Presumed Guilt

Dr. Micah Crewe was a cardiologist. Brilliant in his own right. His friends and colleagues, however, accused him of suffering from emotional invalidation. As such, people often misunderstood him and accused him of overactive feelings of worthlessness. Those feelings affected his day-to-day life in that people often came away from encounters with him with the feeling that he was simply a butthead. He just didn’t seem to care about other people’s feelings or behaviors. Micah’s idea of cheering up his patients’ feelings of stress was the old, “Everything happens for a reason,” or, “It could be worse,” crap. It was as if he actually wanted people to feel contempt for him.

Micah also suffered from repression. And an experience resulting from that was like a ticking time bomb waiting in his subconscious to explode and turn his world all the way upside down. Micah would find that his ability to disregard others, his ability to stuff away his own feelings about past events, had taken a toll. In fact, Micah would find that he no longer even knew who he was, and that the life he’d led was not necessarily a lie, but not necessarily the truth, either.

⁂

Officer Roy Conway of the Albuquerque Police Department pulled Micah over for a minor traffic infraction, an inoperable taillight. He was cordial, calm, and presented a professional attitude. He wrote Micah a ticket, pointed out the court date, and politely advised Micah not to skip it. Officer Conway then asked if he had questions. Micah answered he did not. Officer Conway then bid him a nice day and left. The entire ordeal took only a few minutes.

Micah pulled away and went to a nearby mechanic’s shop, where he asked about getting the taillight fixed or replaced, preferably before the court date. The guy he spoke to assured him they could do it, agreed on a date, and given an estimate of the cost. Micah agreed and returned on the date to have the work done. The mechanic made the repairs, thanked Micah for using his service, and sent him on his way. Micah felt good that he could walk into court and show that he had repaired the taillight.

When he got home that evening, he remembered he had a flight to London the day after the court date. He was going to meet his wife, Stephanie, at a conference she would speak at. They were going to make a weekend of it and take in sights and enjoy gourmet meals before returning home together. Micah worried briefly about something going wrong in court that may prevent him from making the flight.

Micah arrived early to the courthouse on the day of his hearing. He dressed professionally and presented himself accordingly. The judge listened to Officer Conway detail the events of the day he cited Micah. He did not embellish, nor show that Micah did anything wrong. He described the entire event as mutually agreeable, and the judge excused him. Micah and Officer Conway even exchanged smiles as he walked back to his seat.

Micah then told the judge his side of the story, which confirmed everything Officer Conway had reported. He showed the judge the receipt from the repair shop to show that he had already fixed the issue that was cited. The judge gathered all the evidence and took a minute to read things over. Everything seemed fine. Micah was looking forward to meeting his wife the following day. And then his world collapsed. There’s an old saying,

“Sometimes bad luck hits you like in an ancient Greek tragedy, and it’s not your own making.”

Micah was about to find out how that saying applied to him.

He noticed a group of armed guards gather around the exit doors. Figuring they were posting up for the next case, he paid them no mind. He watched as they made their way to within a few feet of him and stop. Still thinking they were getting ready for the next case, he didn’t feel threatened. He noticed a man come from a back room, ask for a sidebar with the judge, and then watched as they had a brief exchange. Micah became concerned when he got a feeling the conversation was about him.

Micah’s heart almost failed him as the judge gave him a stern look and instructed the guards to take him into custody. The judge’s words that followed would haunt Micah forever.

“Micah Crewe, it has come to my attention that there is an outstanding warrant for your arrest in connection with the murder of one Cindy Stroud. I’m remanding you to the custody of the Bernalillo County Sheriff's Department for further processing.”

He then instructed the guards to escort Micah to a holding cell in the courthouse's basement. Everything for Micah faded to black as he desperately tried to process what had just happened. And, more importantly, whatever was going to happen. Micah felt scared, confused, and a little angry. He had no instructions yet about his options or the path forward. He had no lawyer on retainer and with his wife out of the country, he could think of no one else to call for help. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness set in.

⁂

He met her in a bar in Las Cruces. He had been eyeballing her for a couple of hours when she suddenly came and sat next to him. At first she said nothing, didn’t even glance at him, but then turned to him after a moment and looked him straight in the eyes.

“You look like a nice guy and all, but you’re throwing out some serious perv vibes,” she said point blank. “Are you a perv?”

