It took two days for Liselle to be arraigned. I was waiting in court with Cade Brickson, who looked like he’d snuck softballs in under the shoulders of his suit. We were waiting in the gallery for the next group of defendants to be brought in for their individual arraignments, along with other lawyers and family members and staffers.
“A bond for murder is going to be expensive,” Cade said.
I nodded. “She says she can pay.”
“I’ll need to confirm it.”
“Of course.”
The courtroom doors opened but it wasn’t the defendants. It was the prosecutor. The Chief Prosecutor. Victoria Lance.
“Uh-oh,” said Cade.
“Yep,” I said.
Victoria Lance did not take arraignments. Normally, she would send one of her assistant prosecutors for this even if she were going to handle the trial. The fact that she was here didn't make any sense.
Until Bre Phillips arrived. The daughter of Richard Phillips walked into court and started to go through the swinging gate to the counsel table. Victoria whispered and motioned and Bre stopped and slid over to the front row for spectators.
A message was being sent—that this case had the full attention of the prosecutor’s office and the support of the victim’s family.
And I’d bet the support of the family’s money.
A moment later, three uniformed officers came into the room leading six shackled prisoners. That was also unusual. Normally, there weren't that many and they weren't shackled. Either the six women were exceptionally dangerous, or another message was being sent. Liselle was the last one in the line. She still wore her jeans and denim shirt and they'd given her back her boots and laces for her court appearance. She didn't look any the worse for wear after spending two nights in jail, but she scanned the courtroom and her face lightened noticeably when she saw me. I waved and she nodded and we both stood as the judge entered the courtroom.
There was a great rustling as everyone in the court stood and then sat.
“Good morning, everyone,” said Judge Dante French. Judge French was a good draw. He had been a bailiff before he had become a judge and he was known for being even-handed and thoughtful regardless of whether it was a criminal or civil case. He took his black-framed glasses between a thumb and forefinger and straightened them before he said to the bailiff, “First case please, Marty.”
There were five cases before Liselle's. Two heroin possessions, one heroin trafficking, one breaking and entering that sounded like it arose from someone trying to get money for heroin, and a case of felony domestic assault that involved a baseball bat and a man in a coma. Each defendant pled not guilty. Each one of them was allowed to go free on a minimal bond, if they could post it.
“You bonding any of those?” I whispered to Cade.
“Not a chance.”
“One more, Marty?” said Judge French.
“Yes, Your Honor,” said the bailiff. “State versus Liselle Vila.”
I stepped forward and stood at the defense counsel table while an officer led Liselle over to me. I stepped aside and indicated where she should stand. At the same time, Victoria Lance stepped forward and took the place of the junior prosecutor who had handled the other five cases. I glanced behind her and saw Bre staring, not at me, but at Liselle.
“Miss Lance,” said Judge French. “A pleasure to see you today.”
“And you, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Shepherd, good morning.”
“Good morning, Your Honor.”
“Are both sides prepared to proceed?” asked Judge French.
“We are, Your Honor.”
“Very good.” Judge French was a big man and while his voice was not overly deep, it was smooth and he proceeded with an easy tone that was a stark contrast to the incredibly serious charges he read. “We are here this morning on the case of State versus Liselle Vila. The State has issued an indictment and Ms. Vila is charged with murder in the first degree of Mr. Richard Phillips. Does the defendant wish me to read the charge or do you waive reading?”
“We’ll waive, Your Honor,” I said.
“Very well. Ms. Vila, in response to the charge of first-degree murder, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Liselle said.
“Very well. Do the parties anticipate discovery?”
“The prosecution is prepared to proceed in the standard time-frame, Your Honor.”
“The defense will need additional time for discovery, Your Honor,” I said. “The prosecution appears to be proceeding on a unique theory of the case that will require a non-standard evaluation.”
Judge French looked up.
“My client was dancing with Mr. Phillips at a wedding when he died of a heart attack.”
Victoria flipped a hand as if my comment were ridiculous. “The prosecution will show that the killing was intentional and satisfies the requirements of first-degree murder, Your Honor.’
Judge French raised a casual hand. “We're not going to litigate it now, counselors. Suffice it to say that discovery is required. Have you turned over your file yet?” he said to Victoria.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Do that now, please. We’ll set a trial date for eight months out.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Bond?” said Judge French.
Victoria Lance straightened. “Your Honor, the state recommends that no bond be issued. This is a murder case and the defendant resides out-of-state. We believe she represents a danger and a flight risk.
“Mr. Shepherd?” said Judge French.
“Your Honor, Ms. Vila has no criminal record and the underlying actions claimed here were not violent.”
“Except that my father's dead,” came a voice from behind Victoria.
Bre Phillips.
Judge French looked at her. “Ms. Phillips, I realize that this is difficult for you. But you will remain quiet during these proceedings or you will leave. Do you understand?”
