"This Carpus didn't file even one pretrial motion. Even if he didn't have much to work with he could have filed a few motions just to keep the prosecutor honest. Defense attorneys do that all the time, shake the tree and hope something useful falls out. And his cross examination of the prosecution witnesses was pitiful. He might as well not have been there. Why didn't the appellate attorney raise ineffective assistance of council on appeal?"
"When Higginbotham was telling me about Carpus and the weak defense I asked the same question. He said he called the attorney who handled the automatic appeal, but the guy wasn't very anxious to talk to him about the case. I don't know if that's because the appellate attorney doesn't want to look bad himself or because Higginbotham didn't really push him very hard."
"Higginbotham can raise ineffective assistance of council now. He can request a habeas corpus review in either the state or federal courts. At least I think he can. I'm by no means an expert on death penalty appeals, but it certainly seems like he could assert ineffective assistance of council by his appellate attorney to at least get a stay of execution."
PJ quipped, "It really seems like this guy's been screwed by the system every step of the way. Those charged with protecting his rights just didn't seem to give a damn."
I said, "Can't argue that point with you."
PJ sighed and said, "And now the state's going to put him to death."
"Okay, the system hasn't afforded him an adequate defense, but that doesn't mean he's innocent. You said Higginbotham does think he's innocent though. What's he base that conclusion on? Especially, since he's got so little experience. Don't tell me it's his guts, because he hasn't been practicing law long enough to have developed any gut instincts."
PJ's eyes widened, "You saw the trial transcript. They convicted this guy essentially on the facts that he was the last person to see the victim alive and her DNA was found in his car. No prosecutor I ever worked with would have even issued a warrant on that, much less gone to trial. No jury should have ever convicted on what was presented."
I nodded as we both pondered her words. She was absolutely correct, with what the prosecutor presented any halfway competent defense attorney would have blown the case out of the water. Then a thought occurred to me and I said, "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe you shouldn't worry about showing Robinson is innocent, maybe you should try to find the guilty person."
PJ nodded slowly and said, "That makes sense. Looks to me like the police latched onto him as a suspect from the very beginning and didn't look in any other directions. The case is cold, but since no one has ever really looked, who knows what might be out there pointing to someone else."
"I doubt that you'll get any help from the locals. If the appellate attorney is afraid of looking bad, just think how the cops and local prosecutor will react."
Nodding, PJ said, "Don't expect they'll welcome me with open arms. I'll need to trend lightly. I know how I'd feel if someone was poking around one of my old cases trying to show I'd rushed to judgement and as a result an innocent man was on death row. I'd do anything I could to prove I hadn't made such a horrible mistake. We all like to believe we're totally objective, but it's human nature to defend one's own actions."
"If this Higginbotham hasn't directed you to do anything specific to support his efforts to show a defect in the process that convicted Robinson, I really think your best bet is to do what you did all of those years for Hollywood, investigate the original crime."
PJ started sorting through the numerous files spread across the table and said, "All I really need to focus on are the police reports and the trial transcript. That eliminates half of this paper."
PJ sorted the files and returned them to the storage box. She then suggested we go downstairs and have lunch. Since I hadn't eaten yet today I readily accepted the suggestion. PJ carried her box down the outside stairs to her car and I went down the inside stairs.
Passing the office, I stuck my head in the doorway and said hi to Marge. She looked up from the desktop covered with invoices and replied, "Hi Jack, did PJ leave? Looked like you two were pretty focused on something this morning."
"Yeah, a case she's working on. She needed someone to noodle it with her."
Marge looked thoughtful and said, "Yeah, must be strange for her not working with Tim. They were partners for a long time." Marge was referring to Tim Donovan, PJ's partner who was killed in the shootout where she was seriously injured. PJ had killed both assailants.
I nodded, "No doubt." I turned and headed toward the bar, "Gunna grab lunch with PJ, but I'll be around this afternoon if you need anything." It was a safe bet Marge wouldn't need anything from me, but it always makes me feel good to make the offer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PJ was entering from the parking lot when I got into the bar. She walked down to my end of the bar and hopped up on a stool. I said, "Don't you want to grab a booth?"
She shook her head, "No. I can eat at the bar in the middle of the day if I want to . . . now. No longer working for the city. Remember?"
I climbed onto my usual stool and asked, "Does that mean you're going to have a drink, too?"
By now Dana had made her way down to us, placing a Pittsburgh Steelers coaster in front of each of us, "What would you two like to drink?" The coasters were her latest effort to generate support in South Florida for her beloved Steelers. She found drink coasters on the internet and bought a thousand. Well actually, I bought a thousand. I just didn't know it until they arrived.
I replied, "Well, let me think. What'll I have?" It was a game Dana and I had been playing lately. She knew I was going to have a Landshark. I always have a Landshark, but she asks every time anyway. My part of the game is to act undecided before settling on a Landshark. Sometimes as a variation to the game, I ask for something I know we don't carry, and when she says we don't have it, I order a Landshark.
Today the game took an unexpected twist when PJ spoke up and said, "Bring us a couple of Landsharks, please."
