(2012) The Key to Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  “He’s on the way,” Gondeck replied. “Should be here any minute.”

  “Okay,” Marc said. “Should we go see the judge? I assume we’re gonna set a trial date today.”

  Slocum stood up, stepped over to Marc and gently took Marc’s left elbow in his right hand. “Marc” he said, “you don’t mind if I call you Marc, do you?”

  “No, Craig. Not at all,” Marc said looking directly into Slocum’s eyes with his best ‘gosh, gee, shucks what a privilege that is’ look on his face which drew a brief smile from Gondeck.

  “Marc,” Slocum continued, obviously unaware of what had just happened, “let’s use the jury room for a conference first. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Marc replied a bit puzzled by the necessity of a conference.

  The three of them went through a door next to the jury box and into the small room and took seats at the long table used by jurors during breaks and deliberations. Slocum took the chair at the head of the table, Gondeck to his immediate left and Marc to his right, three chairs down.

  “Marc,” Gondeck began, “we’d like to resolve this case.”

  “Good,” Marc replied looking directly at Slocum. “Dismiss the charges. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Well, we of course don’t think so,” Slocum said with an obviously patronizing smile. “But, in the interest of justice and economy, we are prepared to make your client an offer,” he added as he leaned forward onto the table and folded his hands together.

  Slocum maintained this pose, solemnly looking at Marc while a full minute’s silence past between the three men. Marc simply stared back, noting the poker-face expression Slocum maintained while Gondeck leaned back in his chair, casually crossed his legs and unnecessarily smoothed his tie.

  “I’m listening,” Marc said to Slocum, breaking the silence while thinking

  ‘This guy is trying to intimidate me. This might be amusing after all.’

  At that moment, a single rap on the door interrupted them, a deputy sheriff appeared and said, “Your client’s here, Mr. Kadella. We’ll have him in the conference room.”

  “Okay,” Marc replied. “Tell him I’ll see him in a little bit.”

  “Sure thing,” the deputy replied as he quietly closed the door.

  “Here’s the offer, Marc,” Gondeck said as he sat up while Slocum maintained his pose. “He pleads to two counts of second degree murder. We drop everything else. We recommend thirty years. He’s out in twenty. He’s what, thirty-two? Thirty-three? Out in twenty, he still has a life.”

  “We believe that’s extremely fair and reasonable,” Slocum interjected.

  “No doubt,” Marc said looking back and forth between his two adversaries. “In fact, if Carl really is the serial killer, rapist-pervert monster you say he is, it’s extremely generous. Which makes me wonder, if you’re so convinced that he’s guilty and your case is so solid, why are you offering this at all?”

  “My personal conviction is,” Slocum began somberly, “to give Mr. Fornich a chance at redemption. An opportunity to confess his guilt to God. Every soul is worth saving.”

  Marc stared wide-eyed at Slocum, his mouth partly open as another moment of silence went by. Without turning his head, he looked at Gondeck and said, “Is he serious?”

  “That’s not necessary!” Slocum thundered as he slapped an open palm on the table while Gondeck’s shoulders hunched up slightly and a grimace creased his face as Gondeck reached over and lightly held Slocum’s left arm just as Slocum began to rise from his chair.

  “Craig, calm down,” Gondeck said restraining his boss. “Marc, look. Okay, we’ll lay it out. One of the counts he pleads to is Michelle Dahlstrom,” he said quietly as Slocum slumped back in his chair inhaling deeply to regain his composure.

  “Ah,” Marc said nodding his head in comprehension. “The political pressure from across the river. I figured it might be getting kinda heavy since I haven’t heard anything about any evidence on her case. This, at least, makes some sense,” he added all the while avoiding Slocum. “The problem here is, my guy maintains his innocence. Says you have the wrong guy,” he added.

  “C’mon, Marc,” Gondeck said, “let’s look at the evidence. We have the murder weapon found at your client’s apartment. We have an eyewitness that places him at the scene of the last murder. We have a semen sample found on one of the other victims. Blood samples on the knife from two of the victims. We have clothes that the eyewitness will testify look like the ones your guy was wearing when the witness saw him. Clothes that were found in a locker with a key that Fornich had on him when arrested. Hell, we even have a spontaneous on camera confession your guy made when he was being brought into the jail. And, we have a history here of rape, assaulting women and assaults with a knife by Fornich on other inmates while in prison.” All of these points were made by Gondeck in a soft, calm, professional tone while he ticked them off one-by-one on his fingertips.

