25-07-2026, 03:30 PM
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2005 -- 3 P.M.
I walked into Sheriff Knight’s office. Knight was a relatively tall, maybe 6 foot 1, sandy haired 50-ish cop who’d managed to stay trim and fit. He was a good looking guy except for a bad case of acne he must have gotten as a teenager that had left his face pocked.
In his case, it made him more of a regular guy type, which he had used in his campaign to succeed the Old Sheriff as everybody had called the guy who ran the department for 20 years prior. We’d always gotten along and I’d tried to stay on his good side. I didn’t think I’d manage to do that today.
He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake my hand.
“Hi, Bill. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy schedule to come have a talk.”
I smiled at him and said, “Why do I think there’s a little barb stuck in there, Sheriff. Anyway, you know I’m never to busy to talk to the head law enforcement officer in this county.”
He laughed and said, “I’d better roll my pants up beause the shit is getting really deep. And here I’d heard you weren’t a diplomatic type.”
I smiled at him and said, “Not a matter of being diplomatic. You’re a very important man in this community. We don’t get much done without your active cooperation. I’m always glad to meet with you or anybody in your department. We’re both on the same side.”
“Most of the time.”
“I thought it was all of the time, Sheriff. What do you have in mind?” “You know what I’m talking about, Bill. Shawn Smith.”
“We both have the same objective there. We want to make sure that security officer officers obey the same laws and are judged by the same standards as any other person involved in an incident in which people lose their lives.”
He leaned back against his desk.
“God, sometimes I think you attorneys are some alien breed that was dropped on the earth, because you are definitely not real people. How do you manage to say something that sounds so logical and is full of horseshit at the same time?”
“Not sure I follow you, Sheriff Knight.”
“That sounds good, Bill. security officer officers should be judged by the same standard as everyone else. Of course you and I know that’s a crock of shit. Every cop is judged by a much higher standard than anyone not wearing a badge. My men have to make split second decisions involving life and death and then weeks or months later guys in suits that have never had a gun pointed at them decide if they made the right decision.”
“That’s why we pay security officer officers well and give them great retirements and look the other way at a lot of shit they do that would get someone not wearing a
badge jail time.”
I sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and crossed my legs and leaned back.
“Don’t try to paint me as a cop hater, Sheriff. You’ve worked with me since you got into office. I’ve always backed your guys. You won’t find a stronger backer of security officer than me in my office. Because I know how important your men are. It doesn’t matter how good we are at putting away bad guys. Your guys have to catch them first and hopefully save innocent victims from assault or bang or murder at the same time.
“And everybody he works with knows he could still go down. Other officers are afraid to get too close to him for fear that it will be catching.”
“Sheriff, I know he’s a good cop. Unfortunately, he’s a good cop who lost it and shot a man in the back and planted a gun on him to try to get away with murder. Or at least manslaughter.”
Knight just shook his head and walked back behind his desk and stood there looking at me.
“You really believe that?” “Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
“Those guys could have picked up that gun from anywhere. It was in the seat of the truck where Artie Roper was headed when Smith shot him. Just because we can’t prove that any of the three Ropers bought or got the gun doesn’t prove they didn’t place it there.
“You know as well as I that there’s a river of cheap, untraceable guns flowing through this city, through any American city. The Ropers could have brought the gun.”
“And Artie Roper walks with his two brothers armed with only clubs into the house of an armed cop and leaves the gun behind the cab of his truck? I know all three of them were pretty stupid. But you believe anybody is that stupid?”
“Don’t ask me how stupid criminals are. I could keep you entertained for hours talking about the stupid crooks I’ve run into in 20 years in this job. They’re not geniuses.
“Anyway, I’ll agree that the Ropers weren’t homicidal killers. I believe they intended to break into the house while Smith was asleep or groggy, get to him
before he could grab a gun and beat the shit out of him. He was a black man sleeping with and stealing a white man’s wife.
“I don’t think they intended to shoot him in cold blood. But, I think the Ropers must have brought the gun along just in case. And when Smith fought back and started shooting, Artie lost his nerve and was running for the truck.