Dana was momentarily speechless, an event that seldom occurs, before her surprised reply, "You want a Landshark, PJ?"
"Sure, must be pretty good, I've seen Jack drink thousands of 'em."
Before turning to get our beers, Dana shook her head and said, "Oh PJ, you need to give serious consideration to your choice in role models."
PJ and I chatted through lunch. Mostly about current events and Angela. It was light and enjoyable. As we were finishing up, I asked, "So where will you start your investigation?"
"Well, I'll reread all of the police reports and the trial transcript looking for any obvious loose ends. Given the superficial nature of everything done I expect that I'll start with the victim . . . the victim's family. See if I can learn anything that could point to anyone else. In his statement to the police, Robinson said he had been secretly dating the victim. Her mother testified that wasn't true. So, my question is, if she wasn't seeing Robinson, who was she seeing? From the pictures, she looked like far too pretty a girl not to be dating anyone."
I reflected for a minute and said, "I wouldn't expect the victim's family to be very anxious to talk to you. They must believe that the killer has been caught. They're not going to want to reopen what must be raw feelings all of these years later."
PJ nodded, "I agree, it won't be easy. The only argument I can think of is that maybe by taking another look at everything I can come up with something that will lead to finding her body. Her body has never been found and that means they've never really been able to bring closure to her disappearance. The desire to find closure can be a strong motivator. Even to do things you don't want to do."
"Still sounds like a tough sell to me. Do you know where her family is? Are they still in the same area they were at the time of her disappearance? I saw an address in the police reports."
PJ replied, "At this point I don't know if they're still in Pineywoods, or not. This afternoon I'll run them through some databases at the office and see wh
at I can come up with."
I asked, "Where is this Pineywoods place anyway?"
"It's two or three hours north, west of US 27 and Lake Okeechobee in Trafford County. Pineywoods is actually the county seat, although I don't think there's much of a town left these days."
"So is it located in a pine forest or something?"
PJ replied, "Don't think so, at least not these days. Pineywoods is the name of a breed of cattle that are decedents of cattle brought here by the Spanish explorers. The cattle were turned loose to reproduce and provide a future food source. Descendants of the original cattle acquired various names based on the locations they ultimately populated. Pineywoods were found in the pine forests of Southern Mississippi. They're actually related to the Texas Longhorn. The cattle that migrated to the plains of Texas had ample space and their horns grew longer. The ones in the dense woods and brushy areas of the southeast didn't have their horns grow nearly as long, but they have the same ancestors."
I commented, "Wow, they teach that in the police academy?" PJ scowled, so I moved on, "Is cattle ranching big in this area?"
"I think there are a lot of ranches in that area of the state, but from what Higginbotham told me I get the distinct impression that the town of Pineywoods has seen better days."
"If it's the county seat there must be something there."
PJ finished her beer and said, "Guess I'll find out, won't I."
"When are you going up there?"
"Tomorrow if I learn that the victim's family is still around the area. I really want to start with them, so if they've moved I'll need to track them down first. Why do you ask? You want to ride along?"
I said, "No. No way. To be perfectly honest I think your spinning your wheels. Granted, this Robinson hasn't gotten a fair shake by the system, but that doesn't mean he's innocent. And if he is, how in the world could you prove that, or prove that someone else did it, in the short time he has left." My tone was firmer than I had intended.
A deep frown engulfed PJ as she said, "I'm surprised at you Jack. I would think you'd be troubled by the fact that the system failed this guy so miserably."
"What I'm trying to say PJ is that because the system failed doesn't equate to him being innocent. It's obvious that those in the system charged with the responsibility of defending him did a lousy job, but I can't help but believe that if he was truly innocent he, or his family, would have been raising holy hell all of these years. Maybe no one has taken up his cause because everyone knows he's guilty."
PJ nodded subtly and the frown faded just a bit. "That may be the case, but I'll never know if I don't at least make an effort. I've been asked to see what I can find out and that's what I intend to do."
"I applaud you PJ, I just think that the final outcome will be the same."
We chatted a few more minutes and PJ left to go to her office. I asked Dana for another Landshark and mulled over PJ's words and the fact that it was only nineteen days until the scheduled execution.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was startled by a low rumble, "You look deep in thought, Boss." Moe was leaning against the back of the stool PJ had vacated.
"Oh, yeah. What's up Moe?"
Moe pulled out the stool and sat down. "Nothing special. Just curious Boss, you and PJ have been huddled all day over what looked to me like some kind of police investigation. We don't have trouble around here do we?"
"No, it's a case PJ's working on for an attorney."
"I thought she was doing pre-employment background stuff?"
"Yeah, she is, but her boss asked her to take this case. It's a death penalty case."
Moe sat up straight on the stool as if slapped and asked, "A what?"
"It's a case where a guy was convicted of killing a girl who disappeared some ten years ago. He's already been through the usual appeals, but now with an execution date looming an attorney is scrambling to find something to at least get him a stay."
