October 1982<\/p>\n
Autumn Saturdays on campus were all about football. As an eager freshman, I\u2019d attended all home games with the girls from my dorm. By sophomore year, 1982, I was over the thrill and spent many weekends either in the library or commuting back home to work at the grocery store. I\u2019d grown very fond of Mrs. Fullmer \u2013 June \u2013 and Janet. Janet, because she was so grounded and confident, knowing exactly what she wanted out of life and Mrs. Fullmer because of her unwavering strength.<\/p>\n
With midterms approaching June encouraged me to stay on campus and study. Thus, on one chilly fall afternoon, while the cheers roared from the stadium, I found myself among the microfiche cabinets searching for newspaper articles about the Raymond Johnson murder trial.<\/p>\n
It was the first time I actually had the nerve to investigate the case. I wanted to read about how the prosecution gained a conviction. Unfortunately I didn\u2019t know how to use microfiche so I approached the student sitting at the help desk. The makeshift nameplate propped in front of him, a piece of yellow legal paper ripped, folded and inserted into a plastic nameplate indicated the attendant\u2019s name was Doug.<\/p>\n
Engrossed in Ayn Rand\u2019s \u201cAtlas Shrugged,\u201d Doug didn\u2019t look up at first. I coughed attempting to get his attention, but he still didn\u2019t lift his eyes from the page. Instead, he raised an index finger indicating I\u2019d have to wait until he finished reading. Then, taking his good old time, he flipped the book over to hold its place, looked up and said, \u201cWhat can I help you with?\u201d<\/p>\n
I flashed him the same flirtatious smile that had worked many times in the past and said, \u201cI\u2019m writing a paper for my criminal justice class, but I don\u2019t know how to use the microfiche. Can you help me?\u201d<\/p>\n
My smile worked, I suppose, because he started moving a little more quickly and seemed to want to impress me with his mad library skills.<\/p>\n
\u201cI took that class my freshman year. Who\u2019s teaching it now? Still Dr. Gardener?\u201d Doug asked as he stood from his chair. Then waving me toward some filing cabinets, he added, \u201cHe\u2019s kind of a bore, but he\u2019s a nice guy. Pretty easy grader.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah Dr. Gardener.\u201d I replied, thinking I had been rather dumb to make up this story. Why didn\u2019t I just say I was doing research? I didn\u2019t have to get myself into this round of deception. I mean this boy Doug, would have no idea I was looking up information about a case for which I seemed to be the only one to have the truth. Why did I feel the need to lie? Anyway, I wish I hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what case are you looking for?\u201d Doug asked, but before I could answer he probed, further \u201cWhich paper are you writing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe one about the death penalty.\u201d I replied. More lies.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t remember that one.\u201d He said looking up at the ceiling searching for the memory of that paper and failing to do so he shrugged his shoulders and said, \u201cI guess he changed the syllabus since I took the class.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t exactly know the name of the case, just the defendant\u2019s name, Raymond Johnson.\u201d I replied ignoring his other remarks.<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, that\u2019s good enough to start, but when you write the paper for Gardener, make sure you use the official name of the case. He\u2019s a stickler about that sort of thing. Trust me.\u201d How sweet of Doug to be giving me advice.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u201d I replied. \u201cHow do I find it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s actually kind of a pain if it\u2019s not a famous case. It could be hard to find. Any particular reason you picked this one, because if not we might be able to find another one with more information for you to analyze?\u201d He asked, again trying to be helpful.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d I replied a little too abruptly. \u201cI\u2019m doing this case. It is<\/em> a famous case from my hometown so I\u2019m doing this one. I understand the library has a large collection of local newspapers.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, ok. Sure. Let\u2019s see what we can find.\u201d He said agreeably. Then he asked, \u201cYou\u2019re from around here?\u201d<\/p>\n Doug was rather cute in a nerdy way. He had brown curly hair and green eyes covered by wire-framed glasses. He was taller than me, about 6\u20192\u201d and quite thin \u2013 lanky actually. The tail of his oxford had escaped from his thin-whaled navy cords; a detail to which he gave no attention.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, just up the road a bit. You?\u201d I asked, then before he could respond I said, \u201cWait, let me guess, you\u2019re a Jersey boy right?\u201d I grinned teasingly losing my focus just a little, remember I do<\/em> like boys.<\/p>\n \u201cNoooo.\u201d He droned back. \u201cI\u2019m actually from Connecticut.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, that was my second guess.\u201d I joked.