False Justice

by Larry A Winters

  “Something else can always go wrong, but let’s focus on one problem at a time. I need to get Dax off my back.”

  “You mean you’re not going to penalize Jessie?” Leary felt some of the tension in his shoulders loosen. He leaned back.

  “I didn’t say that. But if I decide to, it will be my decision. It won’t be because some judge pushed me around. I need something on Dax. Dirt. A skeleton in her closet. Most people have something to hide, even judges. Find me something I can use to force Dax to back off. And find it quickly.”

  Leary was already rising from his chair. “I’ll start right now,” he said, and ended the call.

  29

  It was early evening when Jessie opened the door and stepped inside the medical office of Stephen Adkins, M.D. She was relieved the office was still open. The waiting room was quiet, the line of uncomfortable-looking chairs vacant. A woman sat behind the reception desk, squinting at a computer monitor and typing. Without looking away from her screen, she said, “We’re about to close up.”

  “My name is Jessica Black. I’m an assistant district attorney.”

  That got the woman’s attention. “What's this about?”

  “I’m looking into a matter involving a lawyer named Kelly Lee. She was here a few days ago. I’d like to speak with whomever Kelly Lee met with when she was here.”

  “Can’t give you that information. HIPAA.”

  Jessie wasn’t overly familiar with the privacy law, but didn’t think it applied here. “I’m not asking you for patient information. I just want to know who Kelly spoke with when she came here.”

  The woman sighed, removed her hands from her keyboard, and peered at Jessie as if she were a moron. “That is patient information.”

  “Kelly was a patient here?”

  The woman looked suddenly angry, as if she had just been tricked into giving away highly confidential information. Jessie supposed that was an improvement over the are-you-a-moron look.

  “I think you should leave,” the woman said.

  “Listen to me. Kelly Lee died a few days ago in a car accident. I’m trying to help the lawyer who’s replacing her on a big trial, to put the pieces together so that he can successfully continue the trial without her. I think she might have consulted with the doctor here as an expert for that case. Dr. Adkins? That’s why I want to know whom she spoke with.”

  The woman shook her head. “If that’s what you’re looking for, I can tell you that you’re in the wrong place. Kelly was here for her annual physical, if you must know. She wasn’t here to talk about a case. Now, that’s probably more than I’m even allowed to tell you and I’m certainly not going to tell you anything else.”

  Jessie nodded, hoping her disappointment didn’t show on her face. She should have known that Kelly’s visit to this doctor’s office might not have any relevance to the trial against Boffo, or to her supposed accident, but she’d been so desperate for any step forward, she’d convinced herself she would find useful information here.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate you telling me that. I guess I did come to the wrong place.”

  Back at the car, Briscoe looked at Jessie expectantly as Jessie slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. “Dead end.”

  “Bummer,” Briscoe said without the slightest hint of sympathy.

  Jessie checked her watch. Time was slipping away. “What’s our next stop?”

  Briscoe shifted the Mercedes into drive and pulled into traffic. “After Kelly Lee was in the doctor’s office for an hour or so, she came out and I followed her to University City.”

  “Where in University City?”

  “A bookstore. One of those bookstore coffee house places, but not Barnes & Noble. This was like a mom-and-pop version on Sansom Street.”

  Jessie had spent a lot of time in coffee shops in University City during her three years of law school at the University of Pennsylvania, but since beginning her job at the DA’s Office, she had not had many occasions to return to that neighborhood. She was sure that most of the coffee shops had changed in the ten-plus years since she’d frequented the area. “A bookstore and coffee shop in University City,” Jessie said, thinking aloud. “That’s pretty far from her office. What was she doing there?”

  “Meeting with someone. A gray-haired woman in a suit.”

  “Can you be more specific? Did you notice any other details about the woman?”

  “No.”

  Jessie watched through the car window as Briscoe navigated west. The ride took fifteen minutes in traffic. Briscoe found parking on the street, and they entered the bookstore together. The smell of fresh coffee was a welcome sensation, and Jessie spontaneously headed toward the coffee bar near the back of the store. Briscoe followed.

  “Do you want anything?” Jessie said.

  “Kind of late for coffee, isn’t it?”

  “Not for me.”

  Briscoe shrugged. “Cappuccino, if you’re buying.”

  They ordered their drinks from a guy who looked like a kid to Jessie. Maybe a college student at one of the several schools that gave University City its name. After charging Jessie’s credit card, he handed the drinks to Jessie, who passed the cappuccino to Briscoe.

  “Ah!” Briscoe shoved her cup onto the counter, almost dropping it. She lifted her palm and winced.

  “I guess they’re a little hot,” Jessie said.

  “These are surgeon’s hands, you idiot. At least, they used to be, and I’m hoping they will be again.” Briscoe stared at her palm, her face a mask of worry. After a few seconds, Briscoe seemed to calm down. She picked up her cup. “I’m alright.”

  “Good.”

  They stepped away from the counter. Steam rose from Jessie’s cup. She took a tentative sip. The coffee was very hot and had a slightly burnt taste, but was still pretty good.

