A Matter of Life and Death

by Phillip Margolin

  “When I get a death case, I have to assume the worst and start preparing for the sentencing hearing at the same time I prepare for the part of the trial that determines guilt or innocence. If I wait, I won’t have time to gather evidence that can convince the jurors that they shouldn’t sentence my client to die.

  “If you’re convicted, the only thing the jurors will know about you is that you’ve murdered someone. To convince them that you shouldn’t be executed, I have to show the jurors that you aren’t a monster; that you may have killed someone, but you are still a decent person. I’m going to have investigators interviewing you and everyone who has ever known you. We are going to create a biography of your life from the time you were born until the day of the trial.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Robin smiled. “I was just going to get to that. I want you to write your life story for my investigators, starting from your earliest memory. Don’t sugarcoat it. If there is something awful in your background, I have to know about it, because you can be certain that the DA will uncover it.

  “What you write is protected by the attorney-client privilege, so you can tell me everything. If you experienced sexual or physical abuse as a child, include it, even if it’s embarrassing. I also want a list of witnesses who will have good things to say about you and any way you can think of that we can get in touch with them. When in doubt, include the information. We’ll decide who to call and who to leave out. Think you can do that?”

  “I’ll start as soon as you leave.”

  “Vanessa told me that Carasco’s husband and a deputy district attorney have made a positive identification. They’re the people who were in the car that drove up when you were leaving the judge’s home. Vanessa also told me that they found your prints on the wall and light switch in the room where Betsy Carasco’s body was found. They’ve also matched shoe prints inside Judge Carasco’s house to the tread on your running shoes.”

  Joe sighed. “I knew they would. What else do they have?”

  “I’ll know soon. You’re going to be arraigned on the indictment after lunch. Vanessa has to give me the discovery in your case as soon as she indicts. I’ll get you a full copy when Vanessa gives it to me. I’ll want you to go over it and tell me anything you think will help your case.”

  “Will do.”

  “Do you have anything else you want to talk about right now?”

  “One thing. Are you going to see Maria and Conchita?”

  Robin nodded. “I haven’t talked to Maria because I didn’t want to bother her until she was settled in. But she may be an important witness in a penalty phase.”

  “When you see them, tell them I love them.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Robin entered the courtroom for Joseph Lattimore’s arraignment, she noticed a tall, elegantly dressed woman sitting among the spectators. The woman stood out in a crowd composed of poorly dressed criminal defendants and attorneys wearing the suits they could afford on a public defender’s salary, but Robin was too preoccupied to give the woman more than a moment’s thought.

  The arraignment was over quickly. The judge read the charging document, Joe pleaded not guilty, and the guards took him back to the jail. When the next case was called, Robin left the courtroom. She was heading for the stairs to the street when the well-dressed woman stepped in front of her.

  “Ms. Lockwood, my name is Helen Raptis, and I am Elizabeth’s mother.”

  Robin had run an internet search on Betsy Carasco. Her mother had featured prominently in the profile. Robin knew that Raptis was worth millions and had a reputation for ruthlessness in business affairs.

  “I’m so sorry about your daughter,” Robin said. “This must be impossible for you.”

  Raptis stood ramrod straight. “What is impossible for me to bear is seeing the man responsible for Elizabeth’s death walking around without a care. Your client may have taken Betsy’s life, but that bastard is the person who ordered him to do it.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Anthony Carasco ordered my daughter’s murder.”

  “That’s quite an accusation. Have you told the district attorney what you just told me?”

  “Cole doesn’t take me seriously. She says she’ll look at Carasco, but it’s obvious that she thinks I’m a bitter, grieving mother who’s striking out at the world.”

  “Why are you talking about this to me? I’m representing the man who’s accused of killing your daughter.”

  “Mr. Lattimore is a puppet. That monster was pulling the strings. If your client tells Cole that Carasco hired him, he can testify for the state and cut a deal.”

  “I’m interested in hearing why you think Judge Carasco hired my client. Would you like to come to my office?”

  “Most definitely.”

  * * *

  Leo Boyce followed his boss to Barrister, Berman, and Lockwood at a discreet distance. Helen didn’t bother to introduce her bodyguard even when everyone was in Robin’s office.

  “Anthony Carasco is a parasite,” Raptis said. “He latched onto my Elizabeth like a leech, and he’s been sucking her trust accounts dry. I tried to talk sense into her when she told me she was thinking of marrying that bastard, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “How did Elizabeth and Carasco meet?”

  “Cocaine brought them together.”

  “Your daughter was a user?”

  Raptis nodded. “It wasn’t pretty. She was ravaged by her addiction.”

  Helen’s icy façade cracked, and Robin glimpsed her pain.

  “Very few people knew what was going on. We kept Elizabeth’s problem under wraps. She was enough of an actress to fool her society friends. The visits to the rehabilitation centers were ‘trips to Paris’ or ‘safaris in Africa.’ But that bastard made sure she stayed addicted so he could control her.”

  “You’re saying that the judge was supplying her?” Robin said.