  “We will convict him, Mr. Kadella,” Slocum said. “Maybe not for everything, but enough to put him away for longer than thirty years.”

  “Does Prentiss know about this?” Marc asked.

  “No,” Slocum lied. “Not yet. We wanted to put it to you first.”

  “Okay,” Marc began, looking at Gondeck. “Now it’s my turn to look at your evidence. You have a witness and we both know what can happen with them. You have a semen sample from a married woman with a history of picking up men in a bar. The bartenders will testify …”

  “We know about that, of course,” Slocum interrupted.

  “You have the so-called confession that was obviously blurted out by an angry and confused man in front of a howling mob of reporters. Meaningless. Prentiss shouldn’t even allow it and it may be grounds for overturning on appeal.

  “You found some clothes in a locker that you say were placed there by the defendant but the clothes contain no physical evidence they were worn by anyone committing a crime. Which, leaves us with the knife. No finger prints. No nothing. Nothing to tie it to Carl except a cop that claims he found it in Carl’s apartment. A cop with a personal family tie to the Governor. A father of one of the victims. Heavy duty political pressure on this cop to get an arrest on this case. A jury could very easily believe he might’ve planted it.”

  “Good luck proving that,” Slocum said smugly.

  “I don’t have to prove it. All I have to do is point out the possibility and a jury could easily find reasonable doubt,” Marc said, trying to keep the annoyance from showing.

  Gondeck swiveled his chair to sit up straight at the table, held up both hands, palms out, one to each of the other two men like a referee separating boxers. “Look, Marc,” he said moving his eyes moving from Slocum to Marc as he slowly lowered his hands to the table, “lets not try the case now. You haven’t told us anything we hadn’t thought of ourselves. We believe, obviously, we’re gonna convict this guy. We also believe that we have the right man. You’ll notice, the killings have stopped since we locked him up.”

  “Go ahead, bring that up at trial if you want a mistrial,” Marc said, his brief flash of anger cooling.

  “We know better than that. We’ll be honest okay?” Gondeck continued. “Yes, we’re under political pressure here. A plea saves everybody. We get a conviction. The Governor and his family get closure and your guy gets a good deal. Not a great deal, but a good one. One he’ll wish he’d taken when we convict him.”

  “Carl won’t take it,” Marc said flatly.

  “Then it’s up to you to convince him,” said Slocum.

  “No one’s a virgin here, Marc. We all know that a good defense lawyer, and I consider you a good defense lawyer, can gently persuade a reluctant defendant to do what’s right for himself,” Gondeck said. “Take a few days to think about it yourself before you put it to him.”

  “What about sentencing?” Marc asked.

  “We’ll recommend the thirty years but, of course, that’s up to Judge Prentiss,” Slocum replied.

  �
��What about Ramsey County? Have you talked to them? Will they allow the plea here?” Marc asked.

  “Yes, we’ve talked to Ms. Rivera in Ramsey County,” Slocum said referring to the Ramsey County Attorney. “She would take the plea on Michelle Dahlstrom and allow concurrent sentencing here.”

  Marc sat back in his chair, hands clasped together behind his head, lips pressed tightly while he silently contemplated the offer. “Well,” he finally said as he sprang from his chair and picked up his briefcase. “Lemme think about it. We’ll go see the judge and see what he says about sentencing.”

  The two prosecutors went straight through the door leading from the courtroom to the judges’ chambers area while Marc made a brief detour to let his client know he was there. He found Carl in the small conference room on the opposite side of the courtroom from where he had been with Slocum and Gondeck.

  Carl was seated at a small round table, his wrists gripped by handcuffs, ankles shackled together, slumped over dressed in a one piece orange jumpsuit. When Marc entered the room the two deputies rose to leave but Marc stopped them both. He briefly greeted Carl and told him nothing about the plea bargain but said he would be out to talk to him after seeing the judge. He left the room and went back to the judge’s chambers to join the others already seated in front of Prentiss’ desk patiently waiting for him.

