Date: Tue, 14 Sep 2021 00:12:30 +0000 From: Wes Leigh Subject: Under Siege, Chapters 33 & 34 (Gay Adult/Youth) UNDER SIEGE By Wes Leigh Editing by SkyBorn This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation. Chapter 33 Solitary My injuries were severe enough that I spent the following week in the local hospital, rather than the jail infirmary. The jail didn't like it much. They had to pay guards to sit outside my hospital room 24/7. I wasn't going anywhere, so they need not have bothered. The pain medication made me dizzy and sleepy. When I was able to stay awake and focused, I had several interesting visitors. Judge Birmingham, Gabrielle Mendoza, and a court stenographer were the first to come see me. They were naturally shocked and indignant that the jail hadn't prevented such a horrific attack. They were also sincerely concerned that I would be unable to prepare for the trial, so in his beneficent mercy, the judge proposed a postponement of the date. Would February 15th be far enough into the future to allow me to heal up and prepare? I licked my swollen lips and told them I was ready to go and wanted to stick with the original date in early December. All I needed was the legal folder I had left at the jail. It wasn't much. Just an accordion file my ex-lawyer turned over to me after I fired him. I'm sure Mendoza had much bigger files and huge legal libraries at her disposal, so it only seemed fair that I should have my own legal documents. The judge agreed and ordered jail personnel to bring the accordion folder right away. Then Mendoza presented me with a stack of papers and informed me that they were adding additional charges. Sexual contact with a fellow inmate while incarcerated in county facilities. Receiving child pornography. A second count of contributing to the delinquency of a minor for showing pornography to a minor. And four more counts of sexual contact with a minor. The stack of papers documented the evidence for the new counts. The judge harrumphed and grunted and told Mendoza that it was a little late to be presenting new counts. She offered a non-apologetic apology while explaining that the evidence had just come to light. Apparently a police investigator found the child pornography on my computer just last week. Also, during Joshua Canton's therapy sessions with Dr. Terence Carter-Moore, Joshua had admitted to seeing pornography in my home and to being touched on his genitals by me on five separate occasions. She assured his Honor that she was simply doing her job by filing the additional charges and that there was no attempt on the part of the State to blind-side the Defense. The Judge offered me another extension. I declined. They went away. I fell asleep. *** A few days went by. The nurses were sweet, especially the one who came in with my meals each day. She always had a kind word or two as she did her job. After she set my meal on the bed tray, she would always help me sit up and adjust my pillows, promising she would return for the tray when I was done. On this particular day, after she had me sitting up and ready to eat, she placed a folded paper on my tray, tapped it with her finger, and winked at me. "Don't give up hope, Mr. Turnbull." Then she smiled knowingly and left the room. I picked up the paper and unfolded it. It read: We heard about what happened at the jail, and we're both sick just thinking about it. Josh cried all night and begged me to get a message to you. I'm sure we'd get in trouble if anyone found out, so please don't let anyone find this letter. And protect my friend who smuggled it in to you. Jake, it wasn't my idea to ask for the restraining order. I had no choice. They made it completely clear that Josh would be taken away from me if I didn't. I can't imagine how difficult it's been for you in there, but it's been horrible for us out here. Josh is bullied almost every day in school. He's been in two fights, and the school isn't doing anything about it. He detests Dr. Moore. Well, we both do, but Josh hates the man, and he won't tell me why. And I'm getting nasty looks and hateful comments at work all the time. We're barely hanging on, Jake. I don't know how much longer we can take it. I've talked to my mom about moving to El Paso. Starting over. We'll live with her until we can afford our own place. But we won't go until after the trial is over. We promised you that much, and we're keeping our promise. To be honest, I don't think Josh would let us leave until after the trial, even if I insisted. You know what he would tell you if he was writing this letter. His feelings haven't changed one bit, and he's mad at me for planning to move away. But I'm doing it for him. Even with all he's going through, I think he would stay if it meant he could be with you. Stay strong, Jake. I tore the letter into tiny pieces and tossed the pieces into the trash. My throat seized up and the tears started flowing. I hadn't touched my food when the nurse