Ray told story at home that night to Francesca and his
mother. Fraser stayed late at work at the 10th precinct, as he often
did since beginning his assignment to the Special Assault Unit, reporting to
Lt. Shannon. But he had promised Ray solemnly, over lunch, to call Ray at home
as soon as he was through with his paperwork so that Ray could pick him up and
bring him over as soon as he was available. Diefenbaker was already there, he
spent more time at the Vecchio house than at the apartment these days, because
of Fraser irregular and demanding work hours.
"So, I came over to the 10th to pick Benny
up for lunch. We were almost out the front door when Lt. Shannon stops us and
tells Benny she wants him to look at a line up. She's made an arrest in his
case and she wants him to identify the suspect. So I go along too, for moral
support, like. And, man, does he need it. Benny's walking like he's in a
trance. And then identifies two of the men that assaulted him in the line up.
Two. The actual suspect and another guy who's been a detective at the 10th
for years. Benny and Shannon confronted him. They didn't let me in to watch
that part but Benny says he only had to push him a little and he caved. Benny
says he was willing to - as Benny puts it - squeak on his friends in order to
get off himself."
"My God, they'll
catch all of them," Francesca said, excited.
"And once Shannon has them in custody she can match
their DNA against the samples taken from Benny and from the bodies of the other
twelve victims."
"I don't usually condone the death penalty, but I
hope these monsters all die," said Ma, grimly. "To jump innocent men,
beat them to death and rape them. Unthinkable. They're not human."
"What's scary, Ma, is that they ARE human. And at
least one is a cop like Benny and me."
Francesca said, "Bro, don't you mean rape them and
then beat them to death?"
Ray and Fraser had kept the full extent of the attack on
Fraser from Francesca. She knew that Fraser had been found unconscious and
naked in a dumpster, and that an injured Diefenbaker had led Ray to the
location. She knew Fraser had severe internal injuries from the beating and had
been apparently left for dead. She knew he had been sexually assaulted by many
men. Ten different DNA sample had been identified in testing of the residue
left on him when he had been found. And she knew that Lt. Shannon's unit had
been investigating a pattern of a dozen such assaults on other men in the last
two years - with Fraser the only one to have survived to describe his
assailants.
Ma Vecchio was in on the whole story for the simple reason
that Ray was not capable of hiding anything from his mother.
Getting Benny to actually work in the Special Assault Unit
had been Ray's idea; Ma Vecchio had counseled that feeling busy and needed
would help the Mountie cope. Fraser had
been so depressed and hopeless after the rape that both Lt. Shannon and Ray had
feared he might take his own life. Ray managed to foil one suicide attempt but
feared that his clever, inventive friend must succeed in killing himself
eventually unless he was given a good reason to want to go on living. Spending
his time standing immobile outside the Consulate door wasn't going to give him
that.
The plan worked splendidly. Working with other rape
victims and bringing their attackers to justice was proving a magic tonic for
the Mountie.
"I mean exactly what I said. These sons-of-bitches
got twelve victims before they made the mistake of jumping Benny."
"May they rot in Hell," Francesca declared.
"At least they'll rot in jail. There's no better
witness in the world than Benton Fraser, RCMP," Ray declared.
Lt. Shannon would have agreed with that statement. In
front of her on her desk was the transcript of Fraser's description of the
attack. It would have been comical in its minute detail, had the subject matter
not been so horrific. Together with the transcript were four pencil sketches of
men who had been involved in the attack. These four were already in custody,
together with Detective Michaelson. That made five, with the others soon to be
picked up, now that Michaelson had identified them.
Fraser was amazing. Lt. Shannon mused that she had been
wise to listen when Vecchio of the 27th suggested that she take the
Mountie onto her staff.
There was one thing wrong with this rosy picture. She was
going to get all ten men convicted for assault and attempted murder, of that
she had very little doubt, but getting them on the murder of the previous
twelve victims was going to be trickier. She buzzed for her assistant, Sgt.
Darrin, to come in so that they could discuss the options.
After an hour of tossing the situation around, the
lieutenant and the sergeant agreed that the case was very strong, but not
foolproof. And there wasn't anything more they could do about it. At least that
was the conclusion to which Lt. Shannon came and Sgt. Darrin, while sitting
with her, didn't say anything to contradict her.
Sgt. Darrin dropped in to see Fraser in his own office the
next day.