“Smith followed him out. He had no way of knowing what the Ropers had out there. And I wouldn’t expect him, after three men burst into his house in the middle of the night, to just stand there and let Artie get to this truck and maybe start shooting.
“Cops aren’t trained to let themselves be used as target practice by criminals. You honestly believe you’re in danger, you shoot to kill. That’s what I’d do. That old saying is true; better to be tried by 12 than carried to your grave by six.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Sheriff. And you might be right. But I might be right. And I owe it to Art Roper and the taxpayers of this city not to sweep this under the rug. I’m going to take Smith and the shooting to the grand jury and let them hear the evidence and let them decide if there’s enough to take him to trial. I’m not going to make the decision myself.”
For the first time Knight let his anger show.
“Bullshit, Maitland. Bullshit . And you know it is. You are going to play that damned grand jury like a grand piano. A good prosecutor can get a grand jury to indict Mother Teresa if you want her scalp. Grand jurors are sheep. So spare me that crap about grand jurors being independent evaluators. YOU want to bring Smith to trial, and before you’re through he’s going to be railroaded to Raiford.”
“You’re wrong, Sheriff.”
“The worst part is that you know how this is going to end up. At best, he’ll be in solitary for his own protection for the next five or ten years and if he gets out he’ll be a broken man.
“But he won’t get out. Prisoners don’t like cops. He won’t make it. They’ll either gang bang him, or gang bang him and then plant a sharpened screwdriver up his ass or in his eye. You take him to a jury, and you’re killing him.”
The more he spoke the louder he had gotten until he was almost shouting at the end. I kept my voice purposely calm and low key.
“I don’t deny that if he’s convicted, he’ll have a rough road. But it’s not an automatic death sentence. And Art Roper won’t be getting any second chances. I happen to believe in jurors, Sheriff. They usually come out with the right decision. Not always, but most of the time. And I don’t have super powers. They could just as easily acquit him, let him walk away.”
He looked at me again and then shook his head.
“I told him he was a stupid bastard to brace you in that sandwich shop. He’s sure that’s why you’re going to go after him. It was a stupid thing to bring your
wife—your ex-wife—into it and he knows it. Everybody around the courthouse knows that’s a sore subject. If I was you, and I lost a woman like that, I’d be walking around pissed all the time too.
“But insulting you and hitting you in a sore spot, is not reason enough to ruin a man’s life. I’m asking you as one professional to another, one man to another, don’t take out your anger on Shawn for something he had nothing to do with. He’s not Doug Baker.”
I stood up.
“Whether you or he believe it or not, his comments in the shop have nothing to do with my taking the case to the Grand Jury. Or at least, I’m not doing it because he got me angry. I’ve been putting this off for way too long, Sheriff. I haven’t been doing him any favors by letting this drag out. We need to get closure on this. That’s why I’m taking the case to the grand jury in about two weeks.”
Knight just stared at me and his hands closed into fists.
“You son of a bitch. And I thought you were a good guy.” “I am.”
“If you do this, Maitland, your name is going to be shit with every officer in this county. No more rounding your drunk ass up and seeing you get home. You step out of line one frigging time and I’ll make sure you wind up behind bars. See how you like it when we toss you in with the animals and tell them who they’re bunking with.”
I shrugged and started walking toward the door.
“I guess I’ll have to lead a perfect life then, Sheriff. It’ll help knowing you’re looking over my shoulder.”
“I’m calling Edwards. You may think you’re God, but you’re just a goddamned flunky. He won’t let you do this, not when he knows what’s riding on it.”
“Talk to him all you want. But if I was you, I’d tell Shawn to get the best criminal attorney he can find in the next couple of weeks. He’ll need a good one.”
As I walked out I thought that I probably wouldn’t get my yearly Christmas bottle of expensive Scotch from the Sheriff this year.