came back for it. Somehow, she seemed to understand. *** The last visitor was completely unexpected. He slipped into the room late one afternoon and hurried to the side of my bed. It was Will Murphy, the private investigator. He handed me a notebook. Speaking low and quick, he said, "I can't stay. Your guard's taking a piss, so this was my only chance to slip in. Read this. It will help. And I'm sorry." As quickly as he came, he was gone. I opened the notebook and began reading. The first few pages contained detailed notes on the surveillance of my house and copies of every picture Will had taken. There were over 80. Some pictures I had never seen before. They showed Josh and me having fun with the dogs, eating, laughing, talking, but never showed anything out-of-place or inappropriate. There were also detailed notes about what Will had seen. At the end of the photos, Will had written a summary: My first feeling was relief that Will hadn't witnessed the love Josh and I shared. But then, I began to get angry. It was obvious that the DA had provided us with only the pictures she wanted to use, the ones that were the most incriminating. But when you put all the pictures together along with Will's conclusion, I realized that the unscrupulous Gabrielle was hiding evidence from the Defense. I continued flipping through Will's notebook. There were a few blank pages, then a handwritten note: The handwritten note was followed by copies of email messages: //From: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov To: mgray@pcdc.pecoscounty.tx.gov Date: 11-15-18 Mike, need your help with JT case. He's refusing postponement of trial date, so would like to see pressure applied from your end. Additional charges would be helpful. Would also like to send message that we aren't playing games anymore. \\ //From: mgray@pcdc.pecoscounty.tx.gov To: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-18-18 Gabi, JT caught having sex with another inmate. Writing report today and forwarding to your office. JT then moved to a new cell, but soon after arrived, was involved in fight with several other inmates. Broken up promptly by my men, but JT likely to require medical treatment. Injuries are superficial but painful. Will that take care of it? \\ //From: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov To: mgray@pcdc.pecoscounty.tx.gov Date: 11-18-18 Thanks, Mike. That's perfect. Any chance of showing JT started fight? Not necessary for my purposes but could be useful.\\ //From: mgray@pcdc.pecoscounty.tx.gov To: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-19-18 Sorry, Gabi. Cameras malfunctioned that night. LOL. No footage of the fight and no way to figure out who started it. Official report attached with details.\\ That was the last email between Mendoza and the jail. Next, Will had printed out emails between Mendoza and the La Paz City Police Department. //From: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov To: kstevenson@lppd.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-17-18 Karen, I need an update on the computer analysis for the Turnbull case. Did anything turn up that I can use?\\ //From: kstevenson@lppd.lapazcity.tx.gov To: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-18-18 Ms. Mendoza, the computer checks clean. No incriminating files or pictures. Also web browser history is clean. It hasn't been erased. It's just clean, no porn sites, nothing incriminating. Sorry.\\ //From: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov To: kstevenson@lppd.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-19-18 Not the answer I was hoping to hear, Karen. Please check again. Look HARDER this time.\\ //From: kstevenson@lppd.lapazcity.tx.gov To: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-22-18 Good news on Turnbull computer investigation. We checked a different browser and found incriminating history. There were several searches of known child pornography websites. I also found a folder with downloaded pornographic images, all showing minor boys in sexual poses, some with sexual contact between adult men and minor males. I've attached the findings to this email. Please let me know if you need anything else.\\ //From: gmendoza@da.tenthdistrict.lapazcity.tx.gov To: kstevenson@lppd.lapazcity.tx.gov Date: 11-22-18 Excellent work, Karen. I'll recommend you for that promotion!