"So, Ben. Can you take time for lunch today?"
"I've got a hearing at two, and I'm picking up the
witness half an hour before," he glanced at his watch, "I guess I
have time for a bite. Thanks for reminding me, I probably wouldn't have noticed
the time and worked right through."
"That was an invitation, Ben."
Fraser looked sheepish. "Oh, sorry. Thank you kindly.
Lunch would be great. When do you want to go? I have to . . "
". . . pick up a witness at one-thirty. I heard. Meet
me outside in twenty minutes?"
Fraser nodded and Darrin left him to get back to his
paperwork.
There was a Chinese restaurant two doors down from the 10th
precinct, and Fraser didn't want to spend much time on lunch, so they went
over, took a place in a booth, and Fraser ordered in Chinese for both of
them. He ordered lunch specials, which
came almost instantly.
While they were eating Darrin said, "This is about
your case, Ben."
"I thought it might be. Officially, you're the
officer in charge."
"I've been thinking about whether there's a way we
can get these assholes for the murder of the first twelve men."
"We've discussed this. We don't have eye-witnesses to
the other attacks. We have DNA evidence that their ejaculate was on the other
victims, but no other physical evidence as to who committed the killings. Logic
tells us that the pattern is the same. All twelve men were found dead, beaten
and covered with 'cum'. The thirteenth
man - me - remembers being beaten and raped and hearing them discuss killing
him, then stopping the beating when someone said 'enough, he's snuffed'. Strong
reason to think the same thing happened to the first twelve, but an attorney
could claim there isn't enough physical evidence. No reasonable person could
conclude they didn't murder these men, but there's a physical possibility that
the victims agreed to the sexual encounter or that someone else did the actual
killing. Without an eye-witness an attorney could claim reasonable doubt. Logic
- yes. Proof - maybe not."
"That's the way Shannon and I see it, too. It's
eating us up, Ben. With only one count of sexual assault and attempted murder,
they could get out in a few years."
"Thirteen counts of assault," Fraser opined.
"Based only on their cum all over the victims'
bodies. Strong evidence but not as good as a real witness. And nowhere near
what we need for twelve counts of murder."
"That's a shame," Fraser allowed. "Are we
having lunch together to commiserate?"
"Oh course not. Why do you think we're having lunch
together?'
"Please tell me it isn't because you have designs on
me. You've worked with enough rape victims to know I'm totally not in the mood
for romance these days."
Darrin laughed, but ruefully. "Shannon doesn't like
us to date victims, even if they are in the mood. You'd be surprised. Some of the
victims are so grateful for our help, they get into these transference things -
like what shrinks encounter - and start having a crush on us. You should have
encountered that already."
"I have," Fraser said, briefly, and then changed
the subject. "Does Lt. Shannon have a suggestion about my case?"
"No. But I was thinking we might do something for
her. It would have to be unofficial - without her knowledge. It's in your
power, Ben, to get these bastards on all twelve murder counts."
"I don't see how. I've told you and Lt. Shannon
everything already. I don't see what else there is I can add."
Darrin glanced around first, then in a lowered voice,
said, "You could remember something new and add it to your testimony. It's
plausible. You were depressed when you dictated the first draft and since then
you've had a chance to think back and remember more."
"If that were true," Fraser asked, cautiously,
"what else might I remember?"
"You might remember that while you were playing dead
you heard them talk amongst themselves about the other murders. Something like:
we'll do this one the way we did . . . yada yada. They probably don't remember
everything they said to each other that night word for word, and even if they
do try to deny it - it will be your word against theirs. And you'll already be
established as a reliable witness."
"Lying isn't something I do lightly, Darrin. And . .
. under oath. I'm not sure I'm capable of that."
"Ben, is there any doubt in your mind that these
bastards killed the other twelve men?"
'None at all. We'll have to bring charges of murder
against them and hope that the circumstantial evidence is enough. I won't lie
under oath."
"Ben, I knew that would be your first reaction. Just
think about it. There's lying and there's lying. Sometimes a technical untruth
can bring a greater good."
"I'm aware of that. But whenever I lie, I usually end
up regretting it."
"Just think about it. And don't tell Shannon. She
doesn't know I'm asking you. She'd never permit it."
