Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(27)

“Did he leave you alone after that?”

“Did he leave me alone? He went straight to the office, they called the police, and I wound up getting convicted of aggravated assault. They sent me off to Nashville to the juvenile detention center there, which was awful. I was there for a year.”

“I’m sorry,” Riddle said. “I wasn’t aware of that. We don’t really have access to juvenile records. They’re not in any database, so when I looked at your NCIC record, it didn’t come up. So I guess the answer to my question is that you don’t care much for black men.”

“I hate them,” Sheila said.

Sheila noticed a slight smile come over Riddle’s face.

“Okay, I just want you to look at these photos I’m about to show you. And when you’re asked about it later, you’re going to say you picked the photos you pick out of a large group I showed you. I might coach you a little, but if I do, it’s because I’m convinced this is at least one of the people who assaulted you. Can you do that for me?”

“I guess I can, but I still really don’t remember very clearly.”

“I think this will help. Scoot up close to the desk.”

Sheila did as Riddle asked, and he laid out six photographs of young black men in front of her. All of them were in ETSU football uniforms.

“All of these guys were at the party as far as we know,” Riddle said. “Take a close look.”

Sheila noticed that Riddle had the index finger of his right hand on one particular photograph. He kept tapping it.

“That might be him,” Sheila said.

“Which one?”

“The one you’re pointing at.”

“I’m not pointing at anything,” Riddle said as he tapped the photo a little harder. “Now, which one do you think is the one who attacked you?”

Riddle removed his finger from the photo.

“That one,” she said, pointing out a photograph of Kevin Davidson.

“How sure are you?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Fifty percent? Eighty percent? A hundred percent? It would be perfect if you could say you’re a hundred percent sure it was him.”

Sheila paused for a minute, playing along. She knew exactly what was going on. She also knew this needed to happen. She scanned the photos one last time, acting as though she were studying the other faces.

“That’s him,” she said. “He’s the guy that pulled me into the bathroom.”

“How sure are you?” Riddle said.

“A hundred percent.”

“And after he pulled you into the bathroom, this is one of the young men that raped you?”

“Yes. It was him.”

“You would swear an oath to tell the truth in court and testify that it was him?”

“I would.”

Riddle handed Sheila a felt tipped pen.

“Put an X on the photo, initial it and date it,” he said.

Sheila did as he asked.

“Okay, so that’s done,” Riddle said. “At least we have one of them. But you told Officer James and the people at the hospital that you thought you were raped by three people, so you need to pick two more.”

“Which ones?” Sheila said. “I don’t really recognize anyone.”

Riddle tapped his fingers on the photos of two more of the black players.

“These will do,” he said. “But I need to hear you say you’re a hundred percent sure and be willing to testify to that in court.”

Sheila nodded her head. “Okay. I’m a hundred percent sure and I’ll testify.”

“Make an X on each, initial and date, just like with the other.”

Sheila did as he asked.

“Thank you, Ms. Self,” Riddle said. “This takes us another step closer to making sure the right thing gets done.”





FRIDAY, AUGUST 30

As soon as Sheila Self left his office, Investigator Riddle picked up his cell phone and dialed the number of District Attorney General Mike Armstrong. Riddle was almost giddy. Sheila Self actually hated black people as much as he did. It was a tremendous stroke of luck for him.

Mike Armstrong had sensed that the chief of police was not particularly interested in pressing the case, but that Riddle was. Therefore, he’d asked Riddle to personally inform him of any developments and to put together a case as quickly as possible. Riddle knew Armstrong was out on a limb, but Riddle was willing to climb out there with him because of his hatred for both the black football players and the institution they represented.

“Sheila Self just left my office,” Riddle said when Armstrong answered the phone.

“And?”

“She positively identified three players that raped her.”

“I thought she couldn’t remember what happened.”

“It’s coming back to her. I showed her a group of photos and she picked out three guys.”

“How many photos did you show her?”

“At least forty. I showed her white guys and black guys and Hispanics.” It was a lie, but Riddle didn’t care. He was going to make this case come hell or high water.

“Who are they?” Armstrong asked.

“All three of them are black. The quarterback, Kevin Davidson, a linebacker named Demonte Wright, and a defensive back named Evan Belle.”