Warning! This story is a work of erotic fiction written for the purpose of pure entertainment. The story contains sexually explicit behavior between consenting males. If you are not of legal age to read such material or are offended by this type of writing do not read any further.
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Christmas Cocks By The Rumpranger
Chapter 29: Arraigned
After weeks of confinement at the Bexar County Adult Detention Center in San Antonio the District Attorney finally dropped the Capital Murder charges. In less than twenty-four hours I would be handed over to the Army. The Army had been conducting its own criminal investigation into my relationship with SGT Miguel "Mike" Alvarez. You see, because Mike was Army issue, both the Army and San Antonio Police were called in initially to conduct a joint investigation into the homicide of SGT Alvarez, United States Army.
During the search of Mike's apartment some of my personal property turned up, including a couple of hunting knives stored in a black bag along with my black riding leathers, helmet, boots and other items. Of course my stuff was there and I didn't deny that. Allegedly, the forensic people found traces of blood on the blade of the smaller knife and my leathers. By way of DNA the police linked the blood to me and Mike. Testing revealed that both of our blood was on the blade of the knife and his on the leathers.
As far as I was concerned there was a good excuse for blood on the knife blade. During one of our outings down at his folk's ranch we had taken one of those silly blood brother oaths, cutting each other's fingers and then mingling our blood. I couldn't recall how the blood got on my leather gear.
Yes, I know mingling our blood was really dumb, especially in a time when AIDS is a concern. To be playing the blood brother games was irresponsible. Also, the fact that my stuff was in an NCOs apartment was not cool and a major concern for Army investigators. We were in the Army and Army policy forbids enlisted persons to fraternize with officers and NCOs, especially me being in student in training. Mike and I were just two young men who enjoyed each other's company. We attended the same university during our off duty hours and studied together. Oh yes, we were sexually attracted to each other and active, but I couldn't disclose that to the police.
Some might say we were in love, but of course that would be against Army policy. Then there were the eye witnesses who were sure they could place me at the crime scene. Supposedly, one witness saw me kneeling over the body with a knife in my hand. Several people interviewed by investigators picked me out of photos arrays and eventually a police lineup. The description of the perpetrator was that he was dressed in black leather wearing a black ski mask, yet the witnesses were able to ID me as the killer.
The murder occurred at the convenience store gas station off post where Mike and I had first met. I suppose that the witnesses seeing me before dressed in black leathers on numerous occasions and in the company of Mike immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was the killer. The killer was a Caucasian male approximately my same height and build. Who knows, maybe I would have jumped to the same conclusion.
But why did Mike's family even presume that I would kill Mike. Of course the distraught after being questioned by police decided I'd murdered Miguel, telling investigators malicious lies about Mike and me. The stories were greatly enhanced from the truth of the matters. Yes, we had argued in the presence of some family members; however, there was never any mention by the mother or sister about the possibility that Mike and I were involved as boy friends. They never once mentioned that we slept together on visits.
The family wasn't going to sully Mike's name. The police wouldn't accept the word of my family that I was with them in Illinois during the time the murder took place. They simply dismissed that as family covering for family. I had automatically been pegged as the bad guy. Yep, it appeared that I was in deep shit and the poop I was sinking into was getting deeper. Because I'd decided to lawyer up immediately the Army investigators and police were sure I had something to do with the murder and had set out to prove it.
The police theory of means, motive and opportunity was that I'd taken leave as an alibi with the intention of returning to murder Mike. They could not establish a clear motive for murder as I had nothing to gain from Mike's death. As for means and opportunity the police theorized that I rented a car and drove back to San Antonio where I killed my friend with the knife found at Mike's apartment. Once I committed the murder I then drove back to southern Illinois to cover myself.
My attorney made quick work of that silly ass theory; he found it to be preposterous and set out to prove it. The reason the police suspected that I drove down and drove back up was to leave no trail of me taking an aircraft back and forth. A roundtrip from my uncle's home in southern Illinois to San Antonio and back by way of ground is almost two thousand miles and would take at least two days; thirty-five hours nonstop with minimal stops for gas. Although possible the theory was not plausible. The attorney made the comment that the law enforcement officers investigating the case were better fiction writers than investigators, and very good writers at that.
With a quick and sloppy investigation by the police complete I was charged and arraigned within the legal time constraints. At the post-indictment arraignment the Bexar County DA charged me with Capital Murder, setting bail at 2.5 million dollars. Of course I pled not guilty and ask my court appointed attorney to request a lower bail. "Denied," the judge said and then he set the date for the preliminary hearing.
That was the last time my court appointed attorney would represent me. I gave him my dad's phone number and pleaded with him to do one last thing for me: call my dad. Within twenty-four hours my dad and uncle flew to San Antonio in my uncle's private plane.
