The Murder of Janessa Hennley by Victor Methos Page A

camera.”
    “So?”
    “Juries like a tearful victim telling their story. Without it, all these guys are going to say it was consensual, and even our witness is going to back that up.”
    “The video—”
    “Shows her having sex. She’s not screaming or fighting them off. The most you’ll be able to charge is sexual assault in the third degree. It’s a felony, but barely. Most of these guys won’t even go to prison. And that’s if you can land convictions by convincing a jury this wasn’t consensual.”
    “But it’s a registerable offense. I’ll have these bastards pegged as sex offenders for a good ten.”
    “If your DA’s like every other, they’ll settle with misdemeanors, non-registerable.”
    She thought a moment. “What the hell do we do?”
    “What we want is for them to give us everything they know about who was there and what happened. They won’t do that knowing they’re just going to get slapped with misdemeanors. What we need is someone to say that she was prostituting herself. Exchanging sex for something of value. Then it becomes exploitation of a prostitute. We can charge that in federal court and threaten them with ten years in a federal penitentiary, minimum.”
    “Should we talk to Jason again?”
    “No, I think we need to go to the source.”
     
     
    Nathan Goodall answered the door in a bathrobe with his initials on the breast. He looked from the sheriff to Mickey . “Can I help you with something, Sheriff?”
    “Sit down,” she said, brushing past him. “I have something to show you.”
    Suzan flipped open her iPad. The two men followed her. She began the video and turned it to Nathan. His mouth fell open.
    “I want a lawyer.”
    “No, you don’t,” Suzan said. “What you want is to cooperate and tell me everything, and I mean everything, Nathan, so that I don’t arrest you and send this video to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Not the DA, Nathan. The Feds. We’re talking federal penitentiary.”
    “For what? I’m not even having sex with her there.”
    “Exploitation of a prostitute.”
    “What? She wasn’t a prostitute.”
    “Jason told us you bought her a watch. I’m sending someone to Janessa’s house to find that watch, and then I’m going to trace where it came from. Knowing you, it’s probably something fancy. Something where the store will have a video camera. And guess what? That watch is payment. Sex for payment, Nathan.”
    “That’s absolutely ridiculous. And you guys can talk to my lawyer.”
    “Fine. But we’ll talk to him down at the station.” She pulled out her handcuffs and slapped them on his wrists, pulling his arms behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent.”

27
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Mickey took his medication and then topped it with another Percocet. He sat outside the Sheriff’s Office, really just a small town police station with two cells that likely never saw more than drunks and potheads. The sun was at its zenith, but the temperature never rose above seventy-five.
    He watched people passing in and out of the station. He’d read that the Kodiak Basin Sheriff’s Office employed fourteen uniformed deputies and four detectives. The detectives didn’t have specialties. They were sex crimes and homicide, property and gangs, narcotics and vice all rolled into one.
    He wondered how they had time for all their cases , but their pending cases board displayed only fifteen in the entire city. Less than four per detective. At the top of the board were the names of the Hennley family with the letters “FBI” written next to them. Apparently, the case had been passed on to him without his knowledge.
    Mickey’s throat hurt , and his tongue was swelling. It created the odd sensation of having to concentrate before speaking for fear the words wouldn’t come out. He took two ibuprofen he’d purchased from a convenience store before going back inside.
    Nathan sat in the conference room right where Jason had been,