I walked into Sheriff Knight’s office. Knight was a relatively tall, maybe 6 foot 1, sandy haired 50-ish cop who’d managed to stay trim and fit. He was a good looking guy except for a bad case of acne he must have gotten as a teenager that had left his face pocked.
In his case, it made him more of a regular guy type, which he had used in his campaign to succeed the Old Sheriff as everybody had called the guy who ran the department for 20 years prior. We’d always gotten along and I’d tried to stay on his good side. I didn’t think I’d manage to do that today.
He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake my hand.
“Hi, Bill. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy schedule to come have a talk.”
I smiled at him and said, “Why do I think there’s a little barb stuck in there, Sheriff. Anyway, you know I’m never to busy to talk to the head law enforcement officer in this county.”
He laughed and said, “I’d better roll my pants up beause the shit is getting really deep. And here I’d heard you weren’t a diplomatic type.”
I smiled at him and said, “Not a matter of being diplomatic. You’re a very important man in this community. We don’t get much done without your active cooperation. I’m always glad to meet with you or anybody in your department. We’re both on the same side.”
“Most of the time.”
“I thought it was all of the time, Sheriff. What do you have in mind?” “You know what I’m talking about, Bill. Shawn Smith.”
“We both have the same objective there. We want to make sure that security officer officers obey the same laws and are judged by the same standards as any other person involved in an incident in which people lose their lives.”
He leaned back against his desk.
“God, sometimes I think you attorneys are some alien breed that was dropped on the earth, because you are definitely not real people. How do you manage to say something that sounds so logical and is full of horseshit at the same time?”
“Not sure I follow you, Sheriff Knight.”
“That sounds good, Bill. security officer officers should be judged by the same standard as everyone else. Of course you and I know that’s a crock of shit. Every cop is judged by a much higher standard than anyone not wearing a badge. My men have to make split second decisions involving life and death and then weeks or months later guys in suits that have never had a gun pointed at them decide if they made the right decision.”
“That’s why we pay security officer officers well and give them great retirements and look the other way at a lot of shit they do that would get someone not wearing a
badge jail time.”
I sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and crossed my legs and leaned back.
“Don’t try to paint me as a cop hater, Sheriff. You’ve worked with me since you got into office. I’ve always backed your guys. You won’t find a stronger backer of security officer than me in my office. Because I know how important your men are. It doesn’t matter how good we are at putting away bad guys. Your guys have to catch them first and hopefully save innocent victims from assault or bang or murder at the same time.
“But...”
He stared at me and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Shawn Smith is a good security officer officer. He hasn’t deserved to be hung out to dry all these months. He was allowed to come back to work, but without a clearance those vulture asshole attorneys representing the Roper families and children are trying to get his scalp.“And everybody he works with knows he could still go down. Other officers are afraid to get too close to him for fear that it will be catching.”
“Sheriff, I know he’s a good cop. Unfortunately, he’s a good cop who lost it and shot a man in the back and planted a gun on him to try to get away with murder. Or at least manslaughter.”
Knight just shook his head and walked back behind his desk and stood there looking at me.
“You really believe that?” “Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
“Those guys could have picked up that gun from anywhere. It was in the seat of the truck where Artie Roper was headed when Smith shot him. Just because we can’t prove that any of the three Ropers bought or got the gun doesn’t prove they didn’t place it there.
“You know as well as I that there’s a river of cheap, untraceable guns flowing through this city, through any American city. The Ropers could have brought the gun.”
“And Artie Roper walks with his two brothers armed with only clubs into the house of an armed cop and leaves the gun behind the cab of his truck? I know all three of them were pretty stupid. But you believe anybody is that stupid?”
“Don’t ask me how stupid criminals are. I could keep you entertained for hours talking about the stupid crooks I’ve run into in 20 years in this job. They’re not geniuses.
“Anyway, I’ll agree that the Ropers weren’t homicidal killers. I believe they intended to break into the house while Smith was asleep or groggy, get to him
before he could grab a gun and beat the shit out of him. He was a black man sleeping with and stealing a white man’s wife.