I was allowed to meet with my dad for few minutes. I told him I didn't murder my friend. He believed me, but admonished me for being such an asshole with the Army and police, not answering questions and cooperating. The next day my dad and uncle flew up to a ranch somewhere in north Texas owned by one of the prominent capital murder attorneys in the state.
After drinks and telling the attorney what they knew about my case, which wasn't much, they hired him and all flew back to San Antonio that night. They got hotel rooms close to the court house and the next day set out to prove my innocence.
The next day the attorney met with me at the jail where I told him as much as I knew, and told him I had nothing to do with Mike's murder. How could I. I was with family when Mike was murdered. I did have to disclose to my attorney about the relationship between Mike and me. I ask him not tell my family that little tidbit unless absolutely necessary. He assured me that would not be a problem for him.
After couple days investing my attorney made a new more reasonable bail request. Of course that was denied. These people in San Antonio were bound and determined to fry my Yankee ass for murdering one of their native sons and a war hero. After the bail hearing back to my cell I went to await the hearing and then the trial; a trial that was sure to be months down the road.
My dad and uncle flew back to Illinois to await word from the attorney. After days of private investigator work and a shit load of motions by the powerful attorney I was suddenly released for insufficient evidence. But there was a caveat to being released on my own recognizance: I was still a person of interest.
At least I was out of jail. Hearing the news my dad and uncle flew in for my release from jail with some casual civilian attire. That night my attorney, dad, uncle and I went out for a big Texas steak dinner. The first decent meal I'd had in weeks.
At the table I began asking questions, "So what's next?"
"Tomorrow morning you report back to the Provost Marshal at Fort Sam where you turn yourself in; otherwise, they'll pick you up and charge you with being absent without leave or desertion. I'll accompany you to the PM's office and let them know that I'll be representing you if the Army decides to charge you under the UCMJ."
"Cool," I said.
"The PM knows me, so I don't think the Army wants to charge you with anything. If they do I'll turn this thing into a media circus with your permission of course. I'll start holding news conferences and be bringing smoke upon the Army for the way you were treated initially."
"Wow! You'd do that for me?"
"I'd do it for you or any of my clients I represent as well as the law. The Army knew all along that you were on authorized leave and should have done all possible to protect you, but they decided to turn you over to the lions."
"Should I have answered their questions initially?"
The attorney looked at me before saying, "Son, you did what the constitution guarantees. Should you have answered their questions, that's a decision you'll have to live with. If it had been me in your shoes I would have reacted the same."
My dad spoke up, "Your uncle and I are flying out early in the morning son. You're in good hands. Please don't get in any more trouble this has cost me enough, and call me everyday."
"I won't dad. It's back to the Army. I'll keep my mouth shut and buckle down dad. By the way does anyone know what happened to my cell phone and other stuff?"
"Here is a new cell with plenty of minutes on it," my dad said handing me a new cell phone.
"What about my other stuff? You know my riding leathers, motorcycle and other stuff," I asked.
"The cell phone is still considered evidence as are the leather gear and other of your personal items found at the Sergeant's apartment. The motorcycle I can't answer that question; however, I'll make inquires tomorrow," The attorney said, "where was it located last you saw it?"
"I left it covered and locked in the parking area at Mike's apartment when I went on leave at Christmas time," I replied to the last part of the attorney's question. I gave my attorney a description of the bike as well as the license number.
"Okay, I'll make some calls in the morning after we get you back to the Army," the attorney said.
With dinner concluded we all piled into the rental car and headed for the hotel where all the men were staying. Dad had gotten me a room earlier in the day. When I arrived in my room my Army uniform had been cleaned and lay folded on a chair with my boots on the floor.
I took off my civilian clothing and headed for the shower. As I stood in front of the mirror I could see I'd lost weight. Once I finished shaving I noticed that my hair was not regulation and needed to be cut. I'd do that first thing in the morning. The soft bed felt great compared to what I'd been sleeping on at the jail. God, it felt good to be free, but inside I was mourning the loss of Mike.
I lay there staring at the ceiling with only light from the bedside table illuminating the room. With tears in my eyes I couldn't help wonder why Mike's family had turned against me. I think I knew the answer: I was a gringo. I wasn't part of their family and sure wasn't part of their culture. I think they were convinced for whatever the reason they told the police that I'd killed their son and even though I'd been released they were still sure I'd murdered him.
What a crock of shit, but who knows maybe I would have had the same thoughts and feelings if I were in their shoes. I was trying to look at things through their eyes, not holding a grudge. They were grieving as I over the tragic loss. I tried to get to sleep knowing I had an early day coming. I was a little afraid of what lay ahead for me when I got back to Fort Sam. I was sure there was at least a Field Grade Article 15 maybe a Court Martial in my future. Oh well, I guess I'd know my fate in a few hours.