“I know. You’ll take it once you see how bad Carl’s getting hosed,” Joe said. “Hey, that reminds me. Have you ever done a murder case?”
“Now’s a fine time to ask that. After you practically begged me to take the case. Yes, I have done or been involved in four of them,” Marc answered.
“Good enough. Let’s go,” Joe said as he held open the door for Marc.
THIRTY-TWO
While Marc was driving to his office from the federal court in St. Paul, thoroughly enjoying the beautiful spring morning and his victory over the dark forces of the IRS, a meeting was being held across the river in downtown Minneapolis. In attendance, in the office of Lieutenant Jacob Waschke, were Deputy Chief Roger Holby, County Attorney Craig T. Slocum and his top prosecutor, Steven Gondeck, and of course, Jake Waschke. Holby was seated behind Jake’s desk and the two lawyers who would ultimately be responsible for prosecuting the case of The State of Minnesota vs. Carl Milton Fornich, had the two chairs in front of the desk. Jake was leaning against the windowsill, his arms casually folded across his chest, behind and to the left of his boss, the deputy chief of police.
The two lawyers had taken their seats and Slocum started the discussion by asking, “So, what do we have so far?”
“A witness who places him at the scene, running away from it actually, at the time of the last murder,” Jake answered.
“And a knife,” added Holby.
“And a knife,” Jake agreed.
“What about the knife?” asked Gondeck.
“Preliminary dusting showed no fingerprints,” Jake said with a shrug. “The lab boys have it. We should know more later.”
“That’s not much, Jake,” said Gondeck. “Unless they can positively tie that knife to the murder, we don’t have much of a case, yet.”
“I know,” Jake said quietly, nodding his head in agreement. “We’ll see what they come up with. It’s enough to hold this guy for now.”
“What about him? Has he said anything? Made any statements?” asked Slocum.
“Except for the outburst in front of the cameras when we were bringing him in, no, he hasn’t talked at all. We got a lawyer for him right away, a guy from the public defender’s office. That’s him now,” Jake said as he looked through the office window at the tall black man who was just then coming through the squad room’s door. “Saw his brother last night, too.”
“This Fomich guy saw his brother last night?” asked Gondeck as he and Slocum turned in their seats to see the man Jake had indicated. Gondeck held up a hand and waved slightly to the lawyer and then held up his index finger to indicate he would be with him in a minute or two. The public defender nodded his recognition and took a seat at one of the desks.
“You know him?” Slocum asked his assistant as both men turned back to face Jake and Holby.
“Yeah. Franklin Morrison. Been around a couple years. Pretty good guy. Knows his business,” Gondeck answered.
“Yeah, he saw his brother. Called him around midnight so, I think he’s going to try to get a private attorney,” Jake said in response to Gondeck’s question.
“Try. Hell, there’s a dozen of them floating around this place. Circling like vultures. Just waiting to get their hands on this,” said Slocum.
“What about your witness, Jake? What do you know about him?” Gondeck asked.
“Not much,” Jake answered. “He called in after he saw it on the news. The Powderhorn Park thing. Said he was by there and saw this guy running from the scene at the right time. Came in and found Fornich in the mug book. Was sure of the ID. So, we got an arrest and search warrant, picked up Fomich and found the knife. It’s in the report.”
“Yeah, I know. I read it,” said Gondeck. “What I want to know is, what’s your witness’ background? What kind of a witness will he make?”
“Denise Anderson is running all that down. She should have more this afternoon or tomorrow,” Jake said. “I know it’s pretty thin right now, but we’re still working it, okay?” Jake said, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice.
“What now?” asked Slocum.
“We’re going to do a photo array, here in the office with the witness,” said Holby. “That’s why the Public Defender is here. Then we’ll set up a lineup with him.”
“I thought you’d do the lineup last night,” Holby continued looking at Jake.
“Yeah, I almost did, but thought better of it. Figured we’d wait ‘til today with everybody here,” Jake replied.
