GREAT THINGS ENTERPRISE
CLAUDE BLACK
CHAPTER 2
Petersons
Professor Shay Norman
In early September, Dean Calloway knocked on my open office door on the second floor of Hathorn, office 217 and said, “May I come in?”
“Sure, Robert, you know this office is always open to you.” I left the desk chair to take one beside him.
“Both the administrators and directors approved the seminar without reservations,” he said. “In fact, they were enthusiastic about it; they thought it was a good plan.”
“Thanks, Robert. That’s good news.”
“Well, as they say, ‘The fat’s in the fire.’ You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
I knew the next few weeks would be full. There were end-of-semester exams and new course preps, especially getting all the materials together for the forensic seminar. Then there were the holidays, a flight to visit my parents in Chicago and Marshall’s parents in Carbondale, Illinois.
Back in Mt. George, I had little time before the new spring semester began. The first Monday of classes was always busy, meeting the new classes, working out student scheduling problems, and getting the paperwork in on time. Oh, the paperwork.
The first meeting of the forensic seminar was Tuesday morning at nine a.m. I looked at the class roster to memorize the students’ names and headed for the stairs up to room 320.
Entering the classroom’s side door, I said, “Good morning, I’m Professor Shay Norman, and this is HY 526: Forensics in History.” I distributed the course syllabus. “My name, contact information, and course information are in the syllabus. As the syllabus says, this is a four-credit course. The first half of this spring semester will be devoted to research, and the second half or so will be devoted to writing. We will be using the Codex program licensed to the university. Are you familiar with the program?” Four of the six students raised their hands.
“Okay. When you enrolled in this class, IT automatically added a link to the program on your university home page. When you click on that link, on the right side of the program’s home page, there is a tab labeled ‘Tutorial’; the tutorial will take you through an introduction to the program and familiarize past users with new features in the program. Most students find it intuitive and easy to use. You’ll keep all your research notes, hypotheses, and drafts in the program. You’ll give each entry a descriptive title and file name. Each entry should be clear and succinct. The program will automatically time and date stamp each entry. Each entry must contain full bibliographic information. There is also a link to the online Turabian Manual on your home page.
“If you still have questions after you work through the tutorial, we can take a few minutes in our next class and go through the rough spots. Are there any questions so far?”
“Dr. Norman,” Chie said, raising her hand, “I used this program in another class, and every student had access to everyone else’s work, but some students didn’t post many files.”
“Good point, Chie.” I had Allie “Chie” Alexander in two previous classes and established a friendship with her. She told me that her two older brothers, Noah and Henry, had always used her middle name, “Chie,” and it stuck with her friends. “You’ll notice one of the program’s new tabs is labeled ‘Data.’ The program keeps track of all posts and each student’s percentage. As the syllabus states, I will also use this figure to calculate ten percent of the course score.”
“Professor, the syllabus doesn’t specify the number of records required to satisfy the ten percent threshold,” Tobius LaBraun Shefield said. An African American, Shefield was completing his Master of Science degree in forensics with a goal of working for the CIA.
“Yes, Tobius, I wasn’t able to decide on a method; we could either use a percentage or a numerical count. Since the research facet of our course will deal with an actual case, I’m not sure which method would be most fair. So, here’s what we’ll do: After a few classes, when we see how the research progresses, we’ll take time to discuss this and decide as a class what criteria would be fair. Is that acceptable?” There was general agreement.
“We’ll be using Professor Mark Winslow’s new book In Pursuit of Justice: Forensics and the Judicial Process as our basic text. The reading, lecture, and exam schedules are in your syllabi; we’ll hold to them, as closely as possible.”
“Dr. Norman, the syllabus lists Dr. Winslow as a guest speaker for week four,” Mary Windfield said. Windfield’s course application stated that she was a pediatric physician on leave from her practice in St. Louis to take a seminar at Seaway University with Dr. Larry Brin, a recognized authority in childhood obesity.
