Dream within a Dream Ch. 02

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The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman’s biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 6 – Investigation

“That Carole is becoming a handful.” said Phyllis as she and Laura sat down in the den of the Mountain Nest. “Just like her daddy was at that age. I’m glad I’m staying in the guest bedroom. I don’t think I have the energy to go downstairs.”

“And it’s safer for you to be up here while Don is away.” Laura said. “Well, we finally got them to sleep, and Bowser is right under Carole’s crib, as always. Let’s watch the eleven o’clock news before we head to bed.” She used the remote to turn the TV to Channel Two.

“This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!” shouted the redheaded reporterette. “We are bringing you live coverage from Jacksonville, where the State execution of white supremacist and cop-killer Lance Priemus has just taken place. But something went terribly wrong during the execution! We now go to KXTC’s John Hardwood at the scene!”

“Yes, Bettina, something just went horribly wrong!” shouted Hardwood from outside the gates of the prison, as if shouting made the story be more important or would give it more drama. “I was in the witness room, watching the execution. Lance Priemus was being injected with the lethal cocktail of drugs that would end his life when he started screaming in agony! The first drug is supposed to sedate him and the second drug should’ve paralyzed him, but I and everyone else witnessed him screaming in pain, writhing in pain and trying to break free of the straps holding him onto the table!”

“What? What’s that?” Hardwood said, then looked back at the camera again. “Bettina, we’ve just gotten word that Commander Donald Troy of the Town & County Police is at the scene, and that State Governor Val Jared has already called him into SBI duty and asked him to lead an immediate investigation! I repeat: TCPD Commander Donald Troy is now in charge of the investigation into what went wrong in the execution of convicted cop-killer Lance Priemus…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As I hung up my cellphone, I turned to the Warden. “Warden, you probably know that the Governor has just deputized me into the SBI and instructed me to investigate what went wrong.”

“Yes, Commander.” said the Warden. “We are at your service. Whatever you need.”

“I need the Jacksonville Police Department to send their Crime Lab team here immediately.” I said. “With plenty of evidence bags and containers for liquids. I need for you to lock down this prison; no one is to enter or leave, except that Crime Lab team. Any guards or officers that were on duty and inside need to be inside; if they left, they need to be called back immediately. Record who is here and who might have left. I need for all of the video taken from all of the cameras in this prison for the entire day to be preserved as evidence. Next, I want some scissors so I can cut this tie off my gun and the guns of my officers, here. Last, get the Media out of this Prison. Immediately and completely.”

I turned to Cindy and Martin Nash. “Sorry guys, but we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

5:00am, Wednesday, August 26th. It had been a productive six hours. The Jacksonville PD Crime Lab had been pretty good, and had taken evidence of the drugs used in the execution, carefully noting which line they came from, all of it being videotaped.

The JPD had also bagged the videotapes for evidence, and had put them in a guarded room in which no Prison guard nor officer was allowed to enter. We also interviewed every guard on duty. I’d taken great pleasure in going into the death chamber and surrounding rooms, then looking at Watch Captain Lockhart and saying “Well, Lockhart, I guess I get to come back here in spite of you.”

“Won’t do you no fucking good.” snarled Lockhart. “Cop-killer is dead.” He had me there, I realized.

Early on, there had been one issue. A family member of Priemus, a man becoming overweight and speaking with a heavy Southern accent, had become angry.

“My cousin just died a horrible, painful death.” he thundered. “That’s just not ri-ight.”

“Sir,” I said, “that is why the Governor has asked me to investigate this.”

“Who the hell are yuuuu?” the man drawled.

“I’m Commander Donald Troy, working with the SBI–“

“Hell, you’re one of them, then.” said the man. “Why the hell should I trust yuuu?”

Cindy was becoming indignant and about to say something. I put a hand on her shoulder, which immobilized her, then said “You know, almanbahis şikayet sir, you’re right. Detective Nash! Please call FBI Agent Les Craig in Southport. Ask him to send an FBI agent up here to work with me, or at least to observe my investigation. Do that now, Mr. Nash.” Nash fished out his cellphone and walked out of the room.

I turned to the man. “Will that do?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guesso.” the man said, still surly but knowing he’d just had his bluff called.