  “You sound surprised. You shouldn’t be. As soon as Elizabeth started seeing that … that thing, I had him investigated. Anthony Carasco is a common criminal. He grew up in a slum and associated with scum all his life. He has connections to people he’s known since childhood who are drug dealers and members of biker gangs. He protects them if they are arrested, and he has police officers who work with him.”

  “How did Carasco convince your daughter to marry him? There’s a big age difference between them.”

  “I suspect he learned about Elizabeth from one of her dealers. When she came out of rehab a few years ago, he made sure he was at the events she attended. He’s older than Elizabeth, but he can be quite charming. Once he’d convinced her to date him, he also convinced her to use again. When her need overrode her common sense, he talked her into marrying him without a prenup. When she found out about his latest whore, she told him she was going to get a divorce.”

  “How do you know that?” Robin asked.

  “She told me. Shortly before she was murdered, she called me in tears and told me he was cheating on her again and she wasn’t going to stand for it. That’s why he had my Elizabeth murdered. Elizabeth had a lot of money, which that bastard will now inherit. A divorce would have turned off the money faucet.”

  “Do you have proof that Carasco was cheating on your daughter?”

  “Give me the photos, Leo,” Raptis commanded imperiously.

  Boyce took a manila envelope out of an attaché case he’d been carrying and handed it to his employer. She opened it and spread a group of photographs across Robin’s blotter. One photograph showed Anthony Carasco being greeted by a very attractive blonde in skimpy lingerie at the door of an apartment. A series of photographs taken through a space between a window shade and the edge of the window showed the couple kissing and fondling each other as they crossed a room, then disappeared into another room.

  “Leo, did you conduct the investigation into Judge Carasco’s background?” Robin asked.

  Boyce looked at h
is employer. She nodded.

  “Yes,” Boyce answered.

  “Did you come up with evidence that I can introduce in court that would prove Carasco hired someone to kill his wife?”

  “No, ma’am. I can show he’s met with drug dealers and other criminals who would be willing to kill his wife for a price, but I don’t have a smoking gun.”

  “Besides drugs, did you find evidence that Carasco was involved in any other type of crimes?”

  “Such as?”

  “Illegal fights.”

  Boyce frowned. “Why are you asking?”

  “I can’t tell you. But I may be able to show a connection between Mrs. Carasco’s murder and the judge if you did have evidence of his involvement in unsanctioned, no-holds-barred fights.”

  “I never found anything pointing that way.”

  “Ms. Lockwood, I am very wealthy,” Raptis said. “That wealth is at your disposal if you need it to prove that Anthony Carasco hired the man who murdered my daughter.”

  “Thank you. And you should know that there’s a good chance that my client is not the person who took your daughter’s life. In fact, he may be as much a victim in this case as your daughter.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “We have something you need to see,” Carrie Anders said as she and Roger Dillon walked into Vanessa Cole’s office.

  Carrie set her phone on the DA’s desk. On the screen was a YouTube video of two men facing each other in an open space in what might have been a barn. No one else was in the shot. Carrie pressed the screen, and the two men started to fight. There was no sound. Within seconds, one man was down, and the other man was beating him senseless. That’s when the clip ended.

  “That’s Joseph Lattimore!” Vanessa exclaimed.

  Carrie nodded. “And the man on the bottom is Carlos Ortega, whose body was found in a vacant lot not far from the tent city where Lattimore lived, before he moved to that motel. Ortega was beaten to death.

  “We’ve got more good stuff for you,” Carrie said. “Tell her about the hand wraps, Roger.”

  “We conducted a search of Carasco’s neighborhood,” Roger said. “Hand wraps that a boxer would use to protect his knuckles were found in a garbage can on Carasco’s property. There was a lot of blood on them. We ran a DNA test. Some of the blood on the wraps matches Betsy Carasco’s DNA, and trace evidence matched Lattimore’s DNA.

  “Carlos Ortega’s injuries are similar to those that Betsy Carasco suffered, and there was blood on the hand wraps that didn’t belong to Mrs. Carasco or Lattimore. We had that blood tested. It’s Ortega’s. So, we’ve got Lattimore for two murders, and that should be enough to convince a jury he deserves to die.”

  * * *

  Anthony Carasco had taken a few days of sick leave so it would look like he was mourning Betsy. During the first couple of days, there had been several visitors and calls of condolence mixed with calls for comment from the press. When the phone calls became a nuisance, Carasco started letting most of them go to voice mail, but he always checked caller ID before ignoring a call.

  Carasco was reading the newspaper when his cell phone rang. He accepted when he saw the caller was Vanessa Cole.

  “There’s been a development I thought you should know about,” the DA said.

  “Oh?”

  “Shortly after Mrs. Carasco was murdered, the body of a man named Carlos Ortega was discovered in a vacant lot near a homeless enclave where Joseph Lattimore was living. He had been beaten in a manner similar to the way your wife was killed. We have evidence linking Mr. Lattimore to this homicide. I’m going to present the evidence to a grand jury tomorrow and ask for an indictment for manslaughter.