“There’s the witness,” Jake continued. “The guy there with Sherman,” indicating the two men, one Detective Bob Sherman, the other a shorter, younger man wearing jeans and a Gopher’s Basketball sweatshirt, coming through the same door as the accused’s public defender had shortly before. The two men walked toward the office but the witness took a seat that Sherman had pointed to. Sherman rapped lightly on the door’s window, opened it, stuck his head in and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Lieutenant.”
“Okay, Bob. In a minute. Keep an eye on the witness,” said Jake. Sherman knew exactly what his superior meant; sit on the guy and don’t let anyone near him, especially the lawyer from the PD’s office.
“How do you want to handle this?” asked Holby as he swiveled in the chair to face Jake.
“I figured I’d lay the photos out on the desk, bring in this guy Hobbs, and Fornich’s PD, let Hobbs look them over and see if he picks out Fornich. Nobody says a word to him. Okay?” Jake asked the other three men. “Let’s do it.”
Jake reached onto his desk and picked up a stack of eight Polaroid pictures. All eight were of men of approximately the same age, color and size of Carl Fornich. Jake spread them out on the front of the desk as Holby and Slocum left through the office door. When Jake had finished lining up the pictures, he looked at Gondeck and asked, “Well, what do you think?”
“Should be fine,” he answered.
As Jake was leaving his office to get Hobbs, he saw John Lucas come into the squad room. Jake walked over to Hobbs now encircled by the men in the office, except for Gondeck, who was conferring with the public defender. Jake held out his hand to Hobbs and Hobbs rose and took it as Jake said, “Mr. Hobbs. I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Lieutenant Jake Waschke.”
“Sure, I remember,” Hobbs answered with a trace of nervousness and uncertainty in his voice.
Jake then introduced Hobbs to the other men, including Gondeck and Franklin Morrison as they walked up to the small group. “Can I call you Marty?” Jake asked pleasantly.
“Sure, Lieutenant,” Hobbs answered.
“Okay, Marty. First of all,” Jake began as he sat on a corner of the desk, maintaining his friendly, relaxed attitude. “Thanks for coming down today. We appreciate your cooperation. Now, what we’re going to do here is, in a couple minutes, we’re all going to go into the office there. On the desk, I’ve set out some photos, eight of them. I want you to take a seat in front of the desk, look over the pictures and tell us if you recognize anyone. Okay?”
“Sure. Sounds easy enough,” Hobbs said.
“We okay so far, counselor?” Jake said, looking at Morrison.
“Sounds fine,” he answered.
Jake led the way into the now crowded office and pointed to a chair for Hobbs. The government’s star witness took the seat and began looking over the two rows of four photos. In less than ten seconds, knowing ahead of time exactly where he would find the correct one, picked it up and said, “This is the guy. No doubt about it. Saw him running down Chicago night before last. Just like I told you.”
“You’re sure?” Jake asked. “You can take more time if you want. We’re in no hurry.”
“No, this is the guy. I got a real good look at him,” he said positively.
All the while this scene with the photos was taking place, John Lucas leaned against the door with an impassive look on his face. Silently surveying the scene while something in the back of his mind kept telling him, almost like a slight itch, that somethin
g was wrong here. Something not quite right. He dismissed it as the crowd began to break up, but Lucas had been a cop too long to know that the uneasy feeling would be back.
THIRTY-THREE
“Look, Joe,” Marc said while the two men waited in the small jailhouse conference room for the sheriff’s deputy to bring Carl down. “After they bring him in, when introductions are done, I’ll probably ask you to leave. I’ll want to talk to him alone.”
“No problem. Whatever you say.”
“Just so you understand,” Marc continued. “Anything he says to me is privileged. I can’t be forced to testify. But you can. If he says something I don’t want you to hear, you could be put on a witness stand and forced to tell it to a jury.”
“I understand. No problem. How long do you think it’ll take them to get him down here?” Joe said as he began to pace around the small room.
“Few minutes. Relax.”