\\ Well, that was certainly interesting reading. My, oh my! Gabrielle, you've been a busy, busy girl. A very bad girl. But busy too. Now, what should I do about it? I slid Murphy's notebook into the back of the accordion file that held all the legal documents I was using to prepare my defense. The front of the file was labelled, "Legal Documents--Not Subject to Search or Seizure". I definitely didn't want jail personnel seeing this. They transferred me back to the jail that weekend, where I was walked straight to solitary confinement. That was fine by me. I had a lot of reading and writing and thinking to do. Chapter 34 Opening Moves On the morning of the trial, I was allowed to change into dress slacks, a white shirt, and black shoes. Mendoza wanted me to stay in jail fatigues for the trial, but I argued that since I was acting as my own attorney, I should be dressed accordingly. The Judge agreed with me, so I was allowed to call a "friend" and ask her to bring the clothes I needed. The Prosecution's witness list was short: - Will Murphy, Private Investigator - Dr. Terence Carter-Moore, Psychiatrist, Sunwest Therapy Services - Captain Mike Gray, Security Chief for Pecos County Detention Center - Karen Stevenson, Investigator, La Paz City Police Department My witness list was even shorter: - Joshua Canton - Jake Turnbull Gabrielle Mendoza filed a twenty-page, prepared-in-advance motion to block me from calling Josh to the stand. It was filled with all kinds of lawyerly gobbledy-gook, but in the end, what it amounted to was that Josh had already suffered severe trauma because of me and it would only make his suffering worse to force him to face me, the man who had traumatized him, in the courtroom. Her motion went on to discuss how the law could not compel Josh to testify since he had never formally accused me. On the contrary, the State would be committing a horrible act of violence against Josh by forcing him to be questioned by someone who had molested him on multiple occasions, allegedly. The Judge hemmed and hawed and harrumphed but reluctantly agreed with the Prosecution motion. I would not be allowed to call Joshua Canton as a witness. Then the Judge condescendingly informed me that I did not need to put my own name on the witness list. As the Defendant, I could choose to testify or not. So my short list of witnesses became a list of none. Whatever. I planned to use her witnesses anyway. *** Jury selection was interesting. Judging by their faces, the men and women in the jury pool were all eager to hear this case. It was a juicy one, and no doubt would be full of all kinds of delicious gossip. The Judge began by asking if anyone had any type of hardship that would prevent them from serving on the jury. Two people raised their hands and gave weak excuses about how their work would suffer if they were away for any period of time. The Judge glared at them but excused them. One lady raised her hand and said she had a medical issue. The Judge asked her to come up to the bench and discuss it privately with him, Mendoza, and me. She had a doctor's letter explaining how her back had been injured and she couldn't sit for extended periods of time. With neither of us objecting, she was also excused. No one else wanted to leave, so we began. The DA talked to the jury pool first. Her remarks were full of woe and gloom, painting me as a demon in human flesh while asking the potential jurors if they would have any problem hearing details of my monstrous destruction of a young boy's life. Nope, no problems here. And then she listed the witnesses she intended to call, each one an absolute beacon of light in our fair community. If any of them knew the witnesses personally, it would not prevent them from serving on the jury, she informed them, but they should still tell us so we could ask a few questions. One lady was Mike Gray's next-door neighbor. They had barbequed together and their kids had practically grown up together and he was just such a kind, kind man. The DA allowed her to ramble on for five minutes before thanking her and moving on. I marked neighbor lady off my list. Dr. Terrence-Carter Moore actually had a cousin in the jury pool, but the man didn't want to admit to it. He seemed eager to serve on the jury. The DA asked him if his relationship with the wise and all-seeing doctor would prevent him from being fair. Absolutely not, he assured us. I marked him off my list too. There were a few others who knew a little about this witness or that witness. The DA used each one to talk about how great the witnesses were before asking her rote question: will it prevent you from being a fair and impartial juror? Of course, it wouldn't. I found no reason to mark anyone else off. Finally, it was my turn. I stood up, walked to the microphone, looked at my fellow citizens in the jury pool, and said, "Have you ever made a mistake, ever done something wrong and suffered for it? Have you ever tried to turn your life around but ended up fighting for your reputation because people won't let you forget your past failures? Have you ever been accused of a crime you didn't commit? Have you ever had your motives questioned by people who thought they could read your mind and know exactly what you were thinking? Have you ever had others look at your behavior, assume the wrong things about you, and spread malicious lies? I won't ask any of you to answer those questions. I know the answer already. The answer is yes. Because we've all been in that position. It hurts to be attacked by people who've already made