At 3:00am, I was interviewing one of the three men who’d been tasked with pressing the buttons. He said they were brought in after the whole thing was set up, and he had no idea of anything but pressing the buttons. Just then, Cindy burst into the room.

“Guess what?” she exclaimed. “Dora Ellis was in the crowd and Nash spotted her. He arrested her on the spot and is bringing her inside!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You have no right to arrest me.” Dora hissed. She was not an attractive woman. Her brown hair hung limply down the sides of her face. She was beginning to put on weight, the kind of weight that would stay with her for the rest of her life as she aged.

“So why did you come down here for the execution of the man you had convicted with your testimony?” I asked.

“Am I free to go?” Dora asked.

“Not yet.” I said. “Answer my questions, and then you can be on your way. Again, why did you come down here?”

“Am I being detained against my will? Do you have a warrant to arrest me?” Dora snarled. “If not, I demand to be released immediately.”

“You are being detained on the probable cause of suspicion of involvement with the nature of Lance Priemus’s death.” I said.

“I want a lawyer. I demand a lawyer… NOW!” Dora said, her face getting uglier in its ferocity.

“Fair enough.” I said. “Nash, call this woman’s lawyer for her.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The lawyer strode in about 20 minutes later. “I am Forrest Gillis, of Gillis & Partners, P.C. in Southport, and I am representing Mrs. Ellis.”

“Formerly of Gresham & Mason, I perceive.” I asked as I peered at the thirtysomething man.

“How… how did you know?” the man gasped, his eyes widening as he stared at me. Then he got control of himself. “Why are you detaining my client, Commander Troy?”

“Ah, I see you know me, too.” I said, grinning. I opened the briefcase I’d brought with me, and had left in my SUV until an hour before.

“I just happen to have here a copy of the plea deal Mrs. Ellis made with Westphalia’s Prosecutor’s Office.” I said. “She was and is required to cooperate with authorities, and answer all questions pertaining to the Lance Priemus murder case. As Priemus’s execution is part of that case, and as it is obvious to me that someone arranged the drugs in the wrong order so that he would die painfully, and with Mrs. Ellis happening to be on the scene, I believe she has to answer my questions on this.”

“If she doesn’t,” I continued, “I’ll drive straight up to Westphalia and tell them Mrs. Ellis has violated this agreement, and they will come after her for conspiracy to commit murder with aggravating circumstances, which carries no Statute of Limitations in this State. She’ll go to prison, and may end up on that same table Mr. Priemus was lying on just a few hours ago.”

“I’m not talking to this son of a bitch.” hissed Dora.

“Commander, I need a moment with my client.” asked Gillis.

“By all means.” I said, then turned to Nash. “Detective, escort them to the little room over there.” It was a closet. “You’ll have privacy, at least.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Okay,” said Gillis after they were done and had returned, “I’m going to monitor your questions, and I’ll advise my client not to answer any that I think are outside the scope of that agreement. If we disagree on what’s what, I’ll tie it up in Court for years.”

“Good enough.” I said. “Dora, why did you come down here to witness the execution of Priemus?”

“Morbid… curiosity.” Dora said, her voice a sneer.

“Have you seen Priemus since his trial?”


“What have you been doing with your life since the trial?”

“That’s outside the scope of the agreement.” the lawyer Gillis quickly said.

“Dora, are you the daughter of Henry Boxman of San Francisco, California?”

“That’s outside the scope.” said Gillis.

“I beg to differ.” I said. “And I’ll show it: Dora, was Lance Priemus a White Supremacist?” The lawyer and Dora looked at each other, and the lawyer whispered something to Dora.

“I wouldn’t know.” said Dora.

“Oh?” I asked. “I have a transcript of your testimony in the Priemus trial. You said he was constantly calling the police officer and his wife the ‘n-word’ while he was raping her in front of him. Then you testified that he said, and I quote, ‘this is what niggers deserve!’ as he slit the man’s throat. Is that not accurate?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.” Dora said, her voice disinterested.

“So, one more time… was almanbahis canlı casino Priemus a White Supremacist?”

“Again, I don’t know.” Dora said. “Using the n-word doesn’t mean he’s part of the Klan or anything like that. Yeah, he hated niggers, but so what?”

