Murder & Billy Bailey

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Murder & Billy Bailey - book excerpt

Chapter 1

Bill Billy Bailey watched film with the quarterback and receivers of Central High School's epic win over the top ranked Zachary Broncos the past Friday night. The comeback win marked the most important victory in his tenure as head coach.

At only twenty-eight years old, many questioned his credentials for the position. That win over Zachary quieted most of those critics. The crowd roared onto the field after the game, astounded at the turnaround in the football program over the course of one season.

Three quarterbacks and eight receivers joined the Bailey and Jimbo Wax, the offensive coordinator, in the film room this Monday afternoon. Mistakes had been made and for the Central Wildcats to go far into the playoffs, those must be corrected and eliminated.

The door burst open.

"Hey, you can't come in here," Bailey said, shielding his eyes from the bright lights in the hallway.

"Coach, I believe we can."

Bailey recognized the Sheriff's deputy that was talking.

"Arnette, what is this all about?"

"Bill Bailey, you are under arrest for the rape and carnal knowledge of a minor."

Bailey gasped, not believing his ears. The two deputies grabbed him, one by each arm, and hurled him against the wall. Arnette slapped the cuffs on his wrists. They dragged him out of the room.

"Jimbo, call my wife. Call Sara Sue." 

Chapter 2

Monday afternoon

Sheriff's office

Less than an hour later, Bailey wore an orange and white striped jumpsuit, emblazoned with the letters EBRSO stitched across the back. Those were the initials for the East Baton Rouge Parish Sheriff's office. He received his Miranda rights and was strip-searched prior to donning his present attire.

"What is this all about? What is going on here?" He asked of every officer within hearing.

They ignored him. Bailey had never been arrested before. The worst offense the coach ever committed was forgetting to put on his turn signal. He got a warning, but no ticket.

The coach settled and sat quietly in the jail cell. He wondered why he was in a cell by himself. The one adjoining his held six prisoners, each clad in the same orange and white jumpsuit he wore. This was the first time that Billy could remember he had absolutely nothing to do.

He looked at the stark furnishings. A stainless toilet with a water tap on top. The steel bed with an ultra-thin mattress had more stains and holes that solid covering. A single sheet rolled up on one end of the bed was too short for his 6'4" frame.

The tinted window to the outside was only four inches wide with steel grating stretching from the top to the bottom. He could see it was still daylight outside, but could discern no shapes.

Billy thought about Sara Sue. What did she think when told of the charges? They were high school sweethearts, both attending Denham Springs High School, less than fifteen minutes from Central.

Sara Sue was the head cheerleader, captain of the softball team, and star of the girls’ basketball team. Bailey played the three major sports, earning all–state awards as the quarterback for the football team and ace pitcher for the Yellow Jacket's baseball team.

They both attended LSU, Bailey earning a degree in kinesiology and Sara Sue getting her degree in the entrepreneur program. He wanted to coach, and she wanted to own a personal business. After graduation, she started a temporary employment agency, furnishing workers ranging from warehouse laborers to accountants.

The couple had no children, opting to get their careers established before parenthood. They began talking about a family, even discussing potential names for their children.

Now the rising star in the high school coaching ranks sat in a dark and smelly cell with his career and his marriage in jeopardy. He taught Sunday School at the Baptist Church at the corner of Joor and. Hooper.

What would the seventh grade boys in his class think? What would the football players he loved and coached think about the man who always stressed character and integrity over all other traits?

His future—Wait, what future? Was twenty years behind bars at the state prison in Angola considered a future? Bailey realized why he was in a cell by himself. He had heard stories about what happened to rapists and child molesters in prison. He was about to live that story unless he was separated for his own safety.

Bailey tried to lie on the steel cot. There was no comfortable position for his tall body in the short bed. The room was cold. Frigid cold. The short-sleeved jumpsuit provided almost no warmth. Billy pulled thin sheet over him and closed his eyes.

The coach tried to make sense of the day's events. Who had accused him of rape? Who had accused him of having carnal knowledge? Was it the same girl? Was it a girl? Could he afford bail? He and Sara Sue had sunk what little savings they had into Sara Sue's business.

The Wildcats Temporary Agency was only beginning to turn cash flow positive, generating a little more revenue than operating costs. It was not in a financial position to afford the hefty requirements of bail.

