Pete proceeds to tell me that they have run his prints everywhere, military, federal, and state, and come up with nothing. They've circulated his picture to every law enforcement agency in the country on a priority basis and came up empty as well.
'How is that possible?' I ask.
'I don't think it is,' Pete says. 'A guy like that, he had to have a record, or been in the military, or applied for a gun permit … something. If there's no record of him, then that record had to have been erased.'
'By who?'
Pete shrugs. 'By some record eraser--how the hell should I know? Anyway, we're still looking, but I don't think we're going to find anything.'
Pete leaves and I spend the rest of the night preparing for the meeting in Hatchet's chambers tomorrow to discuss our request for all of Dorsey's records. It's not a motion we can afford to lose.
The morning is sunny and bright, but as always, Hatchet's chambers are cloudy and dark. Once again, Dylan is there before Kevin and me, which annoys me. The judge should not be talking to one counsel without the other present. I could lecture Hatchet on this point, or I could decide to keep living.
It becomes instantly apparent to me that their pre-meeting was by Hatchet's design. 'Mr. Campbell has decided not to oppose your motion' he announces to me.
'Good,' I say.
'You will have the file by close of business today.'
'Good,' I say.
'That will be all, gentlemen.'
'Good,' I say.
Dylan hasn't said a word, and I've only said one, although it's a word I like and I've gotten to say it three times. Within moments Kevin and I are back in my car.
'What the hell was that about?' Kevin asks.
'Hatchet obviously read him the riot act before we got there,' I say.
Kevin is incredulous. 'And Dylan just caved?'
'You've obviously never had Hatchet read you the riot act. Giving up on the motion was easy; if Hatchet had really put on the pressure, Dylan would have sacrificed his firstborn.'
I call Edna and she tells me that there's an important message from Marcus, asking me to meet him at an address in a very depressed area of town. Kevin agrees to go along, and within twenty minutes we're at the location, which seems to be an abandoned apartment building. It is next to an abandoned movie theater and across the street from some abandoned stores.
We get out of the car and start looking around. After a few moments we hear a voice.
'Up here.'
Looking down at us from one of the few unboarded windows in the building is Marcus. 'Come on up,' he says. 'Sixth floor.'
I moan, since the elevator in this building would obviously not be running, and I'm still sore and barely catching my breath from yesterday's dog-chasing jaunt with Willie. But ever the trooper, I march into the building with Kevin and we trudge up the steps.
When we reach the sixth floor, I instantly know that my instinct that the elevator would not be running was a correct one. I know this because hanging above the empty elevator shaft is a human being. He's hanging from a shoulder harness, his eyes bulging in fright and trained on Marcus, who stands nearby with a large knife in an apparent threat to cut that harness and send the man six stories to his demise.
I'm speechless, but Marcus is calm and relaxed, as if we were meeting him at the pool to have pina coladas. Ever aware of the social graces, he performs the obligatory introductions. 'Andy Carpenter, Kevin Randall, this is Asshole. Asshole, this is Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Randall.'
When I first walked in, I couldn't understand how a person could find himself hanging over an elevator shaft. Now I understand that most of the fault lies with his parents. When you name your kid Asshole, you are pretty much preordaining his being treated with a lack of respect as he grows older.
Marcus informs us that the hanging man has something to tell us. I think Kevin is going to have a stroke at being part of this scene, and I'm not terribly comfortable with it either, so I convince Marcus to bring the man onto safe ground. Marcus grudgingly agrees, after the man croaks a promise to speak just as candidly standing as he would have hanging.
Once he gets out of the elevator shaft, the man calms down some, and I learn that he has another name. Mitch. Mitch is apparently a small-time hustler, part-time informant, and full-time slimeball, who keeps his ear to the ground in the hope of gathering information he can sell. Marcus, persuasive fellow that he is, has prevailed upon Mitch to share some information with us for free. He has even prepared the special harness as a show of support for Mitch in that effort.
Mitch is able to shed some light on Dorsey's illegal activities, but it is a slightly different light than we had pictured. Dorsey was, as we suspected, heavily involved in the criminal activities of the Petrone family. But according to Mitch, Dorsey was merely a glorified bagman; the real power and protection for Petrone came from above Dorsey on the totem pole. Mitch doesn't know the identity of the man or men above Dorsey, but he's sure that Dorsey's main function was to collect money and pass a good chunk of it up the ladder.
This angle certainly fits in with what Celia had to say about the other lieutenant that Dorsey was involved with. Whether that lieutenant was in fact above Dorsey in the Petrone operation, or just working alongside him, it's becoming very clear that someone in the department has an interest in Laurie getting convicted.
We send Mitch on his way with our sincere thanks and our admonition to him to keep his ears open and report back to Marcus if he learns anything else. He promises that he'll do just that, but my guess is that Mitch will choose not to remain in the same hemisphere as Marcus.
Hatchet Henderson is the kind of judge whose orders are followed, and Dylan is not about to be the lawyer to buck that trend. When Kevin and I get back to the house, the remainder of Dorsey's file has already been sent over, and Kevin and I immediately start to pore over it.
The interesting period in Dorsey's record starts with Laurie's accusations against him, which are documented here. There is a report from Internal Affairs which, while not exactly on the scale of the Warren Commission, nevertheless confirmed Laurie's charges and expanded upon them.
Dorsey was in business with Dominic Petrone in various areas of his operation, mostly loan-sharking, prostitution, and drugs. His role in those businesses was essentially to provide protection--actually insulation-- against the police. Occasionally, his role was even more active and direct, but it is clear that his value to Petrone was in his capacity as a police lieutenant.
The FBI did in fact intervene to save Dorsey's job two years ago, and the specific intervener was Special Agent Darrin Hobbs. Amazingly, Hobbs provided not much more information to the police than he provided to me; he simply said that there was an important FBI investigation that would be compromised if Dorsey's role were to be revealed. Hobbs said that the operation had nothing to do with Dorsey but was directed at 'elements of organized crime.' The fact that the Paterson authorities caved in to this federal intervention is not exactly something they should be proud of and is most likely the reason they resisted turning the information over to me.
In return for receiving the incredibly mild punishment of a reprimand, Dorsey promised to desist from his unlawful activities in the future. There is some evidence that he kept that promise, but only for a short time. About six months ago, Internal Affairs became aware that Dorsey was at it again, and that charge was also confirmed.
Hobbs was made aware of the situation before action was taken, but this time neither he nor anyone else in the FBI intervened. Dorsey was about to be arrested when he disappeared, and a week later the body that they believe to be Dorsey's was discovered.
It is rather depressing for us to get the information that we have been seeking and discover that it is not particularly helpful. It opens up no new areas to investigate or strategies to formulate.
The next nail in our legal coffin is a phone call from Nick Sabonis. He informs me that they have turned up zero evidence that Dorsey might be alive. It will remain an open investigation, but as far as he and the department are concerned, Dorsey is dead. He allows that he is not saying Laurie is lying about the phone call, simply that she must have been deceived by a fake or crank caller.
My frustration is reaching the boiling point. 'Mind if I ask you a question, Nick? How is it you came to be on
