She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “No, not really. I’m just going out on Sunday to visit the folks.” Karen leaned over and said in a low voice, “I think we need to get some margaritas in us as soon as possible.”
The aroma of grilled meat, vegetables and cilantro wafted out from the kitchen and Ben took a big sniff and looked around. “Something sure smells good,” he said.
“I know,” Karen agreed. “It’s making me hungry.”
The pitcher of margaritas came and hit the spot right away. Ben and Karen talked a little shop, but not too much, then they gossiped about their co-workers.
At five, Ben poured the last of the margaritas into Karen’s glass. She took a sip, looked around and said, “So, without giving away any secrets, have you figured out who killed the guy yet?”
Ben shook his head. “No, I haven’t. We have some ideas, but right now they’re only ideas.”
“I thought for sure you were on to something when they attacked you. By the way, everything looks pretty well healed now. You can’t even really tell anymore.”
“When you’re ruggedly handsome, you can overcome a lot,” he replied.
In fact, Ben was feeling pretty good. His ribs had basically healed, only a twinge now and then and you couldn’t even really tell that he had needed stitches or that his face was badly bruised and swollen. A little time in the sun fixed that. The only real remaining symbol of the attack was a slight discoloration on his left forearm which hadn’t fully disappeared.
“It’s funny,” Ben said shaking his head, “I swear I’ve got most of the pieces to the puzzle. I just can’t get them to fall into place right.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I think sometimes you just have to look at things a new way, don’t get so caught up in, I don’t know, preconceived notions, I guess. Maybe you should just look at all the facts without drawing any conclusions. Don’t assume you know anything. I think sometimes we can convince ourselves that something is true and then it becomes true, even though we don’t really know that it’s true. Do you understand what I mean?” Ben nodded. She continued. “I think that must have been true with some of those women you were telling me about. They must have convinced themselves that there was something there with him, when there really wasn’t. They just didn’t have the right perspective, that’s all.”
Ben took the last remaining nacho and stuffed it in his mouth, then took a drink of his margarita and thought about it for a minute. Maybe she had a point.
Ben and Karen left the restaurant at about five-thirty and Ben got home around six-fifteen. Libby had the grill going. “I’ve got small steaks for dinner,” she said. Looking at him closely, she added, “How many margaritas did you have anyway?”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Not nearly enough.”
He went inside and Natalie ran up and greeted him with a big hug.
“Daddy, you’re home early.”
He picked her up and squeezed her tight. “Did you miss me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“A little or a lot?”
“A lot.”
“Good answer.” He gave her a big kiss on the forehead.
“Daddy, are you going to have to go back to the office?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not. I’m going to spend rest of the evening with you.” And he did.
45
The heat and humidity that distinguished Friday gave way to much cooler and less humid conditions on Saturday. Ben met his father and his brother, Michael, for their first round of golf together of the year. Usually, the three tried to play together at least once a month during the golf season. Not this year. Too busy with the trial. Ben got home at about four-thirty and trudged upstairs to take a shower. He and Libby had dinner reservations downtown at seven with some friends and if he wasn’t ready to go on time, she’d be all over him.
Ben was drying off after his shower when Libby pushed into the bathroom. “You sure got some sun today,” she said giving him the once over with her eyes.
He acted wounded. “That’s the best you can do when you walk in here and I’ve got nothing on but a towel is say, ‘you sure got some sun today’?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh well.”
Bryan and Helen Carlson arrived on time at six-fifteen and the two couples took the Carlson’s Lexus SUV downtown to the restaurant. Libby Lohmeier and Helen Carlson had known each other since grade school and the two couples and their families frequently socialized, even taking vacations together from time to time.
The restaurant was a trendy eclectic spot in Lincoln Park and they left stuffed and satisfied, the beautiful warm day having transformed into a cool and comfortable evening. They walked down the sidewalk chatting about dinner and turned the corner heading toward the car when Ben, not looking where he was going, bumped into two men sharing an embrace. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” he said stepping around them.
“No problem,” one of the men said in a low voice.
As Ben looked back to once again acknowledge his indiscretion, something struck him as unusual, but he didn’t know what. He stopped and studied the men for a couple of seconds from the rear as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. What was it? He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Then Libby said, “Are you coming or not?”
Ben snapped back to reality, paused another second and then said, “Sure,” and turned and caught up.
Later that night, in a small room with the door closed to keep the noise outside from intruding, the Protector sat on an old chair behind a small metal desk and pondered the beginning of the Greenfield murder trial. Would further action need to be taken? Had Lohmeier figured it out? No, he couldn’t have. The beating may not have slowed him down much, but he couldn’t have figured it out. He couldn’t have. What of the other? What to do about the other? The Protector sat in that small room and thought about the future for a long while, the outside noise never intruding, then checked the time and went back to work.
46
Ben met with Meg the evening before jury selection began and found her much calmer than he had anticipated, even eager for things to get started. He sensed that she had come to terms with her situation and felt at peace with the road that lay ahead. Her husband, on the other hand, displayed none of the traits of a seasoned litigator and couldn’t hide his nervousness and lack of comfort. Ben felt surprised that his attitude hadn’t rubbed off on Meg, but was relieved that she seemed so ready for the trial to commence.
