Shocking Murder Mystery Brings Revenge Killings to the Midwest

The following is an excerpt of Deliberate Duplicity: A Detective Sasha Frank Mystery, a fiction novel published January 5, 2021, from Greenleaf Book Group.

Praise for Deliberate Duplicity

“Senior Detective Sasha Frank thinks he has the killer cold, but is he just beginning to unravel the mystery? Deliberate Duplicity is a very well-written first novel and the first of what is sure to be an exciting series.”
— Patricia Hunt Holmes, PhD., JD, author of Searching for Pilar

“Keep your eyes wide open with David Rohlfing’s criminal procedure Deliberate Duplicity and you still won’t see what lies ahead.”
— Sandra Brannan, author of the Liv Bergen Mystery series

Chapter 1

DECEMBER 21, 2017

J’Quon Sweeney headed the Adult Supervision unit for the McLean County parole office. As director of the unit, he was not only responsible for the county’s parole officers but also directly supervised ten parolees. His office was in the McLean County offices located in downtown Bloomington, Illinois. It was 4:10 p.m., and his last scheduled meeting of this late December day was to start in five minutes. The meeting was with a recently paroled felon currently sitting in the front lobby of his office.

J’Quon grew up on the South Side of Chicago and was the youngest of Elizabeth Ann Sweeney’s three sons. He rarely saw his father, Jerome Sweeney. His twin half brothers, D’Jean and T’Jean Adams, were ten years older than J’Quon, and both were convicted felons who had been in trouble since their early teens. The twins had been convicted of robbery and sentenced to three years at Statesville Correctional Facility. When the two were released on parole, they were supervised by Dante Fredericks, a Chicago parole officer. Dante lived nearby and through J’Quon’s half brothers became a big influence in their younger brother’s life. Although he wasn’t his father, Dante spent a great deal of time mentoring J’Quon, guiding him toward sports and away from the gangs that attracted his two half brothers. A rival gang killed them both when J’Quon was finishing junior high.

Dante’s influence got J’Quon to focus on football, and through Dante’s connections he was able to secure a high school scholarship to Mount Carmel High School. Mount Carmel was an all-boy Catholic high school in the city of Chicago operated by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese. J’Quon excelled in school and especially on the football field. He led his high school football team to multiple state championships while he was a starter, and he attracted multiple college offers to play NCAA Division I football. He then received a scholarship to play football at the University of Illinois. He achieved great success at Illinois both for his scholarship as a student and as a standout 6’5”, 255-pound linebacker for the university. J’Quon was twice named to first team all-conference.

Dante was the reason J’Quon wanted to become a parole officer post college. He wanted to focus on helping youth not succumb to the pressures of the street like his half brothers.

At 4:15 he picked up his phone and called to the assistant in the lobby to tell her to send his new project, Charlie Cole, back to his office for their scheduled meeting. J’Quon stood up when Charlie entered his office, shook hands with the parolee, and asked him to please take a seat. He knew instantly where the situation was going. He was going to give Charlie the same advice that he gave each newly paroled felon, although J’Quon knew his advice in all likelihood would not be followed.

For his first meeting with Charlie, he had decided to take a no-nonsense, tough approach and look him straight in the eyes. “I’ve been going over your file,” J’Quon said, “and I think I have a pretty good idea of who you are and what you’ve become. This is your chance to change the direction that brought you here. Do you understand? Otherwise I see you going back to Menard like the countless others in your position who continued making bad decisions.” He waited for a reaction, but Charlie turned to the window and looked down at the traffic on Main Street.

Finally J’Quon broke the silence. “I will help you transition into this community, but it’s up to you to also put in the work. You can be sure that I’m going to be watching you and pushing you toward making the right choices. The choices that will keep you from going back into prison. Okay?” Charlie looked back at the parole officer and nodded. J’Quon knew Charlie felt he had no control of his future, but, in fact, his future was totally in his control.

