It was a bleak day. Not just weather wise. I was watching from a window that looked out upon the entrance of the COURT HOUSE as day one of the trial dawned. It was like waiting for the hearse to arrive at the graveside. The crowds had already begun to gather in front. Some of them were morbidly curious onlookers. Some of them were protesters. A violence was brewing between those who were there in support of TABITHA and those who wanted justice to be done quickly and efficiently. The toxic mixture of outrage and revolution was flowing through them.
âYou want to see her put on the performance of her life?â asked Lydia.
I smiled at the idea. Even then both of us expected Tabitha to arrive with airs and graces. I wanted to get a close observation but, as a witness, I had to be kept under lock and key with Lydia, who had been instructed by her superiors to accompany me at all times. I was glad to have her with me. At night in the hotel room I was contained in, my mind gave way to lonely thoughts.
To my surprise, although there were many calling the Boss Lady a murdering psychopath and baying for her blood, there were so many others who still hailed her as some kind of hero. She was a hero to the people of the Shanties for being bold enough to provide them with what they needed to survive. She was a hero to victims of sexual assault and violence given her own story, and her willingness to do whatever it took to open peopleâs eyes to what was a huge problem in the Shady City. That was no excuse though. In the eyes of the law two horrific crimes do not cancel each other out. She wasnât in the Shanties any more. She was in the north, and there she was seen as a monster.
I was busy watching a woman screaming angrily, âJust take her out and hang her!â She had a child of about eight by her side doing the same thing. They could have been genuine but there was something set-up about those particular protesters, something that didnât look quite right to me. Their clothing, positioning, banners and dialogue was all too neat. It wasnât beyond the OWEN family to have set up stooges among the protestors to deliberately heighten the emotion.
âHere she comes,â said Lydia with a hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts.
Cries of blood lust rang out as the crowd pushed forward.
Clang! Metal shuddered as someone outside hurled something heavy at the transport van. It caused Tabitha to jerk forward feeling as though it would hit her head. She could hear the angry voices outside, although slightly muffled. They called her the slut of the Shanties. They wanted to hang her. They wanted to burn her like a witch of old. Mob mentality had consumed them completely. More bangs against the walls as the transport drove through the crowd to the entrance of the Court House.
Fists were pounded against the sides. There was a splat as someone threw the rest of their latte at the narrow windows. She would never admit it to anyone but Tabitha had never felt so alone. There was no one around to support her. No Penns, no aunts and not even DENNIS. It had all come to being enclosed within a metal box. The rabble of hatred heightened and the venom became more potent.
The crowd had pursued the van to the door.
âGet her out!â they chanted. âGet her out!â
Tabitha wanted to remain within the metallic tomb but the van shuddered to a halt.
The two escorting Bailiffs took their time from the slam of their doors to walk around the van and open up the back doors.
Clank, twist and suddenly the rabble became roars. As Tabithaâs eyes adjusted to the light she could see the sea of hatred she was cast into.
Without saying a word the Bailiffs fetched her and pulled her onto her feet. She was dragged out of the van. They slapped at her, the pulled at her hair and they kicked at her.
There was a plant though. There was one among them on Owen Inc. coin to deliberately keep the crowd irate. It was he who threw the can of soup â full. It hit Tabitha across her face causing her to fall over. The Bailiffs halfheartedly pushed the crowd back but whilst they were lifting Tabitha onto her feet, another â feeling bold because of the rabble-rouser â ran at her and kicked her in the face.
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Before the violence of the crowd escalated further the Bailiffs finally rushed her inside to await her trial.
It was a long and painful walk from CPD custody into the hands of the Law Makers. The wounds were not nursed. She wasnât even checked for damage. Judge Doyle wanted Tabitha to remember she was now in her domain.
Many a broken spirit had entered the draughty, emotionless halls of the Court House. Even more were broken before the bench of JUDGE DOYLE. The question on my mind then was how long would Tabithaâs spirit stand under the scrutiny of the Judgeâs icy gaze.
Being unable to attend the trial personally until it was time for my own statement the following account is made up of the statements of those in attendance and court transcripts.
