by Scott Turow
Tommy nodded. "They didn't want us looking at the internal court documents on Rusty's computer."
"Right. And so we imaged the hard drive-"
"Made a copy," said Molto.
"An exact copy. And we turned the actual computer over to the chief judge there."
"Mason."
"Judge Mason. Well, Jim and I were talking last night, and we decided that just to be sure about this Christmas card, we should go back and look at the image of Sabich's hard drive we made last November, when you first seized the computer. And we did. And that object, the card? It's not there."
Tommy sat down in his big chair and looked at both of them. His first reaction was to distrust Gorvetich. The old man was no match for Brand and must have been pushed into a critical mistake by his former student.
"I thought the card was made up last September before Barbara died?" Molto asked.
"As did I," said Gorvetich. "It gives every appearance. But it wasn't. Because it's not on the image. It was placed on the computer after we first seized it."
"When?"
"Well, I don't know. Because the.pst file now bears yesterday's date."
"Because the defense opened that file in court when they turned on the computer," Brand said. He was too happy right now to remind Tommy that he'd warned against letting the Sterns do that.
"Exactly," said Gorvetich. "But the card had to have been added during the month the PC was over at Judge Mason's. It was shrink-wrapped and sealed right in Judge Mason's chambers the day Judge Yee ordered it returned to our custody."
Tommy thought. Somehow it was Stern's words yesterday that came back to him: 'Interesting case.'
"Where was the image?"
"The imaged copy of the hard drive was preserved on an external drive in your evidence room. Jim got it out and burned a copy for me last night."
Tommy didn't like that at all. "Sandy's guys weren't with you?"
Brand broke in. "If you're worried that they'll claim we screwed with the image, we gave them a copy when we made it. They can look at this themselves on their copy. The card won't be there."
Gorvetich explained that the image had been made with a program called Evidence Tool Kit. The software's algorithms were proprietary and the image could be deciphered only with the same software, which by design was read-only to ensure that no one could attempt to alter an image after it was made.
"I guarantee you, Tommy," Gorvetich said, "Rusty found a way to put this on there."
Molto asked how Rusty could have done that. Gorvetich was not positive, but after thinking on it all night, he had a working theory. There was a piece of software called Office Spy, a hacker's invention now available as Internet shareware, that allowed someone to go into a calendar program and recast the objects stored there. You could roll back the date on a reminder, erase an incriminating entry from the calendar, or omit-or add-the names of people who had been at a critical meeting. Once the new object-the Christmas card, in this case-had been inserted on Sabich's computer, Office Spy had to be removed from the hard drive with shredding software, and then that software itself also had to be deleted, which required manual changes to registry files. Not only was the object-the card-missing on the image from last fall, but now that Gorvetich had made the comparison, he'd noticed subtle differences in the debris remnants of the shredding software held in various empty sectors of the drive. The implication was that shredding software had been added and removed from the computer twice, once before Barbara's death and once after the computer had first been seized.
"I thought Mason had the computer completely secure."
"He did. Or he thought he did," said Gorvetich.
"I mean, Jesus, Boss. Rusty ran that court for thirteen years. You think he didn't have the keys to everything? It would have been better to examine the fucking drive again when we got it back, but Mason said he made a log of everything Rusty's people looked at, and Yee just ordered the computer sealed as a condition of returning it to our custody. We couldn't start arguing with him about that."
Tommy explained it to himself again. Barbara didn't create the Christmas card, because Barbara was dead when that happened. And the only person who had anything to gain from placing the card on the calendar was Rusty Sabich. So much for the crap that Rusty didn't know about computers.
Tommy finally laughed out loud. It wasn't glee he felt so much as amazement.
"Boy, am I going to enjoy my conversation with that arrogant little Argentinian," said Molto. "Boy," he repeated.
Across the room, Brand, who'd never sat down, lifted his hands.
"Wanna dance?" he asked.
CHAPTER 38
Nat, June 25, 2009
Just as Marta had foreseen, the prosecutors arrive in court this morning with a new theory about why my dad is guilty. Jim Brand stands up and tells Judge Yee that the prosecutors have decided overnight the Christmas card is a fraud.
"Your Honor!" protests Sandy from his chair. He paws like a cartoon character in his labored efforts to rise. Marta finally helps haul him to his feet. "The prosecution's own expert acknowledged yesterday that this so-called object was genuine."
"That was before we examined the image," Brand answers. He calls on pompous little Professor Gorvetich to explain his new conclusions. Before Gorvetich has stopped speaking, Marta gropes in her purse for her cell phone and is charging out of the courtroom to call Hans and Franz.
Judge Yee is clearly losing patience. The pencil started going about halfway through Gorvetich's lecture.
"People," he says finally, "what we doing here? Young Mr. Sabich supposed to be on witness stand. Jurors are by their phones. We trying this lawsuit or what?"
"Your Honor," says Stern, "I had hoped the prosecutors would terminate this proceeding today. I can hardly believe this. May I ask if they actually intend to offer evidence to support their new theory about the card?"
"You bet your life," answers Brand. "This was a fraud on the Court."