“Yes, Dr. Winslow and his wife Patricia are longtime family friends dating back to our student days at Southern Illinois University. He’ll be a guest lecturer at the Mt. George Police Academy, and I invited him to come and spend the day with us to discuss our text, his latest book.”
“And now for our research focus,” I continued. “I know you’re aware of our guest in the back of the room; I’ve seen some of you talking with him. This is Lieutenant Inspector Bernard Roebuck with the Mt. George police department. In addition to his official duties, Lieutenant Roebuck is an instructor at the Mt. George police academy. As a personal note, way back when I was a freshman professor at Seaway, I had Lieutenant Roebuck as a student; he will explain the project.”
Tall, fit, and slightly balding, Lieutenant Bernard Roebuck walked to the front of the room. Dressed in a gray, pin-striped suit, white shirt, and a blue and white rep tie, the lieutenant looked more like a banker than a police officer. I took his empty seat in the back of the room. “Thank you, Dr. Norman. The older I get, the further away those early days are.” The students warmed to his smile and relaxed manner.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” he said to the students. “I’ve already made some of your acquaintance, and I look forward to meeting the rest of you.”
Consulting his file on the lectern, he continued, “You are studying case number 550982. On Friday, May 11, 2018, guards delivered the weekend money supply at eight o’clock as usual to the West Salem branch of the Mt. George National Bank in the Cooper Mall. Since this was payday for many of the ranchers and farmhands, the bank manager opened the door for the two delivery guards and locked it after they left. She unlocked the door again when the two tellers arrived at 8:50 a.m. The lobby door was opened for business at 9:00 a.m. At exactly nine-thirty, two men, wearing what now appears to be expertly applied theatrical makeup, dressed in business suits with colorful rep ties, wearing hats, and carrying briefcases entered the bank. Brandishing Taser weapons, they forced the two tellers and the manager into the manager’s office before she could sound the alarm and used colorful duct tape from one of the briefcases to bind their hands and put tape over their mouths and eyes. One other customer who entered the lobby was also tied up in the manager’s office.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Alexandra Howell Chandler asked as she looked up from the computer on which she steadily typed her notes.
“Well, Miss—”
“Alexandra Chandler, but everyone calls me Alex,” she said. Alex was a high school math teacher who had received an inheritance, allowing her to pursue a master’s degree in criminology with the goal of entering law enforcement.
“Well, Alex, everyone said removing the tape was painful, especially the tape over the eyes. As careful as the techs were, one teller’s eyelash extensions stuck to the tape,” the lieutenant said with a hint of a smile. “But otherwise, no one was harmed, and there were no death threats. The only visible weapons were the two Taser stun guns.”
“How much did they get away with?” Mark asked.
Sitting beside Mark, Mary Windfield whispered under her breath, “Just like a lawyer, always focused on the bottom line.”
Either ignoring or not hearing Mary’s caustic aside, the lieutenant said, “Exactly one hundred thousand dollars. While the employees heard one person emptying the cash drawers, the other person entered the vault and apparently used a battery-powered drill to drill out the keyway and used one key to open Box 125 belonging to a Mr. Augustus Wright. The perp also drilled out both keyways in Box 208 belonging to Mrs. Maggie Evans. Mr. Wright said his box contained some rare coins, $1,200 in cash, and some legal papers, including his will. He appeared visibly disturbed by the robbery, according to the officers who interviewed him. He still had one box key on his key ring.”
“When I rented my safe-deposit box,” Tobius said, “the bank gave me two keys.”
“Good point,” the lieutenant said. “Mr. Wright can’t account for the other key. He said he could not remember where he put it after renting the box and had no explanation why the perps used it to open his safe-deposit box. Mrs. Evans said her safe-deposit box contained about $500 in jewelry, her will, marriage license, and some other legal papers. She still had both of her keys.”
“Well, it looks like someone needs to redefine ‘safe’ in ‘safe-deposit box,’” Mary said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. There were a few chuckles and a smile from Lieutenant Roebuck.