up their minds. Have any of you already made up yours?" I waited, looking at them, expecting no one to raise a hand. Their eyes told me everything I needed to know. I made a mental list of who I wanted on the jury. "I have no more questions for the jury pool, your Honor." I sat down. Even Mendoza was surprised. The Judge sent the potential jurors out of the room, and we got down to the serious business of selecting our jury. Mendoza loved them all, some more than others, but she never used her option to disqualify anyone. That meant I basically picked the jury. I accepted the first three, rejected two, accepted two, rejected Dr. Moore's cousin, accepted three more, rejected Mike Gray's neighbor lady, accepted one more, rejected five in a row, and accepted the next three, all for the jury reserve. Nine people to decide my fate. Four men. Five women. Ranging in age from 23 to 56. The jury pool was brought back in, and the Judge called the names of those selected to serve, instructing them to move to the jury box. He thanked everyone else profusely and dismissed them. He swore in the members of the jury, seated them, and gave them a laundry list of instructions, warnings, etc., etc., etc. The DA made her opening statement. I made mine. And the trial was finally underway. *** "The State may call its first witness." Mendoza stood up. "The State calls Mr. William Murphy." Will walked to the witness stand, avoiding looking at me the entire way, and sat down. A bailiff approached, asked him to raise his right hand, and asked, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" Will replied, "I do." Mendoza approached with a notepad of questions. "Please state your name and occupation for the record." "William H. Murphy. I'm a private investigator." "Thank you, Mr. Murphy. Were you recently hired to conduct an investigation of Mr. Jake Turnbull?" "Yes." "What was the scope of that investigation?" "I was hired to watch his home and his workplace, to follow him for several weeks and make a record of his activities, to take photographs of his activities, and to document specifically his interactions with Joshua Canton." "Who is Joshua Canton?" "Joshua is a 13-year-old boy who lived three houses away from Mr. Turnbull." "And did you observe them together?" "Yes." "How often?" "Joshua was a frequent visitor to Mr. Turnbull's house. During the two weeks of my investigation, I saw them together dozens of times." "What were they doing?" "Joshua helped with yardwork. They walked Mr. Turnbull's dogs. They watched movies together inside Mr. Turnbull's house. They cooked and ate meals. They played video games." "Anything else?" "On one occasion, they sat next to each other on Mr. Turnbull's couch, covered in a blanket and talking for several hours. Joshua was crying, and Mr. Turnbull was hugging him as they talked." "Did you document these interactions with photographs?" "Yes." Mendoza proceeded to show blown-up photos of Josh and me together, ending with a series of eight photos of the tearful night we spent on my couch. She left the last one up. It was a close-up, showing our faces only inches apart, like lovers preparing to kiss. A single tear was falling down Joshua's cheek, and I was reaching out with one finger to wipe the tear away. It was bittersweet and beautiful. Mendoza used the last photo to imply all sorts of horrible things about me without ever really asking a question, then turned the witness over to the Defense. I had no questions for Will Murphy, but reserved my right to call him back to the stand later. Mendoza smirked when she heard this. I was obviously an amateur with no idea of what I was doing wrong. *** Next we were subjected to the whining testimony of Dr. Terence Carter-Moore, learned psychiatrist and general creep. Mendoza spent 45 excruciating minutes asking him about his knowledge of child psychiatry, his expertise in dealing with victims of sexual abuse, his papers and journal articles and research projects and on and on and on. I think she expected me to interrupt her, but I didn't. After all, I was a clueless amateur. She finally stopped proving what an expert Dr. Moore was when she saw a jury member nodding off. Then she started in with the important questions. "Dr. Moore, how did you get involved in this case?" "Child Protective Services referred it to me. They had a case of suspected sexual abuse and asked me to interview the victim, a 13-year-old boy named Joshua Canton." I decided to object, just for fun. "Your Honor, the State hasn't established that Joshua Canton was a victim of sexual abuse." His Honor blinked. Mendoza shrugged. His Honor rasped, "Sustanced. The Jury will disregard the witness's statement that Joshua Canton was the victim of sexual abuse." Mendoza started up again, "Dr. Moore, did Child Protective Services ask you to interview Joshua Canton?" "Yes." "Did they ALLEGE that Joshua had been sexually abused?" "Yes." "Did you interview him?" "Yes." "What did