For the next few minutes, J’Quon completed one of the forms required for Charlie to work at the warehouse job, which his office had found at Higgins Moving & Storage. Charlie sat silently looking around the office. The younger J’Quon in the framed photographs hanging on the walls had much more hair.

Many showed J’Quon and others in football uniforms. There were also several trophies, some from J’Quon’s time in high school.

Charlie earned his GED when he was in prison at Menard. He couldn’t recall going to a single high school ball game, football or any other kind, as a kid. He’d missed out on a lot of things as a teenager due to the decisions he made, but years ago he’d found countless others to blame for his bad decisions. Classic blame-shifting.

Charlie believed he’d been placed on the path he took by his worthless old man, an alcoholic and drug user who swung his fist at him anytime he got within arm’s length. His mother, also a drunk and druggie, wasn’t much better, at least in Charlie’s memory. Both let their three kids fend for themselves. How he and Christine made it out of Chicago’s South Side alive was amazing. Their younger brother, Tommy, wasn’t so lucky. He joined a local gang and was killed by a rival gang member who was never charged with his murder. It remained unsolved like so many others in Chicago. Christine somehow turned out okay though. She had made good decisions. She’d graduated from college and married an Illinois State Police officer. Unfortunately her husband was killed in a traffic accident while on duty. Christine lived in Normal with her two children, which was why Charlie had asked to be paroled to the Bloomington-Normal community.

J’Quon asked, “Can you start work on Monday?” Charlie nodded. J’Quon straightened up in his chair. “I asked can you start work on Monday, Charlie. I need you to answer out loud and not just nod at me. Show some respect, or at least understand the control I have over your life.”

“Yes, I can.” Charlie turned back to watching the passing traffic.

J’Quon already knew that Charlie would end up either back in prison or dead. He’d seen countless parolees who couldn’t adapt. Many never had a chance. Or at least that was how J’Quon looked at parolees like Charlie. He took one final look at the paperwork to make sure everything was right, shuffled it together, straightened the edges before stapling them, and handed the document across to Charlie. “I need you to sign your name at the bottom of page one, page three, and the last page.” He handed Charlie a pen. “You need to write in the date after you sign on the last page.”

Charlie signed his name three times without reading the document. He dated the last page below his signature as he was instructed and handed it back to J’Quon. “Here you go.” He returned to looking out the window.

J’Quon checked the three pages to make sure that Charlie signed where required and then said, “Mr. Cole, could you look my way, please?” Charlie turned to him. “I need you to focus for a few minutes as I tell you a few important pieces of information.”

Charlie sat up in the chair, and the two men stared into each other’s eyes. “I’m here right in front of you,” Charlie said. “What?”

J’Quon sternly replied, “Charlie, you need to listen up and understand that I’m the only person who gives a damn about you. I’m the only person right now who is helping you find a job. You have to know that no business wants to hire a convicted felon, especially one with your record. Everyone in this state knows that Menard is where hardcore felons go to pay their debt to society for the crimes they’ve committed. Regardless of that fact, I found a job for you working for Mr. J. W. Higgins. Mr. Higgins is a Christian who believes that people, even people like you, deserve second chances. There aren’t many people like Mr. Higgins, and you’re not going to mess this up. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Charlie continued staring at J’Quon, showing no emotion.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” J’Quon said more loudly.
Charlie glanced away. “Yeah, I understand.”
“Today is Thursday,” J’Quon said in a calmer voice, “and you start at

Higgins this coming Monday. Actually you start at midnight Sunday night. You’ll continue living at the halfway house a few blocks from here on West Mill Street. You don’t have a car, right?”

Charlie felt that J’Quon was disrespecting him, and he stood even taller in his chair. “You know I don’t have the money to buy one.”

“Yes, I know,” J’Quon said. “That’s why people work and have jobs. To be able to afford cars, food, clothes, go out to dinner, and pay rent or buy a home. Luckily Higgins is just a few blocks from the halfway house that you’re living in, so you don’t even need a car.”