  Briscoe said, “You’re going to think I’m bullshitting you, but see that lady over there?” A brown-haired, mousy woman browsed the books in the romance aisle. “That’s the woman I saw Kelly Lee meet.” She took a swig of her cappuccino.

  “In the car, you said she had gray hair.”

  “That’s her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Briscoe shot her a frustrated glare over the rim of her cup.

  “Okay,” Jessie said. “I’m going to talk to her. Stay here.” Briscoe’s eyes flashed an objection, but Jessie headed over to the aisle of romance books before she could argue. A second later, she realized Briscoe was walking beside her anyway. They reached the woman at the same time, and Jessie said, “Excuse me. This is going to sound strange, but my name is Jessica Black. I think a friend of mine met you here the other day. Kelly Lee.”

  The woman’s face lit up. “Do you know Kelly from Penn Law?”

  “Yes,” Jessie said. “Is that how you know her?”

  The woman seemed delighted. “I was her Torts professor.”

  “They have cooking classes in law school?” Briscoe said.

  The professor stared at her. “I guess you’re not a lawyer. A tort is a kind of legal claim. An act or omission that harms another.”

  Briscoe’s eyes seemed to darken. “I was joking.” She pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through its pages as if it were much more interesting than the conversation.

  “My name is Hazel Little,” the professor said, turning to face Jessie again. They shook hands.

  “Did Kelly meet with you to talk about law?” Jessie said.

  “She had some questions about the standard for certifying a class under Pennsylvania law. We spoke for half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes. I emailed her some articles, too. She’s always been very bright.”

  “Did Kelly tell you anything specific about the case she was working on?”

  “Not really. I think she mentioned it involved toys? We didn’t talk about specifics. She was interested in the current case law on the subject.”

  “If I give you my email address, do you think you could email
those articles to me?”

  “I don’t see why not. Would that be helpful to you as well?”

  “Extremely helpful. Thank you.”

  They said goodbye and left. Outside, Briscoe said, “I thought you were trying to find Kelly’s murderer, not bone up on your legal knowledge.”

  “I’ve got a few different things going on. It’s complicated.” Jessie didn’t feel like explaining to Briscoe the situation with Noah Snyder, and the legal work she’d become responsible for handling.

  “You must be really fun at parties.”

  “Where did Kelly go after she met with the professor at the bookstore?”

  They walked toward Briscoe’s car. Briscoe unlocked it and they both got inside. “What about my thing?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jessie said.

  “You said you have a few different things going on. What about my thing—getting my medical license reinstated?”

  “I’ll work on that after you help me. That was the deal.”

  “After I help you, I won’t have any leverage.”

  “I’m good to my word.”

  “Your word?” Briscoe dismissed the idea with a shake of her head, as if it were hopelessly quaint. “What’s that worth?”

  Jessie thought it was worth everything, but she didn’t bother trying to argue the point with Vicki Briscoe. “How about if I have a DA’s Office detective look into the claim against you? Dig around for some holes?”

  Briscoe nodded carefully. “That would be a good start. More than the hospital’s insurance company bothered to do, I’m sure.”

  “What did the plaintiff allege you did wrong?”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I performed his surgical procedure flawlessly. But this procedure always has possible complications. I warned the patient about the risks and he wanted the procedure anyway. Later, he and Lee lied that I never told him about the complications, that I failed to get his informed consent. Apparently, it’s a common lawyer trick.” Briscoe’s face twisted in a look of disgust, which Jessie tried to ignore.

  “Give me all the details.”

  30

  Vicki Briscoe dropped Jessie off at her apartment building. The Mercedes drove away, but Jessie stood outside in the chilly darkness, unable, for the moment, to enter the building. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  For all her running around over the past few days, she seemed to be moving backward rather than forward. All she’d wanted to do was ensure that Kelly Lee’s accident received scrutiny, but now she was responsible for so much more—doing the legal work on the Rowlands’ case, finding a basis to convince the state medical board to reinstate Vicki Briscoe’s license, and personally investigating Kelly’s death. She was no closer to accomplishing anything, and she’d managed to anger Warren Williams and Captain Henderson, and put her own career, as well as Leary’s and Graham’s, at risk.

  For the first time since she’d stared in horror at the steaming husk of Kelly Lee’s crushed automobile, Jessie felt an awful gnawing in the pit of her stomach. Had she made a huge mistake?

  No.

  She couldn’t allow herself to succumb to fear and doubt. The facts had not changed. She still believed that Kelly Lee was killed—that her supposed accident had actually been orchestrated by a killer and then covered up by the police, either intentionally or through a negligent investigation by an AID team biased against the victim. Only one thing had changed, and that was that proving Kelly had been murdered was turning out to be harder than she’d anticipated. So what? Jessie had never fled from a challenge before, and she wasn’t going to start now. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. She embraced it. Throughout her life, her willingness to do the hard work was exactly what had given her an edge and enabled her to succeed.