you find?" Dr. Moore then went into an excited explanation of how he spent several hours helping Josh to feel comfortable talking about what had obviously been a traumatic event. Mendoza was all ears. How did the good doctor know Joshua had suffered such a horrific ordeal? Dr. Moore cited one paper after another about how victims behaved after abuse, about how they hid their feelings, about how they refused to admit anything had happened to them, and about how a trained therapist like himself could see past the evasions and pick out body language that told the true story. He whined on for 30 minutes about how he had slowly convinced Josh to trust him until finally, one day, Josh admitted that he had been abused. "Describe to the court how this transpired," Mendoza instructed. "I had Joshua relax on a couch. I then asked him a series of questions, making note of his body language primarily. I find that is a good way to get truthful answers." I rolled my eyes. What a jerk! Dr. Moore continued, "First, I asked Joshua if he had ever seen pornography at Mr. Turnbull's house. He nodded his head yes. I asked him if Mr. Turnbull showed him the pornography. He shook his head no, but he also clinched his fists, which is a classic indication of a lie intended to protect someone." "What does that lead you to believe?" Mendoza asked. "I believe Mr. Turnbull did indeed show pornography to Joshua, using it to make the boy receptive to sexual advances." "What happened next?" "I asked him if he had ever seen Mr. Turnbull naked. He said he hadn't, but I noticed his head nodding just the tiniest bit. That tells me he has seen Mr. Turnbull naked. I also asked Joshua if Mr. Turnbull had ever seen him naked. Again, although he said no, he also nodded his head yes." "So they've seen each other without clothing?" "Absolutely." "Go on." "I asked Joshua if Mr. Turnbull had ever touched his genitals. He nodded his head yes. I asked him if he had ever touched Mr. Turnbull's genitals. He nodded yes. I asked him how many times this had happened. He didn't reply. I asked him if it happened more than once. He nodded. I asked him if it happened at least twice. Again he nodded. I continued in this fashion, establishing that the sexual contact occurred on at least five occasions." "At least five occasions?" "Yes, that's right. It is my professional opinion that Jacob Turnbull sexually molested Joshua Canton on at least five occasions." Mendoza shook her head in disgust, then turned to me and snarled, "Nothing further for this witness." You could have heard a pin drop in the court room. "Your witness, Mr. Turnbull." I stood up. I had several questions I wanted to ask Dr. Moore, but I was going to limit myself to just a few. "Dr. Moore, did you by any chance record these interviews, either audio or video? Can what you're telling us be verified?" He was instantly indignant. "Of course not. A therapist never records a session with a patient." "So then, all we have to go on is your word?" He snorted. "Mr. Turnbull, I am a professional, licensed therapist who has over three hundred hours--" I stopped him. I really didn't want to subject the jury to another two hours of his qualifications. "Thank you, Dr. Moore." I turned around and began walking to my seat at the Defendant's table, then changed my mind and turned back. "One last question. You said Child Protective Services originally referred this case to you? Is that correct?" "Yes." "Who was it at CPS that called you with the case?" "Well ... ummm ... " "It's a simple question, Dr. Moore. What is the name of the person at CPS who asked you to look into this matter?" "I ... uhhhh ... it was Sandra Moore, I believe." "She's one of the case workers for CPS?" "Yes." "And her name was Sandra Moore. Is she any relation to you, Dr. Moore?" He glared at me. "Yes. She's my wife, but--" I stopped him. "She's your wife. She works for CPS. Does she refer many cases to you?" "Occassionally, yes." "Do you make money on these referrals?" Mendoza interrupted me. "Objection, your Honor. Relevance?" "Well, your Honor, there seems to be a conflict of interest here," I pointed out. Mendoza sneered. "The relationship between Dr. Moore and his wife has no bearing on the professional work he does at Sunwest Therapy Services." I nodded. "Oh? Well, okay. As long as you don't see a problem with it, I have nothing further for this witness at this time. I'll come back to him later." Mercifully, the Judge gave us a break for lunch. I'm sure everyone else enjoyed theirs. I was given a sack lunch from the jail kitchen, which I ate in a holding cell in the back of the courthouse. *** After lunch we heard from Captain Mike Gray, the head of security for the county jail. He was responsible for maintaining order, keeping all the inmates safe from each other, and keeping the community safe from all the inmates. Mendoza praised him for his diligence in maintaining jail safety and security, eventually working her way