The hall was awash with nervous energy as Tabithaâs trial came to session. The only one who seemed unaffected by it was the lady herself who sat on her bench as though ready to watch a production play out before her.
ATTENDANCE:
Judge Doyle: Presiding
City Prosecutor
Counsel for the Defendant: RONALD OWEN
Defendant: Tabitha MC
Clerks and Bailiffs
Clerk: âAll rise! Court is now in session. Judge Doyle presiding.â
In a flurry of black robes, The Judge entered the room and for a moment the slightest breath could be heard. Karyn Doyle took her bench; her terribly scarred left eye and the wound on her neck on full display. Tabitha glared at her but The Judge didnât respond.
The trial was opened under the proper procedure. The charges were read:
Embezzling city funds.
Inciting violence.
Murder in the second degree.
Murder in the first degree. Three counts.
Judge Doyle addressed the murder charges first.
Judge Doyle: âMurder in the second degree of Mel Wallace â a clerk of this court.â
Mel had been the woman I had gotten the video of. Tabitha and MARCUS PENN had taken her to Clifton Alley running along the side of the club and had slit her throat. The video footage of this incident had been the final piece of evidence the LAW MAKERS needed to bring Tabitha in. It was second degree because the eldest Penn triplet had been the one to wield the killing blow.
Judge Doyle: âMurder in the first degree of Rob and Linda McInney, as well as Lynn Watson.â
Rob and Linda were Tabithaâs parents. It had been Dennis who had told me of their demise at the hands of their daughter as well as the nanny who had been put in charge of the wayward girl.
The Judge addressed Ronnie Owen as Tabithaâs counsel.
Judge Doyle: âHow does your client plead?â
Ronnie Owen: âMaâam, I would like to ask the court to allow us more time to prepare for this trial. There are extenuating circumstances and my client warrants a proper defence.â
The City Prosecutor stepped forward.
City Prosecutor: âMaâam, the defendant was read her rights upon arrest. She was informed of all charges and my colleague has had ample time to prepare.â
Judge Doyle: âIs your client ill informed?â
Ronnie Owen: âNo maâam but on the charges of first degree murder there was an investigation at the time. John Watson, husband of Lynn confessed to the murder of Rob and Linda McKinney as well as Lynn Watson.â
Judge Doyle: âThe confession was revoked and further evidence found. There is no statute of limitations on those charges.â
Ronnie Owen: âMaâam I call for a mistrial until I can be properly prepared for this new evidence,â he tried.
The man with the Owen name really did try.
Judge Doyle: âI suggest, counsellor, that you make your client aware that there are consequences for her actions. The charges stand. If you are under prepared then you need to familiarise yourself with your clientâs case history.â
It seemed Dennis had tried to navigate his way around CPD by telling them everything he knew about the death of Tabithaâs parents, including where they were likely to find the remains. His testimony gave the Law Makers reason to add the murder to Tabithaâs charge sheet, potentially sending her away even longer. The coronerâs report confirmed stab wounds. The nannyâs husband was pardoned and released. He suddenly had a solid alibi for the night in question.
Ronnie Owen: âAs far as the charges of inciting violence, the so-called Free Fall Massacre was not a massacre at all. It was declared a terrible, drug induced accident at the time.â
The Free Fall Massacre was an incident that occurred at the Beckingridge Tower just as the Knock Knock club reopened. There were whispers of Tabitha being the cause of the deaths of 59 people.
Judge Doyle: âHow does your client plead?â
Ronnie Owen: âMaâam I do urge the court to approach this matter with a clear head.â
Judge Doyle (unmoved): âHow does your client plead?â
Ronnie Owen: âNot guilty, maâam on all charges.â
Judge Doyle: âReturn to your benches counsellors, and we will begin.â
Both lawyers gave their opening statements. The City Prosecutor as expected painted Tabitha as a monster. He described her as spoiled, murderous and lacking moral conscience. He asked the jury to consider that she didnât care for the people of the Shanties the way she would have it seem. He asked the jury to consider the bodies she was responsible for but not yet charged with.
