To Those Who Have Found Their Way Back
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Our first meeting was in our firm's conference room.
Victoria Simpson scheduled a meeting, asking for me by name, and said she needed an attorney. There was nothing unusual about that.
It was also the end of usual.
"Mr. Nelson, I need an attorney. I have a friend, Susan Miller, who gave me your name."
Susan Miller! That name set off alarms. Also known as Desiree, Racquel and Perfect Tits.
"Is this about a solicitation charge?"
"No sir, but I'm scared for my life."
"Maybe you should start with your story."
"Mr. Nelson, can you be required to tell anyone what I tell you?"
"No, Victoria. Whether I agree to become your attorney, the mere fact you have come to me for legal advice means you are protected by attorney-client privilege. This means I cannot ever tell anyone what you tell me, with a couple of exceptions. The first is if you tell me to speak about it. The second is if you tell me you are about to cause someone serious physical harm. Is that what you are about to tell me?"
"No. So our conversation is protected?"
"Yes. It is."
"Well ... I watched someone murder a friend of mine last night, and I know who the man is. I recognized him."
Obviously, that led to a long discussion. It happened the night before in Washington Park, near the big water fountain. She gave me her friend's name and wrote down all the street names she used.
"Why were you there?"
"Wendy called me and said she was terrified for her life. She wanted me to meet her at the fountain. I was still in the shadows of the trees when I saw a man who was holding her by her hair. She was on the ground, and he was yelling at her. He took a knife and slit her throat."
"Did he see you?"
"No. As soon as he killed her, he started to look around, but he was looking directly away from me at first, so I ducked behind a tree. I dropped to the ground and looked to see what he was doing. He wiped the knife on his pants, then shoved it into some kind of sheath at his waist. Then he took off running away from where I was."
"You said you know who he is. How?"
She started crying. I handed her a box of Kleenex.
"It's ok, Victoria. You saw something awful last night. I know it's hard to talk about, and you're scared."
She nodded her head through the tears. When she was able, she spoke again.
"That's only part of it. When I graduated from high school, I had multiple offers as a track athlete, and I accepted one at City College.
"Then I got stupid. At the end of the outdoor track season, a girlfriend of mine offered me some drugs at a party. I liked how I felt, so I got more from her. Eventually, she introduced me to her supplier. That's who I saw killing Wendy last night. I got caught with the drugs on campus and expelled immediately. No scholarship, no place to live. This drug supplier said he could help me with drugs if I could turn a few tricks on the side.
"I can't explain why I agreed to do it. I should have gone home to my parents, but I was too embarrassed, I guess."
"I'm so sorry you got caught up in that mess. How far away were you last night when he killed Wendy?"
"Only about 50 feet."
"Were you behind him?"
"Sort of. He was facing about 2 o'clock and holding his right arm in the air, holding his knife. I saw the tattoo on his right arm and knew immediately who it was."
I asked her to draw the tattoo.
"Could you see Wendy's face?"
"Now, but I knew her voice and her clothes. There was no doubt it was her. Plus, it happened right where she wanted to meet me."
"What are you afraid of? That this man will come after you?"
"Mr. Nelson, I want the police to catch him. He killed my friend. I'm afraid if I go to the police, they'll play games and end up exposing my identity. Like threatening to arrest me for solicitation and threatening to throw my ass in jail. I need protection from the police."
"Are you guilty of solicitation?"
"I'm not a streetwalker anymore, if that's what you're asking."
"Are you still working as a prostitute?"
"No. I got out three years ago. Even before that, I became an escort--high-priced enough to save a decent amount of money. I'm an attractive woman, I know. That's what got me the escort job."
"That must not have been easy to get out of drugs and prostitution. Those are usually designed to make escape unlikely."
"I was lucky. I went home. Mom and Dad took care of me. There was no judgment, just a lot of love. And pharmaceuticals. Dad is a physician. It took over a year, but I'm clean and have a job, and I'm working my way slowly though college. They want me to stand on my own feet, so they've required that I earn my way."
"I'm impressed, Victoria. You're one lucky lady! Where are you living now? Still at home?"
"I have my own apartment. I'm really lucky, I know. I was trying to help Wendy find a way out, but she said her pimp was threatening to kill her. She never told me who her pimp was, but I'm guessing my former drug supplier did the same thing to her and got her into prostitution."
"What do you want me to do for you?"
"Can you contact the police and give them this information?"
"I can, but it would not do any good. They need probable cause based on something more than my word. I'm not a witness. However, let me have one of my partners step in for a few minutes. He was a cop before law school and knows how they think. I think we can protect you and help catch this guy."
I had Tom Petersen come in and we covered the information Victoria had given me. Tom had a few more questions I hadn't thought of, including her street names and whether she had been arrested or convicted of solicitation. Arrested twice. Never convicted.
"Victoria, would it be possible for you to return and stay with your parents until this is resolved?"
"I was thinking maybe I should."
Tom had been thinking during that brief exchange I had with her. He had a plan in mind.
"Victoria, as I see it, the police probably just discovered the murder this morning. I want to dangle a chance to immediately find the pig who did this, but they will have to play by our rules. I have an extremely important question for you. If it is necessary, are you willing to testify in court?"
"That scares me. I'm not saying no. I'm hopeful if I point them at the right suspect, they can find additional evidence. I think I saw his right cheek was bleeding, so Wendy might have skin under her nails. Stuff like that."
"Alright, you've given me his name, at least the name you knew. I have the name of the friend who introduced you to him. He's probably a guy with a rap sheet. There's a good chance they will know him already. They just need to find him quickly."
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That meeting was a year ago, during which I had multiple meetings with Victoria. That first day, Tom spoke with a buddy and tipped him off that he had a client who watched the murder happen but could not come forward publicly. He alerted them to probable DNA evidence.
He also arranged for an immediate, off-the-record interview at our office, without identifying her name. The cops just wanted to get a feel for whether she felt reliable. She passed that with flying colors, Tom's friend told him later. They were thrilled and nailed the guy immediately.
Most criminals are stupid. This one was stupid squared. Yes, they found his DNA under the victim's fingernails. They also found the clothes he was wearing, complete with her blood, as well as the knife.
