Media Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  THIRTY NINE

  Marc drove his new Buick Encore north on Third Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. The small SUV was a bit of an indulgence he gave himself after being fully paid for the Prentiss trial. Mother Nature dumped another three inches of snow on the city the night before. He was again being taught that four-wheel drive isn’t a big advantage in slick, wet snow. Marc was running a little late for a settlement conference of a DUI client and it annoyed him. Marc wasn’t what anyone would call punctual obsessive but he did like to be on time for court appearances. As he approached the big granite, glass and chrome building, he cursed a little when he saw the “Full” sign turned on for the building’s underground parking ramp. Just before he reached the corner of Third and Fifth Street, a man in a Ford F-150, going much too fast, cut in front of him, slid into the curb and spun the pick-up completely around before it stopped on the light rail tracks on Fifth. Marc was lucky to have seen him coming and was able to stop in time. The driver of the pick-up was even luckier. The truck came to a stop in the middle of the intersection astride the train rails. Fortunately there was no train in sight. Even luckier for the knucklehead behind the wheel was the fact that there weren’t any cops around even though this happened in front of the Old City Hall building which also houses the police department.

  Traffic on Third Avenue and Fifth Street came to a complete halt, including pedestrians. Everyone watched in stunned silence. The intersection remained still for what seemed like five minutes but was, in reality, only a few seconds. The pickup driver put the truck in reverse, backed off of the rails, swung the vehicle to head it north along Third again and then hit the gas. He took off just as fast and recklessly as he had been driving when he caused all of the commotion. Marc just watched the idiot go, shook his head, and then took a right on Fifth to go to a parking ramp.

  Marc hurried down the hallway to the courtroom 1520 and went inside. The courtroom was almost empty. The prosecutor from the city attorney’s office, a young man named Mike Upham was talking to a defense lawyer, a young woman Marc did not know. Marc greeted his client, Scott Tanner and then took a seat at the defense table.

  When he finished with the other lawyer, Upham looked at Marc and said, “Do you need some time or should we go back and get it done?”

  “We’re all set, aren’t we? Nothing else?” Marc answered. The case had been settled quickly over the phone and this court appearance was to take the plea and finish it.

  “Nope,” Upham said as he stood up. “Let’s do it.”

  After finishing the plea, Marc had reduced the charge to careless driving which had pleased his client, he took the elevator up two floors to seventeen. He went into 1745 through the hallway doors to find court was in session and Margaret Tennant on the bench. She was listening to one of the lawyers drone on about some obscure, probably outdated point of civil law. When Marc came in, she looked at him and involuntarily smiled and her eyes noticeably lit up. She almost waved but stopped herself and put her hand back on the desktop. Marc quietly took a seat in the empty gallery and patiently waited for her to take a break.

  Margaret immediately stopped the verbose insurance defense lawyer by asking, without apologizing for the interruption, “Do you have anything new to tell me that isn’t contained in your one hundred thirty eight page brief?”

  “Well, um, no your Honor,” the man said after looking at his two associates, both of whom shook their heads.

  “How about you, Mr. Markham?” she asked the lone plaintiff’s attorney.

  “No, your Honor,” the man said while rising from his chair.

  “Good. I’m ready to rule. Defendant’s motion for summary judgment is denied. Mr. Benson,” she said looking at the lead defense counsel. “There are a number of issues of fact for a jury. This motion was a waste of time and should not have been brought.” She continued as she held up his large “brief”. “I’m fining you, personally, one thousand dollars, your firm five thousand and ordering you to pay plaintiff’s lawyer a thousand dollars in attorney fees.”

  “Your Honor,” the red faced Benson said as he stood to protest.

  “Not a word!” Margaret said as she glared at the man. “You want to appeal, go ahead. Be thankful I’m not bringing a bar complaint against you. You’ll have my order for mediation within thirty days. We’re adjourned.” Margaret stood to leave, looked at Marc and indicated with her eyes and head he should follow her.

  Marc quietly closed the door to her chambers and watched her remove her robe to hang it on a coat rack. She turned back to him, looked him over with sad smile and said, “Hi. How are you?”

  “Missing you,” he said as he took a couple of hesitant steps toward her, uncertain of how she would respond.

  “Really? Me too,” she said as they rushed to each other. She jumped in his arms and kissed him on the mouth and face many times while muttering, “I’m sorry,” over and over. After a minute of this they parted, stepped back and looked each other over.

  “That went pretty well,” Marc said and Margaret laughed. With a sly look he turned his head to her couch, raised his eyebrows and said, “Hmmmm?”

  Margaret laughed again then said, “Not a bad idea, but I have another hearing in about five minutes.”

  “That might actually be enough.”

  “You’re probably right,” she agreed.

  “How about lunch?” he asked.

  “Oh damn, you’re timing isn’t the best. I have a full schedule. I was going to grab a bite at my desk and look over some case files. Come by tonight and I’ll make you dinner and, well, you know….”

  “About six?”

  “Perfect,” Margaret said as she stepped into him again. “How’s your case? I’m sorry I maybe prejudged her.”