“Like you do, judging from what you just said?” I asked.

“I got nothin’ for ’em.” said Dora. “But that don’t mean nothin’.”

I glanced over at the legal beagle, who was peering at me with something bordering of avid interest on his face… but also concern.

“Okay, so one more time,” I said, “and per this plea deal agreement you must give truthful answers: so you are confirming to me that neither Lance Priemus nor yourself were or are members of any White Supremacist group?” The lawyer quickly whispered something to Dora.

“I can’t speak to Priemus.” Dora replied. “I don’t know either way who or what he was a part of. I had nothing to do with the Klan.”

“Or any other group?” I pressed. “Are you now or have you ever been a member or associate of any white supremacy organization?”

“What’s the point of this?” asked the lawyer.

“Answer the question, and truthfully.” I said. “And in front of all these witnesses.” Several officers, including Nash, Ross and FBI Special Agent In Charge Les Craig were watching and listening.

“No.” said Dora. “I am not a member of any white supremacy organization.”

“And you never have been a member of any white supremacy organization?”

“What is the fucking meaning of this?” Dora shouted. “I just said–“

“YOU JUST SAID…” I shouted, then returned to calmness “that you are not presently a member of any white supremacy organization. Now I’m asking you to state for the record and truthfully: have you ever been a member of any white supremacy organization?”

“No, asshole.” Dora said.

“What about your father, Dora?” I asked. “Is he or was he ever a member of any white supremacy group?”

“That’s enough.” said the lawyer. “That’s outside the scope. And I’ve had about enough of your badgering my client. Wrap it up, Commander, or I’ll have her invoke and fight you like hell for years if you try to fuck up the plea deal in Westphalia.”

“Oh, I’m done.” I said, getting up. “Or more accurately… Dora is.” I turned to Cindy. “Captain, I need written affidavits from everyone here of what they just witnessed and heard.” The lawyer Gillis looked very, very uncomfortable as he escorted Dora out of the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The drive back was long, and we were tired. FBI Special Agent Julius Jefferson had happened to be in Southport, and volunteered to drive us all the way back up to our Town, whereupon transportation would be provided by the FBI to get him to his home. With all the evidence loaded into the back of my Police SUV, we headed home.

“You obviously had something up your sleeve while you were questioning Dora.” Cindy said as she and I sat in the backseat, letting Nash ride ‘shotgun’. “What was that all about?”

“She fucked up.” I said. “I got her to lie about not being in a white supremacy group. She should’ve invoked and let her Gresham & Mason legal beagle fight for her.”

“And her father?” Cindy asked.

“Is in California, and safely out of my reach for now.” I said. “Now no more questions until we get home. I’ve got to think about all this.” With that, I settled into a reverie… which quickly turned to sleep.

“Oh, Commannnnnderrrr…”

I was dreaming again, at least I was dreaming that I was dreaming it. I was driving on some limitless road through farm fields. The light was a pale, yellowish haze, actually drained of color. And there in the shotgun seat was Angela Harlan, naked, her firm breasts bouncing up and down, her nipples hard.

“What now?” I asked, my voice eerie in the dream state.

“You’re on the right track.” Angela said. “But remember… she’s not what she seems to be…”

“Who?” I asked. I opened my eyes, and was back in the SUV, and we were riding on the Interstate towards Midtown. I turned and saw that Cindy was staring at me.

“Did I talk in my sleep?” I asked.

“Just the word ‘who?’.” Cindy replied. Her own voice was sleepy, and soon we were both falling back into our dream worlds…

Part 7 – Agents, Chemical and Federal

We got back just at 1:00pm, Wednesday, August 26th. We first stopped at the Crime Lab building, transferring the evidence with all the proper signatures, and with me making some suggestions to Dr. Woodrow about what tests to run with immediate priority, and what safety precautions to take.

After I instructed a Uniformed officer drive FBI Special Agent Jefferson to the Federal Building, Cindy said quietly to me “I heard you making suggestions to Dr. Woodrow. Do you have an idea of what happened?”

“Several theories,” I said, “which require facts to bear out. That is what the Crime Lab will give me. Okay, I need to go talk to the Chief real quick. Write up your report as soon as you can.” I went almanbahis casino to the Chief’s office, into which I was immediately admitted.