Ronnie called objection on this.
The Judge sustained. The trial was to be kept to the matters at hand.
The City Prosecutor mentioned my own part. He also discussed the death of Madeline and the statement I had given to the police at the time, discussing Tabitha having put the knife in Maddyâs hand, forcing me to defend myself against her.
Throughout the statements, Tabitha kept her gaze forward to The Judge. Doyle ignored her. During the City Prosecutorâs statement she was seen whispering something to Ronnie. I found out later that she was asking, âWhere the fuck did they find Ma and Pa?â
In Ronnieâs opening statement he asked the jurors to keep an open mind. He urged them to remember the shelters, food programs and support the Knock Knock club provided.
âThat wasnât that psycho bitch that did that. That was the Baroness,â someone in the audience called out.
Doyle slammed the gavel down. The noise of its fury echoed.
Judge Doyle: âI will have no outburst in my court room. Do that again and you will be removed.â
(She turned to the sea of judging faces that were the jury). âThe jury will disregard that comment.â
Ronnie continued. He played the angle of desperation anyone who had been to the Shanties would be familiar with. I wasnât sure how much the jury would buy the rags to hero, standing for the little man story of Tabithaâs. She was, after all, a girl from Filton with every possible advantage that money could buy.
Even if he stood there all day explaining Tabithaâs reasoning, what her aunt tried to do for her, and those she had protected in her own sordid way; her parents were still butchered, the Free Fall Massacre had still happened and Mayor Feltz and his seventeen year old daughter Amber were still missing. This was all at Tabithaâs hand. The trial was going to be sticky.
I was most curious to find out Chick Owenâs thinking behind allowing his brother to defend her. It would have been so easy to put an Owen in there and watch her fall but from what I could see Ronnie was defending her to the best of his ability. Being kept in confinement at the time prevented me from calling on The Cappy to find out.
And with that Ronnie was pulling every lawyer trick he could, starting with a little public relations damage control. The trouble was, Tabitha was as guilty as sin. How long would the crowds outside calling her name stand in solidarity when the final hammer fell?
A chilling breeze blew through the Court Room. There was no comfort to be found in the dungeon of mahogany benches. Even the thick wine-coloured curtains that hung over the windows offered little cheer. The Boss Lady herself watched from the defendantâs bench like some wild animal in a zoo. There was anger in her grey eyes, that much was obvious but there was something else there too. It was something deep rooted. Fear perhaps? Like most cornered animals her first thoughts were escape.
ATTENDANCE:
Judge Doyle: Presiding
City Prosecutor
Counsel for the Defendant: Ronald Owen
Defendant: Tabitha MC
First Witness: EB
Clerks and Bailiffs
City Prosecutor: âThe city calls their first witness, maâam.â
Judge Doyle urged him to continue.
City Prosecutor: âWe call ERNEST BECKINGRIDGE to the stand.â
There was a shuffle from the benches and a murmur of voices as a middle-aged man with greying, fair hair, dressed in a grey pin stripe suit crossed the aisles and was first to step up to the witness stand. He had warm features but great bags underneath his eyes. He was a man who had seen a lot. His shoulders were hunched like he had the weight of the world on them.
City Prosecutor: âMr Beckingridge, you are CEO of the Beckingridge Financial Firm correct?â
Ernest Beckingridge: âYes sir, thatâs correct.â
City Prosecutor: âCan you please tell the court what happened the night of the Free Fall
Benefit held at BECKINGRIDGE TOWER in City Main? In your own words.â
The prosecutor looked back at the jury and scanned their faces for reaction.
Ernest looked to Tabitha.
Ernest Beckingridge: âMy partner and I werenât in attendance. We were going to LUEN on an early flight the next morning.â
Ronnie stood and raised an objection.
Ronnie Owen: âMaâam, I fail to see what relevance this witness testimony has when he wasnât there at the time.â
City Prosecutor: âThe witness has a keen insight into what happened. Not just on the events of the Free Fall but also what happened afterwards.â
Judge Doyle: âOverruled. Mr Beckingridge you will answer the question.â
Ronnie sat back down as Ernest cleared his throat. He took a sip from the glass of water that had been provided for him.