Bre Phillips kept her chin up and stared for a moment before she nodded.
“Thank you. You were saying, counsel?”
“Your Honor, Ms. Vila has no criminal history and the underlying facts claimed in this prosecution do not indicate that she is a danger to others. We would ask that the Court allow her to remain free on her own recognizance with such monitoring as the Court requires to ensure her attendance.”
“Have you made arrangements with a bondsman for monitoring?”
I gestured. “Mr. Brickson is here today in that capacity, Your Honor.”
“Ms. Lance?”
“Your Honor, the defendant stands accused of murder. We believe that this represents an inherent danger to our community and that someone who has been part of such a criminal enterprise should remain in custody.”
Judge French looked at me.
“Criminal enterprise?” I said. “Your Honor, my client is a woodland biologist who went on a date to a wedding. No bond is required. A minimal bond at most.”
Judge French nodded. “The Court finds that bond in this case is appropriate. While Ms. Vila has no criminal record and the facts of this case are not typical, the fact remains that she stands accused of murder, which has its own inherent assumptions of violence and the potential for flight. The Court therefore finds that bond will be set in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars. Should the defendant post this bond, she will be subject to community control to assure that she stays within the city limits of Carrefour, Ohio. Anything else, Marty?”
“No, Your Honor,” said the bailiff.
“Then we are adjourned.” Judge French stood.
“Your Honor,” I said. “May I have a moment with my client before we are dismissed?”
“Of course, Mr. Shepherd. Officer, please wait until Mr. Shepherd has conferred with his client before escorting Ms. Vila back to holding.”
As Judge French left, I turned to Liselle. Her eyes were a little wide but overall she seemed calm. “You’ll need
to come up with fifty thousand dollars and produce collateral to guaranty five hundred thousand dollars if you don’t appear at trial.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Can you do that?”
Liselle chewed momentarily at the bottom of her lip before she said, “I can come up with it, but I need to make a call.”
“Of course. The sooner you can come up with the money, the sooner you can get out. I'm going to have Cade go with you right now so he can help you. He's the one who will be posting the bond so you’ll need to make arrangements with him for the money and the collateral.”
“I understand.”
“I'm going to go over to the prosecutor’s office and get the file so we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Okay.” Her eyes were big but she seemed to be keeping it together.
I put a hand on her elbow. “Just a little longer. You’ll be out soon.”
She nodded.
“You mean she just goes free?” said a voice.
I looked over my shoulder. Bre Phillips again.
Victoria Lance wasn't having any of it. “Come with me,” Victoria said. “We'll talk outside.”
“She just gets to walk?”
“Bre!” said Victoria.
Bre stopped, apparently reluctantly, and the two of them began to walk out.
“You in this morning, Vicki?” I said.
She shot me a glance and then nodded.
“I'll stop by for the file.”
I looked at the officer then pointed to Cade. “Can he go with you?” I asked.
“He can meet us at processing,” said the officer.
“Call me as soon as she's out,” I said. Cade nodded.
I came back to Liselle. “Don't worry. We'll get this taken care of.”
She nodded and the officer led her away.
Cade came up to me before he left. “She really has fifty grand and the collateral?”
“She said she had to make a call.”
Cade shrugged. “Then we'll take care of it.”
“Thanks.”
I left the details of getting the bond posted to Cade. I decided to grab a cup of coffee to give Victoria time to deal with Bre Phillips and get back to her office. I stopped at the coffee shop on the first floor of the courthouse. I judge coffee by heat more than flavor but the cup they served there had plenty of both. I took a seat at a high-top table and thought about Victoria’s presence there today. Victoria had become the chief prosecutor two election cycles ago. She'd taken on a male assistant prosecutor in her first election, beat his ass, then ran unopposed the next time. She had a year or two before she had to run again but, like most prosecutors, Victoria always had her eye on the next election, whether it was preemptively undermining opponents or notching big wins.
It appeared from her presence this morning that she had decided that this was going to be a big win. Great.
I shook my head. This murder charge just didn’t make any sense. I was sick of operating blind. I needed to see what was in the prosecutor’s file.
Once I thought I’d waited long enough, I went up to the big, old-fashioned office on the second floor and checked in with the prosecutor’s secretary. I took a seat and, to her credit, Victoria came out of her office right away. “Nate,” she said. “Come on back.”
She led me into her office and walked behind the dark wooden desk that was as large a small boat. She opened a drawer, pulled out a thumb drive, and handed it to me. It was labeled “State vs. Vila” and had the file number on it.
“That's all the paperwork, Nate. You'll find the police reports, the witness statements, the autopsy, and the toxicology. There's an inventory for all of the physical evidence that we found and, since we're a ways off from trial, that’ll all be in the evidence room. Have you been down there lately?”
“This past summer,” I said.
