Free The Advocate - 02 - The Advocate's Betrayal by Teresa Burrell Page A

was mostly about crimes committed both locally and nationally and the country’s poor economy. Sabre had stopped receiving the paper for that very reason. It was only recently she started it up again. Robberies, bankruptcies, foreclosures—it was all depressing. She was about to lay the paper down when a picture of a nineteen-year-old young man caught her attention. He was found beaten to death and left on a hillside in Perris, California with the word “FAG” scrawled in the blood and dirt alongside his body, an obvious victim of a hate crime. The authorities seemed to think he was beaten and then dragged behind a pickup across rocks and brush, tearing off most of his skin. A pickup was reported leaving the scene near the north end of Perris, but no license number was obtained.
    Sabre felt disgusted. It was crimes like this that made her consider working as a prosecutor But she knew her heart wouldn’t be in most of it. She was working where she fit best. She tossed the paper on the top of a packed cardboard box and left for juvenile court.
    After they finished their morning calendar, Bob and Sabre drove to the DA’s office to pick up the police report on John’s murder. Sabre read through the report, frowning and shaking her head as she read.
    “What do they have on her?” Bob asked.
    “The murder weapon has her fingerprints on it. It says she used a kitchen knife and left it in the sink. I didn’t see a bloody knife when I was at her home.”
    Bob looked over Sabre’s shoulder and read from the report. “It says the knife was found in the sink, but it had been rinsed off.”
    “That’s strange.”
    “Yeah, she rinsed it off, but she didn’t wipe off the fingerprints. Why would someone do that?”
    “I know. That doesn’t work for me, either. And why would she just leave it in the sink?” Sabre paused. “Wait a minute. When I went inside to get some clothes for Betty, I saw the police officer put a knife inside an evidence bag. That must have been the murder weapon.”
    “That’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. If you’re going to clean up a kitchen knife that you just used to kill your husband, and you’re not going to get rid of it, why wouldn’t you put it away with the other knives? Why would you leave it in the sink separated from the others so it stands out?”
    “That might be enough to get her ‘murder two’ or ‘manslaughter,’ but it won’t get her off the hook. It might take some of the sting out of pre-meditation,” Sabre said as she shuffled through the pages looking for the coroner’s report.
    “What are you looking for?” Bob asked.
    “I want to see what they say is the time of death. Ahh…here it is. They say John died between six forty-five p.m. and twelve twenty-one a.m.”
    “What time was she with you?”
    “She arrived at the casino a little after seven o’clock and she left about ten thirty.”
    “So, conceivably, she could’ve killed him before she left or after she returned.”
    “Yup.”
    “I don’t know. It still doesn’t work for me.” Bob cocked his head to the side and put his index finger to his mouth and mimicked, “Hmm…I guess I’ll kill my husband and then go to the casino, play a few slots, and hang out with my friends. Then I’ll come home, crawl in bed with the bloody bloke, and take a little nap before I call my friends to let them know. Oh, and while I’m at it, I think I’ll wipe the blood off the knife and leave it in the sink for someone to find.”
    “Okay, that doesn’t make much sense, but what if it happened after she got home?” Sabre tried to think like the prosecutor.
    “That might be a little tougher, but let’s think about that. What time did she leave the casino?”
    “Well, we were still inside the casino at ten-thirty and she said she was leaving shortly.”
    “How long a drive is it to her house?”
    “Not that long, maybe fifteen minutes. She lives on the east end of El Cajon.”
    “So, even if she