Ernest Beckingridge: âI was awoken around eleven pm by my secretary Bernadette. She informed me that clients had been leaping from the top of the tower.â
City Prosecutor: âDid she explain as to why?â
Ernest Beckingridge: âA number of years ago an employee of the firm embezzled a large amount of money from the company. The case is still ongoing. We were lucky to have a new investor pull us out of the water as it were.â
The City Prosecutor stroked his chin.
City Prosecutor: âAnd these replenished accounts were the ones the defendant stole from?â
Ernest Beckingridge: âYes sir.â
The prosecutor raised his voice so that it boomed across the hall.
City Prosecutor: âCould you please tell the court who had been this guardian angel for the firm? Where had this rescue investment come from?â
Ernest Beckingridge: âOWEN Inc.â
âWeâve got a great chance here,â said Mr Heath to his wife.
Mrs Heath agreed. It was a huge opportunity for them. It was one of the biggest investment accounts they had ever handled but her mind had been elsewhere. âHave you heard from Taylor?â she asked.
Their son, a 21-year-old finance student at FILTON University, was supposed to be coming home to their City Main apartment for the weekend but he never turned up that afternoon. They had of course tried contacting him but received no response.
âHeâs a man now,â Mr Heath reminded her. âHeâs probably gone off with his friends for the weekend instead.â
âBut itâs not like him not to call and let us know,â replied she.
Mr Heath glared at his wife. She was thinking of checking her phone again.
âThis is the fifth time,â he barked. He was counting. Mrs Heath reached into the Luen designed clutch bag she carried, encrusted with real diamonds and removed a silver device. Still no notifications.
âAlbert is waiting at home for him in case he turns up. He will be fine,â assured Mr Heath. What his wife didnât know was that Taylor and some of his uni friends had been tasked with couriering some poor quality heroin into the Shanties â âneedlesâ they called it locally, because it was mostly injected. Mr Heath was beginning to think Taylor and his friends hadnât taken the proper precautions. Their instructions had been to wear old clothing, not to wear jewellery or carry expensive items and speak to no one but their contact. Mr Heath didnât like involving his son, but a group of youngsters could blend in better at Kirkton Apartments â where the exchange was to take place â than a business man from the north would. Besides, one day Taylor would take over his fatherâs business and so he had to learn all aspects of it. Taylor was no stranger to it anyway. He had been an effective courier since age twelve. He enjoyed the money and unlike many of his peers he didnât have everything handed to him. He had to take on his share of the work. He earned his lifestyle and at great risk sometimes. Taylor Heath was not pampered through life â no sirree. Still, the Shanties were dangerous and it had been the first time Taylor and his friends had taken goods that far south. But it was also where the call for needles was highest. The people of the Shanties didnât want to escape the poverty trap. They wanted to hide themselves and lie in it.
But they had bigger concerns. They had brought in Lynette Fullerton, of the Fullerton Bridge and the construction company that handled the biggest projects across the city. A stern old bitch with a real nasty bite Mr Heath observed, but with enough money to make life very sweet indeed. There was also Joshua Coby. New money. The young man was a software developer and when his apps and game designs went big he made more money than heâd ever seen in his life. More money than he could handle suggested Mrs Heath. Thatâs where the husband and wife team came in. They would be able to help him manage such a big fortune.
The Beckingridge Financial Firm had set sights on a project in the south that would brighten the area; make it a trendy spot for good time folk rather than a den for thieves and whores. It had been done before in Swantin. The Chamberlain Docks still belonged to prostitutes and traffickers at night but during the day there was a buzz in the place and the fashionable walked the streets.
To do this the firm needed investment in construction and design. Thatâs where the mismatched team of Fullerton and Coby would come in. The Heaths were experts at forming relationships.
Tabitha stood watching over the meeting. They were losing the support of Lynette Fullerton.
âYour family brought the city together. They built bridges Mrs Fullerton. We would love for you to be a part of connecting the north and south,â Mr Heath was saying, linking his fingers together to demonstrate his point. Fullerton was still sneering at the very idea of being associated with the Shanties. Now it was Mrs Heath who was making the plea.