“I don’t think they intended to shoot him in cold blood. But, I think the Ropers must have brought the gun along just in case. And when Smith fought back and started shooting, Artie lost his nerve and was running for the truck.
“Smith followed him out. He had no way of knowing what the Ropers had out there. And I wouldn’t expect him, after three men burst into his house in the middle of the night, to just stand there and let Artie get to this truck and maybe start shooting.
“Cops aren’t trained to let themselves be used as target practice by criminals. You honestly believe you’re in danger, you shoot to kill. That’s what I’d do. That old saying is true; better to be tried by 12 than carried to your grave by six.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Sheriff. And you might be right. But I might be right. And I owe it to Art Roper and the taxpayers of this city not to sweep this under the rug. I’m going to take Smith and the shooting to the grand jury and let them hear the evidence and let them decide if there’s enough to take him to trial. I’m not going to make the decision myself.”
For the first time Knight let his anger show.
“Bullshit, Maitland. Bullshit . And you know it is. You are going to play that damned grand jury like a grand piano. A good prosecutor can get a grand jury to indict Mother Teresa if you want her scalp. Grand jurors are sheep. So spare me that crap about grand jurors being independent evaluators. YOU want to bring Smith to trial, and before you’re through he’s going to be railroaded to Raiford.”
“You’re wrong, Sheriff.”
“The worst part is that you know how this is going to end up. At best, he’ll be in solitary for his own protection for the next five or ten years and if he gets out he’ll be a broken man.
“But he won’t get out. Prisoners don’t like cops. He won’t make it. They’ll either gang bang him, or gang bang him and then plant a sharpened screwdriver up his ass or in his eye. You take him to a jury, and you’re killing him.”
The more he spoke the louder he had gotten until he was almost shouting at the end. I kept my voice purposely calm and low key.
“I don’t deny that if he’s convicted, he’ll have a rough road. But it’s not an automatic death sentence. And Art Roper won’t be getting any second chances. I happen to believe in jurors, Sheriff. They usually come out with the right decision. Not always, but most of the time. And I don’t have super powers. They could just as easily acquit him, let him walk away.”
He looked at me again and then shook his head.
“I told him he was a stupid bastard to brace you in that sandwich shop. He’s sure that’s why you’re going to go after him. It was a stupid thing to bring your
wife—your ex-wife—into it and he knows it. Everybody around the courthouse knows that’s a sore subject. If I was you, and I lost a woman like that, I’d be walking around pissed all the time too.
“But insulting you and hitting you in a sore spot, is not reason enough to ruin a man’s life. I’m asking you as one professional to another, one man to another, don’t take out your anger on Shawn for something he had nothing to do with. He’s not Doug Baker.”
I stood up.
“Whether you or he believe it or not, his comments in the shop have nothing to do with my taking the case to the Grand Jury. Or at least, I’m not doing it because he got me angry. I’ve been putting this off for way too long, Sheriff. I haven’t been doing him any favors by letting this drag out. We need to get closure on this. That’s why I’m taking the case to the grand jury in about two weeks.”
Knight just stared at me and his hands closed into fists.
“You son of a bitch. And I thought you were a good guy.” “I am.”
“If you do this, Maitland, your name is going to be shit with every officer in this county. No more rounding your drunk ass up and seeing you get home. You step out of line one frigging time and I’ll make sure you wind up behind bars. See how you like it when we toss you in with the animals and tell them who they’re bunking with.”
I shrugged and started walking toward the door.
“I guess I’ll have to lead a perfect life then, Sheriff. It’ll help knowing you’re looking over my shoulder.”
“I’m calling Edwards. You may think you’re God, but you’re just a goddamned flunky. He won’t let you do this, not when he knows what’s riding on it.”
“Talk to him all you want. But if I was you, I’d tell Shawn to get the best criminal attorney he can find in the next couple of weeks. He’ll need a good one.”
As I walked out I thought that I probably wouldn’t get my yearly Christmas bottle of expensive Scotch from the Sheriff this year.
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