was the best place to start looking for a connection between the shooter and Blane.
“How much time do you have?” she said dryly. “He's always had the odd nut job or two, but the case he's on now seems to have brought them out of the woodwork. Take a look at this.”
She pushed a file folder toward me, full of papers. Bemused, I opened it. I read the first few and my hands turned to ice.
The papers were all death threats, some more hideous and grotesque than others. The vividness of the more elaborate ones had bile rising in my throat. I paged through them slowly, aware that Blane had mentioned none of this to me.
“How long have they been like this?” I asked quietly, swallowing the nausea.
“A couple weeks,” she answered with a sigh. “I took them to the police, but they didn’t do anything. They think it's just a few crazies, nothing serious.”
“I don't know about that,” I muttered. “What is it about the case he's on now,” I asked, handing back the folder. “The Waters' trial, that has people so upset?”
“Blane’s defending a friend of his, a man named Kyle Waters. Kyle is a SEAL sniper,” Clarice explained. “He fought in Afghanistan and Iraq. On one particular mission, they were supposed to capture or kill some sheik that was an al-Qaeda leader. Well, on their way, a shepherd stumbled across them. There were only four of them, they couldn’t capture him. They determined he was an immediate threat, that he would warn others that they were there, so they killed him.”
I processed this. “So now he’s on trial for wrongful death?” I asked.
Clarice nodded. “Turns out that supposed shepherd was really an American citizen.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Not so fast,” Clarice said. “He was an American citizen who renounced his citizenship, converted to Islam, changed his name to Ahmed el Mustaqueem and moved there to fight for the other side.”
“Oh.” Well, that certainly put things in a different light.
“Exactly,” Clarice said knowingly. “But you still have the people that are all pissed off that they killed him, not that I particularly see it that way,” she added.
“How do you see it?”
She looked me in the eye. “I think it’s a hell of a lot easier to play armchair quarterback from behind a desk than it is on the other side of the planet, surrounded by people who want to kill you. If that guy wanted to go fight for the other side, then he knew the risks. I think Kyle’s a hero and what’s going on is disgraceful. The man has been through three deployments and has a list of commendations and medals as long as my arm.”
Her vehemence surprised me.
“Does Blane feel the same way?” I asked.
“I haven’t asked him,” she replied. “I assume so. He served in Afghanistan, so I would think he has an opinion on the matter.”
I was confused. “If it’s a wrongful death suit, why is James prosecuting? Wouldn’t it be a private suit, not a county one?”
“Usually,” she replied. “But in this instance, the man was from Indianapolis originally and the family got the county to bring the suit. If James wins, it sets a precedent that’s never been done before – a state government prosecuting a soldier. It’s disgusting, what James is doing.”
I thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think I could look at the Waters' file?” I wanted to read through it, see if there was anything I could find that might shed some light on who had tried to kill us yesterday.
“Sure, but don't tell anyone. Technically, you work for the firm so you could be legitimately helping with the case, but I don't want to get into trouble.”
“No problem,” I assured her. “I won't breathe a word.”
“Come by later,” she said. “The files are in the conference room and you can start there.”
I agreed, thanking her before heading back downstairs to grab my
“How much time do you have?” she said dryly. “He's always had the odd nut job or two, but the case he's on now seems to have brought them out of the woodwork. Take a look at this.”
She pushed a file folder toward me, full of papers. Bemused, I opened it. I read the first few and my hands turned to ice.
The papers were all death threats, some more hideous and grotesque than others. The vividness of the more elaborate ones had bile rising in my throat. I paged through them slowly, aware that Blane had mentioned none of this to me.
“How long have they been like this?” I asked quietly, swallowing the nausea.
“A couple weeks,” she answered with a sigh. “I took them to the police, but they didn’t do anything. They think it's just a few crazies, nothing serious.”
“I don't know about that,” I muttered. “What is it about the case he's on now,” I asked, handing back the folder. “The Waters' trial, that has people so upset?”
“Blane’s defending a friend of his, a man named Kyle Waters. Kyle is a SEAL sniper,” Clarice explained. “He fought in Afghanistan and Iraq. On one particular mission, they were supposed to capture or kill some sheik that was an al-Qaeda leader. Well, on their way, a shepherd stumbled across them. There were only four of them, they couldn’t capture him. They determined he was an immediate threat, that he would warn others that they were there, so they killed him.”
I processed this. “So now he’s on trial for wrongful death?” I asked.
Clarice nodded. “Turns out that supposed shepherd was really an American citizen.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Not so fast,” Clarice said. “He was an American citizen who renounced his citizenship, converted to Islam, changed his name to Ahmed el Mustaqueem and moved there to fight for the other side.”
“Oh.” Well, that certainly put things in a different light.
“Exactly,” Clarice said knowingly. “But you still have the people that are all pissed off that they killed him, not that I particularly see it that way,” she added.
“How do you see it?”
She looked me in the eye. “I think it’s a hell of a lot easier to play armchair quarterback from behind a desk than it is on the other side of the planet, surrounded by people who want to kill you. If that guy wanted to go fight for the other side, then he knew the risks. I think Kyle’s a hero and what’s going on is disgraceful. The man has been through three deployments and has a list of commendations and medals as long as my arm.”
Her vehemence surprised me.
“Does Blane feel the same way?” I asked.
“I haven’t asked him,” she replied. “I assume so. He served in Afghanistan, so I would think he has an opinion on the matter.”
I was confused. “If it’s a wrongful death suit, why is James prosecuting? Wouldn’t it be a private suit, not a county one?”
“Usually,” she replied. “But in this instance, the man was from Indianapolis originally and the family got the county to bring the suit. If James wins, it sets a precedent that’s never been done before – a state government prosecuting a soldier. It’s disgusting, what James is doing.”
I thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think I could look at the Waters' file?” I wanted to read through it, see if there was anything I could find that might shed some light on who had tried to kill us yesterday.
“Sure, but don't tell anyone. Technically, you work for the firm so you could be legitimately helping with the case, but I don't want to get into trouble.”
“No problem,” I assured her. “I won't breathe a word.”
“Come by later,” she said. “The files are in the conference room and you can start there.”
I agreed, thanking her before heading back downstairs to grab my
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