by Allen Eskens
There he began to catalogue the facts he would hammer home to the judge in his closing argument. He preferred not to use notes, relying instead on mnemonic devices to retain the evidence in the correct order for his presentation. He’d barely gotten through half of the first trial when he heard voices approaching in the stairwell below him. He muttered a curse that his seclusion would be interrupted. The voices grew closer and he thought he recognized Dovey’s.
The door opened and he heard Dovey say, “Step in here for a second.”
“Are you telling me that you lost this case?” It was Anna Adler-King. “You said you had this. It was a lock. Those were your words. And now you’re telling me Ben Pruitt is going to walk?”
“I can’t help it,” Dovey said in a hushed tone. “It’s not my fault that Kagen took the Fifth. He made himself look guilty by doing that. Some things are beyond my control.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you are the kind of person I want to see as a judge,” Anna said coldly. “I went to bat for you, Frank, and this is what I get?”
“Judge Ransom hasn’t ruled yet. He might—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Frank.” Anna had stopped whispering and began to scold Frank Dovey like he was a child. “We both know where this case is going. You need to find a way to turn this case around. You hear me? If you want my support, you need to show me that you can keep your word.”
“How do you expect me to do that? We’re doing closing arguments in five minutes.”
“That’s up to you,” Anna hissed. “The way things stand right now, the report I’m going to give the governor won’t look good for you.”
The sound of Anna Adler-King’s shoes scraping on the grit in the stairwell echoed off the walls as she turned to leave. Boady heard Dovey follow her through the door as well. Boady peeked over the edge of the steps to make certain he was again alone before he stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants.
Dovey was in a hot seat. But with closing arguments about to start, he had no options, at least none that Boady could see. As Boady walked back to the courtroom, he contemplated what he might do if he were in Dovey’s shoes. Every option came back to the same problem—the trial was over. Dovey had no rebuttal witnesses. He had no further investigation. Kagen had pled the Fifth and was off-limits. Even if Dovey could figure out a way to get to Kagen, he had no time.
Boady smiled at the thought that Dovey’s judgeship hinged on the outcome of a case that everyone knew the man had lost. Boady normally didn’t take enjoyment in the downfall of others, but Dovey was a political animal, and political animals deserved no sympathy in Boady’s view. And now Dovey was cornered, with his world collapsing around him. Boady reminded himself, as he walked into the courtroom, that cornered animals are the most dangerous animals of all.
Chapter 57
Boady didn’t have time to share with Ben what he’d overheard in the stairwell. He’d barely made it to his table when Judge Ransom entered and called the trial back to order.
“Is the State ready to proceed with closing argument?” the judge asked.
“Your Honor, I’d like to be heard on that before we continue.”
Here we go, Boady thought.
“Your Honor,” Dovey began, “as you may know, this case has received a great deal of attention in the community, especially given the nature of who the deceased is. She and her family have been the cornerstone of some of this state’s most important charities.”
Ben leaned over and whispered into Boady’s ear, “What’s he doing?”
Boady whispered back, “He’s panicking. Anna has his nuts in a vice and she’s squeezing. He can’t afford to lose this case.”
Dovey continued. “I would also point out that the procedural posture of this case has been . . . well, a little unusual, to say the least. Because we had two separate trials, some of the testimony necessary for this Court to render a just verdict came several weeks ago. Also, with this Court’s ruling that none of Mr. Kagen’s previous testimony is admissible, well, that makes matters even more complicated. I believe it would be appropriate to permit the parties to submit their summation in writing, give us time to marshal our facts and put them in a more-coherent form before you rule. Maybe have them submitted by the end of the week?”
“What?” Ben Pruitt’s voice carried well beyond the defense table. “What’s he doing?”
Boady put a hand up to shush his client. He leaned into Ben’s ear. “It’s a stall tactic.”
“No kidding,” Ben whispered back. “But I can’t go back to jail again. We’ve won this thing. It’s not fair.”
Ransom looked perplexed. “Mr. Sanden, would you like to be heard on Mr. Dovey’s request?”
