laptop and belatedly began my search for Dawn Richie.
I found next to nothing except for an item on the website of the Machias Valley Observer announcing Correctional Officer Richie’s promotion to the rank of sergeant several years earlier. This press release was the only evidence I could find (without accessing government databases) that the woman existed.
There was nothing unusual in this. In Richie’s line of work, and mine, it paid to protect your privacy. Minimizing one’s cyber-footprint was simple prudence when you made enemies of dangerous and vengeful human beings.
But I was impressed with Dawn Richie’s success at persuading others from blowing her cover. I discovered no posted real estate transactions, no social media mentions, no photographs snapped at weddings. The woman might as well have been a phantom.
Once again, I woke up to the sound of my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“I had to work a fatal over on 302,” Dani said, explaining why she hadn’t returned my call sooner.
“What happened?” My mouth felt cotton-stuffed from the liquor.
“A box truck veered across the median, sideswiped an SUV, which crashed into a tree and burst into flames. Then the truck flattened a Honda being driven by this little old couple. The husband and wife both died at the scene, which I guess might be a blessing. The driver of the SUV was charred from head to foot but was still alive when a couple of passersby pulled him out. And the guy who started it all, the one driving the truck, walked away without a scratch.”
“Jesus.”
“We think he’s amped up on something. Adderall or Ritalin. Maybe some designer stimulant.”
I propped myself up against a couple of pillows. “Sounds like a wonderful way to start your shift.”
“The commander’s put me on traffic duty, detouring westbound vehicles out through Casco. The main road’s still closed until the wrecks can be hauled off and our guys can finish mapping the site. What’s going on with you? Why are you home so soon? I thought you were going to fish with Charley for a few more days?”
“Aimee Cronk