Her comment took him aback because he knew he was staring at her and hoped he wasn’t throwing out perv vibes. Apparently he was, and he offered to buy her a drink in an attempt at a reset, a do-over, if you will. She accepted and introduced herself as Cindy. He did the same except using the name Micah. She gave him a once over, appeared to like what she saw, and they chatted each other up for the next couple of hours.

Cindy was not a particularly pretty gal. She wasn’t ugly, but it took a couple of drinks to fully appreciate her mug. She was definitely a barfly. It was easy to spot because she had the voice. You know, a smoker’s voice that was used to talking over loud music and hee-haws. Micah noted a promiscuousness about her, which was a welcome sight, considering what he had envisioned for the evening. As a doctor, he was a bit turned off when she whipped out a pack of Marlboros and fired one up. She offered him one. He declined and also declined to go on a rant about how bad that crap was for her. He suspected she knew and had experienced the speech many times.

Things were going well. The drink had kicked in and she had gotten that look in her eyes that signaled Micah may very well get lucky that evening. He ordered another round. A couple of hours later, Micah found himself buck naked in her bed with her riding him like a rodeo bull. He noted she had a killer body with a face that did it no justice at all. He didn’t know why he chose that moment to dwell on her face, but he quickly focused on other parts of her that would allow him to keep the party going. Alas, it was too late. Her face killed the buzz. She rolled off of him and reached for the Marlboros and then fixed another round of drinks. They talked a while longer, and then she rolled over into his arms and fell asleep.

When Micah awoke the following morning, he knew he should leave, but he didn’t want to wake her. He quietly gathered his things, got dressed, and left, leaving a note on the nightstand saying how much he had enjoyed their evening. Micah drove back to Albuquerque with fond memories of his little barfly, Cindy. He never saw her again, and he never had a reason to go back to Las Cruces.

When Cindy’s boyfriend came by later that morning, he let himself in. He knew she’d had a guy in her bed and went nuts. Apparently, it was not the first time. She was asleep flat on her back and he was cherry red with anger. He grabbed a pillow, straddled her on the bed, and suffocated her. She tried to fight, but he was much bigger than her and she didn’t stand a chance of escaping. He made sure she was dead and then walked out.

After several calls to police from friends, family, and employer, they went to her apartment for a wellness check and found her body. It was easy to determine someone had suffocated her. Few people knew Cindy had a boyfriend, but people at the bar she hung out at noticed she left with a guy the night before. Police also found Micah’s note on the nightstand. They didn’t know his last name and there were no fingerprints that could identify him. They kept her case open for a few months, but it eventually made it to the cold case pile.

Micah had gotten on with his life, never knowing what happened to Cindy. He thought fondly of her from time-to-time, but had no intention of ever seeing her again. He got married about two years after their encounter and never mentioned her to his wife, Stephanie. It seemed poor Cindy’s life ended in foul play, with no one held responsible.

A few more years had gone by, and so did advances in technology. Someone, a new rookie on the force, periodically looked into the stack of cold case files, hoping to get lucky and make a name for himself. He came across Cindy’s file and noticed Micah’s note. He sent it to the fingerprint lab, and, as luck would have it, they came back with a match. The name was Micah Kemp Crewe, a doctor from up in Albuquerque. They coordinated with the Albuquerque police department and had a warrant issued for his arrest.

While coordinating with Albuquerque police, someone mentioned the name sounded familiar, and then remembered Officer Conway talking about going to court for some guy named Micah. A quick call to him verified he was in court at that very moment. They alerted the judge about the outstanding warrant, and the judge had Micah taken into custody.

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Micah was going stir crazy in the holding cell as he tried desperately to figure out what the heck was going on. The name Cindy Stroud hadn’t yet registered in his mind. It had been nine years since their brief encounter, and he never knew her last name. In fact, he had forgotten her first name. The following day, they moved him to the Metropolitan Detention Center. Two minutes in, and he had already seen enough. He wanted out of there right then, that second. The State of New Mexico was about to make his life miserable and he wanted no part of it. When they allowed him to make a phone call, he called his wife. She had been worried sick and was relieved to hear his voice… until he told her where he was.

“You’re what?” she exclaimed. “I don’t understand, Micah. What is going on?”