“One second, Your Honor,” Boady turned back to Ben. “He knows he’s lost the case. I heard him. He and Anna were arguing about it during the break. She’s pissed and she’s ending her support for his judgeship if he doesn’t pull a rabbit out of his hat. He needs time to find that rabbit, so he’s asking for written submission to get time to figure something out. That’s all this is about.”
“Mr. Sanden?” the judge repeated.
Boady stood up. “Your Honor, there is no legal precedent supporting the State’s request for written summations. Mr. Dovey is doing a rain dance in the hopes of creating his own rain delay. It’s improper, and I would ask that we proceed with closing arguments here and now.”
Judge Ransom’s face took on a look of genuine curiosity. “Mr. Sanden,” the judge said, “are you saying that I’m prohibited from letting the State do a written submission? Because I agree, I know of no case that says I have to allow it. But at the same time, I’m not aware of a case that says I can’t. If you are aware of such a case, I’d be interested to hear about it.”
“No, Your Honor, I am not aware of a case saying that it can’t be done. But I don’t believe that this is about wanting to do a written submission. I believe that this is about stalling the outcome of this case. I think—”
Dovey jumped to his feet. “Your Honor, that’s an outrageous accusation. I demand an apology. As an officer of the court, I—”
“Mr. Dovey!” Judge Ransom shouted back. “Take your seat until the Court addresses you.”
Dovey stood, glaring at Boady for a few seconds before taking his seat. Boady stared back and thought he saw a flicker of panic in Dovey’s eyes, a brief spark of recognition that Dovey knew that Boady saw through him.
“If I may, Your Honor,” Boady continued. “I am not saying that the Court cannot grant Mr. Dovey’s request. I am arguing that the Court should not grant it. Not only is it disingenuous, but there’s a man’s freedom at stake here. I submit that Mr. Dovey can see the writing on the wall and wants one last chance to find a savior for his case before the record closes. Not only that, but my client, a man wrongfully convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, will be forced to wait for his freedom to be restored to him, while Mr. Dovey engages in this fantasy. That, Your Honor, would be a travesty. Mr. Pruitt should not have to spend one more night locked up.”
Judge Ransom sat back in his chair. Dovey started to stand, but the judge put up a hand to stop him. He stroked his chin as he contemplated a decision. Then he leaned back up to his bench. “Mr. Sanden, I’m inclined to grant the State’s request. Mr. Dovey has a right to present his case to its fullest extent.”
Boady could see Dovey, in his periphery, breathe a sigh of relief.
“But,” the judge continued, “the State’s written submission will be due tomorrow, not the end of the week. Mr. Dovey, you can e-mail your written submission to me by noon. Mr. Sanden can reply by 2:00 p.m. Any rebuttal from the State will be here by 3:00. I’ll have my decision filed by the end of the day tomorrow.”
Boady looked at the clock on the wall. It was after 4 p.m. Just twenty-four hours until Ben would be free. He knew the verdict that Judge Ransom would deliver. Hell, everyone in the courtroom knew that Ben would be acquitted, but because of Frank Dovey’s political
ambitions, they would have to wait.
Then a thought struck him, and he rose. “Your Honor, I move that the Court grant Mr. Pruitt a furlough pending the verdict.”
Dovey hit his fist on the table as he rose. “Absolutely not, Your Honor.” Dovey yelled his objection. “This man is a convicted murderer. You cannot release him from custody—”
“Mr. Dovey!” Ransom’s voice boomed. “You will maintain decorum in my courtroom. I will not tell you again.”
“But, Your Honor,” Dovey said in a pleading tone. “I cannot allow this man to be put back on the streets.”
“Mr. Dovey, this is not your decision to make,” Judge Ransom said. “I can grant a furlough if I see fit. You’re the one who wants to delay this trial for written submissions. I’ve granted that request, but I feel that justice demands that I follow my conscience and my judgment on Mr. Sanden’s request as well. I’m going to grant the defendant’s motion for a furlough.”