Ben took strength from her demeanor and when they met the media on the steps of the Courthouse on Wednesday morning, he conveyed her feelings when he said, “We’ve been looking forward to this date for a long time. As I’ve said in the past, today is the day Megan Rand Cavallaro begins to take her life back, her reputation back. We look forward to the impaneling of a fair and impartial jury of her peers, who will ultimately come to conclude what we have known from the first, that Megan is innocent. Thank you.”
The final two jurors were seated the following Tuesday afternoon at about two o’clock. The final composition of the sixteen jurors and alternates seemed quite balanced and both sides appeared to get some of what they wanted. Of the sixteen, there were six men and ten women; seven were white and five black, three Hispanic and one woman from Korea. Once they had their sixteen, Judge Wilson thanked the rest for their service and adjourned for the day. “We’ll start tomorrow with the State’s opening statement at ten a.m.,” he said slamming the gavel down and ending Court for the day.
On his way to Court the following morning, Ben tried to remember the last time he watched Bridget Fahey deliver an opening statement. Although he couldn’t remember a specific occasion, he had seen her in action many times and knew that she would be well-prepared, thorough and probably quite effective.
Traffic moved fairly quickly and Ben reached the courtroom first, about half an hour early and only minutes before Dan and Mark. When the Cavallaros reached the courtroom about ten
minutes early, Megan looked more nervous than before and her husband rubbed her shoulders as if to supply moral support. He and Ben exchanged nods. Meg wore a cream-colored blouse and a tan skirt, with simple pearl earrings and a matching necklace. She looked pure and innocent, like she belonged in a commercial for moisturizing lotion.
Bridget Fahey arrived only moments before Judge Wilson came out on the bench, followed by her gaggle of assistants. When Judge Wilson took the bench and everyone had found their seats, he turned to her and said, “Ms. Fahey, are you ready to proceed?”
She stood and said, “Yes, your Honor.”
She remained standing as the Sheriff’s deputy left to get the jury. As is proper decorum, Megan and her defense team also rose when the jury entered the courtroom and took their place in the jury box.
Judge Wilson turned and faced the jury. In his best professorial mode, he said, “We are now going to proceed with opening statements. One thing you should remember, the opening statement is not evidence and should not be treated as such. Rather, it is the lawyer’s description of the expected evidence and testimony of witnesses. Nevertheless, you should listen carefully because it provides the road map for each side’s case, what it expects to prove and even what it expects the other side to prove.” He turned back to Bridget Fahey and nodded. “Ms. Fahey, you may begin.”
Bridget Fahey rose and carried a file folder over to a rectangular wooden ledge in front of the jury box. She opened up the folder and took out her notes. She wore a charcoal gray suit and white blouse, with simple gold earrings and a matching chain. Her reddish hair was pulled back in a gold barrette. Ben thought she looked a little nervous. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Bridget Fahey,” she said in a slightly uncomfortable voice. Her hands were clasped at waist level in front of her. “I’m the First Assistant State’s Attorney for the County of Cook. I’m here today to present the People’s case against the Defendant, Megan Rand Cavallaro. She has been indicted by a grand jury of your fellow citizens and charged under the Illinois Criminal Code with first degree murder in the death of Professor Daniel Greenfield, of the Chicago College of Law. The evidence will show that she committed this heinous act by repeatedly striking Professor Greenfield in the head with a baseball bat while in his office on or about December 28th of last year.”
As she moved along, Ben sensed Bridget Fahey becoming more loose and comfortable and it showed in her presentation. Beside him, he could feel Megan growing increasingly uneasy over being portrayed as a murderer in open Court for all the world to see. Ben took a green index card from a stack on the corner of the table and wrote, “Stay calm” on it and slid it over to his client, who looked at it and nodded.
Meanwhile, Bridget Fahey continued laying out the facts as she saw them. “The relationship between the Defendant and Professor Greenfield began in 1989, when she enrolled as a student at the Chicago College of Law. Like all first year law students, the Defendant was assigned to a section consisting of about ninety students. The Defendant’s section took Criminal Law during their first semester of law school in the fall of 1989. Daniel Greenfield was the professor of that course. Thereafter, sometime during late 1990 or early 1991, the Defendant initiated and ultimately began a more personal relationship with Professor Greenfield, a relationship which ultimately became a sexual one. The Defendant’s affair with Professor Greenfield lasted for quite some time, finally ending before the birth of the Defendant’s first child in the summer of 1992.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Anthony’s birth. While Fahey hadn’t technically violated the Court’s ruling prohibiting her from mentioning Anthony’s paternity, she had walked right up to the edge and looked over the side. The implication was unmistakable. He looked up and Judge Wilson glanced briefly in his direction, occasionally a sign a Judge makes when he anticipates an objection. Ben made a split-second decision not to object, fearing that doing so might call more attention to the statement than it warranted. If she said anything else along these lines, however, he would be forced to object.
