Although there was only one death, due to a rifle shot, many convicts were injured, mostly by other prisoners. Once it was all over, the staff found fifty makeshift weapons in the yard.
“Hey, you got a minute?”
Surprised that she had company, Peyton turned to find Lieutenant McCalley standing in the doorway. Shelley wasn’t at her desk—probably out having a smoke—and Peyton had left the door open. She’d been too anxious to shut herself in, had wanted to hear and see everything going on around her, even though the administration building was beyond the electrified perimeter that enclosed all the level-four inmates. She’d never see or hear a disturbance involving Virgil from where she worked.
“Sure.” Concerned by the serious expression on McCalley’s face, she gestured that he should take a seat. “What’s wrong?”
He walked into the room and sat down but got right up again. “The disciplinary action we’re taking against John Hutchinson?” John again? “Yes? What about it?”
“A few more details have come to light.”
Finally able to forget, for a moment, that Virgil was entering the prison at this very moment, Peyton came around to sit on the edge of her desk. “What kind of details?”
“One of the C.O.s who helped break up the fight came to see me this morning.”
“Who—Ulnig?”
“No, Rathman.”
“And?”
“He’s changing his story.”
“Why do you think he’s doing that?”
McCalley began to circle the room but paused at the picture of her father, even though she knew he’d seen it many times before. “No clue. He says I misunderstood him. That he doesn’t believe Hutchinson over-reacted. He’s now claiming Riggs was trying to come after Hutchinson with a sharpened toothbrush. He said if Hutchinson hadn’t kicked Riggs, he would’ve been shanked.”
“But Riggs had no weapon. We already established that.”
The lieutenant ran a hand through his hair, mussing the only long part—the bangs he usually combed off his forehead. “Rathman produced the toothbrush Riggs supposedly had.”
“But it was Riggs who was jumped by Weston Jager. It’s also Weston who has a history of violence, both inside and outside the prison. Why would Riggs have a shank?”
“Rathman says he knew what was coming and wanted to be prepared. When it finally happened, he decided it was time to get himself out of gen pop and into the SHU, where he wouldn’t have to watch his back anymore. If that meant he had to stab a C.O., he was willing to stab a C.O.”
Peyton scowled as she tried to assimilate this information. “Why didn’t Rathman explain this before?”
“He said he told me what he thought had happened but has since realized he made a mistake. He said Riggs must’ve dropped the weapon after he hit his head. Weston Jager picked it up, and once Rathman saw Weston with it, he didn’t believe it had belonged to Riggs.”
“That part I can understand.”
“And Rathman’s been able to prove it was Riggs’s weapon, not Jager’s.”
“How?”
“Riggs no longer has a toothbrush in his cell, for one. And his cell mate insists he spent hours and hours at night sharpening something he wouldn’t show him.”
“Oh, jeez.” Rubbing her temples, Peyton scrambled to figure out what should be done. “Have you talked to Hutchinson about the toothbrush? I mean…if he saw it in Riggs’s hand and felt threatened by it—if that’s why he lashed out—why didn’t he say so?” Instead of all that garbage about adrenaline and the heat of the moment…
“I don’t know. I haven’t gone back to him yet. I wanted to speak with you first, inform you that we might need to reevaluate.”
“Reevaluate what?” It was the warden. He’d come to her door. Peyton had met with him earlier to assure him she was prepared for “Simeon’s” arrival. They’d also gone over the Hutchinson situation but, apparently, everything wasn’t as it seemed.
“The suspension of John Hutchinson,” she said.
His forehead rumpled as he walked into the room. “What’s going on?”
Hearing Shelley’s voice out in the hall, Peyton closed the door to give them some privacy while she explained. When she’d finished, the warden cursed in disgust.
“Sounds to me as if you didn’t do enough research,” he said to McCalley. Then he turned to her. “And you didn’t make sure he did enough research. Which means you were both derelict in your duty.”
“This is the first we’ve heard about Riggs having a weapon,” Peyton said.
“You should’ve known before, should’ve kept digging until you had all the facts before you handed down a decision.”
At the time, they’d believed they had all the facts. They’d interviewed everyone, spoken to John repeatedly, held off on making a decision until they felt confident they’d chosen the right course of action.
“Hutchinson is one of us,” Fischer said. “That means he deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
But just this morning, the warden had said they needed to make an example out of him, emphasizing that abuse would not be tolerated. He’d reacted the same way they’d reacted to the information available, which made him just as “derelict” in his duty.
Not that he’d ever admit it. He always acted as if he never would’ve made a particular mistake—after it was proven to be a mistake.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “So…now that the situation’s changed, how do you suggest we handle it?” Peyton wanted him to take full responsibility for the decision, so he’d have no room to blame her later if it was wrong.
“That’s obvious, isn’t it?”
She kept her mouth shut and waited for him to explain.
“Call Hutchinson in, apologize to him and make sure he understands that there’ll be no disciplinary action. And while you’re at it, try thanking him for risking his life to keep order.”
McCalley shot her a glance before focusing on the warden. “But there are still a lot of unanswered questions, sir. Shouldn’t we continue to investigate?”
“And draw even more attention to the fact that you suspended a man without sufficient cause? Hell, no! I don’t want our officers to think we won’t stand behind them when they need us most. What’ll that do for morale around here? We’re a family. Riggs had a weapon. Hutchinson acted to disarm him. That’s all we, or anyone else, need to know.”
Protect the family…. Peyton wondered if the C.O.s who’d scalded that mentally ill prisoner back in ’92 had relied on getting “the benefit of the doubt” when they’d been scrubbing the skin off his legs. She preferred to believe staff over prisoners, too, but checks and balances were an essential part of the system. “John didn’t say anything about a shank, sir,” she said. “I’m sure he would’ve mentioned it if it had been a real threat.”
“We have enough to worry about without going after our own,” Fischer retorted. “As long as no one can prove John acted out, we’re fine to assume he didn’t.” He turned to leave her office, but she called after him.
“Sir—”
He turned back. “Have I not made myself clear, Chief Deputy?”
“Yes, you have, but—”
“Just do as I say and quit arguing for a change,” he snapped and left.
Apparently the brutality issue had sidelined whatever he’d come to say. Or he wasn’t willing to discuss it in front of McCalley. Maybe he was so disappointed in how she’d handled the Hutchinson problem, he didn’t want to talk to her about it at all anymore. Lately, they seemed to disagree far too often. Only by sheer will was she able to implement some of his directives.
“You heard him,” she told McCalley. “Give Hutchinson a call.”