âAll the way to City Hall there have been cries to rejuvenate the south. On his campaign trail Mayor Feltz has made great strides in showing what improvements it could make to the poorest in the city.â
Lynette scoffed. Mrs Heath bit her lip. She probably shouldnât have brought politics into it. She chastised herself. How likely was it that a Fullerton was a Feltz supporter anyway?
Joshua took over. âI can see what you are trying to do,â he said thankfully. âThe Fullerton Bridge worked wonders for the Cardyne area. It made us part of the Coldford community.â
Mr Heath beamed. âYes and we can do the same again. We could be at the forefront of a new, modern Coldford.â
The door to the balcony opened briefly, allowing loud music and screams to enter briefly. The meeting downstairs continued uninterrupted. The door had closed again as quickly as it opened.
Tabitha rolled her eyes. âWhat a fucking douche bag,â she said referring to Mr Heath.
REGGIE PENN crossed the overpass carrying a woman over his shoulder. Drugged? Drunk? Probably both. She was one of the BECKINGRIDGE FIRM workers from the party upstairs. Reggieâs skin was ghoulishly pale in the low light compared to Tabithaâs darker complexion.
âItâs going to break,â he said.
Tabitha raised an eyebrow. âI bet you it doesnât.â
Reggie looked down at the meeting below. âDrink says it does.â
Tabitha smiled. âYouâre on.â
Reggie carried the woman to the ledge and launched her over the side. She plummeted down and crashed onto the table below.
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âHuh,â Reggie shrugged. âThe table didnât break.â
âTold you,â replied Tabitha. âNo cheapo shit in here. Itâs reinforced.â
Meanwhile, downstairs shock had captured the meeting as the four stared at the body.
âWhat the?â Mr Heath recognised her. She was one of the client support team. They assumed she had gotten too drunk and accidentally fell from the over pass.
âIâll call an ambulance,â said Mrs Heath. All Mr Heath could think of was that there was no way they were getting their investment now.
The meeting was interrupted once again. A young woman, probably in her early twenties had entered from the upper floor. She was wearing an expensive red dress and grinning at them with a gap-toothed smile that seemed more chilling in its whimsy.
âWhatâs going on here?â Mr Heath demanded to know.
Tabitha looked at the body of the client support girl. âIâd say it looks like youâre fucked. All four of you.â She turned to Joshua Coby. âWell, except maybe you. I actually kinda like you.â
âIâm calling the police!â Lynette announced.
âOh shut the fuck up you ugly old troll,â Tabitha growled.
Mr Heath raged. He charged across the room to the girl. He drew himself closer to her but she was not intimidated. Instead she wrinkled her nose.
âJesus fucking Christ,â she said. âWhat have you sprayed yourself with?â
Mr Heath growled, âYouâre dealing with a very dangerous man here.â
Tabitha chuckled. âIs that so?â
âYouâre done!â Mr Heath yelled. âYouâre done!â
Before he could strike Tabitha there was a firm grip on his hair, tugging at the roots and his head was pulled back so sharply pain fired through the muscles of his neck. He had made an insurance claim for whiplash before. It seemed this was what it actually felt like.
âWhoâs done?â asked Reggie, scowling at him.
âI was just getting started,â commented Tabitha matter-of-factly. âThis fucker is killing my groove.â
Mr Heath began to sob. He lost care of looking like he was in control for the sake of his wife and clients. Beckingridge was so large and vast it was unlikely anyone could hear him.
âPlease,â he begged. âWhat do you want?â
Tabitha shook her head at Reggie. She opened her arms and shrugged.
Reggie laughed. He flicked Mr Heathâs bottom lip.
âBluh bluh bluh. Help me!â Imitated the youngest triplet in a high-pitched voice.
Tabitha turned to the others at the table.
âYou may want to listen up because I have my own pitch to give.â
Still with a firm grip of his hair, Reggie led Mr Heath back to his spot at the table. Lynette recognised Reggie. He was one of Reginald Pennâs triplets but she wasnât sure which one. Not that it really mattered.
