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Raising Cain

Page 28

by Gallatin Warfield


  The sun was trying to break through the dense clouds as Jennifer chugged up the slope and parked by the log retreat.

  Judge Thompkins opened his door. “Jennifer. Please come in.”

  She was bundled in a down overcoat, her nose red. “Thanks. Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Of course not.”

  Soon they were sitting by the fire. “Gardner’s got a problem,” she said.

  Thompkins nodded. “I’ve been following the case in the news.”

  “King is about to chop him to bits.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Jennifer warmed her hands over the hearth. “He can’t win with the suicide defense.”

  Thompkins puffed on his pipe. “You have another idea?”

  “Yes. I know, or rather I have a strong suspicion as to who may have committed the murder. “

  “Do you have actual proof to that effect?”

  Jennifer shook her head.

  “Is the prosecution suppressing proof to that effect?”

  “No. They didn’t pursue the suspect from the beginning. They singled out Brownie and dropped other leads. But this person is a real possibility.”

  The judge lowered his pipe. “You have no concrete evidence?”

  “Correct, but I have a very good theory. It explains Brownie’s behavior, the murder, everything. It is even consistent with King’s case. I think Brownie’s younger brother did it.”

  “Brother?”

  “Paul Brown. He was in the county the night Ruth died. He had motive and opportunity. The brothers had a falling-out a long time ago, but even then, Brownie protected him from prosecution in a vandalism case.”

  “That mess at the high school in the late seventies?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  “That was a bad situation, a racial thing, as I recall.…” Thompkins touched his chin. “Does Gardner know about this?”

  “I told him, but he won’t pursue it.”

  “I can understand his reluctance.” The judge leaned back in his chair. “Brownie wouldn’t approve.”

  “Right.”

  “So they compromised. Suicide was a defense they could both live with.” Thompkins relit his pipe.

  “Do you think they stand a chance proving Ruth killed himself?” Jennifer asked.

  “Maybe, if they use Dr. Sand. He’s an effective witness, has an excellent track record.”

  “But he had more to go on in his other cases. Gardner has nothing. He doesn’t even know who Ruth really was, and he needs background information to show mental instability.”

  “I saw the Fugitives piece on TV the other night. That should shake out something Gardner can get his teeth into. He’s very resourceful, you know.”

  “But I’ve got to help.”

  Thompkins raised a finger. “I don’t think you can, Jennifer, not the way you want. You must accept the facts as they are. You cannot bend reality to suit your own purposes. You have to play by the rules. Defending a case is a different process than prosecuting one, quite different.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The truth is absolute, and so are the rules. You chose to switch sides. You can’t play defense attorney by prosecution rules. That’s what you’re trying to do, and that’s what is causing you aggravation.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Ignore the fact that Brownie’s brother might be the real killer?”

  “If pursuing him is incompatible with the defense, yes. You must ignore it.”

  “That’s exactly what Gardner said.”

  “He is right. Not in an absolute sense, but within the rules of the game. Prosecutors are practitioners of the absolute. Defense attorneys pursue the relative. That’s what makes the system work, believe it or not.”

  Jennifer stood up.

  “What are you planning?” Thompkins asked.

  “Don’t know yet.” She buttoned her coat.

  “Let it go, Jennifer. Accept the suicide theory, and give it all you’ve got. Forget the brother.” Thompkins put his arm around her. “Gardner needs you on the team. You’re good people, both of you. You belong together.”

  Jennifer eyed him with surprise.

  “Give it a try,” Thompkins said with a fatherly squeeze. “You all make a powerful combination. You can beat King at his own game if you stick to the plan. Remember the rules.”

  “Right,” Jennifer whispered. Then she stepped out the door, into the biting wind.

  King drew out the direct examination of Frank Davis for another twenty minutes, reinforcing a morose and moody image of Brownie in the days following his father’s death. The spectators were riveted, but the jurors seemed bored, as if their minds had been made up during opening statements. Finally, King was finished. “Your witness, Counsel,” he said to Gardner as he sat down.

  Gardner approached the witness stand with a look of contempt in his eyes. “Officer Davis, did you in fact investigate the death of Joseph Brown?”

  “To a certain extent.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I did conduct an inquiry.”

  Gardner began pacing beside the witness stand. “What role, specifically, did you play in the investigation?”

  “I went to the scene.”

  “What did you find?”

  “There was no evidence of a struggle or anything like that. Mr. Brown apparently fell in the road after he had the coronary.”

  “Did you explain this to Sergeant Brown?”

  “I put it in my report.”

  “Did you discuss that report with Sergeant Brown?”

  Davis tried to catch King’s eye, but Gardner blocked his view. “I may have.”

  “You testified that you discussed the investigation with the defendant. You remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  Gardner faced the jury. “When was that conversation?”

  “Don’t remember, exactly.”

  Gardner lifted a copy of the report and turned around. “Do you pride yourself on being thorough, Officer Davis?”

  “I try to be.”

  “So you document everything that’s important during the course of an investigation.”