  “The manner of Mr. Ortega’s death is so similar to the way your wife was killed that I may be able to introduce it in the trial of Mr. Lattimore for your wife’s death. Even if I can’t, I’ll definitely be able to introduce the evidence in a sentencing hearing, because it bears on whether Lattimore will be dangerous in the future. The indictment will also give me a lot of leverage to get Mr. Lattimore to plead, which will save you the ordeal of having to go through a trial and all of the appeals that would follow.”

  “This is great news. Thank you for calling me, Vanessa.”

  “I’ve made Mr. Lattimore a plea offer that would let him avoid a death sentence. He’d be locked away for life. Will you be upset if I don’t go for a death?”

  “Personally, Vanessa, I would choose death over having to live the rest of my life in a cage. Death lets you off the hook.”

  “I’m glad you agree. I’ll let you know about developments as they happen. And feel free to call me if you have questions.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the way you’re handling Betsy’s case.”

  Carasco talked to Vanessa for a few more minutes. There was a big smile on his face when he hung up. If Lattimore pled, the case would be closed. If he didn’t, a conviction was assured.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The guard brought Joseph Lattimore into the contact visiting room moments after Robin and Jeff sat down. On the table was a pile of police, forensic, and autopsy reports that Robin’s associate had copied.

  “Joe, this is Jeff Hodges, my investigator. We need to talk about something that’s come up. Then I’ll leave you two to start working on the penalty phase investigation.”

  “How are you holding up?” Jeff asked as he and Lattimore shook hands.

  “This isn’t my first time in jail, so I know the ropes. And knowing that Maria and Conchita are okay really helps.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Robin said. “So, I have good news and bad news. First, the good news. We lucked out. Your case was assigned to Harold Wright. He’s one of my favorite judges. He’s very smart, and he always tries to do the right thing.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “A YouTube video of your fight with Carlos Ortega surfaced. The video is all over the internet. I’ve seen it. The fight is brutal.”

  Joe looked down at the table. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Some kids found Ortega’s body in a vacant lot not far from the encampment where you were living,” Jeff said.

  Joe looked confused. “What was the body doing near the encampment? Carlos died miles away in that barn. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It would make sense if the body was put there to frame you,” Jeff said.

  “And you have another problem,” Robin told Joe. “The police found hand wraps in a garbage can on Carasco’s property. There was a lot of blood on them. The lab found your DNA and DNA from Carlos Ortega and Betsy Carasco on them.”

  Joe’s head snapped up. “They have my hand wraps and the wraps have that woman’s blood on them!?”

  “Yes. Why are you surprised?”

  “The guy who ran the fights took the hand wraps before I left the barn. Mrs. Carasco’s blood couldn’t have been on them unless the person who killed her put them on to frame me.”

  “That makes sense. I wondered why you would keep bloody hand wraps with you, then reuse them at another homicide. I also thought that it was unlikely that you would throw away blood-soaked, incriminating evidence where the police were sure to find it.”

  “I never had those wraps after I left the barn,” Joe reiterated.

  “There was one piece of evidence we might be able to use for your defense. You remember you told me that Ortega looked sluggish when you fought? The autopsy found traces of a tranquilizer in Ortega’s blood.”

  “He was doped!”

  “I’m starting to think that the key to winning your case is the illegal fight,” Robin said. “The person who ran it is probably the person who set you up. Can you think of anything that will help us figure out who he is?”

  “That’s all I’ve thought about. The only person who gave me a name is Sal, the guy who recruited me. And the only guy I can think of who we might be able to ID is the guy who drove me to the fight and to Carasco’s house. If he has
a record, you might be able to get a mug shot. He’s so unusual looking that I’d know him instantly.”

  “I have a techie friend who may be able to run facial recognition software on the big guy,” Jeff said. “If we get a hit, I’ll bring the photo to you.”

  Robin stood and rang for the guard. “I’ll let you two get started. Remember, tell Jeff everything, and let us decide what’s useful and what’s not.”

  “Got it,” Joe said just as the door to the corridor opened.

  “So,” Jeff said when they were alone, “you’ve done time?”

  “Yeah. When I was in high school, I was in a gang. I got arrested for assault. There weren’t serious injuries, and my lawyer was able to get the DA to agree to dismiss the charges if I went into the army. But I did spend a few weeks in jail.”

  Joe smiled. “Getting arrested was the best thing that happened to me before I met Maria. The army got me away from the gang, and that’s where I learned how to box and cook.”

  “Robin told you to prepare an autobiography. Have you had a chance to do that?”

  Joe held out several pages of yellow lined paper. “This is what I have so far.”

  “Great,” Jeff said. “I’ll copy this and get the original back to you. So, your folks, are they still alive?”

  Joe shook his head. “Mom passed from cancer five years ago. And my father walked out when I was two. Haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Okay. Brothers and sisters?”

  “I’m an only child.”

  Jeff took notes for another half hour before buzzing the guard.

  “Please tell Ms. Lockwood how much I appreciate what she’s doing for me,” Joe said when Jeff started to leave.

  “I will. You won the lottery when Robin decided to take your case. She’s going to give you everything she’s got, and that’s a hell of a lot more than any other lawyer in this city.”