Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

go this far.”
    The room fell silent for a moment and I wondered what would happen next. For an instant, nobody moved. Then Fuller reached into his lap and brought a .357 magnum into view and shoved the four-inch barrel into his mouth. I heard Sloan scream, “No,” and start to rise from his chair as the firearm discharged. The force of the blast blew away most of the back of Fuller’s head, scattering brain, bone, and tissue on the headrest of the chair and the wall behind him. His open eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, but saw nothing.

Epilogue
    Three months later
    As the enormity of the prison scandal washed over the Department of Corrections, and as public pressure mounted, Governor Nelson Strand ordered the Utah Attorney General’s Office to convene a state grand jury to investigate. Not to be outdone, the Utah State Legislature mounted an investigation of its own. The emerging picture wasn’t pretty.
    The grand jury didn’t limit its focus to the activities of the Commission as Sloan had hoped. The ongoing investigation broadened into a critical examination of the management and operations of the entire department. While the grand jury’s final report wouldn’t be released for several more weeks, there had been enough leaks to the press to set off a volume of public criticism.
    Everybody wanted a sound bite, and nearly everyone had gotten one. Community activists and key state legislators were busy, almost daily, conducting print and television interviews decrying department management and calling for the usual sacrificial lambs. Politicians couldn’t buy this kind of media exposure, and they were reveling in it.
    I found Sloan alone in his office, quietly packing his personal property into cardboard boxes. The governor had found his first sacrificial lamb. Others would soon follow. Sloan’s farewell party had been a low-key affair with colleagues and old friends dropping by to wish him well and say good-bye—a sad ending to what had otherwise been a brilliant public career.
    We spoke briefly about his favorite hobby, fly-fishing; about long-neglected travel plans; and about spending more time with his six grandchildren, before I got around to what I’d really come to see him about.
    “I know why you’re here, Kincaid, and I’m telling you, it’s not necessary,” he said.
    “Perhaps, but I can’t help but feel I’ve let you down. If I had done a better job, maybe we could have nipped this thing before it ever got started. And maybe Levi Vogue would still be alive.”
    “I doubt that. This kind of scandal happens every once in a while, regardless of how well people do their jobs. Temptation is a regular part of the job. Difficult working conditions and lousy pay only add to the problem. It happens in police departments and sometimes in our prisons. Let’s face it, in the criminal justice system, agencies are always going to have a few rotten apples in the barrel. It’s the nature of the beast.
    “In some ways, I feel a sense of relief—like a heavy burden has suddenly been lifted off my shoulders. It’s not exactly how I envisioned going out, mind you, but it’s nothing I can control either. I suspect that the director of institutional operations will probably be next, and you can plan on some personnel changes at the warden level as well. It might even reach down and bite you on the ass, but I kind of doubt it. In some ways, Sam, you’re a royal pain in the ass. But you’ve done a first-rate job for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect you.”
    I helped him carry the loaded boxes to his Volvo station wagon, where we said our good-byes. Like most people caught in an awkward moment, we promised to stay in touch, knowing that was unlikely to happen.
    ***
    As for the two surviving members of the Commission, each stood accused of three counts of conspiracy to commit first degree murder. In addition, Schumway had been charged with two additional counts of first degree murder in the deaths of Charles Watts and Milo Sorensen. Each charge carried a potential death sentence, and prosecutors have given every indication that they intend to seek the ultimate penalty. Schumway has steadfastly maintained his innocence. He pled the Fifth Amendment and refused to answer any questions when subpoenaed before a state grand jury.
    The same could not be said of former Utah Board of Pardons member William Allred. His team of lawyers had been negotiating with prosecutors almost from the day he