Fraser did think about it - and about little else - for
the rest of the day, except for the time he spent with the rape victim he was
accompanying to court. On these occasions the victim always had his full
attention and the occasions were getting more and more frequent. Shannon was
finding Fraser so effective in persuading victims to testify in open court and
supporting them while they did so that she assigned him more and more to this
kind of duty and less and less to active investigation.
Court clerks and judges got to know him. So did defense
attorneys, who cursed amongst themselves whenever they learned an upcoming
sexual assault case was a "Mountie case". Rarely did one of the
victims Fraser worked with fail to testify, and in full, unashamed and damning
detail.
Finally it was evening and Fraser presented himself to the
Vecchio house where Ma, Diefenbaker and Ray were waiting for him. After dinner,
Fraser took Ray out onto the front porch for a private talk.
"Ray, remember when we were chasing Gerard and you
offered me your gun? You said if I shot him, you'd be willing to say it was in
self defense."
"Of course I remember."
"I don't break the law easily and I don't lie
much," Fraser said.
Ray chucked his friend on the shoulder. "Ya
think?" Then he became serious, "Is somebody asking you to lie,
Benny?"
"No, of course not," Fraser said, without
conviction. "But, suppose that, in one of my therapy session, I suddenly
remembered some detail of the attack I didn't remember before. Maybe because I
was blocking it out or . . ."
"I get the picture. Nobody wants you to remember
something new about that night. Nobody at all. Crazy idea. I wonder where I got
it. Now, what exactly does nobody want you not to remember?"
"That's a double negative, Ray. You should say . . .
oh Hell!" Fraser interrupted himself, realizing how absurd it was to be
correcting Ray's grammar at this point.
"Okay, I'll say it. Oh Hell. Happy?"
"Not in the slightest. Just forget it."
"No way. Let's have this out. What is there fresh
that you can add to your testimony, if you did have a sudden revelation?"
"Ray, I could remember hearing the assailants discuss
the previous murders amongst themselves when they thought I couldn't hear.
Then, I would have eye witness - well, no, strike that - ear witness evidence
that they killed the previous dozen men. Right now we only have circumstantial
evidence."
"Their cum all over the dead bodies," Ray
supplied, not without a slight cringe.
"But a clever attorney might persuade a jury that
there is sufficient reasonable doubt about them actually doing the killing. The
thought of these men going unpunished for the murders - Ray, it horrifies
me."
"And you'd consider falsifying your statement. Come
on, Benny, I know you better than that. The only woman you ever loved asked you
to let her go and you didn't. The only man you ever hated was yours to kill and
you didn't do that either. So forgive
me but I can't see you committing perjury for people you don't even know."
"It's the fact that I don't know them that makes it
so tempting. Gerard and Victoria, I stuck to the book with them perhaps because
I knew that going against the rules would be for my own personal satisfaction.
This would be purely for justice. I never met these men. I never met their
families. That's what makes it so tempting, Ray. I somehow feel that this time my motives would be pure."
"They fucked up your head when they fucked up your
ass, Benny. This isn't you talking."
"Meaning you don't think I should do it. Funny, I expected
that you'd approve. It's something you might . . . well, don't take that too
literally."
"No, it's okay, Benny. You can say it. I've been
known to bend the truth a little here and there. I don't deny it. In fact, I
wish I were better at it. But that's me and not you. You're smart, Benny. You
could pull off a very good lie and make it stick."
"I could," Fraser agreed, not bothering with
false modesty on so serious a topic.
"You never met the families of the other men. Maybe
you should."
"Oh no, Lt. Shannon has been adamant that I'm not to
have contact with any of the relatives of the other victims."
"It's a free country. You're allowed to talk to
whoever you want to."
"Whomever."
"Drop dead, Benny. Whomever. You're the most
irritating man in the world. What am I going to do with you?"
Fraser made an effort to smile. Ray was lightening the
moment for him and Fraser appreciated his friend's gesture. "You're going
to take me back in the house and let your mother give me cake and coffee."
It was indeed a free country and the 10th
precinct was a public building. Nothing stopped Mrs. Edwards from walking into
the station one morning and asking the desk sergeant to make her appointment
with Mr. Ben Fraser. Fraser had no court appearances scheduled for that
afternoon and so Charlotte made her an appointment for 2:00 pm and then buzzed
Fraser to let him know to set that time aside. Edwards being a common enough
name, he didn't make the connection that this woman was the mother of one of
the men killed by Michaelson and his cohorts.