Dovey looked over his shoulder to where Anna Adler-King sat in the gallery. It seemed to Boady that he was seeking some reassurance he would not be held accountable for Judge Ransom’s decision to release Ben. If that was what he was looking for, he didn’t get it. Anna Adler-King stood and walked out of the courtroom.
Ransom adjourned the trial for the day, and Boady, Ben, and Lila sat motionless as the courtroom cleared. Once they were alone, Ben leapt at Boady and hugged him so fiercely that Boady thought he might lose consciousness.
“What just happened?” Lila asked.
“We won,” Boady said.
“But he didn’t issue his verdict,” Lila said.
Ben spoke. “He furloughed me. If he was going to find me guilty, he wouldn’t furlough me.”
“Congratulations, Lila,” Boady said. “You just won your first murder case.”
Ben’s knees seemed to give out and he fell back into his chair. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I mean . . . I hoped and I prayed for this, but in the back of my mind . . .” Ben’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t wait to see Emma again.”
“And I can tell you that Diana can’t wait to bring her back here from Missouri. They’ve been down there longer than we had planned. By the way, we didn’t tell Emma anything about what was happening in court. We wanted to wait until . . . well, until today—until we got you freed. Now, let’s get you processed out of jail.” Boady reached for his coat and began emptying the pockets. “It’s a bit colder today than when they arrested you. You’ll need a coat.” Boady handed his coat to Ben.
“No, I can’t,” Ben said. “You need it.”
“I can go buy a new one. I have that two hundred grand in my bank account, just waiting to be spent. I can take the skyway to Macy’s—won’t even have to step outside.”
“Well, if you insist,” Ben said.
“I do. Need a ride?”
“No.” Ben nodded toward the deputy still standing quietly in the back of the courtroom. “I’ll catch a cab home. After being surrounded by men twenty-four hours a day, I’d like to be alone for one night. Get cleaned up and get my head together before I see Emma.”
Ben held out his arms one last time and embraced both Boady and Lila. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Chapter 58
By the time Boady left the Government Center, the snow had stopped falling and the final tally came to eight inches. He had cursed the snow that morning on his drive in, but now the city was absolutely stunning. The world was right. He meandered as he made his way toward Macy’s to buy a new coat. He felt like whistling a Christmas carol, but he and Diana had a rule: no carols until after Thanksgiving. So he whistled “Singin’ in the Rain” instead.
The downtown Macy’s was a mere four blocks from the Government Center, and after he bought the coat, he decided to take in the beauty of Minneapolis in winter and walk outside as he made his way back to his car.
Still a block away from the parking ramp, he spied a man standing on the corner of Seventh Street and Third Avenue. He wore a coat that looked an awful lot like the one Boady just gave Ben. The man was looking away from Boady and in the direction of the oncoming traffic. The coat collar was up, but even so, the man looked like Ben Pruitt. Boady picked up his pace slightly, and as he drew closer he could see that it was Ben watching for a taxi to come up the street. Boady was about to call out to his friend when a white SUV pulled up and stopped in front of Ben.
Ben jumped into the SUV and immediately leaned over to the driver and began kissing her. Boady stopped walking, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He could not see the woman’s face as she wrapped her hands around Ben’s shoulder and neck and held him in their embrace. Boady couldn’t move as he watched the kiss grow in intensity.
When they ended the kiss, Ben settled into the passenger seat of the Cadillac Escalade, and Boady could see the face of the driver. It was Malena Gwin.
The SUV pulled back out into traffic and headed toward Boady. As it passed, Ben and Boady locked eyes. The corners of Ben’s mouth turned upward into a malevolent grin, as if to say now you know my secret. But behind Ben’s eyes, Boady saw fear.
Chapter 59
Lila parked on Summit Avenue because Boady’s driveway hadn’t been cleared of snow yet. She stomped slush off of her boots as she crossed the porch, knocked on the front door as she always did, and then let herself in. Lights were on in the entryway and Professor Sanden’s office, but the rest of the house remained dark. She began loosening the laces on her boots.
“Professor Sanden?” she called out. “I just came to clear out my room.”
Still no reply.