She had had dealings with the Penns before, or at least her son did. Francis was leading the Fullerton Construction team and they had just bought a prime piece of land in the north of Coldridge Park. It was the same area the Faulds Building, within which the Penns lived in the penthouse, looked onto.
âThatâs a shame,â Rita, the mother, had mused when she saw the construction signs go up. âI really like that part of the park. It is always kept so nice and itâs so lovely in spring.â
The beautiful garden she had started a committee to plant was to be bulldozed over to make way for industrial units.
Reginald wouldnât stand for Rita looking onto grey buildings that would no doubt lie empty for some time attracting the artist youth and their spray cans. He wouldnât have her beautiful view from the top of the city spoiled. She would keep her gardens.
Reginald approached Francis with request to move on but he refused.
The equipment was brought in. The area was blocked off.
Reginald made another bid for him to move on but the Fullerton blood was thick and stubborn. Francis still refused.
Then, the day before construction was to begin the fences, signs and pop up office were taken down. By noon that day it was as though Fullerton construction had never been there. Lynette received a call from Francisâ wife Hannah. He had been taken to Coldford General Hospital. His right arm and four fingers on his left were missing. He said it had been an industrial accident but Lynette knew that wasnât true.
âYou may want to take a seat,â Tabitha urged. âIâm heading this meeting now.â
âWho are you?â Asked Lynette.
âIâm just a simple girl who wants to make you a counter offer. You see the so-called rejuvenation project these fucktards are talking about is a crock of shit. It would raise property prices in the area but in doing so put thousands of people out of a home. The houses would become unaffordable for the poorest like they did in Swantin. Where else are they going to go?â
âWhat else do you suggest?â asked Joshua. He was trembling but he tried to remain focused.
He spoke to the Boss Lady but he kept his eye on Reggie Penn, who was now pushing Mr Heath into his chair so forcibly his head was almost in his lap.
âEither you splash the cash or give your life.â
âYou cannot threaten us!â Lynette sneered.
âWhoâs threatening?â Tabitha asked. She turned to Reggie. âDid you hear me threaten anyone?â
Reggie shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
âI donât threat. I make promises and I promised the good people of the south I would bring them compensation.â She sharpened her attention to the party-goer. âDid you know that your granddaughter is befriending girls in my neck of the woods, deliberately getting them hooked on drugs and coercing them into starring in porn films? After she makes money from them she leaves them high and dry, addicted, and humiliated without a pot to piss in. You will pay for the lives you and your like have ruined one way or another. You could say Iâm collecting for charity. I just happen to be a little aggressive in my fundraising.â
âWhy should we give anything to you? Get out of here!â barked Lynette.
Reggie snarled at the construction heiress but Tabitha shook her head signalling for him to take no action. He kept his eyes on Lynette but he was patting Mr Heathâs head and stroking his hair so roughly he was pushing his head into his lap again.
âItâs a pity this place is so damn big you canât hear whatâs going on upstairs.â
âThe party?â Mr Heath thought. âDid those upstairs get started on the closing deal festivities already? Did they know what was happening?â He had heard some music earlier and raised voices but it was a party. That was to be expected. As their captor said Beckingridge Tower was large and a company on such a grand scale needed their walls thick enough and ceilings high enough so that no one could overhear the decisions that were made in that room that affected millions of lives.
Reggie produced a phone from his back pocket and threw it across to Tabitha who caught it in her well-manicured talons. She pushed buttons and switched on the loud speaker. The ring echoed around the hall, much like being caught inside a church bell.
All eyes were on Tabitha. Even Mr Heath who Reggie had allowed to straighten his back but had wormed his fingers around locks of his hair so that his head was held in place.
âHello?â Marcusâ cold voice, absent of emotion, came through the speaker.
âHello handsome,â Tabitha said as though they were having a pleasant conversation elsewhere. âHow are you?â
âFine,â was the eldest tripletâs cool reply.
Things were not fine. Men, women â colleagues of the Heaths â were screaming and crying out. Above the music they could hear a womanâs gargling shriek that sounded as though she was being gutted.