Then two deputies appeared outside the cell. They replaced the handcuffs and put leg irons on each ankle. He shuffled between them to a small conference room. The deputies put a belly chain around the coach and fastened it to a link under the table.

They left him without explaining the move. Then he heard people approaching. He twisted much as he could with the constraints restricting any movements. Sara Sue came in, mascara running down her cheeks. A tall, elderly gentleman dressed in an expensive blue suit followed her. 

Chapter 3

East Baton Rouge Parish Jail

Sara Sue stepped toward Billy to hug her husband, but a grunt from a guard stopped her.

"No contact with the prisoner," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said through her tears.

She sat in a chair on the other side of the table with the gray-haired gentleman. The elder fellow addressed the guards.

"I would like to have privacy with my client, please."

Even though he stated it in non-–threatening terms, the guards quickly assented and left the room.

"Honey," Sara Sue began. "This is Durwin Kemp. He is the best lawyer in the state."

Bailey, through reflex, tried to extend his hands, but the restraints prevented him from raising them.

"It's okay," Kemp said. "We aren't supposed to make contact, anyway. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Look, Mr. Kemp. I don't know what you charge, but I know that we can't afford you. I'm on a high school coach's salary, and Sara Sue is just getting her business off the ground. We don't have a lot of money."

Kemp's smile never left his face. But in his eyes, there was a steely focus, like a panther right before it struck its prey.

"I hate to tell you this, Bill. You can't afford not to have my services in the position you find yourself."

"But—" Billy protested.

"It's okay, Honey," Sara Sue interrupted. "I’m taking care of it."

Billy was incredulous.

"How? Where did you get the money?"

"Niki Dupre is helping us."

In Billy's muddled mind, he recognized the name, but could not place it with an actual person.

"Who?" He asked.

“Niki Dupre. She’s the famous private investigator who solved the Spirit Island case.”

"How does she know us?"

"She's a client of mine. She is so busy she hires temps from me to type up her reports. She's wonderful. I want to introduce y'all when you get out."

Kemp spoke. "Miss Dupre has agreed to pay my fees for your case for as long as you need me."

Bailey shook his head. "How much are your fees?"

Kemp glanced at Sara Sue. She nodded.

"I charge one hundred thousand dollars for a retainer. That is only to assess the validity of the charges against you, and attempt to get you bail. OF course, any further actions on my part will require additional fees."

"Of course," Bailey says sarcastically. He looked at his wife.

"We can’t ever pay this back. We can't do it. What if I go to jail? How will you ever get that kind of money?"

"Are you guilty?" Kemp asked.

"No. Hell, no," Bailey shouted in the small room.

"No need for profanity, Bill. I understand the English language. A simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice," Kemp said.

"No. Is that simple enough? And don't call me Bill. I go by Billy. All my friends call me Billy. I preferred you called me that."

"Okay, Billy. If you aren't guilty, why are you charged for these egregious acts?"

“What egregious acts?” Billy asked. He turned to Sara Sue. “Baby, I can't let you go into debt like this. It has to be a simple mistake by somebody.”

Sara Sue started to reach her hand across the table but pulled it back.

"We aren't going into debt. I would if that is what it takes, but we don't have to do that."

Confusion clouded Bailey’s face.

Sara Sue continued, "Niki is paying for Mr. Kemp's services. Whatever they end up being, no strings attached."

"Why? I don't even know her," he wondered.

"But I do. I can't say that we are best friends, but she was in the office when the sheriff called. I didn't know what to do."

Tears streaked down Sara Sue's face, the angst over their situation almost too much to bear.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry, but I still don't even know what I'm being accused of doing."

Kemp cleared his throat.

"Do you know a young lady by the name of—" Kemp checked the piece of paper from his briefcase. "Flavia Foster? Miss Foster is a student at Central High School. A senior. Age seventeen."

"I know her. I mean, I know who she is. I've never had her in one of my classes. I teach trigonometry as well as coaching."

"Do you often stay late at the school after football practice?" Kemp asked.

"Every day. That is when I review film. I look at the day's practice and whatever tapes we have of our next opponent. That usually takes at least two hours."

Sweat formed on Bailey’s brow. His hands, though constrained, shook.

"Were you alone during these film sessions?" The attorney asked.

"Most of the time. Sometimes Jimbo will stay and help me break down our opponent's schemes."

