Media Justice Read online

  “I think if I was a twenty-one year old widowed mother, I’d have times where I felt the same way,” Miller said. “By itself it doesn’t mean much.”

  “You don’t think we’ve got enough for an arrest?”

  “For what? We could make a case for child neglect, maybe, if you read the statute broadly. An arrest for the kid’s abduction? No, not even close,” Miller answered.

  “The little girl is dead,” Shannon Keenan quietly said. “We all know it.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” Miller replied turning her head toward the investigator.

  “And this Bob Olson business is a wild goose chase,” Paul Anderson interjected. “She’s seen DMV photos of every Bob or Robert Olson in the state of Minnesota. A few maybes is all we have, at best. I think it’s bullshit.”

  Miller leaned forward, placed her left elbow on the table and covered her mouth with her left hand. She stared at the opposite wall thinking over what she had been told, trying to decide what to do. After a full minute she straightened up, looked over the four detectives and said, “Tell you what. It’s now Monday. Keep at it a few more days.” She turned to Cale and continued with, “I understand the family is still out searching the county with volunteers.”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Cale nodded. “I’ve got a couple deputies working with them. Louise and Patty are also. They’re actually working pretty hard at it.”

  “Okay,” Miller said. “Keep at it. Continue interviewing friends, family co-workers, anyone who knows her and knows how she treats the child. We’re looking for opinions, statements and any evidence she wasn’t a happy loving mother. Does she take care of the kid? Is she a good mother? Does she complain about being stuck with a child? Maybe she didn’t want the kid around because she was a burden, all those types of things. We’ll meet again on Thursday and take another look at it. If nothing turns up by then we can arrest her late Friday, keep her over the weekend and squeeze her. We won’t have to arraign her until Monday. Maybe we can get a confession or more information out of her.”

  Late that night, Bob Olson twisted the cap off of his third bottle of Miller Genuine Draft. He flopped back down on the couch in his two bedroom apartment in South Minneapolis. He put his feet up on the cheap coffee table in front of the couch and tossed the bottle cap onto it and watched it clatter about among the detritus before it settled down. Olson hit the play button on the DVR recording of Brittany’s appearance on The Court Reporter. It was the fourth time he would watch it and each viewing brought a large smile and a warm glow of anticipation as he thought about what he had done and how well it was coming together.

  SIXTEEN

  “The reason Brittany was arrested began last week…” Charlotte Daniels continued the story to bring Marc Kadella up to date.

  “On Monday,” her husband John interjected. “A week ago today.”

  “Yes that’s right. Brittany was being interviewed by that TV person, Melinda Pace, do you know her?”

  “I know who she is,” Marc answered. “Excuse me a second,” he said as he swiveled in his chair and lifted open the window behind his desk. “It’s nice this morning and this office could use a little air,” he said as he turned back to the couple in front of his desk. “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “This Melinda Pace,” Charlotte continued, “practically accused Brittany of kidnapping her own child right on TV. Then all week long, the interview she did was all over the news. You couldn’t turn the TV on without seeing it.”

  “It went national too,” John said. “And it was all over the papers. The media’s gone a little nuts with the story.

  “There is a lawyer involved, sort of, a guy named Alan Reeder,” John said. “Do you know him?”

  “No, never heard of him,” Marc replied.

  “He’s a personal injury lawyer who handled the wrongful death case for Barbara when Brittany’s husband was killed in a car accident a couple years ago,” John told him.

  “Okay,” Marc nodded. “What’s he doing now?”

  “He’s helping the family with all of this,” Charlotte said. “Anyway, he set up an interview for Barbara with a woman from ABC news. It was not a good idea. Barbara got hammered by this woman, I forget her name now, about Brittany, why she didn’t report Becky missing for ten days and why Brittany lied to everyone she knew about where Becky was during that time.”

  “Now the media is camped out on their doorstep,” John added. “Wait till you see this. It’s like a circus on their street.”