  Davis shifted in his seat, still trying to see King. “Yes….”

  Gardner handed him the report. “Show me where you noted in this report that Sergeant Brown told you he knew who killed his father.”

  “Objection!” King was on his feet.

  “Overruled.”

  “Show me, Officer Davis!” Gardner flicked the report with his thumb.

  “It’s not in there,” Davis said softly.

  “It’s not in there because the conversation never took place!”

  “Objection!” King was up again. “Argumentative.”

  “This is cross-examination. Overruled.”

  “He did tell me that,” Davis protested.

  Gardner stood by the rail. “Really? Where?”

  “In the station.”

  “Where in the station?”

  “The hall, outside the lab.”

  “Who was present?”

  “Just us.”

  “Just you.” Gardner grabbed the report and turned to the jury. “There were no witnesses to the conversation, you don’t remember when it occurred, and you didn’t note it in your report.”

  “We’ve been over this,” King objected again.

  “Move on, Mr. Lawson,” Rollie advised. “We get the point.”

  Gardner raised his eyes to the ceiling, then returned to the witness. “You were personally familiar with Thomas Ruth, the deceased. What contact did you have with him in the days prior to his death?”

  “Objection!” King was up like a shot.

  “Approach the bench,” said Judge Ransome.

  The parties moved forward.

  “What’s the problem, Kent?” the judge asked.

  “Mr. Lawson is about to inject an inconsistent line of inquiry into the proceeding. He informed the jury that Ruth killed himse
lf, but he’s about to suggest that this witness may have done it. That’s not relevant under his defense theory.”

  Ransome looked at Gardner. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I can prove that Davis harassed Ruth before he died.”

  “He’s been cleared of any wrongdoing,” King interjected. “Lawson knows that. The man has been exonerated.”

  Ransome turned to Gardner. “Is that true?”

  “Technically, yes.”

  “Then how is this inquiry relevant? You say that Ruth killed himself. You know you can’t go both ways.”

  Gardner gripped the bench. “We intend to prove that Ruth was a mentally unstable individual who became more and more paranoid as Officer Davis hounded him. That is not inconsistent with our defense; in fact, it’s supportive.”

  “So you’re saying that Davis here may have driven Ruth to kill himself?”

  “Contributed to it, yes,” Gardner said.

  “Objection,” King groaned.

  Ransome leaned back in his chair for a moment, then brought himself forward. “Overruled. The line of questioning seems fair under the circumstances. Let’s get back to work.”

  The attorneys returned to their places, and Gardner approached the stand. “How many times did you stop Thomas Ruth’s car, Officer Davis?”

  Davis twitched nervously. “What?”

  “Did you make a number of traffic stops on Thomas Ruth’s car?” Davis looked down. “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “A few.”

  “Seven, eight, nine?” Gardner’s tone was sharp.

  “I never counted.”

  “Object again on the same grounds,” King declared.

  “Overruled.”

  “Why did you stop Thomas Ruth?”

  “We had a surveillance going. I was trying to keep track of his movements.”

  “Did that necessitate a stop? Couldn’t you have observed him from a distance just as well?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then why did you pull him over so many times? Wasn’t it to annoy him? To harass him?”

  “To keep track of his movements.”

  Gardner looked at the jury. Every eye was locked on the witness.

  “So you admit you harassed him,” Gardner said.

  “Object.”

  “Overruled.”

  Davis remained silent.

  “You did harass the man, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly,” Davis answered. “I was just doing my job.”

  “Overdoing it is more like it.” Gardner went to the counsel table and drew a document from his file. “In fact, Mr. Ruth obtained a restraining order to make you stop, didn’t he?” Gardner started to hand a copy of the civil log to Davis.

  “Object! Object! Object!” King interrupted.

  “Approach!” barked Judge Ransome.

  “This witness isn’t qualified to admit this evidence,” King fumed at the bench. “It is a copy of a pleading I filed on behalf of Mr. Ruth, and which was withdrawn prior to filing. The witness knows nothing about it. It is irrelevant to the proceedings in any event. As I said, the officer has been cleared.”

  Rollie looked at Gardner. “Your position?”

  “It supports the contention that Davis’s actions had an effect on Ruth. He went to a lawyer to try to stop it.”

  “But this witness is not qualified to admit the document,” King argued.

  “I agree,” Ransome said.

  Gardner looked at the judge. “Then I request that the witness step down for a moment, while I call someone to the stand who can admit it.”

  “That’s improper,” King snapped. “This is the state’s case.” “You can vary the order of proof,” Gardner declared. “In order to complete my cross-examination of this witness, it is necessary for me to place that document into evidence. It lays the foundation for my assertion that Davis’s conduct had a negative psychological effect on the deceased.”

  “No,” King dissented. “It’s improper procedure.”

  Rollie looked at Gardner. “Whom do you wish to call?”

  Gardner faced his adversary. “The prosecutor, Kent King.”

  Jennifer entered the warden’s office at the detention center and extended her hand. “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Frenkel,” she said.