  “Hello, Marc,” Prentiss cheerfully greeted him as the clerk closed the door behind Marc. “Come in and have a seat. Mr. Slocum here tells me there has been some discussion about a possible plea. Mr. Slocum ...” Prentiss said, turning back to the County Attorney.

  “Yes, your Honor, as I was saying, we’ve offered Mr. Kadella two counts of second degree murder. His client pleads to the death of Alice Faye Darwin, the last victim, and Michelle Dahlstrom. We would recommend to the Court a total of 360 months in prison. Thirty years.”

  “Hmmmm, I see,” Prentiss said quietly. “There is the jurisdictional problem, isn’t there? Ms. Dahlstrom’s death occurred in St. Paul, as I recall, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Slocum continued. “But, we’ve already squared that with the Ramsey County Attorney’s office. Rosalie Rivera would appear in your court and take the plea personally and allow you to sentence.”

  “I see. Okay, Mr. Kadella, what do you think?” Prentiss said turning his head back to Marc.

  “Well, your Honor,” Marc said, “that’s the offer, but I wanted to hear from you about sentencing before I put it to my client.”

  “Okay. Thirty years,” Prentiss said musing out loud. “I guess that sounds reasonable, but I suppose I’d like a presentence investigation. I’m sure I’d go along with that in exchange for a plea but we’d better do it by the book. Do you think your client will agree?”

  “No, your Honor. I don’t. He has maintained his innocence all along ...” Marc began.

  “Well, I obviously can’t accept a plea from someone who says he’s innocent,” Prentiss said.

  “He could simply say he agrees there is sufficient evidence against him to make a conviction likely, your Honor. An Alford plea.” Gondeck said. “He wouldn’t really have to admit guilt.”

  “That’s true, I suppose. Although in a case of this significance, better if he admits it,” Slocum added.

  “To save his soul?” Marc asked sarcastically.

  “At any rate, we can work out the details if he agrees. But, to answer your question about sentencing, I am inclined to go along with the recommendation,” Prentiss said. “Now, what about a trial date? I’m thinking this trial will last, with normal interruptions, six to eight weeks. Would you agree, Mr. Slocum?”

  “Yes, your Honor. That should be about right.”

  “Mr. Kadella?” Prentiss said to Marc.

  “Probably longer, your Honor. That would be my guess. I’m figuring two to three weeks just for jury selection and ...”

  “We’re not going to screw around for three weeks selecting a jury,” Prentiss said, immediately regretting the harshness of his tone. Careful, he thought to himself. Now is no time to alienate the defense and risk a motion for a new judge. “Marc,” Prentiss continued softly, “I understand your concerns with the pretrial publicity and all. In fact, I’ve kind of kept my eye on the media and I’ve noticed that there really hasn’t been much lately. It’s my opinion that selecting a jury won’t be that difficult. You’ll see. Your client can have a fair and impartial jury in a few days.”

  “We’ll see.” Marc shrugged. “Eight weeks will probably be enough.”

  “Good,” Prentiss said, hiding his relief, “I need to be done by October first. So, I’m ordering a trial date for Monday, August eighth.”

  “Two weeks?” Marc said, almost coming out of his chair. “You’re telling me I have only two weeks?”

  “Will you be ready, Mr. Slocum?” Prentiss asked, ignoring Marc.

  “Yes, your Honor,” Slocum replied.

  “Has discovery been completed?” Prentiss asked, turning back to Marc.

  “I don’t know, your Honor,” Marc said. “I don’t know if they’ve given me everything.”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Gondeck said. “Except for our witness list,” he added.

  “Which you will provide to the defense no later than 5:00 p.m. next Monday. Understand?” Prentiss said, pointing an index finger at Slocum.

  “Understood, your Honor,” Slocum answered.

  “How am I supposed to have time to interview all of their witnesses in less than two weeks?” Marc asked.

  “And, Mr. Kadella, I’ll give you until 5:00 p.m. on Friday, August fifth to provide your witness list to the prosecution.” Prentiss added, again ignoring Marc. “I don’t want any last minute surprise witnesses here gentlemen, is that clear? You’d better have a damn good reason for bringing anything up at the last minute. Any final pretrial motions will be heard that day. 9:00 a.m. August eighth. Good day, gentlemen,” Prentiss said in dismissal.