  “And protestors are starting to show up at their home,” Charlotte said. “Then Friday night, a little after midnight, the sheriff’s deputies knocked on her door and arrested her.”

  “And dragged her out in handcuffs, in her pajamas, in front of the TV cameras,” John said.

  “The press was there?” Marc asked.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said while John nodded his head. “Obviously tipped off. Why they waited until the middle of the night like that…?”

  “Because they can hold her all weekend before they have to bring her to see a judge. Plus they wanted to embarrass her and cause her as much discomfort as possible,” Marc said answering her question. “Has she seen a lawyer? Did she ask for one?”

  “Alan Reeder saw her Saturday afternoon. I don’t know what he told her,” John answered him.

  “We talked to Barbara on Sunday. I called her,” Charlotte continued. “We wanted to know what was going on and if we could help. We talked about lawyers and I told her about you. She said this Alan Reeder guy wants the case but isn’t a criminal defense lawyer. Do you think that would matter?”

  “To be honest, yes, she needs a criminal lawyer. But I don’t know Reeder. For all I know he may be a great lawyer and can handle her case just fine,” Marc said.

  “You’re trying to be professionally polite and not say anything bad about another lawyer,” John perceptively said.

  “What is she charged with?” Marc asked.

  “Child neglect,” John answered.

  “Child neglect! All this over a gross misdemeanor child neglect charge? They’re trying to squeeze her for a confession. Did Reeder at least tell her to keep her mouth shut?” Marc asked.

  “We don’t know what he told her,” John said.

  “We’re sorry about just showing up like this but I think Brittany is going to get railroaded. She needs somebody who is really good. I saw you represent that judge and you did really great,” Charlotte said.

  Marc looked at her and with a conspiratorial tone, raised his eye brows and quietly said, “I came close to getting him off didn’t I? What got him convicted?”

  “Really close. If it wasn’t for the picture of him lying on top of her with the knife in his hand, well, we just couldn’t get past that,” Charlotte answered.

  Marc smiled slightly, nodded his head a little and said, “Yeah, I thought that was it. That’s a tough image to get out of your head.”

  “I still wake up some nights…” Charlotte said. “Could you at least meet with Brittany and Barbara and talk to them?”

  “Give me a minute,” Marc said as he rose from his desk chair. He went out into the common area of the office and walked up to Carolyn.

  “Hey,” he said to her while she looked up at him. “Is there anything on my desk that needs immediate attention?”

  Carolyn thought about it for a moment, looked over at the other secretary Sandy who looked back, shrugged and shook her head. Carolyn looked up at Marc and said, “No, nothing I can think of.”

  At that moment the office paralegal, Jeff Modell, stepped out of the office of Connie Mickelson and quietly closed the door behind him. Carolyn saw him and said, “Jeff, is there anything on Marc’s desk you know of that requires his immediate attention?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Jeff answered.

  Marc was reading the A section of that morning’s Star Tribune. On the left side of the front page was a one column story about Brittany. As he skimmed over it, Caroly
n said, “So what’s this about? Who are they?”

  Without answering, Marc flopped the paper in front of Carolyn and pointed at the story he was reading.

  Recognizing it immediately, Carolyn said, “Are you serious?” She was talking to Marc’s back because he had turned to go back to the office. Upon hearing what Carolyn said, both Sandy and Jeff hurried over to Carolyn’s desk to look over her shoulder at the newspaper.

  Marc closed the door, sat down in his chair again and said, “Okay, I’ll go out to the jail and see her and,” he shrugged, “we’ll see.” He picked up the phone on his desk, punched one of the speed dial buttons and said to the obviously relieved couple, “I need to make a call.”

  “Do you want us to leave?” John asked as he started to rise.

  Marc shook his head and silently mouthed the word no and gestured with his hand for John to remain seated. A moment later his phone call was answered.

  “Hey, counselor, what’s up?” he heard Madeline Rivers say.