"Jimbo?"

Bailey explained. "Jimbo Wax. He's our offensive coordinator and assistant head coach. He's very good at spotting trends based on formations."

"I don't understand, Mr. Bailey. I was not a member of a football team. What do you mean?"

Bailey sighed, wanting to return to the conversation about the charges against him. But the lawyer was going through this methodically.

"Formations. An offense can line up in several ways. The standard once was two wide receivers, a tight end, a fullback, and a running back. Five different skill positions plus the quarterback."

Kemp took notes and nodded but said nothing.

"Now, teams will line up with any combination of those five skill positions. One of the most popular is three wide receivers, a tight end, and a running back. Though they may be five wideouts and no running backs."

"Okay," the attorney said, indicating for Billy to continue.

"The quarterback can take a snap under the center, standing right behind the guy who snaps the ball or he may back up and take it. If he backs up, that's called a shotgun formation."

"Sounds complicated. I would imagine all these different formations can cause a bit of confusion for the opposing team," Kemp said.

Bailey chuckled.

"To say the least, that's where Jimbo helps. In high school, when a team lines up in one particular formation or another, they tend to run certain plays from the different formations. If we know which play the opposing team will run, then we can adjust our defense to stop it."

"Fair enough." Kemp flipped to the next page of his tablet. "Did anyone else join you in the film sessions?"

"Sure. Sometimes one or more of the players volunteered to stay. I really don't encourage their participation, though. It’s more important for them to keep up with their studies."

"Anyone else?" Kemp asked.

Billy became frustrated. "Look, if you have a question, then ask it. Quit beating around the bush."

"All right. Did Miss Foster ever accompany you in these film sessions?" Kemp did not look up from the tablet in front of him.

"What?" Below blurted. "Why would a cheerleader want to watch film of our opposition? Are you crazy?"

Kemp remained calm. "So, you are aware that Miss Foster is a cheerleader at the school. I thought you said previously that you did not know the young lady."

"I said I didn't know her well. I damn sure know that she's a cheerleader. I have eyes and I have a brain."

Kemp was nonplussed. "Do you know the names of all the members on the cheerleading squad?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I never gave it much thought." Sweat poured off Billy forehead.

"But you know that Miss Foster is on the squad? Is that right?"

"I've already answered that," Billy’s voice raised in tone. "Why wouldn't I? She is probably the prettiest student in school."

"Hmm," Kemp mused. "You think she is attractive? Is that what you said?"

"Sure," Billy answered. "Wait. Not like that. I'm not a dirty old man. She is attractive, but not in the way you're insinuating."

"I'm merely restating your words, Mr. Bailey. You are the one that said the young lady was pretty."

"She—I—" Billy did not care for the direction of the conversation, particularly in front of his wife. "Is all this necessary?"

"Sir, what we've been through so for is child's play compared to what the prosecutor will ask. It's better if I know how you will answer the questions before he asks them."

"But you're twisting my words. You're making me sound like a pervert."

The attorney looked at the sheaf of papers in his briefcase. "The prosecutors believe you are a pervert, Mr. Bailey. The alleged facts in this case assert that you are a pervert, Mr. Bailey."

"What alleged facts?"

"Miss Foster had informed the officers she accompanied you after practice in these film sessions, and you seduced her on several occasions." Kemp looked at the papers.

"I what?" Bailey exploded, rattling the restraining chains.

The guard opened the door to the small conference room. "Everything okay?"

Kemp held up one hand. "Everything is fine, officer."

The guard stepped back outside and shut the door.

"Mr. Bailey, if I am to be of service to you, then you must remain calm. Theatrics will not help you or your case."

Billy steamed. "But she is saying she and I had sex during the film sessions. That's preposterous. I mean, it's just crazy."

"Does that mean that you never had sex with Miss Foster after practice?" Kemp asked.

"Hell, no. Of course not. She's lying. I don't know why she's lying, but she's lying."

"Can you prove that she is being untruthful?" The lawyer now studied Bailey’s face.

"Sure. I mean, no. I can’t prove I was alone if I was by myself? But she's lying." Billy realized how much trouble he was in.

He looked at Sara Sue.

"You believe me, don't you? I need to know that you believe me."

"Yes, I do, Honey. I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you and believe in you."

"Thank you."

The coach appreciated his wife more in that moment than ever before in their marriage.