“Yeah, I know that. I know you need money to buy things.” Charlie glared at J’Quon. “I’m not stupid. But I’m gonna be making less than twenty thou a year. How am I supposed to survive and buy those things you say a job lets you have?”

“This is the first real job you’ve ever had,” J’Quon said. “Being a convicted felon for committing armed robberies, violent assaults, attempted murder, and other crimes got you to where you’re now sitting across from me as a recent parolee and former guest of Menard. This is a new starting point for you. The opportunity to reset your life and become a law-abiding member of society.” J’Quon repeated what he said to every parolee who had sat in the chair across from his desk. “Your job is to keep yourself out of trouble. Try to settle into the halfway house and the job you’re starting in a few days. Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, and save as much of the money you make at your job as you can so you can get your own apartment and buy a car. I am willing to invest my time in helping you transition to a person who contributes to this community and society in general. But again, Charlie, it is up to you and only you to do all that you need to do to make it happen. If you don’t put forth the effort, then I will be on you like stink on skunk. And you don’t want that. Understand?”

Though he was furious that he was being treated like a kid, Charlie was smart enough to know that he needed to get along and say all the things that his parole officer wanted to hear. Today wasn’t the time to fight back. “Yes, sir. I understand. I know that I have to take responsibility for my life and that starts today. I’m committed to doing whatever I have to, and the job at Higgins is the start. I appreciate you finding the job for me and Mr. Higgins agreeing to hire me.”

J’Quon had heard the same BS from almost every parolee he’d been assigned. It was as if the Illinois prison system held seminars for prisoners being paroled, taught by former parolees, on what to say at your first meeting with your parole officer. But he knew that he owned Charlie’s ass. “That’s great to hear. As you know, I will be checking in on you regularly. We will have regular meetings that you are required to attend. I can ask you for a urine sample or require you to have blood drawn to ensure that you’re following the rules of your parole. I’m glad you’re taking responsibility, as that is the first step to resetting your life here in Bloomington. I’m sure you’ll do well in your job at Higgins.” J’Quon tried to keep a positive tone in his voice. “You should also be aware that I can walk into where you live, where you work, come up to you on the street, anywhere and anytime, to check on you. I can also ask for a urine sample anywhere, not just here. Like I said, it’s up to you to keep your nose clean and out of trouble.”

“Thank you, sir. Am I good to go now?”

“Yes, you can go, Charlie. I know I’m repeating myself, but you’ve been given a chance to change your life for the good, and I’m here to help you achieve that. Good luck at Higgins.”

They stood up and shook hands, and J’Quon handed Charlie one of his business cards. He followed the parolee out of his office and down the hall. When they reached the lobby, they stopped at J’Quon’s assistant’s desk to set up a time for Charlie’s next appointment. They chose the next Friday morning at 9:30 a.m. Charlie would have gotten off work, and Higgins was just a short distance from J’Quon’s office.

“I look forward to hearing about your first few days at Higgins. Have a nice weekend, Charlie.”

Charlie nodded, turned, and walked through the lobby door and out to the bank of elevators. Clearly neither liked the other, but Charlie would be the one who would have to bend to the will of J’Quon if he was going to stay out of prison.

J’Quon’s thoughts quickly shifted from his meeting with Charlie Cole to the Thursday night poker game that would start at Maggie’s in just over three hours. He looked forward to the low-stakes game in the back room of the downtown Bloomington bar with a few of his friends. The game provided the opportunity to share some of the personal and professional BS they each dealt with over the past week. The key rule of Thursday night poker was that whatever was said during the game stayed in the room. It was a safe space to bitch about what was going on in their lives. J’Quon certainly needed it, and he knew others in the room did as well.

Learn more about Deliberate Duplicity and purchase your copy by visiting deliberateduplicity.com.