Stern shakes his head sadly. "The defense obviously cannot proceed, Your Honor, until we have conducted our own examination."
We all head back to Stern's to await word from Hans and Franz, who have their own copy of the imaged hard drive in storage at their office. I call Anna in the interval to tell her what has transpired. She has believed all along that when push came to shove, Tommy Molto would cheat to win, and she's certain he's trying to do it again.
"The leopard doesn't change his spots," Anna says now. Last night, she made the same prediction as Marta that Molto would figure out some excuse to avoid dismissing.
Hans and Franz are in the office in an hour, dressed pretty much as they were yesterday, in their designer jeans and gelled hair. It seems the boys are in the clubs every night until closing, and they look like Marta got them out of bed.
"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," says Hans, the taller of the two. "Gorvetich is correct."
"The card isn't on the image?" Marta asks. She had taken off her heels, perching her squat feet in her hose on one of her father's coffee tables, and nearly falls over. I groan out loud. I am sick of not knowing what to believe. The last to react is my father, who emits a shrill laugh.
"It's Barbara," he says. He puts his fingers on the bridge of his nose and pivots his head back and forth in utter amazement. It seems like a bizarre idea, but even so, I feel instantly he may be right. "She figured out a way to do this so it wouldn't show up on the image."
"Could that be?" Marta asks the two experts. "Could she have used something like invisible ink and created this object so it wouldn't copy?"
Hans shakes his head but looks at Franz for confirmation. He also shakes his head emphatically.
"No way," says Ryzard. "This software, the Evidence Tool Kit, that's like the bomb, man. Industry standard. Makes exact copy. Been used thousands of times in thousands of cases, with no variation reported."
"You didn't know Barbara," my father says.
"Judge," says Franz, "I got
an ex-wife. Sometimes I think she got superpowers, too, especially when I get some extra money. She's like in court for more alimony before the check clears."
"You didn't know Barbara," my father says again.
"Judge, listen to me," says Franz. "She would have to have known exactly what software was going to be used-"
"You just said it's the industry standard."
"Sixty percent of the market. But not one hundred. Then she would have had to penetrate the algorithms. And create a whole program to run counter to the software, which would launch on start-up. And which wouldn't show anywhere on the image. Or on the drive when we looked at it yesterday. I mean, dude, you can take every geek in the Silicon Valley and put them together, they couldn't do that. You're talkin every kind of impossible."
My father studies Franz with that stupefied, still-eyed look I see on my dad so often these days.
"So when could the card have been added?" Marta asks.
Franz looks to Hans, who shrugs.
"Had to be when it was over in the other judge's office."
"Judge Mason? Why? Why not after that?"
"Dude, the whole computer was sealed and shrink-wrapped and initialed until yesterday. You saw it. Gorvetich even made us look at the seals before they took them off in court so I would agree they were the originals. And Matteus and Gorvetich and I peeled off the last of the evidence tape and connected the monitor and CPU in the courtroom together."
"Couldn't they have taken off the wrappings and the seals and put them back on?"
Hans and Franz are trying to explain why that is not possible-the evidence tape says "Violated" in blue once it's peeled away-when Sandy interrupts.
"Prosecutors don't generally tamper with evidence in order to add proof that supports a defendant's innocence. If the card is a fraud, we will not get very far with the judge or the jury by arguing that this is the prosecutors' handiwork. Either we pursue Rusty's theory about Barbara, or we find another way to explain why the imaged hard drive did not capture what was actually there."
"Didn't happen," Hans answers definitively.
"Then we had better see if we can counter what the PAs are bound to say."
In the last couple of days, Stern has begun using a cane. With it, he gets around a good deal more nimbly than in the courtroom. Now he poles his way behind his desk and dials the telephone.
"Who are you calling, Dad?" Marta asks.
"George," Sandy answers.
Judge Mason, still the acting chief, is not available but calls back in twenty minutes. When he comes on, Stern and he have an exchange, obviously about Sandy's health, because Stern keeps answering, "All according to plan," and, "Better than expected." Finally, Stern asks if he can put the judge on the speakerphone so the rest of the trial team can hear. I probably should not be here, but I have no thought of leaving. I was one of the people, along with Anna and my dad, who used that computer while it was in Judge Mason's chambers.
"I've already had a conversation this morning with Tommy Molto," says the judge. "As you remember, Sandy, when we received the computer, we all agreed that no one would have access to it alone, and that I would keep a log of every document that was examined. Tom asked me for a copy of the log, and I e-mailed it to him. I'd be happy to do the same for you."
"Please," answers Stern.
Judge Mason and he agree that it makes more sense to talk after we've seen the log. While we are waiting for the document to cross the Net, Stern and Marta question Hans and Franz about what would have been required to pull this off. The two have already been engaged in rapid speculation, notions whizzing and pinging like bullets in a shooting gallery, and have pretty much agreed with Gorvetich that this was done with a piece of shareware called Office Spy, which would then have to be shredded.
"And how long would it take to do all that?" Sandy asks. "Install the software, add the object, delete the software, and clean up the registry?"
"An hour?" answers Hans, looking to Franz.
