Sharyn Harrison, a seventy-two-year-old woman, was sitting behind the reception desk just inside the entryway. She rose to greet them as soon as she saw them enter, giving them both a hug, “Booger, I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?”
“I’ve been great. I can’t believe you are still working. Isn’t it about time you retire and take some time for yourself?”
“Thirty-six years and counting,” Harrison said proudly. “The old warhorse back there needs me too much. As long as he keeps going, I’ll keep going. You know he couldn’t do anything without me here.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Booger said.
The three of them shared a laugh.
“Not that I don’t like seeing you, Sharyn, but we were hoping to have a word with Frank. He available?”
“Right now, he is in his office, going through police reports on the triple homicide that happened last week in Osage County. I’ll go tell him you two are here.” Harrison came back a few seconds later, followed by Ackerman.
“Booger, how the heck are you?” Ackerman asked as he went in for a big hug.
“I’m great, other than having to deal with this rookie over here.”
“He’s young, but that just means he still has a lot of fight in him.” Ackerman turned and hugged Steve. “And how the heck have you been, Steve?”
“Doing well. Always good to see you, Frank,” Steve said.
“You boys come on back to my office.” Steve felt his office cell phone vibrate in his pocket as Ackerman led them down the hallway.
CHAPTER 23
The office itself looked like that of a traditional country lawyer portrayed in a Norman Rockwell painting. Bookshelves full of statutes and legal treatises lined the south wall. Numerous plaques, awards, and signed jury verdict forms from winning cases covered the east wall. The north wall contained two large, framed pieces. One was a lithograph depicting Abraham Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address. The other was a copy of the United States Constitution on weathered and torn paper.
Ackerman’s desk, a large piece of glass held up by metal replicas of two deer antlers, was positioned to the west. The leather chair behind his desk was covered in a cowhide print, and behind where Ackerman sat was a sketch of him giving the closing argument in his first death penalty trial. Before judges started allowing cameras in the courtroom, a sketch artist had rendered the drawing to be used by the media to show courtroom action. After Ackerman had won the trial, the artist gave him the original as a trophy of sorts for his victory.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?” Ackerman asked as they all sat down.
“We just left Deputy Blackburn’s office while investigating the Pinkerton case,” Steve said, “and we wondered if there is anything you might be able to tell us about the case or Deputy Blackburn that we couldn’t find in the record.”
“I doubt there is much I can tell you about your case that you don’t already know, but I can tell you something about Deputy Blackburn. He is one of the bad cops,” Ackerman said seriously. “I’m sure you heard about him shooting that young man last month. I would bet he was in the wrong on that one. There is no doubt in my mind that man is racist. On top of that, he is one of the few cops I have caught lying on the stand. He believes that the end justifies the means. Doesn’t matter what rules or laws he has to break to put the ‘bad guys’ in prison as long as they end up in prison. He somehow thinks that is good police work—that the Fourth Amendment and other laws don’t apply to him because he is a ‘good guy.’ Mind you, not all police officers act that way, but I’ll tell you the ones who do are what drive me to get out of bed every morning and come in here to this office to work my tail off for the downtrodden.”
“Never ceases to amaze me,” Booger said with a slow shake of his head, “the number of police officers who think the law doesn’t apply to them. They think that because they are putting away the bad guys, as you called them, then they can do whatever they want to make sure that happens.”
“Exactly,” Steve said. “Don’t they realize the Constitution is the most important law in the land? It is what makes our country great, and without it, all these other laws wouldn’t matter.”
“Just make sure you keep your eyes on him,” Ackerman said. “He is capable of just about anything. That case is what made his career. The investigation and subsequent conviction put him on the map in the police world as a big-time cop. I would bet the farm that Deputy Blackburn will do anything to protect his reputation and make sure your client is executed—whether he truly believes Scottie did it or not.”
After some time discussing the other details of the case, Steve and Booger thanked Ackerman for his advice and returned to Tulsa. They decided to go downtown to the Main Street Lounge for a drink and strategy session.
CHAPTER 23