She slipped her wet boots off and walked in her stocking feet to Boady’s office. Through the glass of the French doors she could see him sitting at his chair, staring at his computer monitor.
“Professor? You okay?”
Professor Sanden looked up at her with an expression so sad, so defeated, that it confused Lila. He waved her in. “Sit down,” he said pointing to a chair. When she had taken a seat, he turned the monitor so that she could see it. The screen showed a paused image from the tollbooth footage—a white SUV with a man in the driver’s seat. “Recognize him?” he asked.
Lila looked closely at the image, the recognition seeping into her consciousness one sliver at a time. “That looks like . . . Mr. Pruitt.”
“It is Mr. Pruitt,” Professor Sanden said. “The car belongs to Malena Gwin.”
“I don’t understand.”
“After court today, I saw Ben get into this car and kiss Malena Gwin. We were looking for a red sedan, not Malena Gwin’s SUV. I mean, who would have thought of that?”
“Professor Sanden, I still don’t understand.”
Sanden paused as if to force out words that refused to cross his tongue. “Ben Pruitt killed his wife, and he had Malena Gwin as an accomplice.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Lila said. “Malena Gwin was the one who caused this whole trial. She’s the one who said she saw Mr. Pruitt that night. If it wasn’t for her, Mr. Pruitt would never have been charged.”
“And when he gets acquitted, he’ll have double jeopardy. He can never again be prosecuted for her murder. He wanted to get charged. He needed to go to trial. That was his plan all along.”
“But he was convicted.”
“True. I don’t think that was part of the plan. I’m sure he believed that once Malena Gwin changed her testimony, he’d walk. Regardless, he had a trump card. He knew about the bedding. He knew the furnace wouldn’t work as long as that duct was clogged. He stuffed that bedding down there to make sure it would eventually be found.”
Lila played the case in her head, seeing it differently this time around. “That’s why he moved the body.”
Boady smiled at Lila’s insight. “Exactly. It never made complete sense why the killer went through the trouble of moving the body to that parking lot. We all assumed the killer was trying to hide his crime and failed when he found no room in the dumpster. But
it was the exact opposite. Ben dumped Jennavieve’s body in that parking lot to ensure it would be found while he had an alibi in Chicago. We couldn’t prove the alibi because Max Rupert was right. He did drive back here. Malena Gwin said it was a red sedan because it would get Max looking for the wrong car.”
“We need to tell Judge Ransom,” Lila said. “He didn’t acquit Mr. Pruitt today. We need to tell him before he issues that order tomorrow.”
“We can’t do that.”
“Professor Sanden. Ben Pruitt is a murderer. We know he’s a murderer. We know he’s about to go free. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“We are bound by the rules, Lila. We have an ethical obligation to act diligently for our client’s best interest. If we take any action that is contrary to our client’s best interest, not only do we violate that obligation, but the evidence would be inadmissible. Ransom all but said that he intends to acquit Ben. If we went to him and told him what we know, he would have to ignore it. He has no choice either. What we know about Ben now will not become evidence. Ben will not be convicted if we go running to Ransom—at least not under that theory.”
“Is there nothing we can do?”
“I’ve been racking my brain over that question, Lila. I have an idea, but . . . I don’t know. There’s no precedent for it, at least none that I know of.”
“Can I help?”
“Yes. There’s a book in the law library, a treatise on ethics that I use in my class. It can’t be checked out, but I’ll call ahead and tell them it’s for my research and they’ll let you leave with it.” Boady wrote the title of the book on a piece of paper and handed it to Lila. “Can you drive over and get that for me?”
“Sure thing, Professor. I’ll have it here in a flash.” Lila ran to the door, slipped on her boots, and raced to her car, nearly falling on the slippery, snow-covered sidewalk.
The interior of her car was still warm and the windshield clean. When she got behind the wheel, she pulled her keys from her purse so hurriedly that they sailed from her trembling fingers, bounced off of the steering column, and fell to the floor. Lila reached down and patted the wet floor mat, looking for her keys, all the while cursing herself for losing her head. She was about to open her door and get out to look for the keys when her fingers felt them under her seat.