Bridget Fahey stepped away from the precipice. Ben maintained his outward appearance of serenity, as though he were listening to peaceful music or watching a movie. Fahey continued. “The Defendant’s husband, Joseph Cavallaro, did not know about her affair with Daniel Greenfield.”
Bridget Fahey was on a roll now and Ben watched as she picked up steam. “During the fall of 2001, contacts between the Defendant and Daniel Greenfield started up again. Phone records indicate several calls between the two in the weeks and months leading up to Daniel Greenfield’s death. The Defendant even visited Daniel Greenfield at the law school. A security guard at the law school, Charles Powell, will testify that he recognizes the Defendant from seeing her during these visits around the date of the murder.”
At these words, several heads in the jury box turned toward Meg and eyed her suspiciously. Exactly as Fahey intended. She went on. “On December 27th, the Defendant spoke to Professor Greenfield on the telephone, arranging a meeting for the following day. December 28th was a Friday, the last day the law school would be open for the year. It wouldn’t reopen until January 2nd, the following Wednesday, five days later. The fall semester had ended a couple of weeks earlier, Christmas had just taken place and New Year’s was only a couple of days away, so the law school was naturally quite empty. There would be few witnesses to worry about.
They met in Professor Greenfield’s office. Whatever was said between the two, something went very wrong. The Defendant had reached the point of no return. While Daniel Greenfield was leaning over behind his desk, perhaps to put something in his nearby briefcase, the Defendant did the unthinkable. She picked up a baseball bat and struck him on the back of the head, somewhere behind and above his left ear. He fell. She struck him again and again and again, as many as ten to twelve times on the back of his head, crushing his skull and killing him.”
Ben heard Megan inhale sharply, almost like a silent gasp, then hold her breath for a second or two before finally exhaling. He sensed her go rigid. He reached down and placed a reassuring hand on her right forearm and the tension seemed to ease somewhat. You could now hear a pin drop in the courtroom as all eyes were fixated on Bridget Fahey.
“After he was dead, the Defendant wiped down the bat, hoping to obliterate all of the finger prints, and wiped off anything else she touched in the office. She snuck from the room unseen and made her way back downstairs, where she left the building, probably through the back entrance, an entrance she would have known about from her days as a student. What she didn’t know, is what she left behind and what she took with her.” Ben saw several jurors lean forward. They were listening intently.
“At the scene of the crime, in Professor Greenfield’s office, we found several blond hairs, which an expert will testify matched those of the Defendant. Also, we found two finger prints belonging to the Defendant, from her right forefinger and right thumb, near the trademark on the bat. In her haste, she had neglected to wipe the bat completely. Finally, prior to her arrest and in the brownstone she shares with her husband, we found a gray cashmere scarf, one used by the Defendant and the one she was wearing on that cold winter’s day when Daniel Greenfield was killed. On that scarf, we found two drops of blood, the blood of Daniel Greenfield.”
Ben could feel the tension in the room rising. Fahey was reaching her crescendo. “We will link the Defendant to Daniel Greenfield, first as a student, then as a lover. We will link them together during the fall and winter of 2001. We will link the Defendant to the law school and to Professor Greenfield’s office, the murder scene. We will link her to the murder weapon. We will link her to Daniel Greenfield’s blood. We will prove to you that Daniel Greenfield’s blood is not only on the Defendant’s scarf, but also on her hands. At the end of this trial, when all of the evidence is in, and we have linked the Defendant to Daniel Greenfield’s murder, we will ask you for the only verdict justified by the law and the evidence. We will ask you to
convict the Defendant. We will ask you to find Megan Rand Cavallaro guilty of the murder of Professor Daniel Greenfield.”
47
When Court was back in session, Bridget Fahey called Professor Gordon Hyatt, who looked absolutely professorial in his tan summer suit. He testified about dropping by Greenfield’s office to deliver some materials only to find him bludgeoned to death on the floor behind his desk. His testimony was interesting and while it displayed his cool demeanor and gentlemanly southern drawl, it was otherwise fairly unremarkable. After all, Ben thought, someone had to find the body. His direct testimony took no more than thirty minutes.
Ben’s cross-examination was even shorter. Hyatt admitted that he had been present at the law school for a little while on the date of the murder, but had not seen either Meg or Greenfield. He also testified that he had never seen Meg and the Professor alone together, nor had he ever seen Meg act violently or even display any temper of any kind. All in all, Ben felt good about the cross-examination. He had begun to lay the groundwork for chipping away at the State’s case and Hyatt had been cooperative and had not really provided any real damage.
Bridget Fahey’s next witness was the medical examiner, Dr. Akhter. By now, the sun had risen high enough in the sky that it no longer shone through the windows behind the defense table. The odd reflections and shadows of earlier in the morning were now gone. Dr. Akhter took the stand after the lunch recess and walked to the witness stand seeming as though he did not have a care in the world, even nodding at Ben as he passed. Bridget Fahey took him through his educational background and extensive work experience with tedious detail. She went on somewhat longer than she needed to, though the point was unmistakably driven home - Akhter knew his business. Ben didn’t disagree and let the testimony drag on for as long as Fahey cared to continue.
Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Page 30