“Yeah, right. Easy for you to say,” Joe said as he continued to pace. They waited in silence for several more minutes. Joe pacing about the room while Marc sat at the table, lightly drumming the fingers of his right hand on the table top. Finally, the two men heard a key turning in the door and a moment later a shackled Carl stepped into the room, his forlorn look brightening when he saw his brother. The two brothers exchanged a brief embrace then Joe introduced Carl to Marc. “Carl,” Marc began after all three had taken a chair, “I want you to listen to me. Okay? Don’t say anything until I tell you to.”
“You want me to leave?” Joe asked.
“No, not yet. You’re okay. I’ll let you know,” Marc answered. Turning back to Carl, Marc continued: “It’s very important for you to understand some things here, Carl. First of all, I don’t want to know whether you did anything or not. At this point, I don’t even know what you’re charged with. More importantly, it doesn’t matter whether or not you did anything and to be honest, I really don’t care. From now until this whole thing is over, the only thing that’s important is what they can prove. You understand?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Carl answered cautiously.
“I just want be clear about that. Just so you understand. Okay?’
“You don’t care whether or not I did it? You think I’m guilty. Great. You find me a lawyer that thinks I’m guilty.”
“Listen to him, Carl,” Joe said, gently placing a hand on his brother’s arm.
“I didn’t say that,” Marc said, leaning forward on the table. “I just want you to understand exactly what’s going on here, is all. It doesn’t make any difference what I believe. If I take your case, I’ll fight like hell for you.”
“What do you mean, if you take my case?”
“I wanted to meet you first before I decide. Besides, it’s up to you who you hire to represent you. Joe asked me but it’s your call, not his.”
“Well, I trust Joe,” Carl said slumping in his chair.
“And I trust Marc. So listen to him, Carl.”
“Okay, that’s cool.” Carl continued as he sat up and leaned forward to look directly into Marc’s eyes, “I want you to know something right now. I’m innocent. I didn’t do this. It’s all bullshit!”
“Okay. That’s fine,” Marc said softly, wondering why these idiots can’t listen and keep their mouths shut. “It still doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the evidence they come up with. And right now, I don’t know what that is. Have they said anything to you?”
“No, not really,” Carl said as he slumped back in the chair.
“First things first,” Marc said. “Do you want me to represent you?”
“Do you believe me?” Carl asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Marc answered.
“It matters to me goddammit. Do you believe that I’m innocent, yes or no?”
Marc placed his left elbow on the table and ran his hand over his mouth and chin while he and Carl stared at each other. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room while Marc contemplated the question. Finally, after almost a full minute, Marc nodded his head and said, “Yeah. Yes I do. But. . .” he shrugged.
“Yeah, I know,” Carl said. “It doesn’t matter. I want a lawyer that believes in me. Believes I’m innocent. Can you understand that?”
“Of course I do. Now, we have to talk about the hard part. What about money?” Marc said. “Do you have any?”
“We can talk about money later,” Joe said.
“No, Joe,” Marc patiently said. “We need to talk about it now. I still haven’t decided if I want to take the case. Do you have any money or assets of any kind,” he continued turning back to Carl.
“Where’d you find this guy?” Carl said to his brother.
Before Joe could respond, Marc held up a hand to him to cut him off and softly said, “Look Carl, I’m not the kind of lawyer who will feed you a bunch of bullshit just so I can get your case and run up a big bill. I’ll be up front and honest with you every step of the way and that includes me getting paid. I don’t do this because it’s so much fun. I do this to earn a living to feed my children and pay my bills just like everybody else. Okay?
“I have news for you,” Marc continued. “Despite what you might see on TV, damn few lawyers get rich. Most of them are lucky if they make a decent living. Your case is going to take up almost all of my life for the next few months and I need to know I’m going to get paid for it. I don’t mean to be an asshole about it, but that’s the reality.”
“Yeah, okay,” Carl said relaxing. “I understand. You’re right.”
“How much you gonna need?” Joe asked.
