Insider Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  “Okay,” Anderson began when the lawyers were finished.

  “I find that the petitioner has failed to show sufficient harm to warrant a return of the two laptop computers. They were obtained with a valid search warrant and I am satisfied the state’s case in the murder of Lynn McDaniel will be harmed without the evidence found in them. Further, there is no privilege extending to an attorney for his own possible criminal conduct.

  “I’ll issue an order that the state will retain custody of the computers. Any information found, even of a criminal nature, will be held in strict confidence if it does not directly pertain to the prosecution of Zachary Evans and only Zachary Evans.”

  He then looked at Demarcus and added, “By that I mean if you find any evidence implicating anyone else in this crime, you cannot use it against that person. Clear?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Demarcus said.

  “Kelly,” Anderson said addressing Kelly Thomas who was seated behind the rail in the front row. She stood, and Judge Anderson continued. “Can you make a copy or whatever you call it of everything on the computers for Mr. Knutson so no data will be lost? So they can use whatever is on there for cases their firm is handling?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” the pretty blonde teenager answered. “Give me an hour and I’ll have it ready.”

  “Great, we’re adjourned.”

  FOURTEEN

  That same day during the morning when all of the parties were meeting in Demarcus Tice’s office, Marc Kadella was getting back from an early court appearance. He placed his briefcase and suit coat in his office and was getting a cup of coffee when Carolyn Lucas spoke to him.

  “That’s something about Zach Evans, isn’t it?”

  Marc turned and looked at Carolyn with a puzzled expression. Everyone in the office knew Marc and Zach were friends going back to law school. By now, all of the people in the office, including the lawyers, were in the common area watching Marc.

  “What are you talking about? What about Zach?” Marc asked.

  “Don’t you ever pay attention to the news?” Carolyn asked.

  “No,” Marc answered. “Have you ever really watched this junk? It’s painful. And the newspapers are worse.”

  “How do you know what’s going on?” Carolyn asked.

  “I do what they do. I make it up myself. Now, what’s up with Zach?”

  By this time, Connie Mickelson was handing Marc the A section of the Star Tribune. Below the fold on the front page was a picture of Zach and the story of his arrest.

  Marc read the first three or four paragraphs then looked around the room.

  “I don’t buy this for a minute,” he said. “The Zach I know is a hound, but he doesn’t have the balls to do something like this.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Sandy Compton, another staffer said. She had answered the phone while Marc was reading, put the caller on hold and was pointing the phone at Marc.

  “Zach?” Marc asked.

  “Yep,” Sandy replied.

  “I’ll take it in my office.”

  Less than five minutes later, Marc was out the door putting on his suit coat. “Anybody know where Foster, Minnesota is?”

  “Yeah,” Barry Cline, Marc’s friend and officemate lawyer replied. He gave Marc simple to follow directions then Marc was out the door.

  “Don’t you want to know if I did it?” Zach asked Marc. It was now past 2:00 P.M. and after waiting almost an hour, Marc and Zach were meeting in a secure conference room in the jail.

  “No,” Marc said. “I don’t want to know…”

  “Well, I didn’t,” Zach told him anyway.

  “Great, now that we have that out of the way, don’t bring it up again,” Marc said.

  “You should know,” Zach said, “they are all over at the courthouse, across the street, arguing about my office and home laptops. The firm is trying to get them back. I decided to wait here for you.”

  “I should go over there and see what’s going on. Here, sign this,” Marc said as he handed Zach a retainer agreement.

  Zach glanced it over and said, “Thirty grand! You want…”

  “This isn’t a parking ticket. You’ll be lucky if we can keep this under one fifty. Now, you want me, sign.”

  “I thought we were friends,” Zach grumbled while he signed.

  “That’s why it’s only thirty,” Marc replied. “Besides, because we are friends I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m going over to see what’s going on. I’ll come back afterward.”