Moe said, "You don't sound too sympathetic. I take it you think the guy's guilty and deserves the death penalty."
Moe's comment caused me to pause and reflect. Finally I replied, "I guess I do think he's guilty. Whether he deserves the death penalty . . . I guess that's a philosophical question. I don't know where I stand on the death penalty. I've never given it much thought. Since we didn't have the death penalty in Michigan, I never thought enough about it to even know my own position. I do know that I think if he wasn't guilty he and his family would have been raising all kinds of noise the last ten years."
Moe rubbed the stubble on his chin, "Can you tell me about the case?"
"Sure, it's certainly no secret." I proceeded to tell Moe everything I had learned in reading the files and talking with PJ.
Moe asked with a tone that seemed somewhat accusatory, "You say the system failed to adequately defend this guy, but you still think he's guilty?"
"Look, if you were wrongly convicted of murder you'd be raising hell the entire ten years." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them.
Moe shot back, "I was innocent and it didn't stop the system from taking twelve years of my life. How much hell do you think a guy can raise from behind the bars of a ten by six cage?"
"I know you were wrongly convicted Moe. I'm not saying it never happens, I just don't think this guy, facing the death penalty all of these years, wouldn't have been able to raise more appeals. Even if he couldn't, it seems his family would have been pursuing it the whole time."
Moe cut me off, "You told me this guy's black, raised by his grandmother. How the hell do you think people like them feel when facing the system? You're really showing your whiteness, Jack. You have no idea what these people feel." He paused in thought for a minute, but before I could continue he surged forward, "Let me put it in terms you could relate to. Suppose, as you're going through your life minding your own business someone runs into your unattended car in the parking lot. You're pissed, but you accept it. After all, shit happens in life. Well my friend, that's often the way black people feel when the criminal justice system lands on them. Even if they think they did nothing wrong, they accept it. Why, because it happens to black people all the damn time."
Now I was direct, "So, you think he's innocent because he's black?"
Moe shook his head and his piercing brown eyes bore into me, "That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that you shouldn't attach any significance to the fact that neither this guy, nor his family, has been fighting the system. They come from a culture where being run over by the government is much more a way of life than where you come from, Jack. Just like guns. Tell me Jack, how many of your childhood friends have been shot?"
"Okay, I hear you."
"No Jack, how many?"
"None Moe, at least none that I know of."
"During the years I grew up in Detroit, six guys I knew in my neighborhood were shot. Three died. Which neighborhood do you think accepts the shooting of a teenager with less uproar, yours or mine?"
I paused to collect my thoughts, "Okay Moe, I'm wrong to ascribe any significance to the fact that there hasn't been a protracted series of appeals over the past ten years. That still doesn't mean he's innocent."
"I don't know if he's innocent or guilty. Maybe he's totally deserving of the needle. I don't know and you don't know either, and you've read the entire case. You said yourself that the system certainly didn't work to defend him, so I don't think anyone else knows for sure either. Sure, a jury convicted him, but if someone would have provided an adequate defense would they still have convicted? I just think it's a damn shame that we're going to kill this guy when we're not absolutely certain he's guilty. It is us killing him Jack, because we're residents of Florida now and it's the State of Florida that's killing him."
"Shit Moe, we can't right every potential wrong?"
Moe shook his head again, "No, we can't, but you have a chance to make a difference in this one."
"What the hell are you talking about? This guy's got an atto
rney. I'm not even licensed in Florida. What can I do?"
"Well, PJ came to you for a reason, she respects your opinion. I'm sure you could help her sort through things, even help her in talking to people. With your experience as a prosecutor you know what's important and what isn't."
I replied, "I don't think PJ needs my help interviewing people. She was a detective, you recall."
"I know that, Jack. I just think two heads are better than one, and when one is a cop and one is a lawyer, I have to believe it could be a pretty effective team."
I gestured around the bar, "But, if I get tied up in PJ's investigation . . ."
"Right Jack, this place will just fall apart." His tone was more than a little condescending.
Just then Dana came up and said, "Moe, Juan just called from the kitchen and said the latch on the walk-in is sticking again. He wants you to take a look at it?"
Moe grumbled, "Yeah, I'll take a look. I think it's more that those sparrow ass cooks just don't pull hard enough."
Dana looked his hulking frame up and down and said, "Really, that's the standard around here, it doesn't stick if you can open it?" With that she turned and headed back to the other end of the bar. Moe headed for the kitchen. I was left with my thoughts.
CHAPTER NINE
I was carrying a can of Coke and a to go cup of coffee when I slid into the passenger seat of PJ's car. She said, "Wow, he comes bearing gifts. I'm the one who should be giving you gifts. I was surprised when you called last night and offered to go along with me today. When I left yesterday, I didn't have the feeling you were too interested in the fate of Freeman Robinson."
"Well, I did some thinking and decided that maybe I was being shortsighted. I don't know if the guy's guilty or innocent, but I do know that the criminal justice system hasn't given him a fair shake. If I can contribute, in some small way, to righting that wrong it seems like the thing to do."
Driven Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 4) Page 4