He didn’t have long to hash out details and asked that she find him a lawyer ASAP. Meanwhile, the name Cindy finally registered. The last name didn’t matter. That he had the name, location, and timeframe was enough. And he was certain that she was very much alive that morning when he left her. He shouted that at everyone who would listen, hoping to get someone to look further into the case.

Stephanie visited him the next day with a lawyer and poor Micah was ready to break down. He was in an environment for which his survival skills were woefully lacking and he was at the end of his rope. His lawyer stepped in, talked him off the ledge, and then moved in close and whispered to him to man up.

“Never, ever, let people in here see you break down, man. Dig deep and get it together.”

He took a step back, and they got down to business. His lawyer, Todd Baxter III, asked to speak with him alone, but Micah insisted Stephanie remain present and hear everything. He then explained what had happened.

“It was a one-night stand about nine years ago. I met her in a bar in Las Cruces. We hit it off, had a few drinks and then went back to her place. We had a few more drinks, did the nasty, and then went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I had to get back home, but didn’t want to wake her, so I quietly slipped on my clothes, left a note on the nightstand, and left. And I assure you she was very much alive.”

“Okay. Micah, I believe you, but is it possible you, somehow, rolled over onto her during the night and accidentally suffocate her? And that you just assumed she was alive?”

“Not a chance, Todd. When I left that morning, she was alive. I’m certain of it.”

“How can you be so certain?” Todd asked.

“Because she was snoring like a warthog. I’m a doctor. I can tell you dead people don’t snore.”

During the trial, the prosecutor offered nothing but circumstantial evidence, because he had nothing but circumstantial evidence. There was nothing that tied Micah, or anyone else, to Cindy’s death. It was a weak case from the beginning. But Micah reminded his attorney that the important thing was that an innocent woman was dead. She could not have suffocated herself, so a killer was still on the loose. And then.

Micah’s attorney smiled and winked at him as he stood to address the court.

“Your honor,” he began. “We’ve just this morning been made aware of a witness. She’s right outside. Will you allow?”

The prosecutor shot to his feet and screamed, “YOUR HONOR I OBJECT!” as Todd looked on with a perplexed look.

“Your honor, we were not informed of a witness,” the prosecutor pleaded.

“Your honor, if I may,” Todd butted in.

He handed the bailiff a facsimile receipt for the copy of the witness list faxed to the DA’s office that morning.

The judge allowed the witness, and Micah’s attorney motioned for the guard by the exit to escort her in. Her name was Sallie Stanton, Cindy’s next-door neighbor, a mutual barfly, and friend. After being sworn in, she went on and on about the noise Cindy and the gentleman at the table were making.

“I mean, they went at it forever. I thought they’d never stop,” she said.

She was really getting into details, and the judge cautioned her to pump the brakes on some of the juicier facts.

“Sorry, judge, ah, your honor, sir,” she said as she continued.

“Well, you see judge, the next morning when I heard her door open I figured it was the guy from the night before and, well, you know, I just had to get a look at him,” she said as she put a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.

The courtroom broke out into laughter, and the judge had to issue a warning.

“Go on, Ms. Stanton, but please, just the facts,” the judge told her.

“Thank you, judge, ah, your honor, ah, sir. After Mr. Crewe left, I heard Cindy doing her normal morning stuff. She always made grits and eggs for breakfast and I could tell that’s what she was doing. And then a couple of hours later, her boyfriend showed up. He only stayed a little while, but after he left, I didn’t hear nothin’ else going on in her apartment. Nothin’ for the rest of the day. So I got worried and knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer, so I called the cops, ah, police.”

“Do you know the boyfriend’s name?” Micah’s attorney asked.

“Yea, it’s ah, Tim something, Tim Daniels, that’s it. Tim Daniels.”

Tim was picked up a few of hours later in Las Cruces and admitted he flew into a fit of rage about Cindy sleeping with another guy. He confessed he suffocated her with a pillow, exonerating Micah. When Micah heard the news, he was the happiest man on the planet. The best sound he’d ever heard was the tumbling sound the lock on his cell door made when they opened it and let him go. He had lived through a terrifying ordeal, but having gotten his life back, he vowed to enjoy every single minute of the rest of it.

K.R. Eaton - Presumed Guilt

Short Stories by K.R Eaton