  She would take these challenges one at a time, knock down each hurdle between her and justice. Tomorrow morning, hopefully she would receive an email from Kelly’s professor with the documents she’d sent Kelly to help with the Rowland case. Jessie would begin there.

  She entered the building and walked to her first-floor apartment. She took a breath, unlocked the door, and entered. She wasn’t surprised to find Leary on the couch, waiting up for her. She was too tired right now to deal with the look of concern on his face.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She dropped her keys on the counter in the kitchenette. She considered joining him on the couch, but wasn’t ready to be peppered with questions about her night. “I’m going to sleep,” she said.

  “It’s only 10.”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  “Everything went okay tonight? With Briscoe?”

  She could hear in his cautious tone his attempt to approach the subject tactfully, and that only made her more reluctant to talk. A weary sigh escaped before she could suppress it. She saw him wince.

  Just be honest with him. She walked to the couch and sat down. He took her hand. His touch felt wonderful, as always, warm and strong. Just tell him you need him to give you some space. She tried to think of the best way to phrase that.

  Leary spoke before she could. He said, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting overprotective of you. It must feel like … I don’t know. Like I’m treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. And we both know you can.”

  He squeezed her hand. She squeezed him back. “Leary….”

  “I just can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he said. “Or maybe Emily’s right and I just want to be a hero.”

  “Sometimes I like you to be the hero.”

  “Yeah, too bad I obviously can’t tell when that is.”

  “I guess I'm not that great at communicating that.”

  “You are mysterious.”

  She kissed him. She felt his body straighten with surprise. Then he put a hand on her head, threading his fingers through her hair, and kissed her back.

  “Maybe if we had a secret phrase,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

  “Like tomato?”

  “Sure, why not? Nothing screams Help me! like a fresh, ripe tomato.”

  She laughed. “Well, I don't need any tomatoes right now, okay? But I'll let you know if I do.” They kissed again.

  Leary smiled. “Seems like a long time since we kissed like that.”

  “Too long.”

  He leaned back against the couch cushions. “I need to tell you something. I got a call from Warren today. Judge Dax complained to him about your involvement in the Rowland case. She threatened to make trouble for the DA’s Office.”

  Jessie cringed.

  “You’re surprised?”

  “I know I didn’t exactly dazzle her with my charm, but I didn’t think she would come after me.”

  “Well, she did. Warren’s not about to roll over, though. He’s going to push back, and I’m going to help him.”

  “How?”

  “Leverage. Everyone has weak points, even judges. We’ll find hers and use it to force her to back off.”

  Jessie sighed. She didn’t like the idea—what Leary was describing sounded too close to blackmail—but she didn’t have any better suggestions. And she believed she was in the right. She’d done nothing except try to ensure that Kelly’s death did not compromise the Rowlands’ legal case.

  “Don’t feel bad about it,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “She threatened to use her political clout to harm you, Warren, and the DA’s Office. She’s bad.”

  “Sounds that way.” She paused, then said, “I need your help with something else.”

  “Anything.”

  “Vicki Briscoe only agreed to help me because I promised her I would help her get her medical license reinstated. She said the claim Kelly brought against her was bogus, but that the insurance company settled instead of fighting it. I was hoping you could—”

  “Do some detective work?” He grinned. “That’s what I do best.”

  “I think there’s something you do even better.”

  Jessie leaned toward
him again, moving in for another kiss. His grin widened.

  31

  When Jessie’s alarm went off the next morning, the first thing she did was check her phone for a new email. Sure enough, the one she was hoping for was there, sent a few hours after she fell asleep the night before—an email from Professor Hazel Little, with a Penn Law email address, and several attachments.

  Jessie swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the desk in the corner of the bedroom. The attachments were PDFs, and she wanted to open them on a screen large enough to make them readable. She didn’t intend to study the documents in depth right now—she could tell from the file names that they were judicial decisions and legal articles, the kind of reading material she could tackle better at her desk at the DA’s Office, with a cup of coffee in her hand—but she couldn’t resist a quick preview.

  A grunt sounded from the bed. Leary rolled over, tucking the covers around him. Jessie tried to minimize the noise as she started her laptop, typed in her password, and brought up the email.

  Hi Jessica. Wonderful to meet you. I hope you find these helpful. Best of luck, Hazel Little.

  Jessie typed a quick thank-you note and sent it back to the professor. Then she opened the first attachment, a recent decision involving a class certification on appeal. It appeared to include a thorough legal analysis, with plenty of case law cited.

  She skimmed at first, then slowed down when she realized the facts of the case were similar to those of the Rowland matter. Her finger touched the scroll wheel of her mouse and she learned forward, reading.

  The sound of a throat clearing brought her back to the moment. She looked up from the screen. Leary stood beside her, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. A toothbrush stuck out of his mouth.

  Jessie’s gaze went to the clock at the corner of the computer screen. Since she’d gotten out of bed, an hour had passed.

  Leary pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. “Good morning.”

  “Hey,” she said. She was suddenly conscious that she was still in her pajamas and had not even brushed her teeth. “I lost track of time. These documents Kelly’s old professor sent over … they’re going to be a huge help.”