The Boys from Archibald Hall

"Where I come from," Sylvester recalled the speech the new president-elect gave the night he'd won the election. "We fight for the equality of all. For everyone to have a choice to live their lives according to their desires. My job as president will be to give more freedom to all citizens of this great country!"

The people cheered and applauded the arrival of their liberator, Ronald Williams. The incoming president was sympathetic to social change and simultaneously soft on business intervention. But there would be barriers to the proposed social reforms with a less than sympathetic Supreme Court.

But three months into the new presidency, a turn of events.

"I'm stepping down for medical reasons." Long time Justice, Mary Collins, had to retire for medical reasons, opening the door for Williams to appoint a cooperative justice of his own.

Then before a replacement for Collins could be found, a murder happened.

When detective Sylvester Holt and his partner Anthony Brown arrived, they thought it would be just a routine crime scene. The truth of this morning had implications for the entire nation.

They found the body in the alley outside Chic, a restaurant frequented by lawmakers, and surrounded by crime scene techs and coroner Madison Peters.

"Morning, Peters," said Sylvester.

"If you knew who was lying here, Sly, you wouldn't call it good."

"Why, who is it?" asked Anthony.

The body was face down on the pavement wearing a long trench coat suitable for the damp fall weather. There were two entry wounds in the back from what appeared to be small caliber bullets.

"Detectives, meet Supreme Court Justice Marcus Welland."

Sylvester and Anthony exchanged looks and came closer to the body.

"This is confirmed?" asked Anthony.

"Other than being a recognizable individual in the lawmaking community, his wallet was found in the inside coat pocket. It's confirmed."

"So it wasn't a robbery?" asked Sylvester.

"I don't know detective, that's your job. But what I can say is that the wallet was found with the body. If there was money in it, that could be missing. You would have to look into financials to see if any credit cards are missing."

"Thanks for getting us started, Peters," said Sylvester. "Looks like we'll take it from here."

—

"Captain, you can't do this! You need to find a way to keep us on the case."

Captain Sheila Scott calmly sat at her desk while Sylvester paced behind the guest chairs.

"Sly, this is out of my hands. This case has national importance so what else would you expect?"

After Sylvester and Anthony worked up the scene, they made their way back to the precinct only to be told that the Federal Bureau of Investigation was taking over.

"Convince them to start a task force. We know the local environment here. We can be of value to the investigation."

Scott frowned and let out a long sigh through her nose as she often did when she was challenged by him. It was something Sylvester learned during their time together and though they were no longer close, he could still cause her to change her mind. She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful. Sylvester could see she was considering asking the FBI to collaborate. 

"Let me reach out to a personal contact in the FBI. Maybe I can get them to reconsider. No promises!"

"Thank you Captain."

Upon exiting the Captain's office, Sylvester was approached by his concerned partner.

"Are we off the case?"

"I'm going to say not yet, Tony. Let's work this like it's still ours by starting with financials and Welland's last known movements. Sheila is going to reach out to the FBI to see about keeping a part of the case."

—

Scott had worked her magic and got the FBI to agree to keep the locals on the investigation. They would cast a nationwide net and Scott and her team would work Justice Welland's personal life.

"You know how many conspiracies are being discussed online because of this murder and Wilson's retirement?" Anthony asked. He was sitting in his cubicle next to Sylvester's, surfing some political blogs.

"I can't imagine," said Sylvester, only half interested. He on the other hand was combing through Welland's phone records for any unusual numbers in the days before his death. "I think I'm going to need to stretch these calls back to a month or more before he was shot."

"Look at this." Sylvester poked his head around the cubicle wall to see what Anthony was looking at. "This blogger, patriot000, has multiple comments in regards to how the retirement and the killing was orchestrated by President Williams himself, just so that he could appoint two new justices and push through his social reforms."

"Tony, they're crazy. The President is not going to murder someone so that he has more power. And how can you convince someone to retire for medical reasons when you could also have them killed."

"But you see, Sly, they can't kill Collins too because then it's too much of a coincidence." Anthony smiled a big grin as if he was saying checkmate and leaned back in his chair.

Sylvester paused and started collecting his thoughts. "No, the Collins thing is real. What it did do was afford someone the chance to take out Welland also. I can see why people may stretch to think the President would want to be involved. After all, power is one of the things people kill for. What else do they say there about who did the killing?"

Anthony laughed, "I wish they just volunteered a name, but they don't. What they do suggest is that Williams had an old army buddy do it for him."

Sylvester recalled that Williams served in Iraq during the search for weapons of mass destruction, and he returned home pretty disillusioned. Williams always credited his time in Iraq as one of his reasons for getting into politics. He didn't just want social reform, he wanted military reform. He wanted the military to serve in more humanitarian efforts to change the perception of America around the world.