<\/p>\n Doug taught me how to search the files by date but didn\u2019t leave my side until we located three articles on the fiche. Next he escorted me over to the fiche reader and demonstrated how to load and view them. With the first article focused, Doug who was leaning over my shoulder, began reading along with me. \u201cWow, that case does look interesting.\u201d He said.<\/p>\n As cute as he was, my attention was back on my mission. \u201cThanks for your help.\u201d I said dismissively.<\/p>\n Doug received my message loud and clear. \u201cSure.\u201d He said. \u201cBack to my book.\u201d<\/p>\n The Case: December 18, 1977 Raymond Johnson, a 24-year-old African American male was convicted by a jury of his peers on two counts of first-degree murder and sentenced to death by electric chair. Public defender, Robert Derr, was unable to clear Johnson given the preponderance of evidence against him. Prosecutors, Wayne Ness and John Winters, connected all of the necessary dots for guilt beyond reasonable doubt. Calling James Martin\u2019s sister and several neighborhood residents to the stand, some of whom were obviously given immunity in exchange for their testimony, the Ness\/Winters duo, easily demonstrated Johnson was a known drug dealer, drug user, and overall violent man. The emotional testimony of victim James Martin\u2019s sister Sandra added fuel to the already blazing fire. With tears streaming down her face, she recounted several conversations she had with her brother who had confided in her. Martin owed Johnson money and was scared of what Johnson was going to do to him since he couldn\u2019t pay him. Sandra Martin said she wished she could have helped her brother come up with the money. As if that wasn\u2019t enough, the blood stains on Johnson\u2019s shirt and his fingerprints on the murder weapon sealed his fate. The jury unanimously found Raymond Johnson guilty of fatally stabbing James Martin and Freddy Fullmer.<\/em><\/p>\n Immediately thereafter, an automatic appeal was filed on Johnson\u2019s behalf and Johnson continued to proclaim his innocence.\u00a0\u00a0 By 1980 public defender Derr had moved on to greener pastures leaving Johnson with two failed appeals and a new guy, young Peter Smith, fresh out of law school and keen on proving Johnson\u2019s innocence. His strategy included an appeal based on improper allowance of hearsay testimony by the neighbors and sister during the trial. This appeal had not yet made it to the Appellate Court.<\/em><\/p>\n I stood, ready to ask Doug\u2019s help with returning the microfiche to the proper cabinet but seeing my movement, he jumped from his chair and rushed over. \u201cAll finished?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Thanks.\u201d I replied. \u201cCould you \u2013 \u201c I began but before I could ask he insisted \u201cLet me do it, that way I can make sure it gets put back where it belongs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks. I\u2019d better get going. I\u2019ve got to start writing my paper.\u201d More lies.<\/p>\n \u201cGood luck.\u201d Then handing me a tiny piece of the yellow legal paper he added, \u201cIf you get stuck writing the paper, give me a call.\u201d It was his dorm room extension. Doug was hitting on me.<\/p>\n ~~~<\/p>\n Alone in my dorm room, my roommate Linda was at the football game, I pulled the little yellow paper out of my jeans pocket and tacked it onto the corkboard above my desk. Then I sat down, pulled out a piece of paper and envelop from the top drawer. I rolled the blank sheet into my green Electra typewriter and began typing.<\/p>\n The letter: RJ is innocent. There is no way, in his drug-induced state, he could have caught up with Freddie Fullmer, a star running back. Someone else killed FF and JM. Check the angle of the fingerprints on the weapon. RJ is innocent.<\/em><\/p>\n The envelope: Public Defender Peter Smith, no return address.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" October 1982 Autumn Saturdays on campus were all about football. As an eager freshman, I\u2019d attended all home games with the girls from my dorm. By sophomore year, 1982, I was over the thrill and spent many weekends either in the library or commuting back home to work at the grocery store. I\u2019d grown very … Continue reading Cause and Effect, A Fictional Short, Part 6<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":461,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[89,3,2],"tags":[95,99,91],"class_list":["post-473","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-short-stories","category-writing","tag-death-penalty","tag-innocence","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.trishmcgee.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/dominos.jpg?fit=5800%2C4600&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/473","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=473"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/473\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":477,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/473\/revisions\/477"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/461"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=473"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=473"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.trishmcgee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=473"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}