He turned to Kemp. "How do we prove she is lying?"

Kemp hesitated. "It will be difficult, I'm afraid. Just from a preliminary review, Miss Foster seems to be a popular student of impeccable character. Most people will tend to believe her, including a jury."

"But she's lying. I don't know why, but she's not telling the truth."

Kemp nodded. "And that is precisely the problem, Mr. Bailey. Why would she lie and offer false allegations? What does she have to gain with such accusations?"

"She—She—" Billy hesitated. "I don't have any idea. Other than saying hello in the hallway when she passes, I've never spoken to the girl."

"That's the other problem." Kemp stared at Bailey's face. "She is a girl. A minor. We will not have the same leeway in direct examination we would have with an older woman. There are certain boundaries that we cannot cross."

Billy's heart sank. He could not imagine a worse situation than this.

"What do we do? If we can’t call her a liar to her face, and tell the world she's a liar, what can we do?" His voice sounded that of a defeated man.

"The first thing we can do is ask the judge for bail."

"When will that happen?" Bailey asked.

"If we're lucky, we'll get in front of him tomorrow morning. We’ll be able to present our side then. Do you have a passport?"

"Yes," Billy answered. "Why?"

"One condition of bail will be that you surrender your passport to the court. It does not want you to flee the country."

Billy bared his head on his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. How much will bail be?"

"Have you ever been in trouble before? Any other accusations like this, even as a juvenile?"

"No. Never. Of course not. I'm not a pervert."

Kemp held up a hand.

"If you aren't telling the truth, the judge will know. It is better that I find out from you rather than finding out from him."

"I told you. I've never been accused of anything close to this before."

"Good." Kemp seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Based on my experience, you will get out on bail. That's the good news."

"And the bad news?" Although Billy was not sure that he wanted to hear any more bad news for the day.

“The bail will be set between a quarter of a million and a million dollars. Maybe a little higher, but not much.”

Billy shook his head, his mind heavy. "It doesn't matter. I can't afford either of the amounts you mentioned. We’re wasting our time even going through the motions. I suggest we cancel the hearing."

Kemp formed a weak smile. "The money has been guaranteed, Mr. Bailey. It is already pledged."

Billy could not believe the words he thought he heard. He stared at the attorney, a puzzled look across his countenance.

"Miss Dupre will pay for your bail."

"But—" He looked at Sara Sue. "What is this all about? I don't even know the lady."

Sara Sue wiped her tears.

"I know her. If she told Mr. Kemp she will post the money, then I believe it will happen. At least, you'll be out of jail until the trial. We'll have that time together."

Billy turned to the attorney. "How long before the trial?"

Kemp hesitated. "It depends. At this point, I don't know what evidence they have. It may take some time to review the evidence and build a case to refute it."

"Then get me out," Bailey blurted. "I will find out what is happening and why. I'll make that little liar tell the truth."

"No. You can't do that. You can't go anywhere near the victim, the alleged victim. That will be a condition of your release. If you violate that order, you will land back in jail."

"But we have to get her to tell the truth. I can't teach and coach with this hanging over my head. What will the students and players think?"

"I can't control that," the attorney replied. "Neither can you. You won't be coaching or teaching until this matter is concluded."

"I have to work. We have bills to pay. I'm not running from this. I will tell everyone that I am innocent." Bailey's face turned beet red.

The attorney pulled another sheet from his briefcase. "I spoke briefly with the president of the Central school board. If you continue your work at school, there will be inevitable inadvertent meetings between you and the alleged victim. It's not that big of a campus."

"You were talking about my future without consulting me? Is that legal?"

"Very much so. I am your attorney, and I must act for your benefit. In this instance, I did that."

Billy fumed. "And what did you and the president decide? That my career is over?"

"You will be suspended with pay for the duration of the case, including any appeals should the jury returned an adverse verdict."

"You mean a guilty verdict, don't you?"

The lawyer nodded.

"But I'm not guilty. Now I have to sit at home watching Gilligan reruns while that liar goes on with her life as though nothing has happened. That's not fair."

"You can help your case by telling our investigator everything you know. Don't hold back anything, no matter how embarrassing it might be," Kemp advised.

"I guess this Dupre lady is picking up the tab for the investigator." Disgust poured off of every word.

Kemp chuckled. "In a way, yes. Miss Dupre is the investigator for this case."