David P. Miraldi - The Edge of Malice: The Marie Grossman Story

The Marie Grossman Story

David P. Miraldi

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Copyright 2020 by David P. Miraldi

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For Ginny, Emily, and Dan

During the course of an attorneys career, there are usually a handful of cases that stand out as the most memorable. And from that select group, there is usually one that sits atop of the list. For me, that one case involved Marie Grossman. I knew and admired Marie before the events described in this book ever happened. Since then, my respect for her has only grown. It was an honor when she allowed me to tell her story.

This book is one of creative nonfiction. Like other works in this genre, the events described in this book are true, but the dialogues and thoughts of the characters have been re-created. In order to protect their privacy, I have also changed the names of several people involved in the story.

With those few explanations out of the way, I hope that you will find as much inspiration in Maries story as I have.

Disoriented and groggy, Richard Thompson rolled over on the bare mattress that elevated him a few inches above the worn carpet. His tall body rested diagonally across the mattress, one leg dangling over its edge like an oar poised above the waters surface. The room was cold despite the periodic firing of an electric heater whose orange filaments made more noise than heat. During the night, someone had thrown a red plaid blanket over him, and he hugged its rumpled mass to his chest.

At first, he wasnt sure where he was. Cardboard covered the rooms one broken window and diffuse light peeked from its periphery, giving Richard just enough illumination to identify the shapes of the furniture. He squeezed his eyes shut while shaking his head, hoping that this combination would jump-start his brain. He raised his head and instantly felt woozy. When the dizziness had passed, he realized that he was in Christophers apartment and it was morning.

He and Christopher Martin had gotten high the night beforesomething theyd been doing regularly for the past six months. Although his familys home was just a few blocks away, hed decided not to walk back there last night. Sure, it had been coldDecember nights in Cleveland usually werebut hed been wasted. Stoned and alone, hed have been an easy target for one of the gangs that roamed his neighborhood. Hough could be a dangerous place at any hour of the day, but after midnight, it was no place for someone to take a strollgun or no gun.

Last nights weed had been stronglaced with hash, if you believed Christopher, but who knew? Christopher was a bullshit artist and not to be trusted; yet, time and again, Richard cast his lot with him.

They were both nineteen and had known each other since grade school. Neither had a regular job; when they needed money, they robbedexcept they never called it that. For them, it was going out and making money. Richard had branched out a little by selling weed, but he was a small-timer, the last link in a chain of suppliers and middlemen.

Christopher was short, stocky, and muscular. His constant sneer warned of a latent anger that could surface quickly. Christopher was fearless and without conscience, qualities that made him an able partner. As a kid, hed struggled in school and disrupted the classroom, leading to several suspensions and his inevitable dropping out. After that, hed survived by his cunning on the street.

Richard had come to crime by a different route. Unlike Christopher, he had been raised in a stable family. His parents, both industrious people from Louisiana, had migrated to Cleveland seeking better-paying jobs in the 1960s. His mother was a faithful Baptist who took him to church every Sunday until, as a teenager, hed refused to go anymore. His father was also a strong presence, working a variety of jobs and coaching youth basketball teams in his free time. Despite their hard work, they were still living in Hough and struggling to pay their bills. Young guys working the street had more to show for their efforts than his parents, an irony not lost on Richard.

His future had initially looked bright. He had been a high school basketball star and had been offered a full athletic scholarship to Purdue. However, his basketball skills had been both a blessing and a curse. His high school teachers didnt require him to do much of anything; theyd pass him in order to maintain his athletic eligibility. Although the world had its rules, Richard soon believed that they didnt apply to him. In the end, one teacher had given him a failing mark in a civics course and he hadnt graduated with his class. Although hed made up the class in summer school and received his diploma, his scholarship had been yanked, with little hope of a future reinstatement. To compound things, hed gotten his girlfriend pregnant and he was now the father of a baby girl.

Then there were the drugs. It all started by hanging out with the wrong guys. He had begun using pot and coke in high school, sometimes getting high before basketball games. After he left school, his drug use had steadily increased until it dominated his life. He wasnt exactly sure when that had happened, only that it had. He now lived to get high and would do whatever he needed to support his habit.

Today would be like any other. He and Christopher would smoke the rest of their weed and then buy more. They were both broke, which meant that they would eventually have to make some money. They were good at that.

* * *

Twelve miles away in Lakewood, Ohio, Marie Grossman was beginning a day that promised to be busy. The forty-five-year-old wife and mother of two was scheduled to spend her entire workday in meetings at the Cleveland Clinic. After that, she would rush directly to Hawken School, where her younger son would be wrestling in a high school meet. She had risen around 7 a.m., showered, and dressed in a rust-colored business suit. By 8 a.m., she was backing her blue, two-door Mustang onto Lake Road for the drive to the Clinic.

As daylight began to push away the darkness, a morning fog reduced visibility to less than two blocks. She assumed that once it burned off, the weather would revert to what Clevelanders came to expect in Decembergray overcast skies with temperatures hovering around freezing. Usually, the only variable was the amount of wind and rain. Today, temperatures were predicted to rise into the upper forties.