  The three lawyers left through Prentiss’ courtroom, Slocum in the lead obviously in a hurry to get back to his office. Marc and Gondeck stood in the empty courtroom and watched as Slocum went through the exterior door and into the hallway. As the door closed behind him, Marc turned to Gondeck and said, “What is it with him?”

  “He’s an asshole,” Gondeck replied. “It’s that simple. But, don’t kid yourself Marc. I’ve seen him in front of a jury and he handles himself real well. Jurors seem to take to him for some reason. Don’t know him I guess. But, don’t underestimate him. I think defense lawyers tend to do that ‘cause he doesn’t try many cases. Anyway,” he said extending his right hand to Marc, “I’ll get you our witness list. Let me know as soon as you can about the plea offer. What do you think, Marc? Will you recommend it?”

  “I don’t know, Steve,” Marc said as the two of them released from the handshake. “I’ll think about it. But, I’m not gonna talk to him about it today. I’ll let you know but don’t hold your breath. Are you guys open to a counter-proposal?”

  “I’d have to say no.” Gondeck answered after reflecting on the question for a moment. “But, if you think of one, run it by me and I’ll listen.”

  “Well, like I said before, I don’t think my client will take it no matter what anyway.”

  “I gotta go, Marc. Gimme a call,” Gondeck said as he turned and passed through the bar.

  Marc went into the conference room and spent a brief few minutes with his client after the deputies went into the courtroom. He told Carl about the trial date and gave him a quick progress report on the investigation. “You know Carl, if you could just give us one witness who could give you an alibi for one of these victims it could turn the whole case around.”

  “I know, Marc,” he answered. “I’ve tried but the only night that I can think of is the Sunday for that one. You know, the one I met in the bar. And I just spent the night at home, watchin’ TV.”

  “Well, keep workin’ on it. Carl,” he said quietly, “what about the clothes in the locker?”


  “I told you before, goddamnit,” he yelled, “they’re not my fuckin’ clothes. Jesus Christ, man. How many times you gonna ask. It wasn’t my knife. Those aren’t my clothes.”

  “Okay, Carl,” Marc said softly. “Well, keep thinking about the alibi. I’ll see ya’ again in a couple days. Do you need anything?”

  “No,” Carl said shaking his head. “Joe gets me the few things I need.”

  “Try to relax, Carl. I know this is a strain.”

  “I’m damn glad we’ve got a trial date. I can’t wait to get this over with.”

  A half-hour after the lawyers had left his chambers, Gordon Prentiss stood at his window looking down at the top of the Metrodome and toward the University of Minnesota and St. Paul. His mind was relaxed and he wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular. More or less just watching the afternoon dwindle away when the private line on his telephone rang bringing him abruptly back to reality.

  “Judge Prentiss,” he said as he answered the phone.

  “Gordon, it’s Daniel Waschke. Will you hold for a moment please.”

  “Certainly,” Prentiss answered.

  “Judge Prentiss?” he heard the Governor’s familiar voice ask.

  “Yes, Governor,” Prentiss answered.

  “How’d it go today?”

  “Well, we set an early trial date. August 8th. And Slocum made the offer for a plea to that defense lawyer, Kadella.”

  “Will he take it?”

  “He might. I’m not sure. I think he might believe it’s a good deal but how hard he’ll sell it to his client is anybody’s guess.”

  “That was basically Slocum’s opinion, too. Well, thank you judge. I just wanted your impression. I think it’s time we gave Mr. Kadella a little personal incentive now. Keep in touch, judge.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  The melodic thumping of the windshield wipers of Jake Waschke’s pride and joy Corvette was the only sound to be heard in the car’s interior as Jake cruised north on 35W toward downtown Minneapolis. He was in his personal car because he did not want to be recognized as a cop by any of the acquaintances of the man he was going to meet. The rain was barely coming down now after night had fallen on the city but the spray from the freeway traffic still made the wipers a necessity. As he cruised through the moderately heavy evening traffic toward his destination, he allowed his mind to replay the scene he had lived the night before.