"Maybe, but I don't see a connection there. I suppose that's why they call it a conspiracy theory."

Sylvester returned to his computer and expanded Welland's phone records. So far there was nothing unusual about the numbers. Most were from his home, from family members' cell phones, from his work, or other colleagues.

He expanded further to three months back, when Collins announced her retirement, and found a one-off call late at night.

"Found something here," Sylvester announced. "Look up this number for me."

Sylvester rhymed off the digits and Anthony pulled it up. "Archibald Boys Hall."

"What is that? A foster home?"

"Looks like," Anthony brought up the website and showed Sylvester. "An all boys foster hall. Kind of like an orphanage, but it's run by a family."

"Let's make a stop at that foster home and ask some questions."

—

Archibald Boys Hall was about a 30 minute drive across the city and it was getting late in the day. Anthony called ahead to be sure someone would be there to answer questions. A Mrs Archibald, the matriarch of the home, would be available.

They pulled up to a three storey red brick home with a sprawling, treed estate and a black iron perimeter fence with red brick pillars.

"Mrs Archibald said there's a gatehouse around the east side of the property," Anthony directed.

Sylvester make a right hand turn onto a side street and found the gate house. They pulled up to a keypad and speaker box. Sylvester pushed a call button. The speaker let out a quick buzz and the gate rolled gently out of the way. They drove up the driveway and parked.

As they walked up to a side entrance, an older African-American woman opened the door with a welcoming smile. She gave the impression to Sylvester of a friendly and caring grandmother.

"Welcome Detectives," she said holding the door for them to come into her home. The building was furnished with red carpets and a lot of dark wood on stairs banisters, in doorways and trims.

"We appreciate you speaking with us so late in the day," Anthony said.

"Let's sit here and you can asked your questions." She led them off the entrance hallway and into a warmly lit sitting room. She had set out some cups and saucers and cookies on a coffee table.

"Tea?" she asked as they all sat down. Anthony accepted and Sylvester declined.

"No thank you ma'am. Again we appreciate you answering our questions. As you know we are investigating the murder of Justice Marcus Welland. We are following up on a lead about a phone call he received from Archibald Hall."

"Do you have any idea why?" Anthony jumped in before taking a sip of his tea.

"I haven't the slightest idea. Though anyone is free to use the phones. We sometimes have guests stay with us as well, former foster children mostly, especially when they are traveling. Helps them save on the cost of a hotel room. What night did you say Mr Welland received the call?"

"Didn't ma'am," Sylvester said. "But it was the night Justice Mary Collins retired."

"Mmm," she said." I can see your concern. A coincidence like that would make anyone wonder."

"Do you keep a log of anyone who visits?" Anthony jumped in.

"Not exactly. We have a guest book and everyone is encouraged to sign it, but it's not mandatory."

"May we see it," asked Sylvester.

She invited them back into the hallway to a little shelf at the base of a staircase. A book lay open on the shelf and was filled with entries from various visitors.

"Let's see," Mrs Archibald flipped the pages back in the book to the date in question. "That's right. Ryan was here that night."

"Who's Ryan?" Asked Sylvester. 

"Ryan McDonald, he's a former foster child of ours. Like I mentioned, some boys will stay with us when they are coming to town."

Sylvester's mind made a connection and he wanted to test it further. He asked to see the log for the date that Welland was killed.

Mrs Archibald turned the pages and found the date in question. Right there, just like before, Ryan's name jumped out.

"Do you have a photo of Ryan, Mrs Archibald?" Anthony asked while having realized the importance of the date connection.

"Nothing recent," she turned to the opposite wall to a display of pictures. "We like to document some of the bigger moments of our boys lives. 

"Here it is," she pointed to a picture of two men standing in military gear. "This is Ryan here." McDonald stood proudly with a smile on his face, next to another decidedly familiar face.

"Sly, do you see who that is?"

"Hello Mr President."

—

It was public knowledge that the newly elected President Williams came from a hard past.

He was raised in the Archibald's foster home from the age of six after his parents died in a plane crash. No other family members were willing or able to raise him. But that was OK with Williams because his bottom-to-the-top story suited him fine. It made him relatable to all people in society.

That the President was connected to their prime suspect started giving life to the conspiracy theories.

Before they left the Archibald Boys Hall, Mrs Archibald provided them with a copy of the hall photo of McDonald and Williams, a more recent photograph of McDonald and his last known address. Afterward they made their way back to the precinct to get their personal vehicles.

Sylvester agreed to call Captain Scott on his drive home and update her on their work. "No doubt she's on speed dial in your phone despite your failed relationship," joked Anthony.

"Are you kidding? I think she still has a key to my house."