"Maybe me, I could do it in forty-five minutes, if I'd practiced some," says Franz. "Let's imagine I've already got Spy and the object on a flash drive, so I can save a little download time. And I've done the same operation with another PC, so I know exactly where to look to clean up the deletion of Evidence Eraser. But you know, somebody who doesn't have an extensive background? Has to be twice as long. At least."
"At least," says Hans. "More like several hours."
When the log shows up, it records four separate visits. My father went to the private chambers where George had my dad's PC set up on November 12, a week after the election. It was a dismal experience that caused my dad to vow no more. George witnessed this himself. My dad was there for twenty-eight minutes. He copied four documents to a flash drive, three draft opinions and one research memo from one of his clerks, and opened up his calendar and wrote down his remaining appointments for the balance of the year.
I came a week later to copy three more draft opinions and returned the next day for one more about which I'd misunderstood my dad's instructions. Riley, one of Judge Mason's law clerks, was with me on both occasions. And I was there for twenty-two minutes the first time and six minutes the day after.
Finally, right before Thanksgiving, Anna went over, standing in for me at the last minute. My dad was desperate to get a look at an earlier draft of an opinion he was working on at home that was already late. He was also starting, in optimistic moments, to book appointments in 2009 and wanted to review his calendar. I had gotten called to sub that morning and didn't want to say no, but the assignment was going to last at least two weeks. Anna had volunteered earlier to do the copying for my father, since she was normally in Center City, and Judge Mason had approved her enthusiastically. The log says she was there for about an hour, but that was because she had gotten a call from the office and was on her cell most of the time.
"Was Riley with her throughout that visit?" Sandy asks Judge Mason.
Judge Mason summons Riley Moran. She has known Anna for two years, since Riley's clerkship began before Anna's ended. Riley remembers things pretty much the same way I heard them from Anna at the time. Peter Berglan, one of the most demanding assholes Anna has to work for, had reached out for her on her cell and basically told her she had to participate in a conference call. Riley says that Anna got up from the computer and went to a chair across the room. Riley stepped out, because it was clearly a client matter she shouldn't overhear, but she peeked back in at least three times in the next forty minutes to see if Anna was done. Anna was in the chair and nowhere near the computer on each occasion. Eventually, Anna came next door to tell Riley she was ready, and Riley watched when Anna returned to the computer to finish downloading and making notes about my dad's upcoming appointments. The log reflects that the calendar was open to the same date it had been when Anna got up.
"Is that it?" George asks when Riley is gone.
Sandy thanks Judge Mason, then we all sit in the office in silence.
"What will Molto say?" asks Sandy out loud. "It does not seem possible anyone could have tampered with the computer."
"An hour," says Marta. She's talking about Anna.
"An hour is not enough time," Sandy says. "Rusty, even Rusty's son, might have anticipated a defense and done this, but Anna is clearly the least likely. If worse comes to worse, we can get her cell phone records and talk to Peter Berglan."
I have come to the same conclusions. My dad lacked the technical expertise even to try this. So do I, frankly, and obviously I know I wasn't responsible. Anna, as Stern says, would have had no reason to risk her entire career. None of us really makes a credible culprit.
Stern tilts his hand toward my father. "Rusty, did you have keys to the courthouse?"
"To my chambers," answers my dad. "That's all."
"Do you still have them?"
"No one has asked for them back."
"Did you ever visit after hours?"
"Before or after I went on leave?"
<
br /> "After."
"Never."
"And before?"
"Once or twice, when I'd forgotten something I needed over a long weekend. It was a pain, frankly. There was one security guard. You'd have to stand there pounding on the doors until you got the guy's attention. It took me twenty minutes to get in one time."
"And whose chambers was the computer in?"
"George's."
"As acting chief, had he moved into your chambers?"
"He still hasn't, so far as I know."
"And what about the security guard. Would the security guard have keys to all the chambers?"
My father thinks. "Well, he carried one hell of a key ring. You could hear him coming. And there were times when people locked themselves out of their chambers and security was called to let them back in. But whether night security had the keys-I just don't know."
"That's their theory," says Marta. "Right? Inside job. Maybe Rusty came in there with a computer whiz in the middle of the night."
"Talk to the security guard," my father suggests.
"You can bet Tommy is keeping company with him right now," Marta says. "And you know how this will go, Rusty. Either they'll accuse the security guard of being your best friend, or find he has a felony he didn't disclose when he applied for his job and they'll threaten him with prosecution until he remembers letting you in. Or they'll find a day the regular guard was off and Jim Brand will badger the substitute into saying, Well, she can't remember which judge, but there was a night one of those judges came in. They'll patch together something."
"Res ipsa loquitur," says Sandy. The thing speaks for itself. "No one but Rusty really had the motive to do this. No one else in November could have known what the evidence would show or what defense might work. We didn't even have complete discovery yet."
"It's weak," says Marta. "And we'll end up with a trial within a trial. All these witnesses? Judge Mason and Riley. And the security guard. And Nat and Anna. Rusty again. The PAs'll be lucky if the jury even remembers what the case is about by the time all that's over."