“Wow, that must’ve been a horrible thing to witness.” said Chief Bennett after I told him what had happened. “Any idea what caused the botched execution?”

“I’m waiting for the Lab to run the tests,” I said, “but I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that the order of the drugs was switched, or else a different drug was introduced first, which caused Priemus great pain.”

“A mistake, or deliberate?” asked the Chief.

“That depends on the tests.” I said. “Either way it’s going to be politically explosive. So how did Croyle and Perlman do while the Crowbar Cats were away?” The Chief told me that nothing had happened the night before, and that Perlman and Croyle had done well leading their units doing nothing in particular.

After being dismissed, I went into my office and called my wife. “I’m back in the office.” I said. “We’ll do the checkup tomorrow. Tell Bonnie I’ll talk to her after the checkup.”

“Okay, darling.” Laura said. “By the way, the FBI is beginning its investigation of Sharples giving Priya that information about Janet. Jack Muscone might want to talk to you about that.”

“Not until I’ve had some sleep.” I replied. After telling my wife I loved her (very true) and hanging up the phone, I told my assistant Helena that I was not to be disturbed until the lab results came back. Then I curled up on the sofa for some sleep. The Black Widow did not visit me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 4:00pm, I was buzzed awake by Helena. A minute later, Dr. Woodrow and J.R. Barnes of the Crime Lab came inside, handing me a folder with the expedited results.

“The saline solution went in first.” said Dr. Woodrow. “That’s normal, but there was an extra compound that was inert in and of itself. Then the first chemical, which was supposed to be a sedative, was actually what was normally the third compound to be administered, the potassium solution. This solution also had a compound that was inert in itself, but inside the bloodstream reacted with the extra chemical from the saline solution… and the resulting chemical was a toxin you might be familiar with.”

I looked at the sheet of paper. “Holy shit!” I said. “That’s a military chemical agent!”

J.R. Barnes asked “Do they have binary agents like that in the military, sir?”

“Absolutely.” I said. “In fact, our artillery-fired chemical weapons have to be binary in case of a leak. When the shell is fired, the chemicals are mixed by the spinning of the round and is toxic when it arrives on the target. This was the same thing… just by injection instead of artillery. Jeez…”

I then looked up. “Gentlemen,” I said, “this also just became classified information. Dr. Woodrow, contact the FBI about it, and they’ll notify the Army. It’ll remain in our evidence servers, but under encryption and every aspect of it sealed and treated as classified information. Make sure the Lab knows of the potential danger so that these chemicals are not accidentally mixed and we have a really bad thing happen in our Crime Lab.”

“I’ve already isolated the compounds from each other.” said Woodrow. “And we’re in the process of protecting the evidence as classified information. But you or the Chief have to personally notify the FBI or the Army.”

“Then I have a phone call to make, right now.” I said. I suited the deed to the word.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The press conference was being held at Courthouse Square, in front of the State Office Building on the north side, at 5:30pm. As I made my way to the podium for my statement, I noticed that local citizens were milling about, and some stopped to watch while others went on their way. I noticed several old people sitting on benches, some openly watching, some pretending not to but furtively looking over. I thought I saw Old Mrs. Boddiker in the distance with another old woman, who was wearing a shawl even on this warm day and whom I didn’t recognize. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to observe; my bodyguard of Uniformed officers was moving me to the podium like a river of humanity flowing down the sidewalk.

Being a press conference about a huge story, it was very well attended by elements of the rabidly voracious Media. I noticed the blonde Diane Williams from the City, rudely pushing through people to get a prime spot in front. Priya Ajmani was getting jostled around by a couple of men until she elbowed one of them in his nuts. I also noticed representatives of the National News Networks were present; they were following the botched execution story, which had a huge national following by now.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said to start the press conference, seeming to feel the eyes of the State and even the Nation upon me through the many cameras, “my name is Commander Troy, and at the request of the Governor I am the lead investigator of the execution incident, in cooperation with State and Federal authorities. We have determined that the order of the introduction of the drugs was changed, but also that foreign chemical agents were inserted into the bags of drugs normally used for the executions. These agents reacted when mixed to form chemicals that caused Mr. Priemus great pain before he died.”

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