Mrs. Edwards was a woman in her mid-fifties, petite and
unassuming. She had on a conservative, grey wool suit, just a smidgeon too
small for her and sat in Fraser's visitor's chair clutching a black patent
leather handbag on her lap, as though for security. Her handbag matched her
shoes, Fraser noticed, in the fashion of years ago.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Edwards," Fraser
asked. He leaned slightly forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table
to indicate to the woman that she had his full attention.
"My son was one of the victims of the men that also
attacked you, Mr. Fraser. I heard from some of the other families that your
case is coming to trial soon and there's going to be charges of murder brought
for my son and the others."
"Murder and sexual assault. Yes, that's true but I
shouldn't be talking to you about this, Mrs. Edwards. I'm under instructions
not to."
"Why? I don't see why? We're in this together. You
survived and my son didn't. You owe me."
"Well I . . ." Fraser was at a loss. "I'm
sorry about your son, but I'm not involved in the case, except as the victim.
I'll be testifying as a witness. That's all."
Mrs. Edwards twisted the handle of her purse. "Do you
think it's fair, Mr. Fraser? That you you're sitting here behind a desk and my
son is dead. Shouldn't you be doing something about it?"
"I am doing everything in my power. If I hadn't
survived, there would have been no witness alive to testify against these men.
It's cruel to say so, but you can't blame me because I had the presence of mind
to save my own life and your son didn't."
She slumped in the chair, deflated. "I want justice
for my son."
"Ma'am, with all due respect, you want vengeance.
Justice isn't FOR anyone. It just is."
"I've heard you're a policeman, Mr. Fraser."
"Not in this jurisdiction, ma'am. I'm a
Mountie."
"How dare you mock me? Have you no shame!"
"Mrs. Edwards, is there something specific you want
me to do? Something you don't think I'm planning to do already. I've provided a
complete description of what happened to me the day of the attack. I'm going to
repeat that testimony in open court, and it was my identification of the
perpetrators that led to their arrest. I don't really know what more you think
I can do."
"You can say that you heard them say they killed my
son. Tell the court you heard them mention his name specifically. George
Edwards. It's an easy name to remember."
"Did someone ask you to come here, Mrs.
Edwards?"
"Me? Why no."
"You haven't been in touch with Sgt. Darrin?"
"Oh course I have. The Sergeant keeps us informed of
all the developments in the case."
"Us?"
"All the families of the victims. We're all very
interested in hearing your testimony."
"Nobody asked you to come and talk to me? Sgt Darrin
didn't send you?"
The woman fidgeted some more. "We did talk about it.
A little."
Fraser rose and stood behind his chair. "It's been
nice meeting you, Mrs. Edwards."
"Are you going to help me?"
He held out a hand to her and repeated, "It's been
nice meeting you, Mrs. Edwards."
Mrs. Edwards looked at the hand and seemed to be thinking
about what if anything to say next. Then she too stood up, turned and walked
away from the desk leaving Fraser's outstretched hand empty. At the doorway of
Fraser's office, she turned and looked at him again. "You shouldn't be so
high and mighty. This isn't just about you. It's about my son and all the other
victims."
"Punishing these men won't bring your son back to
life, Mrs. Edwards."
She made a harrumphing sound of disgust and marched out
the door.
Fraser didn't sleep that night. Tossing in his bed, he
relived the searing memories, felt again the blows, held his breath in
imitation of the efforts he had made to play dead. He lived the pain and
humiliation of the rapes.
Twelve men before him were dead. He lived. Did he owe it
to the dead to bend the truth? He'd told Mrs. Edwards that justice cannot be
FOR any specific person. It was an axiom of his existence - justice was an
ideal. His role was to serve justice, not to ask justice to serve him. That's
what he had always believed. He hadn't raised a hand against Gerard; he hadn't
let Victoria go. But, as he had tied to explain to Ray, this wasn't selfish.
This wasn't for his own personal satisfaction nor for anyone he loved. So, was
it more virtuous to tell lies for strangers than for one's self? It was a
twisted concept of altruism, but a compelling one.
As the sun was coming up, he made a decision.
A couple of days later, he had an appointment with the
psychiatrist. At everyone's urging, he had been going to and he had been
co-operating with the doctor, without really feeling there was much benefit to
be gained. But now he was glad to keep the appointment, because the
psychiatrist was going to form part of his plan.