“The shavings from the drill have been sent to the lab for analysis,” the lieutenant said.
“Why?” asked James Upchurch, who had been too busy taking notes to speak. His seminar application questionnaire said that he was an ex-Army physician who moved to Mt. George following his discharge to help a local physician and work in the Mt. George General Hospital emergency room. According to the application, he enrolled in the seminar because of an interest in forensics.
“Well, there is some question about how quickly the perp was able to drill out the safe-deposit box locks. The tech wanted to analyze the shavings to see if they used a specialized drill bit, but they weren’t able to make any clear decision,” the lieutenant said. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, my dad is a machinist at Hewitt Engineering in Madison, Wisconsin, and they use a lot of tough metal: stainless steel, grade 8 steel, and titanium,” James said. “I know they use highly specialized tools on some of the metal. I’ve heard him talk about how expensive the tools are.”
“Good point. All the information is in the file I’ve provided for each of you. These are public records, just to head off the next question.” Everyone smiled.
“At exactly nine forty-five, when the perps left the building, each carrying a briefcase,” the lieutenant said, “they walked halfway down the mall’s center parking lot where they disappeared from the camera’s view beside a Ryder cargo box truck. About two minutes later, two people left the parking lot by the center driveway in a blue Toyota sedan. A patrol found the car later in the day abandoned on the west side at Turner and First; it had been stolen from Mays and Sherbert Toyota at 12th and Wide Street. The car dealer didn’t miss the car until the patrolman informed them that it had been impounded. Techs examined the car, but there were no prints. The techs did find two long blond hairs on the driver’s side, but those could have been from a previous driver. They also found two small brown leather chips on the passenger seat cording.”
“You mentioned a Ryder truck,” Mary said, her voice inquisitive.
“Yes, Mr. Julius Ramsey and his wife, Maggie, rented the truck,” the lieutenant said. “They were furniture shopping at Modern Home Furnishings and thought they could save delivery costs by renting the truck. They pulled into the parking lot just after eight o’clock. They were in the store shopping when the robbery occurred.”
“At 10:15, a customer, Mr. Matt Hoffman, entered the bank. When he didn’t see a teller, he called out. He heard a thumping sound from the manager’s office and looked through the window in the office door. He saw the five people tied up. The manager, Doris Bonide, was kicking the side of her desk. Hoffman freed the manager carefully, using scissors he found on her desk to cut the tape off her hands, and pulled the tape off her mouth and eyes. By the time she could reach the phone and call 911, it was 10:20. Officer Jacob Miller and his partner Officer Nancy Ferrell were in a patrol car two blocks away when they got the call. They were at the bank at 10:25. Three more patrol cars arrived and cordoned off the parking lot,” Lieutenant Roebuck said as he paused to see if there were any questions.
The lieutenant continued, “The Ramseys heard the sirens and came to see what the commotion was about. When Mr. Ramsey pulled the truck into the parking lot, he parked it between two nearly identical 2016 Lincoln Town Cars. The car on the east side of the Ryder Truck belonged to Ms. Beth Bayce, who owns the Pin & Curl two doors south of the bank. The other car belonged to Mr. Benjamin Attell, who was in the Harbor Freight store on the northeastern corner of the mall. While the officers were talking with Mr. Ramsey, Mr. Attell, the owner of the Town Car, came up carrying a plastic shopping bag. The officers noticed that the trunk lid on his car was raised slightly. When questioned, Attell said the lid closure motor was not working and sometimes the lid did not close securely, but he said that he had to wait for the repair shop to get the correct parts to repair the closer.”
“How big was the gap?” James asked.
“Not wide, but noticeable,” the lieutenant said. “On the newer models, the pull-down latch catches at about three quarters of an inch. On the older models, it’s about one to one and one-half inches.”