“That’s a good question,” Marc said looking at Joe. “I mean, there’s no set amount for something like this. There’s going to be expenses and I’ll have to devote almost all of my time to it. I should get fifty grand up front, but I’ll settle for thirty.”
“Thirty thousand dollars,” Joe said whistling softly. “I was figuring ten or fifteen which I can get, no problem. Thirty’s gonna be tough.”
“That’s the beginning,” Marc said. “I’ll keep track of my time and bill against that at a two fifty per hour. When it’s gone I’ll need more.”
“More?” Joe asked. “You think you’ll need more?”
“Look, Joe,” Marc said placing a hand on his arm. “If this goes to trial, and it probably will, it will be a lot more. I’m basically just warning you. Okay? Hit up every relative you know. Hock your homes and anything else you can. These things are expensive. Right now, I don’t know anything about this case. We’ll see. Okay? If it goes to trial, you can probably figure I’m going to need triple that. Now, if you guys can’t handle that. . .”
“No, no,” Joe said. “I’ll get it. I believe Carl. I believe he’s innocent and we’ll do whatever’s necessary.”
“There ain’t gonna be no plea bargain on this thing,” Carl said rapping on the table and rattling his chains for emphasis. “You have to know that up front. I won’t plead. Not again. They either drop it or we go to trial.”
“Whatever,” Marc said with a shrug thinking at the same time, “Yeah, we’ll see. I wish I had a hundred bucks for every time a client said that to me.” He reached down to the small leather, satchel briefcase he had resting at his feet and removed a single sheet of paper. He handed the document to Carl and said, “Read this Carl, it’s a retainer agreement. Joe, I’m going to want some kind of contract with you guaranteeing the fees. Okay?”
“Sure, Marc. No problem,” Joe said.
After Carl finished reading the retainer, he signed it and handed it back to Marc who filled in some blank spaces on the document setting out the agreed upon amounts, and then Marc, too, signed it. He turned to Joe and said, “Joe I want you to leave now so I can talk to Carl alone.”
“He can stay,” Carl said.
“No he can’t,” Marc said while Joe rose from his chair. “That’s first on the list Carl. If you want me to help you, you have to listen to me. Understood?”
“It’s okay, buddy. I do
n’t mind. And he’s right. You have to listen to him,” Joe said placing a tender hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
“Yeah, drop in anytime. I’ll be here,” Carl said.
“What about that?” Joe asked looking down at Marc. “What about bail?”
“If they charge him with those killings, forget it. No way will a judge grant bail. We’ll ask but it won’t happen. At least not for less than a couple million. We’ll see,” Marc continued with a shrug, “but I doubt it.”
After Joe left Marc spent the next half hour with Carl. Going over the previous night’s events including the arrest and everything that happened or was said to him on the street by his apartment, the trip downtown and his night in custody. Marc went over every detail several times, especially the scene in the hallway when Carl raged at the cameras.
Finally, Marc was satisfied that no detail, no matter how minor had been thoroughly covered and recorded on his legal pad. He then went over the court process with his client. Explaining to him the multiple steps in the proceeding, the reason for each to let his new client know exactly what to expect. Essentially letting him know that, even though Carl had been through it before on more than one occasion, a real criminal proceeding was not like television. There would not be an arrest and trial all in one hour. It would take weeks, if not months all the while Carl would be a guest of Hennepin County. Carl sat quietly nodding his head in understanding, relaxing and warming to Marc.
“Any questions?” Marc asked as he gathered up his notes, placed them in the briefcase and prepared to leave.
“No, I guess not,” Carl answered. “Thanks for explaining it all to me, though. No one ever did that before.”
“Yeah, I know. Most lawyers can’t be bothered. I like my clients to know exactly what’s going on. Besides, it’s your ass on the line. I think you have the right to know.” Marc said. “Look,” he continued sliding a business card to Carl, “call me anytime. My cell number’s on there, too. If you want to call me, they have to let you, so, feel free.”
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 17