  “That’s all right,” the warden replied. He motioned his visitor to a chair. “What can I do for you?”

  Jennifer checked to be sure the door was closed. “I want to talk about Brownie and his activities here after the arrest.”

  Frenkel’s expression turned quizzical. “Activities?”

  Jennifer nodded. “I know he had some special privileges.”

  “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Don’t get defensive. This isn’t a complaint. I just want to know where he spent his time.” Jennifer had pondered the situation and come to a sudden realization. It wasn’t what Brownie had done, but where he had done it that was the key. The time frame of his covert Ruth investigation had been extremely narrow. He’d barely had time to find the shoes and fingerprint them before he got arrested. Maybe he’d finished the job in jail.

  “He used this office some,” Frenkel said.

  “To meet visitors?”

  “Yes, and…”

  “There was another reason he came here?”

  “To use the phone, the fax…”

  “The computer?” Jennifer glanced at the equipment across the room.

  “If he wanted to.”

  Jennifer stood and approached the console. “Did you keep track of the times he used it?”

  “Yes, in my day-book.”

  “Can you get it for me, please?” Jennifer switched on the monitor. The warden retrieved the book and handed it to her. The machine was warming now, giving input signals. “What’s your password to the criminal justice net?”

  Frenkel peered over her shoulder. “CROSSBAR,” he replied. “What are you looking for?”

  Jennifer booted up the menu and struck a key accessing the FBI fingerprint classification files. Then she checked the notebook and pressed a few more keys. “Were you present when Brownie used the computer?”

  “No. He requested privacy.”

  Jennifer entered the fingerprint database. “So you don’t know if he ran any prints for comparison, do you?”

  “No.”

  Jennifer selected the automatic backup file directory of the database. She keyed in a date, the access code, and the utilization authority account number she had found in her State’s Attorney’s manual.

  “What are you after?”

  The screen flashed a “WAIT” signal as the mainframe in Washington tried to answer her request.

  “What did Brownie do?” Frenkel repeated.

  There was a beep, and a line of print appeared on the screen.

  “What is that?”

  “The response to a request Brownie made,” Jennifer said gravely. “He submitted a fingerprint for comparison in the FBI master files.” “And that’s it?””That’s it.” Jennifer sighed.

  Apparently Brownie had lifted a fingerprint from Ruth’s shoe and traced its identity through the computer. He had erased the actual inquiry, but the fail-safe backup tape had preserved it. There it was in bold print, the name of the person whose fingerprint had been matched: “PAUL JEFFERSON BROWN.”

  twenty-three

  “This is outrageous!” Kent King wailed. After a lengthy argument at the bench, Judge Ransome had agreed to let Gardner call him as a witness.

  “You may call Mr. King for a limited purpose,” Rollie cautioned the defense attorney. “You may identify the document and lay the foundation for questioning Officer Davis about his actions, but that is all.”

  “No, no, no! He cannot offer evidence now. It’s my case.”

  “Take the stand, Mr. King.”

  King whispered to Lin Song and walked to the witness chair like a condemned man. His expression told Rollie there would be retribution
later. In the gallery, anticipation rippled through the spectators, culminating in an audible buzz.

  “Quiet, please,” Ransome said.

  Gardner took a copy of the civil log up to the stand and handed it to King. “Recognize this?” he asked.

  “Yes,” King replied with hostility.

  “What is it?”

  “You know what it is.”

  Gardner looked at the judge.

  “The jury doesn’t know, Mr. King. Tell them what the paper is.”

  King gave Rollie another hateful stare. “The log of a civil pleading I filed and then withdrew.”

  “What was the nature of the pleading?”

  King crossed his arms. “An injunction petition.”

  “And on whose behalf was it filed?”

  King took a breath. “Thomas Ruth.”

  “Thomas Ruth?” Gardner repeated loudly, as if that were a big surprise. There was another buzz in the crowd.

  “Yes.”

  “And what did Mr. Ruth ask you to enjoin for him?”

  “Objection!” Lin Song cried. “Hearsay.”

  “Not offered for truth of the matters contained therein, Your Honor,” Gardner countered.

  “Overruled.”

  “What conduct were you trying to stop?” Gardner went on.

  “Questioning by police.”

  “Is that how you phrased the pleading?” Gardner raised the document.

  “Not exactly.”

  “In fact, you termed the conduct that Mr. Ruth wanted stopped as harassment. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “The police officer who was doing the harassing—what was his name?”

  “Objection!” Lin was back on her feet. “Counsel declared that he is not trying to prove the truth of the matters alleged. He cannot therefore say the named officer was, in fact, the harasser.”

  Rollie nodded. “I agree. Rephrase, Mr. Lawson.”

  “Whose name did you put on the petition as the alleged harasser?”

  “Objection!”

  “He can answer that.”

  King shifted in his seat but didn’t reply.

  “What police officer’s name was on the petition?”

  “Answer the question, Mr. King,” Rollie advised.

 

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