“The officers asked Mr. Attell if he would allow them to look inside the trunk, and he readily agreed. Attell used his key fob to open the trunk release. The space was clean except for a briefcase. Attell appeared surprised and said that he had no knowledge of the briefcase. Officer Miller asked Attell if he would come to police headquarters for a conversation.”
“Was he arrested?” Tobius asked.
“No. Attell was simply asked if he would go to police headquarters for a conversation while the PD techs examined the car, and he agreed,” the lieutenant said.
“What came of the ‘conversation’?” James asked.
“Attell’s story checked out. He did have an appointment with Chartwell Ford to have his car repaired; the parts were on order. He had his Harbor Freight purchase and a receipt. He is retired from the railroad and lives on a small ranchette with his wife Denise. Every detail of his story checked out. After about an hour, officers drove him back to his car and he was allowed to leave.”
“What did the tech guys find when they searched Attell’s car?” James asked.
“Well, the briefcase had $100,000 in it,” the lieutenant answered, “plus the money from the two lockboxes, Mr. Wright’s coin collection, Mrs. Evans’ jewelry, money, and some papers. The briefcase matched the one used by the robbers caught on the surveillance cameras.”
“You mentioned cameras,” James said. “How many cameras were there?”
Lieutenant Roebuck sketched a map of the mall on the dry-erase board, showing the position of parking lot cameras stationed at all four corners of the mall and the four cameras in the bank. “Because of the trees and shrubbery down the center of each parking aisle,” he said, “the cameras don’t pick up all the parking areas. Either by coincidence or design, the cars and truck were parked in an area not picked up by the four cameras. The only camera that caught the center parking lot was the one above the bank door.”
“Are there any other questions?”
“Yes,” James said. “You’ve only mentioned two perps, as you call them. Is there any reason to think there were more people involved?”
“Good point. While this seems like a simple robbery, there are several open questions. First, the disguises were elaborate. Passing one of these perps on the sidewalk, one wouldn’t know they were in disguise. Second, there is reason to question, based on size, shape, hands, and shoe size, whether the perps were male or female. Third, timing: This was an expertly planned and executed operation; this was no spur-of-the-moment robbery. Fourth, and this is more of a question than a fact, why did the perps leave only the briefcase with the cash, jewelry, coins, and incidental items? Are there any other questions?”
The students checked their notes, and no one responded. “Okay. Thanks for your attention and good questions. All the information we’ve looked at this morning is in your file. You have my contact information, and it’s also in the file. Dr. Norman.” Lieutenant Roebuck returned to the chair as I returned to the lectern.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Roebuck,” I said. “Remember, class, this is Forensics in History—not investigation. Our project will involve a look at the role forensics played in this case. Investigation is the role of the police; we will look at the process and method of that investigation. In order to do this, the project will be divided into three facets: the forensics of evidence, the forensics of process, and the forensics of conclusion. Since there are six of you in this class, I’d like you to make teams of two each and choose your perspective. Please do that by next Tuesday. And for our next class, please read and be ready to discuss chapter one, ‘Justice Then and Now’ in Dr. Winslow’s book. If you have any questions about the case, Lieutenant Roebuck is our contact person. You must not have any contact with the police regardng this case without clearing it with him. Are there any questions? Yes, Chie?”
“We’ll be working collaboratively this semester. How much collaboration will you accept when we write our report?”
“I’ll expect you to share essays with one another for purposes of analysis, conclusion, and style, but the final version will be your own. You’ll need to run each of your essays through the university’s plagiarism program and address each issue the program raises. You can submit each edition to the program, and you will submit the program’s final report with the final version of your essay. And remember, you will use Kate Turabian’s manual for documentation. Are there any other questions?”
“Thank you. I look forward to our time together. You are the inaugural class, so we’re walking on untrodden ground here. See you next Tuesday, same time, same place.”
A wave of satisfaction coursed through me, as it does with every successful class, especially the first class of a new course. But there was a strange feeling about the class. It was going to take a lot of work to keep ahead of these students. It was not that feeling, though; there was something else.
Directory
Chapter 3