During his drive, Sylvester used his car's hands-free system to call his captain. "Sounds like you and Tony have really connected the dots here," said Scott over his car's speakers. "I guess you'll want me to reach out to the FBI next and get them to lean on the President?"

Sylvester let the question hang for a moment. "It would be premature to assume the president put his foster brother up to this. McDonald could simply have done it himself out of love for his brother and wanting him to succeed."

"Either way," Scott jumped in. "The FBI may be able to get Williams to communicate with McDonald and have him come in for questioning."

Sylvester laughed. "Sure would beat us trying to find him. His address is on the other side of the country and the FBI would need to locate him anyway. If of course they agreed with us on the phone connection and McDonald being in town for the murder." He pulled into his driveway, disconnected his hands-free and switched his phone back to a handset.

He exited the car in the darkness of night and made his way up the walkway to the front door.

"Shoot," he said.

"What is it," asked Scott.

"My porch light burned out." He fumbled with his keys in the dark and managed to open the front door.

Suddenly he was hit hard on the head from behind and he fell through the doorway of his house. The last thing he heard before he fell unconscious was the voice of Sheila Scott.

"Sly…? Sly…!"

—

Sylvester awoke to a splitting headache. He also couldn't move but could tell he was sitting up. He slowly opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He could tell that he was in his front hallway facing his front door and appeared to be tied to one of his dining room chairs. His dim hall light was on overhead. He could also see his cell on the floor and it was smashed to pieces.

"Hello…" Sylvester said. "Who's there? Is anyone there?"

A man dressed in black and wearing a ski mask walked out of the living room and walked from left to right across the hall to sit on the stairs that led to the second floor.

"Why do you have this?" The man was holding the copy of the photograph of McDonald and Williams.

Sylvester considered the question. "Funny you didn't ask where I got it from. Most people would ask where, not why. That gives me an idea of who you are. Were you waiting outside the foster house, McDonald? Did you follow me here?"

Realizing he gave himself away, McDonald removed his ski mask and threw it in the corner by the door. Then he stood and pulled a pistol out of his waistband behind his back. "Guess that means I can't leave you here alive anymore."

"Tell me something, Ryan," Sylvester said, trying to remain calm. He thought using his assailants' first name would help him appear less adversarial. "Did your brother Ronald know anything about this?"

"Come on detective! Ron doesn't know a thing about this. I owed him my life from our time in Iraq. I needed to repay him for all his hard work and winning the presidency."

McDonald came closer and crouched down in front of Sylvester. There was movement to Sylvester's left in the living room. With McDonald's back to the doorway he didn't see it. Sylvester tried his best not to look and kept his eyes forward and watched McDonald.

"So what's the plan after you kill me? Back to the Archibald's to tie up loose ends? You're too deep into this now. The FBI already knows you're connected to the murder."

McDonald just laughed. "And why would that matter? All I needed to do was give Ron the runway to appoint whomever he wanted and his purpose would be fulfilled. Whether they arrest me or not, there will be no connection to say Ron asked me to do it for him."

Sylvester needed to provoke McDonald somehow. "What, you had no faith in his abilities? You thought he needed a helping hand? Maybe he's always needed a helping hand. Mommy and daddy died and the Archibald's had to take on the burden."

McDonald's nostrils flared and he rose up to look Sylvester close in the eye, but he got too close. Sylvester quickly slammed his forehead into McDonald's nose and sent the man flying onto his back. He let go of the pistol and it was sent clattering against the floor as he brought his hands up to his face, holding his clearly broken nose.

Suddenly from the living room, Sheila Scott sprang into action. "Police! You're under arrest!." She quickly turned McDonald to his belly and cuffed his hands behind his back.

"My hero," Sylvester said.

—

Soon he was outside on his front lawn being assessed by a paramedic. Emergency lights bounced off the hard surfaces of his and his neighbour's homes. Anthony pulled up to the curb and quickly exited his car and sprinted to where Sylvester and Captain Scott stood.

"Wow, Sly. You ok?"

"I am now," he said. "Though for a moment I wasn't sure." He turned to Captain Scott. "I'm really glad you still have a key to my house."

"Me too," she said. "And I'm glad you were still on the phone with me when he attacked. But how did you know that insulting Williams would make McDonald react?"

"He said he owed him," Sylvester explained. "Whatever happened in Iraq, McDonald believes he needs to be Williams' defender now."

"So what happens next?" Anthony asked.

"We turn everything over to the FBI," Captain Scott said. "And we let them pursue any possible connections."

Sylvester feigned a look of concern. "You mean I lied to Ryan when I said the FBI knew about him? Why didn't you tell them yet?"

Captain Scott slapped Sylvester on the arm. "Because I was too busy being your hero."