  “She’s innocent. The case itself is moving along slowly. We have a lot of witnesses to interview. In fact, there's an omnibus hearing today at 1:00,” he concluded while looking at her wall clock.

  “A spring trial date?” she asked.

  “No,” Marc replied. “Probably right after New Year’s. Maybe mid-January. I don’t want to give them any more time than I have to.

  “See you later. I’m really happy you stopped.”

  “Ah, well I guess I should tell you the main reason I stopped was to find out how Bubba’s doing?” Marc said referring to Margaret’s Himalayan Siamese.

  “He’s fine, smart ass. Now beat it. I have work to do.”

  Marc laughed and feeling better than he had for weeks, with a noticeable spring in his step, walked out of her chambers.

  The media and court junkies were in full attendance for the omnibus hearing which began promptly at 1:00. An omnibus hearing is essentially a time for the judge to decide issues before trial. Marc argued that there was no probable cause for the search of the Rileys’ residence and any evidence obtained should be excluded. Also the search warrant was too vague and even if the search was allowed, the life insurance policy should be excluded.

  Marc got his first look at Lowell Vanderbeck in action and he came away impressed. The man thought highly of himself but, that didn’t preclude him from handling himself in court with poise, skill and confidence. He deftly countered every argument Marc made, exactly as Marc had anticipated.

  No witnesses were called which made the hearing go faster and shortly after two o’clock, Connors stopped the lawyers to rule on what had been argued so far.

  “Your Honor,” Marc said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk about venue.”

  “I know, Mr. Kadella,” the judge politely said. “We’ll get to it in a few minutes.” Connors then went on to make his ruling. Even though he took the time to make a couple of points seemingly in Marc’s favor, he came down on the prosecution’s side right down the line.

  “As to a change of venue,” Connors continued. “If it’s all right with you,” he said looking at the lawyers, Brittany was not in attendance, “I want to discuss that issue in chambers. We’ll take a fifteen minute break then reconvene in
chambers.”

  When the lawyers had taken the chairs in front of the judge’s desk Connors asked the court reporter if she was ready. She answered affirmatively and he turned to the lawyers.

  “I thought we could do this informally and I think it’s best to keep the media in the dark for now. There is an obvious problem with publicity in this case,” he said to Vanderbeck and Hart who both agreed.

  “However, Mr. Kadella, I’m not sure what we can do about it,” he said to Marc. “Where can we go in Minnesota where publicity isn’t a problem?”

  “Plus, the defense has not demonstrated his client cannot get a fair trial because of it,” Hart interjected.

  “She has a point,” Connors said. “I have an idea. This case is going to require a sequestered jury, no matter where we go. How about this; instead of moving the trial to a different county, how about we go somewhere else, pick the jury, move them back here and put them up in a hotel? That way, all the rest of us can stay home. It’s no hardship on the jury. They’re going to be sequestered in any event. There would be no need for the rest of us to live out of a suitcase and pay the extra expenses of hotel living.”

  “Good idea,” Marc agreed and Vanderbeck and Hart both concurred. “Let me make a suggestion, your Honor.”

  “Sure,” Connors said.

  “You alone decide where we’re going to go. You set it up and you keep it to yourself until the very last minute. The minute it becomes public, the media will be all over it. And, if you tell anyone else at all, the news people will find out about it.”

  “Mr. Vanderbeck, any suggestions or objections?” Connors asked.

  “The obvious one, your Honor. How will we prepare our voir dire of the jury pool if we are not told who they are ahead of time?” Vanderbeck replied.

  “I won’t know either so neither side has an advantage,” Marc said.

  “He’s right,” Connors said to Vanderbeck. “No side will have an unfair advantage or disadvantage. I like the idea. I’m going to order it.”

  FORTY

  Marc hung up the phone on his desk, slapped his hands together, pumped his fist and said, out loud, “Yes! Finally I get some good news.”

  The call he just finished was from his criminalist, Jason Briggs. Briggs had completed his analysis of the contents of Brittany’s car trunk. The CSU team had vacuumed the trunk and sent the contents to Briggs after they had gone through it. What Briggs found was a lot of blanket and other fibers that are normally found on children’s toys, such as stuffed animals. He had compared those to items found in Becky’s bedroom and could testify that there was an absolute match. Briggs could also conclude that the hairs found in the trunk, positively identified as Becky’s, could have easily been transferred from a blanket or toy into the trunk.

  Because the defense need only show reasonable doubt, Marc could use these findings to argue Becky was never in the trunk. Her blanket and stuffed animals were placed in there and that’s how the hairs got in there. The prosecution could not even speculate with any degree of certainty when the hairs got in there, so Marc had some good news about some of the evidence.

  Marc asked Briggs about the evidence of the cinderblock found in the trunk.

  “There was a lot of it,” Briggs answered. “Much more than there would have been from just one brick. It’s certainly more consistent with what Floyd told us, that Becky’s car was also used to haul the cinderblocks from the store back to the Rileys’.”

  “Was it spread out throughout the trunk as if several blocks were in there?”

  “I don’t know,” Briggs said. “They vacuumed everything up and their report doesn’t have anything in it about that. I just know there was too much for just one brick, unless it fell apart.”

