Deadly Dose Read Free

gentleman, professional and charming in the courtroom despite the often unsavory charges his clients faced. Having him on your side was like having a monumental life insurance policy; it cost a lot, but it practically guaranteed that you would be covered no matter what came your way.
    After Ann Miller’s initial interview with police, Wade Smith wisely shut the police out from further contact with his client.
    “Usually, innocent people don’t need to go out and lay down the kind of money that it requires to retain the likes of Mr. Wade Smith,” says Morgan.
    For Morgan, this was just another red flag in what would become a long series of red flags that made him pause and think about who Ann Miller really was. Morgan is a straight shooter. He knows criminals. He knows what they do, and what they don’t do. He also knows how innocent people act and how they don’t act. Most importantly, he knows the difference.
    On that first night, no one asked Ann Miller the magic question: Did you kill your husband? The transcript doesn’t lie. According to Morgan, no one asked the direct question because the detectives did not yet consider her a suspect. They did not go where Morgan says every investigation needs to go—directly into the inner circle of someone’s life. This was, and still is, one of the aspects of the case Morgan just cannot shake. In Morgan’s opinion, not asking this question violated the most basic tenet of murder investigations. You always start close to the victim and then work your way out. He calls this a “universal truth” of homicide investigations. People’s lives are like a series of concentric circles. Most people are killed by someone close to them. Women are almost always killed by a husband or a boyfriend. When women kill, the victims are typically husbands, boyfriends, or children. Logically, investigators usually rule out family members and other people who have intimate relationships with the victim first before they look elsewhere for the killer. Rarely do you ever get to a far-reaching circle where a stranger or serial murderer lurks. Good investigators start at home, and then move on to the workplace, friends, and acquaintances.
    Morgan claims that if he were murdered, he would expect the same protocol to be used in trying to find his killer.
    “Whoever the investigator is, you’re damn right I want him looking at my wife, looking at my family, my children, even my brother,” he says, not hiding the anger as he strains his vocal cords and readjusts his large frame in his squeaky chair.
    When it came to murder Morgan never worried about offending people or hurting their feelings. When he was in charge of a case, he always asked the tough questions. If the people he was interviewing were innocent, they would understand why you had to ask; if they were guilty, they would most likely become indignant. Bingo, you have your answer.
    But for reasons Morgan cannot seem to pinpoint to this day, he felt his colleagues were looking away from Ann Miller instead of at her. It was not his case, it did not happen on his watch, but he could not shake the feeling that this woman might be about to get away with murder if he didn’t do something. He tried to stay out of it. But just like everything else Chris Morgan ever tried to stay out of, he seemed to stumble right into the middle of it.
    “We know Ann Miller didn’t waste any time,” says Morgan. But, “I’m afraid we did.”

INVESTIGATION UNDER WAY
    Morgan and the head of the squad handling the Eric Miller case, Sergeant Jeff Fluck, had always had different philosophies about police work. Morgan tended to move faster, with more bravado, taking more risks. Morgan describes Sergeant Fluck as more calculated. He was someone who dotted his i ’s and crossed his t ’s, who colored inside the lines, while Morgan was frenetically scribbling all over the page.
    Morgan sees an equal need for these two very different styles of policing, though, and