around to a question. "Has the defendant, Mr. Jacob Turnbull, had been any trouble while housed in the county jail?" Captain Gray solemnly admitted that I had been caught having sex in the shower with another inmate, a Mr. Danny Garrick. He then provided a rather revealing video of Bubbles walking up behind me while we showered and pressing his body against mine. The video stopped when I turned around and pressed my hand against Bubbles' chest. It didn't show me turning him down or pushing him gently away. It did show Bubbles with a raging erection (tastefully pixeled out), whereas my own groin was blocked from view by Bubbles' hip. Captain Gray explained that the guards saw what was going on and interrupted us before we could do anything else, removing me from the cell block and taking me to his office, where I was charged with sexual contact with another inmate while incarcerated. Captain Gray then explained how he placed me in a different cell block, where I began causing problems immediately, starting a fight that his officers had to break up. I was removed from this cell block as well and provided with medical treatment for the injuries I suffered in the fight I started. I had a few questions too. Was Danny Garrick, aka Bubbles, also charged with sexual contact with another inmate while incarcerated? No. There were mitigating factors for Danny. Was there a video recording of the fight in the second cell block, showing me starting the altercation? No. The camera equipment was malfunctioning at the time, but had since been repaired. Then the cameras were working in the shower in the first cell block but not in the other cell block where the fight occurred? That was correct. I slowly nodded my head when I heard this answer, thinking about challenging the obvious stupidity of his explanation. But I was also watching the jury, and they weren't buying what he was selling either. I'd made my point. I had no other questions for Captain Mike Gray, but I informed the Judge I might want to bring him back to the witness stand later on. *** Police Detective Karen Stevenson, newly promoted from her menial position as a deputy investigator, was the final witness for the Prosecution. It was Det. Stevenson's duty to describe all the sordid muck she found on my personal computer. But first, she described the careful and meticulous procedure she followed to ensure a seamless chain of custody was followed during the transport of the computer from my house to the police department's evidence locker. Then she went through the various tests she performed on the computer, looking for any indication of wrongdoing on my part. She described checking one internet browser on the computer and finding nothing out-of-the-ordinary in my browsing history. But--then it happened--she checked a different browser and found page after page of pornography. She presented a list of websites and the videos I had pulled up on those websites. The titles were lurid enough on their own, but Mendoza asked her for a detailed description of each one anyway. For the next half hour, we were treated to an appalling litany of sexual deviations: older man having anal intercourse with younger man, two older men with a young man, an orgy of young men in a public park, a young man tied up and raped by an older man, a young man gang raped by other men in a dormitory, and so on. It was graphic and disgusting and we all felt dirty for having simply listened to the list. But it got worse. Much worse. Karen Stevenson had then begun searching through all the folders on my computer. Buried deep in the bowels of the machine, she stumbled across a folder named Good Stuff. Inside this folder were photos, 114 to be exact, all of them showing boys aged 8 to 15 in sexually explicit situations, sometimes alone, sometimes with adult men. In deference to court decorum, Mendoza stated that she would not be showing any of the photos as long as Karen Stevenson's testimony was sufficient. I really didn't want to see those photos, either, so I agreed. When it was my turn to question Stevenson, I asked her how many investigations of this type she had conducted? "This was my eighth," she replied. "Wow. Eight? Then you're fairly experienced at this sort of thing?" I asked. "Yes, I am." "Then why did you charge me with only one count of receiving child pornography? I would have expected 114 counts, since there were 114 photos on my computer." Stevenson stammered something about that being the District Attorney's decision, not hers. I nodded understandingly. "Thank you. I'll have more questions for you later, Detective. Your Honor, I reserve the right to call this witness at a later time." And with that, the Prosecution was done. They had no other witnesses to call. I suppose they didn't think they needed anyone else. After all, they'd done a decent job proving just how much of a monster I was. Judge Birmingham recessed the trial for the night. End of UNDER SIEGE, Chapter 34