“Let’s socialize with Mr. Jones at the jail,” Zach said. “While you were leisurely dining, I stopped by the courthouse and copied the district attorney’s file.”
“What did you find?”
“I’ll let you look it over in the car.”
I’d never seen Zach’s car. He owned a white Japanese compact. The engine didn’t start until he turned the key in the ignition. He handed me the file.
“See what you think,” he said.
I opened the folder. There was a one-page arrest record, and the names of the five property owners mentioned in the criminal charges. Beside each name were several dates and the words “video surveillance.”
“Do you think the police were watching Moses for several weeks and videotaped him each time he tied up at one of the docks?” I asked.
“No. Video surveillance refers to images from security cameras. That’s how they knew which night Moses was at each location. Each count has a specific date. While I was waiting for you, I called three of the five homeowners. They were nice enough to talk to me. That’s how I found out about the surveillance cameras. The homeowners association has a contract with a security agency that services everybody.”
“What else did you find out?”
“That Moses Jones did not have permission to trespass. One woman said she was terrified that Jones was going to assault her and burglarize her house. She saw his boat floating at the end of her dock early one morning and called the police. He was gone by the time they arrived, but that’s when the investigation started.”
“Did she talk to Moses?”
“None of them did. The two other owners I reached didn’t know he’d been there until the security company checked the recordings for all the houses on the river. Jones was arrested at the dock of a homeowner who didn’t answer the phone.”
I turned to the next page in the folder and found the statement Moses gave to Detective Branson.
“Moses doesn’t talk anything like this,” I said after quickly scanning the four-paragraph statement with my client’s crude signature at the bottom. “These are the detective’s words put into Moses’ mouth.”
“Stylistic objections aside, what is your opinion of the statement?”
“Moses admits tying his boat up at the docks. I know he’s guilty, but the way the detective crafted the statement bothers me.”
Zach glanced sideways at me. “Are you turning into a left-wing criminal defense lawyer before my eyes?”
“No, I don’t want to miss anything else. I didn’t pay enough attention to the charges.”
“Should we file a motion to suppress the confession?”
“I don’t know if there are legal grounds.”
“Research it before we appear in front of Judge Cannon tomorrow afternoon.”
We arrived at the jail complex. I pointed to a parking area.
“That’s near the entrance for the cell block where he’s kept. Didn’t you handle a criminal case when you clerked for the firm?”
“Remember, I didn’t clerk in Savannah.”
I felt embarrassed. Zach had told me he had clerked in Los Angeles, not Savannah, but I hadn’t paid attention to the details. I started to apologize, but that would have only reinforced my blunder. We entered the waiting area. A different female deputy was on duty. I showed her the order from Judge Cannon, and a deputy took us to the interview area.
“I’ll have the prisoner brought up,” the deputy said.
In a few minutes the door to the cell block opened and Moses came in. He saw me and smiled. I couldn’t help feeling some compassion for the old man.
“Mr. Jones, this is Zach Mays,” I said. “He’s a lawyer who is going to help you.”
“Call me Moses,” the old man said. “No one calls me Mr. Jones unless they be wanting my money, which I ain’t got none.”
We entered the interview room.
“What you do about my boat, missy?” Moses asked before we were seated. “It be in the same place as before.”
I’d forgotten my promise to check on the status of his boat.
“Uh, that’s not been decided. We’ll talk to the district attorney about it and include return of the boat as part of the plea bargain in your case. Mr. Mays has been working hard on your case and has some things to tell you.”
Zach told Moses about his interviews with the homeowners and Ms. Smith’s plea offer. When the subject of jail time came up, Moses looked puzzled.
“She want me in this here jailhouse for six months more? I done been here ’bout two months.”
“Which is long enough,” Zach said. “I think they should let you out for time already served and put you on probation for less than three years.”