  A few minutes later, Marc walked up the front sidewalk of the one hundred and twenty-five-year-old recently modernized courthouse. As he walked toward the front doors, he paused for a moment next to the fifteen-foot cast iron statue of Jacob Foster. The statue was a Union soldier kneeling, his head down holding an American flag on the second day of Gettysburg. Marc read the inscription for the Congressional Medal of Honor awarded to the twenty-year-old Corporal Foster. He was found after the second day of the battle with thirteen bullet holes in him but still holding the flag. When he finished, he reminisced about the story.

  On the second day of the battle, the Confederates were attacking up and down the Union line. A Union general made a significant mistake causing a hole to open near the center along Cemetery Ridge. The only available Northern unit to plug the hole was the First Minnesota Volunteer Regiment.

  Union General Winfield Scott Hancock saw fifteen hundred Rebels from Alabama heading toward the gap in the line. There was another five thousand close behind them. He also saw the Union losing the battle, and possibly the war, if something did not stop them.

  Hancock did not hesitate. He ordered the only Union outfit available, the First Minnesota, fewer than three hundred soldiers, to charge into the gap. Despite knowing it was likely an order to commit suicide, the men from Minnesota did not hesitate. They crashed into the Alabamians and held the line just long enough to allow Hancock to bring forward reinforcements. When the fighting was over, the regiment had suffered over eighty percent casualties, but not a single man was missing.

  “Insane courage,” Marc muttered to himself. “And today we are raising a generation of rose petals, cupcakes, and snowflakes. They need safe spaces with puppies, kittens, balloons and Teddy Bears if they hear a word that might be offensive. Let’s hope they never figure out how to procreate.”

  Marc found the courtroom where the hearing was taking place. He quietly slipped in and sat down on the hard, wooden bench in the fourth row to watch the proceedings. There was a woman on the stand testifying about emails they had recovered from Zach’s computers. Marc took out a tablet of paper from his briefcase and made a note to get copies and the use of the computers for an expert to examine.

  When the witness finished testifying the lawyers made a final argument then the judge ruled from the bench. This made Marc smile a bit. Normally when a judge is this decisive it is usually because his mind was made up before the hearing. Marc was not at all surprised when Judge Anderson ruled against the law firm.

  “Great, we’re adjourned,” the judge said.

  While the lawyers started packing up to leave, Judge Anderson looked at Marc and asked, “Are you here to see me?”

  “Yes, your Honor. If I may approach,” Marc replied.

  As he walked up to the bench, he continued by saying, “I’m also here to see Mr. Tice, your Honor,” as he turned his head to look at Demarcus Tice.

  “Demarcus, come on up,” Anderson said.

  “Mr. Knutson should hear this too,” Marc said.

  Anderson waved Knutson forward, and Marc handed out copies of a document he had.

  “My Notice of Representation, your Honor. I’ve been retained by Zach Evans to represent him.”

  “Welcome to Foster,” Anderson pleasantly said. “You’re a little late for this hearing.”

  “I understand, your Honor. If I could get a copy of your order…”

  “No problem,” Anderson said while Demarcus and Marc shook hands.

&n
bsp; “The name ‘Kadella’ sounds familiar,” Demarcus said with a warm grin. “You’ve handled a couple of high profile cases.”

  “Trust me, the publicity isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” Marc said. “When is he scheduled for a first appearance?”

  “Tomorrow at 1:00,” Demarcus replied.

  “In front of you, judge?” Marc asked Anderson.

  “Yeah, it will be here. Is there anything else? Anything you need from me?” Anderson asked.

  “No thank you, your Honor. I just wanted to let you and Mr. Tice know I’ve been retained.”

  Anderson stood up and extended his right hand over the bench to Marc. As they shook, Anderson said, “Well, again, welcome to Foster. Get one of my cards from Jeanelle and leave one of yours,” he said pointing at his clerk seated next to him. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Marc had brief, separate conferences with both Demarcus Tice and Brody Knutson. Demarcus made it clear he was going to ask for remand or at least a very high bail. Of course, Marc expected that.