Fraser began the session by asking the doctor to hypnotize
him.
Dr. Schmidt was skeptical. Fraser had never asked for
anything specific in his months of therapy, only gone along with whatever the
doctor had proposed. The doctor of course asked for an explanation.
"My trial is in two weeks. Not MY trial. The trial.
In any case it is in two weeks. I've told the police everything I remember but
I was in a state of shock and disorientation when I made my statement. Maybe
now that time has passed, I'll be able to remember some elements I've been
repressing."
"Don't try to impress me with jargon Mr. Fraser. I'm
the psychiatrist. It's MY jargon, after all," the doctor said, a little
amused.
"I really do think I might be repressing certain
details," Fraser insisted.
"Fine, let's see what you can remember. Begin with .
. . "
"No, I really think hypnosis is the way to go. Unless
you have a specific objection."
"I have. You have astounding recall. I've never seen
anybody with powers of observation and retention like yours. To think that
anything may be missing from your memory is ludicrous."
Fraser tried a different approach. "I would make me
feel better to try this, Doctor. Are you really so opposed to the idea that you
won't give me benefit of the doubt?" He gave a sweet half-smile to the
doctor, and widened his eyes to look as childlike as he could.
"You're making google-eyes at me. That's what my
mother used to call that look. Very well, Mr. Fraser. If it's so important to
you that you're trying such a ridiculous approach on me, I guess there's no
harm."
Dr. Schmidt guided Fraser through the steps to reach a
hypnotic state and spent the rest of the session probing for details. Feigning
being hypnotized didn't strain Fraser's powers of invention very much and if
Dr. Schmidt was aware Fraser was faking, he didn't mention it.
After his therapy session, Fraser returned to the 10th
precinct and presented himself in Lt. Shannon's office.
"Problem with your schedule, Ben?"
"No ma'am. It's about my . . . our . . . the . . .
upcoming trial. I'd like to add something to my statement."
Lt. Shannon had only been paying Fraser half of her
attention, but at this she looked away from her computer screen and regarded
him quizzically.
"At this late date?"
"I've been hypnotized by my psychiatrist and I want
to add to my statement some things said by my attackers." This statement
was carefully phrased to make his change in testimony sound plausible to
Shannon and also to give Fraser the satisfaction of being literally true,
albeit misleadingly phrased.
Shannon narrowed her eyes and regarded him suspiciously.
"Whom have you talked to?"
It pleased Fraser that, for once, he reported to someone who
knew the correct use of 'whom'. As much as he respected Lt. Shannon, he
pretended not to understand what she was suggesting. "To my psychiatrist.
As I said."
"How stupid do you think I am, Ben?"
Fraser was cornered.
"I don't think you are stupid at all, ma'am."
"Did somebody get to you? Answer me truthfully."
It took all of Fraser's will power not to give in to this
appeal to his basic honesty. "I've remembered something new. I'd like to
tell it to you and have it recorded in the official transcript of my
report."
Shannon sighed. She got up from behind her desk and walked
around to sit on the edge of the desk so that she was close to Fraser. "I
want to nail these sons-of-bitches too, Fraser. But your first instincts are
the right ones. You told me the whole, ugly truth. It doesn't need
embellishment. Let it be."
"But ma'am. They might beat the murder charges."
"They might. But remember this: these men couldn't
have been identified and captured without you. You don't have to do more than
you've already done. I want you to always be the same honest, dedicated man
that I hired."
"I want to change my statement, Lieutenant."
"Permission denied."
"I could go to Sgt Darrin. She's the officer
officially assigned to the case. I don't need your permission. I only thought .
. . "
"If you intended to do that, you'd have brought this
to her first. And I doubt she would have argued with you. Let me play
psychiatrist a little here. Didn't you come to me because deep down you wanted
to be talked out of it?
"That's ridiculous. Oh, sorry. Ma'am."
"You're making a difference here, Ben. Isn't that
making you feel better about yourself? You know, when you were in the hospital,
it was me that warned Vecchio that you were suicidal. I know the thought
patterns of men who have been raped. You had all the classic signs. Trust me
when I say I know how your mind works. Get back to work, Ben. Forget about
changing anything. We'll do the best we can with the truth."
Fraser shrugged, muttered, "Yes, ma'am" and
returned to his office.
End (for now)