  “Hi, kid,” Marc said. “Are you doing anything right now? Are you busy for the next few hours?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m good until this evening. Why? What do you need?”

  “I’d like you to come with me to meet someone out at the jail in Hastings. It’s important. Can you do it? I’ll buy lunch.”

  “You’re on,” Maddy laughed. “I’ll be at your office in ten minutes.”

  After saying goodbye and hanging up the phone, Marc looked at the Daniels and said, “It sounds like the mother, Barbara, calls the shots. Is that fair to say?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte nodded. “She likes to be in control of…”

  “She’s a total control freak,” John said.

  “She’s your sister?” Marc asked Charlotte who nodded in assent. “Okay, I need you to call her and have her meet me at the detention center in Hastings. Make sure she knows where it is.”

  “You want me to call her now?”

  “Yes, tell her I’ll be there in about an hour.”

  Charlotte spoke to Barbara who enthusiastically agreed. When the call was finished, they spent the next fifteen minutes going over the Riley family dynamic and as much of Brittany’s life and upbringing as they knew. Charlotte, being Barbara’s younger sister, wasn’t exactly privy to much of what went on in the Riley home except to know that Barbara was in total charge of everything. About the time they finished, the intercom on Marc’s phone buzzed. He answered it and was told Maddy Rivers had arrived. With that, the three of them stood up to leave.

  “Would you mind if we went out to the jail also?” Charlotte asked.

  “Sure, why not?” Marc replied. “You can introduce me to Barbara. I probably won’t let you sit in but it won’t hurt to have you there,” he continued as he put on his suit coat and opened the door for them.

  As the Daniels went into the common area of the office, Marc watched the husband for his reaction. Madeline was standing in between Carolyn’s and Sandy’s desks with her back to them chatting with the two secretaries. She turned to face Marc when she heard the door open and when she did, John Daniel’s eyes noticeably widened, he wiped his palms on his pants and swallowed hard which caused Marc to suppress a laugh.

  Madeline Rivers was an ex-cop with the Chicago Police department in her early thirties. In her three inch heeled suede half boots she liked to wear she was over six feet tall. She had a full-head of thick dark hair with auburn highlights that fell down over her shoulders, a model gorgeous face and she had a body worthy of Playboy. In fact, foolishly posing for that magazine was what led her to quit the Chicago P.D.

  Maddy, as she was called by her friends, had moved to Minneapolis after quitting the Chicago cops following her Playboy pose. At the same time she went through an ugly breakup when she found out the doctor she had fallen for was married. After arriving in Minnesota she got a private investigator’s license. Maddy befriended a retired Minneapolis cop, Tony Carvelli, who was also a P.I. and she was now doing quite well for herself. It was Tony who originally introduced her to Marc to help with a case he was handling where they became good friends and business associates.

  The reaction of John Daniels to his first sight of the stunning Ms. Rivers was actually subdued compared to most men. No doubt his wife, sneaking a peek at the same time to catch his reaction, contributed to it.

  Marc introduced Maddy to the Daniels and briefly explained where they were going. A few minutes later, with Maddy in the passenger seat, Marc was driving toward Hastings, with the Daniels following.

  SEVENTEEN

  They were driving east on 494, the southern half of the freeway that encircled the Twin Cities, with the Daniels following behind him in their car. Marc and Maddy were discussing Brittany’s arrest and what little they knew about her situation. Maddy was able to confirm what Brittany’s aunt told Marc about the media coverage.

  “You can’t turn on the TV without hearing about it,” she said. “They haven’t said it, but the impression I got was they believe the kid is probably dead and Brittany did it.”

  “Where is that coming from?” Marc asked.

  “Anonymous sources involved in the investigation is the usual attribution,” Maddy answered.

  “Dakota County Sheriff’s office.”

  “Sounds like it,” Maddy agree. “So how was the vacation? You and the judge still speaking to each other?”