  Brody Knutson, all smiles and charm, wanted Marc to know the resources of Everson, Reed were at his disposal as long as Marc kept them up to date on the defense. He even offered to assign one or two lawyers to assist him. Marc smelled that rat as soon as Knutson said it. Marc politely let him know he would think about it, without any intention of doing so. The last thing he needed was Brody Knutson looking over his shoulder through a couple of spies.

  Marc followed the Everson, Reed lawyers out of the courtroom and found Demarcus, Sheriff Goode, Newkirk and Abby waiting in the hall for him. Demarcus introduced him to the sheriff and his investigators who greeted him warmly, professionally and genuinely friendly.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you guys being so nice? Even in Minnesota cops aren’t this nice to defense lawyers. What’s going on?” Marc half-jokingly said.

  Sheriff Goode laughed and replied by saying, “There’s nothing going on. We just thought we’d introduce ourselves.”

  “And measure you for a cell,” Newkirk added.

  “I knew you were up to something,” Marc said as the others laughed.

  “Are you going back across the street?” Goode asked referring to the jail.

  Marc said he was and Goode invited him to walk along with them.

  While they waited for the street light to change on the corner, Goode said, “You’re pretty well known in law enforcement circles.”

  “Oh, oh,” Marc said. “Here it comes.”

  “No, no,” Goode smiled. “Believe it or not we really respect defense lawyers. We have a couple of pretty good ones who wanted this case. You see,” he continued as they started across the street, “this our first homicide in four years. Pretty big deal.”

  “Yeah, okay, I see that,” Marc said. “Believe it or not, it’s not quite Chicago level mayhem in the Cities.”

  When they got inside, Goode told Marc, “Look, I’ll leave notice here at the front desk. You can see your client anytime, day or night, without any hassle. Anyone gives you any shit about it, I want to know.

  “Abby, would you take Mr. Kadella back to his client?”

  “Sure,” Abby said.

  “He has a visitor, Sheriff,” the counter deputy said.

  “Oh?” Marc said.

  “His wife,” the deputy told him.

  Abby knocked on the conference room door’s window then opened it for Marc. He walked in and found Zach and Samantha seated at a small table. Marc took a quick look around at the bleak room. Big city, small town, it didn’t matter. These rooms were all the same. Designed to remind the people using them where they were: jail.

  “Hey,” Zach said to him.

  “Marc! Thank God!” Samantha practically wailed. She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck and said, “I’m so happy and relieved you agreed to take Zach’s case.”

  Marc, a puzzled look on his face, barely returned her embrace. When she let go, she stepped back, looked at him, and said, “Thank you. I feel much better knowing you’re going to help him.”

  “Really? I have to tell you, Samantha, I thought you didn’t like me,” Marc said. He glanced at Zach who had covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh.

  “Why wouldn’t I like you? Of course, I like you. I don’t know how you got that impression,” she said.

  “Okay,” Marc shrugged. “My bad, I guess. Sit down, and I’ll tell you where we are.”

  When he finished telling them about the hearing, Zach asked about bail.

  “Don’t know. I talked to Tice and he said he would oppose it. I don’t know this judge. They’re gonna impanel a grand jury for a first-degree murder indictment, and they’ll get it. If we get bail, it will be high,” Marc said.

  “Bail is no problem,” Samantha said. “My father will make bail for him. Please get him bail.”

  Samantha stood up and announced she had to leave. She kissed her husband and rapped on the door for a deputy. After she was gone, Marc looked at Zach and silently smiled.

  “What?” Zach asked.

  “I was just thinking, now that I know she really does like me, maybe I should throw your case and then take a shot at her. Good looking, rich dad. What the hell?” Marc said.

  Zach started laughing and said, “That’s not funny you asshole.”

  “Then why are you laughing?” Marc asked.

  “At the thought of you and Samantha. She would neuter you,” Zach laughed.