âNegotiations here are starting to get a bit sticky so could you show these people just how fucking serious I am?â
âAlright, take a look to the window there and you will see what your other option is,â said Tabitha.
This time, as mighty as the Beckingridge Tower stood screams could be heard as bodies fell past from the upper floor of the penthouse suite.
A wave of confusion washed over the meeting room. They found it difficult to believe what their own eyes had just shown them.
âSo?â Tabitha asked. âWhatâs it to be?â
Bodies rained from the tower that day. The rich elite of the city were given the choice. Their lives or their money. Most chose to go broke.
âMaybe having nothing will teach them a bit of humility,â Tabitha had said at the time, which was an ironic statement from one of the most egotistical people Iâve ever met.
âWell thereâs some cheques that wonât bounce,â said Reggie with a sardonic grin.
Allow me to offer some rational thinking. Most of those affected by the massacre were owners of corporations and large firms. To give away every penny wouldnât have just left themselves in dire straits, it would shock wave into their workers and clients, and so some brave souls would have chosen not to let that happen. It was this shock wave Tabitha had been hoping for. She wanted to hit Owen Inc where it would feel it most.
Refuse or not. Donate or not. Support their poorer neighbours in the south or not. Either way, blood stained the courtyard of Beck Tower. No charges were brought at the time against Tabitha because she wasnât in the same room. The Penns avoided arrest because the team they had brought with them served witness that the party was drug and alcohol fuelled and things got out of hand.
Toxicology reports confirmed this. No one who survived dared point the finger. Life was going to be difficult enough without their wealth to prop them up though hard times. The police couldnât do anything because no physical coercion could be proven. Forensic accountants couldnât do anything because the funds that had been taken were officially registered as charitable donations. As the Beckingridge Firm stock prices plummeted too, Owen Inc. who had invested heavily were almost brought to financial ruin.
Quickly following the Free Fall Massacre were the attacks on Judge Doyle. Three times the Headliners tried to kill her. They cut the brakes of her car and watched as it rolled into the lake. She didnât drown. She crawled back out of the lake and still she stood. An assault in City Main as she left her offices slit her throat but she managed to escape, seek help and still she stood. Finally, with help from the Macks they tried to catch her in a car bomb. The explosion detonated as expected. They managed to take her eye but The Judge lived. After all was said and done still she stood. The newspapers at the time reported on the assaults. They started to refer to her as the unkillable Judge Doyle.
And so with a political candidate in Mayor Feltz and the Beckingridge Firm at heel, Tabitha had a vice like grip on the city. But politics are dirty and Beckingridge Tower could fall in so many different directions. Enter an iron judge to remind the Boss Lady just how the rules were made.
Coming next: Whilst we catch our breath weâll let the Law Makers take care of business.
 In the meantime, the series is free to read HERE on Vivika Widow Online or you can download for kindle by clicking HERE.
KNOCK, KNOCK: Episode 1: Welcome to the Club
Knock, Knock: Episode 2: Donât Come Knockinâ
Knock, Knock: Episode 3: Sleep Tight Sam
Knock, Knock: Episode 4: Take A Bow
Knock, Knock: Episode 5: A Room With A View
Knock, Knock: Episode 6: Picking Up Strange Women
Knock, Knock: Episode 7: No Kids Allowed
Knock, Knock: Episode 8: Kids These Days
Knock, Knock: Episode 9: Shootinâ The Breeze
Knock, Knock: Episode 10: Calling Last Orders
Knock Knock: Episode 11: Shady City Blues
Knock Knock: Episode 12: Going Down
Knock Knock: Episode 13: Got the Fever
Knock Knock: Episode 14: Laying Down the Law
Knock Knock: Episode 15: Still I Stand
Knock Knock: Episode 16: Start Spilling
The trial of the Knock Knock Boss Lady begins. First up we take a look at the even known as the Free Fall Massacre that saw 59 dead at the Beckingridge Financial Firm. It was a bleak day. Not just weather wise. I was watching from a window that looked out upon the entrance of theâŚ