  “Which didn’t happen, the one pulled out of the river was intact,” Marc said.

  “Right, you want a written report?”

  “No. I would have to turn that over to the prosecution. If they want to interview you, cooperate and be honest. No written report.” With that, he ended the call.

  A short while later, Marc heard loud laughter coming from the receptionists area of the offices. He opened his office door to find Madeline chatting with the staff and Connie.

  “Oh, shoot,” he said. “I forgot we’re meeting now.”

  Maddy gave him a dirty look, turned to Connie and said, “I should be offended. He forgot about me!”

  “He’s a man.” Connie sighed. “You learn to live with their many short comings.”

  “Ha, ha. Too funny,” Marc said. “Come in here,” he said feigning annoyance at Maddy.

  He stepped aside holding the door for her as she walked past and playfully gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

  Marc told her the news he just received about the contents of Becky’s trunk. When he finished he asked, “Where are we with the witnesses?”

  Maddy, reciting from memory, said, “I’ve interviewed twenty seven people, everyone on the list they gave us. Of the twenty seven, most are acquaintances or people she worked with who don’t know her very well. None of those have anything bad to say about her relationship with Becky. In fact, the ones who did have knowledge of her relationship with Becky all told the cops she always talked about how much she loved her little girl. How Becky was the best thing in her life.

  “The list also includes a few relatives; John and Charlotte Daniels who you met and an older brother of Floyd, Martin Riley. He doesn’t see him much. He says it’s because Barbara doesn’t like him and the feeling is mutual.

  “There are the three close girlfriends Brittany goes out with that we’ve talked about that want to testify for her. That leaves three ex-boyfriends who may be a problem. All three of them told the investigator and me that Brittany, after a few drinks, made comments about not wanting Becky. That maybe Becky was kind of a drag on her life. None of them could remember her specific words, just…”

  “A twenty-two year old widow with a young child on her hands to raise,” Marc said.

  “That’s what it sounded like to me. But, the prosecution will use them for motive, that and the life insurance. Do you want to meet with them? They’re decent guys and all of them said they’d be willing to talk to you,” Maddy said.

  “Yeah, I do. Set it up please. What about the mysterious Bob Olson, any luck?”

  “I’ve been over the same ground as the cops. I don’t think they missed anything. I did, finally with your subpoena, get a list of all the employees that worked at Macy’s last summer. There’s about a dozen I need to contact, people who worked there that the cops didn’t interview. When’s the trial set for?”

  “I have a scheduling conference set for tomorrow. We’ll set it then. I want to go as soon as possible. We’ll see,” Marc shrugged.

  “Um, Marc, about my bill…”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said as he pulled a checkbook from his desk.

  “It’s just that Christmas is only a week away and if I want to get you a gift…”

  “Don’t do that,” Marc said as he finished writing the check and smiled as he handed it to her.

  “Thanks. I said ‘if’ I want to get you a gift,” she laughed. “Seriously though, how’s the money situation for the case?”

  “Okay for now,” he answered her.

  “How’s business for everyone in the office? Is this case causing problems?”

  “Hard to tell,” Marc answered. “December is always slow around here. The Holidays are always bad for business. We’ll see once the trial starts. At least with the cold, snowy weather, the idiots aren’t marching up and down the street outside.”

  Maddy stood up to go then said, “I’ll set up those interviews and let you know. Most of the people I talk to say she was a great mother, at least the ones who know.”

  “We’ll get subpoenas for them when we have some dates set. In the meantime, keep digging for Bob Olson.”

  Marc parked his car in the Dakota County Government Center lot in the closest spot he coul
d find. The complex was out on the fringe of the small city adjacent to mostly open fields. Overnight the sky had cleared leaving a bright sunshine day but the temperature was barely ten above zero, cold for December. To make it a little worse, the wind whipped across the open, snow-covered fields bringing the wind chill well below zero. Along with several other people scurrying to get inside, Marc almost ran the last fifty feet to the door.

  Marc seated himself at one of the tables in Connors’ empty courtroom. A few minutes later the court clerk came out, cheerily said hello and noted his appearance on the record. The conference was scheduled for 10:00 and at 10:15, Vanderbeck and Hart showed up. The clerk immediately took them back and the judge rose to greet them as they entered his chambers. Hart apologized for their tardiness while Vanderbeck said nothing about it.

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Connors said. “Any motions today?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Marc answered as he handed copies of a document to all three of them. “I realize you have already ruled on the admissibility of evidence gathered at the Rileys’ home. I would like to revisit the hairs found in Brittany’s trunk. They are highly prejudicial and offer nothing in the way of proof of the crimes charged. They can’t tell you how the hairs got in the trunk, when they got in there or anything whatsoever…”

  “Points I am sure you’ll be able to make to the jury. I’m letting them in Marc,” Connors said cutting off Hart who had started to refute Marc’s contention. “Do you want me to bring in a court reporter and put it on the record?”

  “No, your Honor,” Marc answered. “If you’ll note in the court’s file that I requested it again and you turned me down.”

  “I’ll put it in my order that I will issue from today’s conference,” Connors said.