Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(44)

When we pulled alongside the curb in front of Kevin’s house, there was a Johnson City Police Department cruiser sitting in front of us. There were several cars nearby, both in the driveway and on the street. Jack and I went up and knocked on the door. It was opened by a Johnson City officer named David Milhorn. He was a young guy, thick and muscular like Jack. I’d seen him in court a couple of times, but I didn’t know anything about him other than he was inexperienced, maybe even still a rookie.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“I’m Joe Dillard, Kevin Davidson’s lawyer.”

“So?”

“I’m here to help him move out.”

“I don’t think you should come in,” he said.

“Get out of my way,” I said, and I shouldered past him. I stepped into the house and said “Kevin! It’s Joe Dillard.”

“Stop right where you are.” The voice came from behind me. I turned to see Officer Milhorn pointing a taser gun at me.

“You intend to use that, do you, Officer Milhorn?” I said.

“I told you not to come in.”

“No, you didn’t. You said, ‘I don’t think you should come in,’ but this isn’t your property. You don’t control it. Until Kevin walks out the door, he controls it and he invited me. Now put that thing away before you get yourself sued and lose your job.”

“Who do you think you are?” Milhorn said. “You can’t just disobey a police officer.”

“You’re wrong about that,” I said. “There’s no law that says I have to obey police officers, especially when the police officer is young, out of line, and full of shit.”

About this time, Kevin and his parents came through a doorway and into the room.

“Good, now I have witnesses,” I said. “Kevin, do I have your permission to be here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You and your parents invited me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we did.”

I stared at Milhorn. I could almost see his mind working, trying to decide what to do.

“Just put it away,” I said. “We’ll chalk it up to a rookie mistake and move on. No hard feelings. I’m only here to help Kevin move out.”

He finally lowered the taser and I felt a pang of relief. I had no desire to be zapped by fifty thousand volts of electricity.

“Why would a lawyer come help his client move out of a place?” Milhorn said.

“None of your business. Why are you even here, Officer Milhorn? Do you have reason to believe a crime is being committed?”

“I was ordered by my watch commander to post here until your client came and moved out. I believe the university called and asked for police assistance. I’ve been instructed to get his keys and make sure he doesn’t do any damage.”

“Fine. Just let us do what we came to do. We’ll be out of here shortly.”

Officer Milhorn stood by the door while the rest of us went to work. College athletes, like most college students, live like gypsies. They travel light and can be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Kevin had the basics: a small television, a laptop, and his clothing. His parents put the television and some of his clothing in their car, and Kevin put the rest of his clothes, his toiletries, a guitar, and some photographs in his car. We were loaded up and out of there in thirty minutes. Nobody bothered to say goodbye to Officer Milhorn.

Less than two minutes after we got into the car and drove away, Jack said, “You’re a complete lunatic, you know that?”

“What? I’m not going to let some snot-nosed rookie cop boss me around. They intimidate people all the time, Jack, because they have a badge and a gun. They think they can tell people what to do and they have to do it automatically. It doesn’t work that way. I was telling him the truth. There is no law that says you have to do something just because a cop tells you to. If a cop gives you a lawful, reasonable order, then you have to comply. If they’re just bullying you, you can tell them to piss up a rope.”

“He almost tasered you, Dad.”

“Would have been a terrible mistake for him, and to his credit, he finally realized it.”

“I’ll be glad when I have your confidence,” Jack said.

“Thanks. Me, too.”

“But I’ll never be as crazy as you are. Never.”





WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9

Investigator Bo Riddle had called the watch commander early in the afternoon to see if he’d heard anything about where Kevin Davidson had gone after he was released from jail. Riddle knew he’d been banished from his home by the university and kicked out of school. He wanted to know where Davidson was going, because he and his friends had plans, the kind of plans he didn’t wish to discuss with the watch commander.

The watch commander had told Riddle he’d assigned a rookie named David Milhorn to “supervise” the removal of Kevin Davidson’s belongings from the home and to confiscate his keys. The watch commander also said Milhorn reported that Davidson had showed up along with his parents and his lawyer, gathered his belongings, surrendered his keys, and left.

Riddle asked for Milhorn’s cell number and the watch commander gave it to him. He dialed it immediately.

“David Milhorn,” a voice said.