Her face flicked with annoyance. “Right. It's all electronic now, so just check in and the duty officer will get you any evidence you need to inspect. We require it to stay on site. If there's anything that you need to perform your own testing on or examine in a way that could change it, let me know and we’ll arrange some sort of stipulation.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
I tossed the thumb drive up and down in my hand, the little piece of plastic that used to be eight or nine boxes of documents. Just a light little thing that now held Liselle's future in it. “Do you want to give me the short version?”
Victoria cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll read everything in here, of course, but we both know what happened that night. Liselle Vila went to a wedding with a man whose heart stopped on the dance floor. That's unfortunate. That’s not murder. And I know you have something more concise to tell to the jury or we wouldn't be standing here.”
“It's all in there, Nate.”
“I know. I'm still asking.”
Victoria tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail of medium length with neutral nail polish on the dark desk before she said, “Ms. Vila made sure Mr. Phillips’ heart stopped.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly did she do that?”
“A couple of ways.”
I waited. Victoria didn’t say anything more.
Finally, I said, “Victoria, why are we here?”
Victoria stared at me, that manicured nail tapping, then said, “We’re here because of St. John's wort.”
“What?”
“St. John’s wort.”
I didn’t know what Victoria was talking about. “What does a skin tag on a saint have to do with anything?”
Victoria smiled. She pointed at the drive. “Why don’t you read up? We have eight months to talk about it.”
Right. While she got a jump on the press and the case. “This sounds pretty thin, Vicki.”
Victoria looked unconcerned. “Read,” she said again.
I sighed. “I will. And I guess I need to learn about St. John’s wort.”
“You do. You could start by asking an expert. Like maybe a woodland biologist.”
Fuck.
I thought for a moment. “She's not in the will, you know.”
Victoria blinked. “So?”
“So what's your motive?”
Victoria smiled. “I have to give you our file, Nate. I don’t have to connect the dots for you.”
“No, I don't suppose you do. Do you have a plea offer for me to extend to her?”
“Sure. Exactly what the indictment says. If she wants to plead to first-degree murder, we won't have to go through a trial.”
“That's not an offer, Vicki.”
“That's all there’s going to be in this case, Nate. She pleads to murder or we convict her of it.”
“For dancing. That's insane.”
“For plotting and killing a man. And it's not.” Victoria offered her hand. “I look forward to working opposite you on this, Nate. Call my office if you need to arrange anything with the evidence room.”
“Thanks, Vicki. I'm sure I'll talk to you soon.”
We shook hands and I left. This case just kept getting weirder. I had some research to do.
18
I called Olivia Brickson from my car. I’d asked her for some preliminary research a few weeks ago. It was time to get her more involved.
Olivia picked up right away. “This better not be a call with some soft ass excuse about why you're not lifting tonight.”
“Nope, I'll be there. Calling with work.”
“Hang on a sec.” I heard some shuffling and a moment later the background radio noise vanished. “Okay, shoot.”
“I just took on a new case. Your brother’s serving as bail bondsman. I need some research.”
“Sure. What kind of case?”
“Murder.”
“Jesus, Shep, for a guy who doesn't have a criminal practice you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
Olivia had helped me with the Hank Braggi case last summer. “I k
now. This one's different though. I don’t think there was a killing here.”
“Uhm, in a murder case?”
“Okay, there was a death but I don’t think there was a killing. You know the Phillips-Branson wedding?”
“Matt Branson is a friend but I don't know anything about Ellie’s wedding.”
“A woman was dancing with a man at the wedding and his heart gave out and they’re accusing her of murder.”
“You're kidding.”
“I’m not. This is related to the research I asked for a few weeks ago about the environmental organizations and the Doprava Company. I need you to add research on my client and the victim now too.” I gave her the names Liselle Vila and Richard Phillips, and she confirmed back to me the names of the organizations I’d given her before. Then I said, “You probably better see what you can find out about Phillips’ kids, Bre and Andrew, too. It seems like the family might be throwing some money around on this one.”
“They rich?”
“Very.”
“All right, I'll get some preliminary work done today. You can pick it up when you work out and give me some more guidance.”
“Can't you just email it to me?”
“You know the answer to that, Shep. Someone's always watching and if they’re not watching now, they’ll be looking at it later. Pick it up.”
“Got it. Talk to you soon.”
We hung up and I decided that the other Brickson may have had enough time to do his job. I called Cade. “Hey, Cade. She out?”
“Just finished, Shep. We got her processed and the Electronic House Monitoring Division has fitted her with an ankle monitor.”
“So she was able to post bond?”
“She did.”
“All fifty thousand?”
“They don’t let you out for less.”
“Where did it come from?”
“That’s a question you will never hear me ask, Shep.”
“What about collateral? What did she post?”
“Some family land in Missouri. A couple of hundred acres.”
Interesting. “Can you drop her at my office?”
“Not yet. We have to arrange where she's staying for the next eight months and report that to the EHMD before we can get permission for her to go other places.”
True Intent Page 10