  “Probably,” Marc said with a grimace.

  The two men talked for another half hour then Marc had to go. He would see his client the next day before court.

  Samantha Evans was hurrying toward the jail’s front exit when she was met by Abby Bliss.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Evans,” Abby said. “Might I have a word with you?” she politely asked.

  “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Samantha replied. Not being a criminal defense lawyer, Samantha didn’t realize she could simply refuse. Like most people, when a cop asks to talk to you, people almost always feel obligated.

  “It won’t take but a minute. Please, in the conference room right here,” Abby said with a smile pointing to a door.

  They went in, sat down and Abby started asking a few bland, innocuous questions to get Samantha to relax. After a couple of minutes of this, she hit her with the big one.

  “Did you know your husband was having an affair with the victim, Lynn McDaniel?”

  Samantha noticeably froze for a full three seconds. Long enough for Abby to read her face and reaction. The answer was obviously yes.

  “How dare you…”

  “By your reaction, it’s pretty clear you did,” Abby calmly said waiting for another reaction.

  Samantha hesitated again trying to think of something to say to refute the sheriff’s deputy. It took three or four more seconds then she grabbed her purse, stood and abruptly announced she was leaving.

  Samantha stomped off, angry with herself for allowing this nobody cop to sucker her like that. As Samantha walked off without closing the door, Abby quietly watched with a knowing smirk on her face.

  FIFTEEN

  Marc was waiting in the same barren conference room of the jail for a deputy to bring Zach to him. He had picked up a modest, tasteful suit and set of clothes for Zach to change into for the first appearance in court. Marc looked at his watch for the fourth time and noted it was less than two minutes since the last time he checked it.

  Marc heard a rattling at the door and looked over to see Zach entering the room. The appearance was scheduled for 1:00 and it was already past noon.

  “Take those off of him,” Marc said referring to the handcuffs and chain around his waist. Zach was wearing an orange jumpsuit, white socks, and flip-flop rubber shower clogs. He had showered but had not shaved since being arrested.

  “Sorry, the bracelets stay on,” the deputy said.

  Marc stood up, narrowed his eyes, icily glared at the deputy and said, “Not only are you going to t
ake those off so he can put on some decent clothes, but you’re going to take him to the men’s room and let him shave.”

  The deputy started to protest, but Marc cut him off.

  “Either do it, or we go have a little chat with Judge Anderson with Sheriff Goode standing next to you.”

  Without another word, the deputy took the shackles off of Zach. Marc handed the deputy a cheap, plastic razor and a small can of shaving cream. Less than five minutes later, they were back. While Marc talked, Zach changed clothes.

  “This is the first appearance. The judge will ask if you understand your rights and ask if we want the charges read. I’ll decline. Then we’ll make application for bail.”

  “What do you think?” Zach asked the question every defendant asks.

  “I don’t know,” Marc replied. “I don’t know this judge or this county. If he does set bail, it will be high.”

  “Samantha was here this morning. She’ll be in court. She assures me her dad will wire whatever they want today,” Zach said as he finished tying his tie. “Feels good to have real clothes on again,” he said.

  “I almost forgot,” Zach said in a whisper as he sat down at the table next to Marc. “I mailed something to you a couple of days ago. What with everything that’s happened, I forgot about it. Did you get it?”

  “No,” Marc said. “I haven’t gotten anything from you. What was it?”

  Zach took a few minutes to give Marc a brief rundown of the Cannon Brother’s products liability class action lawsuit he was defending. He then told Marc about the engineer’s memo that showed that the company knew about the skateboard problems and chose to ignore them.

  “Lynn knew about it, too,” Zach said.

  “Who else knew?” Marc asked.

  “Dear old dad, Cal Simpson. And I’m pretty sure he told Samantha. I have no idea who else they might have told. I know Cal had a lot of stock in the company. At least he did at one time.”

  “You realize, of course, keeping that memo from going to the plaintiffs could be a motive for murder,” Marc said.