  “The trip was great and why wouldn’t we be speaking with each other?” Marc asked glancing over at Maddy who was leaning forward slightly, her head turned toward him, with a tiny smirk and a little twinkle in her eyes.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Marc asked.

  “Gauging to see how much you’re lying.”

  “What? Why would I lie?”

  “Because trips like that are relationship killers,” she said.

  “No, we’re okay,” he asked. “Or, mostly…I think. We did get on each other’s nerves a bit,” he admitted.

  “I remember one,” Maddy said. “This guy I was seeing, I thought he might be the one, you know? Anyway we went together to Lake Geneva, in Wisconsin. It was a long weekend thing. When we got back and he took me home, I got my luggage out of the trunk, looked him in the eye and said, ‘We’re done. Don’t call me again.’”

  “Why, what happened?” Marc asked laughing at her story.

  “It took two days for me to find out he was a totally self-absorbed momma’s boy. Literally. During the first two days, he called his mother four times. By the end of the second day I was checking bus schedules to see if I could get back to Chicago.”

  “Seriously?” Marc laughed as he turned from the freeway onto Highway 61 southbound, the same Highway 61 Bob Dylan made famous in ’65. “Why did you get involved with him in the first place?”

  Maddy didn’t answer the question but just stared straight ahead through the windshield.

  “Well?” Marc asked.

  “I don’t want to say,” she answered.

  “Oh, okay. I get it,” Marc said smiling. “He was pretty and charming and a male bimbo and…”

  “Never mind,” Maddy said trying to suppress a laugh. “I was young and stupid.”

  “Be thankful you got out when you did.”

  “For sure,” she said.

  “When we get to the jail and meet with her,” Marc said turning serious, “I want you to be the big sister type. Try to be empathetic, is that a word?”

  “You see me as the big sister type?” she said smiling.

  “Um, actually, ah no. As much of a hard ass as you are…”

  “Don’t say anything bad about my ass,” she admonished waving an index finger at him for emphasis.

  “I said hard ass, not fat ass…”

  “Ahhhhh!” she said as she leaned toward him straining at the car’s shoulder harness. “You think I have a fat ass!” she yelled as she slapped him hard on the shoulder.

  Marc took a deep breath, shook his head and wearily said, “No, I do not think yo
u have a fat ass and that’s all I’m going to say. Anything else will just get me into more trouble. I just want you to be nice to her, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said as she folded her arms across her chest and looked straight ahead pretending to pout. After a few seconds, she turned her beautiful head toward him, smiled and said, “I’m just having a little fun with you.”

  “I know,” he answered her.

  Twenty minutes later, Marc parked his car in the lot of the Dakota County Government Center. The Daniels parked next to him and the four of them made their way to the detention center facility. As they reached the front entry, Marc could see Maddy sneaking a peek at the reflection of her backside in the door’s glass.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my ass,” she whispered to him.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” he whispered back quietly laughing.

  “What was that?” John Daniels said to the two of them.

  “Nothing,” both Marc and Maddy answered in unison.

  They entered the reception area where they found Barbara and Floyd Riley seated, patiently waiting for them. Charlotte introduced them to the Rileys. Marc went to the glass-enclosed counter where a deputy sheriff stood behind the glass, waiting for him. Marc had removed his attorney license card from his wallet and slid it through the opening on the counter to the deputy. He told the man why they were here and wanted to see Brittany. The deputy opened the door for them, showed them into a conference room and said Brittany would be down shortly.

  There was a cheap, formica-topped table in the middle of the room with about a dozen uncomfortable plastic chairs scattered about. They each grabbed a chair and sat as close as they could to the small table. The table itself could only accommodate four and Barbara, Marc and Maddy took up those places.

  The six of them made light conversation for a few minutes then Barbara said, “Charlotte said you did an excellent job on the trial that she was on jury duty for, the one about the judge that murdered his wife.”