by David Archer
“I just was curious,” Martin said. “I've sort of known Professor Pace for about two years now, him and his DP, Charlotte. I'll be honest, his DP has asked me to call and see if there's anything that can be done to help his case, but what I'm really wondering is how sure you are that you got the right guy.”
Hansen shrugged. “I've got three victims who all say they're pretty sure it was him. There's also some circumstantial, plus a pretty good DNA match, and then there's the fact that nobody knows where he was when the rapes occurred. Of course, he swears he's innocent, but don't they all?”
Martin grinned and nodded. “Oh, they sure do. Listen, here's the thing, and I wouldn't want him or Charlotte to know I said this, but I've often thought that I saw signs of domestic abuse in their relationship. Charlotte's never actually said anything, but let's just say that there were times I saw her wearing an awful lot of makeup on one side of her face, if you get my meaning.”
Hansen nodded his head. “Can't say I'm really surprised,” he said. “This kind of perp is usually violent at home, too. Think she'd be willing to testify against him?”
“No way,” Martin said. “She's one of those girls who seems to like it, maybe she thinks it's normal for a man to slap his woman around, or punch her now and then. She wants him back home, and frankly, I don't think she cares whether he's guilty of this or not. Don't get me wrong, I used to like the guy, but once I began to see what was going on, I tried to talk her into leaving him. Of course, she denied there was anything really happening at all, but a lot of these women do. No, I think the best thing that could happen is for him to be convicted on this charge. She says he told her he's looking at a max?”
“That's what we're going to go for,” Hansen said. “The prosecutor is all for it, too. A guy like this, he needs to be taken out of the gene pool.”
“Yeah, I have to agree with you. Listen, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I know his lawyer is planning to go after the victims and try to get them to express some kind of doubt about whether he was the actual perpetrator or not. You might want to warn them about that.”
Hansen grinned. “Don't worry, we've already had that conversation. All three of these girls are dead certain they got the right guy, and they want to see him getting his brains beat out on live Cloudcast! They're not going to cave in, and they won't express any doubt.”
“That's excellent,” Martin said. “And incidentally, if you happen to speak to Carson, don't mention I called you, okay? And if you ever talk to his DP, I'd prefer it if she didn't know about it, either.”
Hansen grinned. “I went through his file, and saw a picture of her. You think you're gonna get some of that? Maybe you'd be a better guy for her.”
“Oh, I don't know about that,” Martin said. “I admit I've had a bit of a crush on her for a while now, but I don't think she knows it. If he goes away, then I'm just gonna try to be the best friend to her I can be, and if that happens to go somewhere else, then I probably wouldn't object. We'll just have to see what happens.”
They ended the call, and Martin sat back in his chair. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, but the day was going slow for him. That was one of the things he loved about working on Ground Level. Very rarely were there any serious crimes, so he had a lot of time to simply sit at his desk. Part of his job was to act as a supervisor to the uniform officers there, so he did a fair amount of record keeping and data entry, but he still had a lot of time to himself.
He took advantage of it at the moment, thinking about a few new things he might want to show Charlotte that night. He was a little bit amazed that, even though she was honestly worried about Carson, she couldn't seem to get enough of his attention. When he’d arrived at her place the night before, they had only talked for about twenty minutes before she got up, took his hand and led him into the bedroom.
He found himself wondering how a wimp like Carson had ever been able to keep that woman satisfied, but he knew enough about human nature to realize that the more he did for her in that regard, the sooner she was going to transfer her affections over to him. It might take her a while to realize that herself, but Martin knew how to be patient.
SIXTEEN
Charlotte was torn. It had been more than a week since Carson's arrest. The only contact she had with him was his once-daily holocalls, and it was starting to seem like it had been months since she had seen him. She missed him, missed him terribly, and yet a part of her yearned for the evening to come each day, so that she could be with Martin again.
Martin had taught her things that she had never imagined, things that a man could do to a woman to make her tremble with pleasure and delight. Most of those things were so new that she found herself wondering if Carson even knew they existed, and she had thrown herself into learning them with unashamed abandon. She was finding it hard to imagine what would happen if he managed to get out of this mess and come home; a part of her had already decided that she wasn't going to give up these new pleasures, even if it meant sneaking around behind his back.
The problem, though she had yet to admit it to herself, was that Martin was keeping her satisfied in ways she had never known she was missing out on. In addition, she was learning things that she could do for him, ways to give him pleasure that were—in his words—better than anything he had ever known. She was reaching the point of needing him, even more than wanting him, and stubbornly refused to allow herself to accept that she was falling in love.
Whenever Carson called, she did her best to be the dutiful DP, to support him and encourage him, but a part of her would still be thinking about Martin even during those moments. She felt a small amount of shame at such times, but had become quite adept at justifying it to herself by blaming the needs of her body. Some of the things Martin had shown her were things she had read about and secretly craved, and now that she had experienced them she wasn't willing to live without them again.
The trouble was, she didn't believe that Carson would ever be willing to indulge in some of them. If he came home, she knew that it wouldn’t be long before they were right back in the same rut they'd been in for years, and she knew she couldn't live like that anymore. She needed the rough side of a man, the forceful side, all the things that Martin gave her. It wasn't just in sex either; she needed a man like Martin in her life as well, and each new day with him confused her further.
She was adamant that she wouldn't go back on her promise to marry Carson, but she hoped secretly that Martin would be willing to continue their illicit relationship even then. She felt horrible about wanting the double life to continue, but perhaps that, too, was part of the allure to her?
More days slipped by, and it was time for Carson's trial. He had asked her not to come, but she couldn't bring herself to stay home and let him face it all alone. Martin said he understood, and encouraged her to go. She got up early that morning, dressed herself as nicely as she could and took an Uber up to the courtroom.
She was already sitting in the gallery when Carson was brought in. He looked rough, like he hadn’t been sleeping, and she knew that was probably the case. He was seated at the defendant's table, where his lawyer was already waiting for him. Charlotte wasn’t allowed to speak to him, but she caught his eye as he was led in and smiled at him as brightly as she could manage. He tried to return it, but she could see the defeat in his face.
“All rise,” called the bailiff. “The Court of Criminal Justice, Section Thirty-One, Kankakee Arcology, Chicago District is now in session. Magistrates the Honorable William Bogard, the Honorable Carolyn Jameson and the Honorable Roger McFarland, Magistrate Bogard presiding.”
The three magistrates who would decide his fate filed in as everyone stood, and then the bailiff told everyone to sit down. Mr. Kendall, the prosecutor, rose to begin presenting his case as soon as Magistrate Bogard, the one in the middle, called the case to order.
His opening statement was brief and to the point, as he stated the case exactly as he had done in the arraignment. Carson watched the face
s of the three magistrates, looking for any sign that they might have some compassion in them, but their faces were as blank as a new document.
Kendall finished his opening statement and sat down. Magistrate Bogard looked at Kate Spencer and nodded. “Ms. Spencer, your opening statement, please.”
Kate stood and looked directly at the three magistrates. Once again, her opening statement was precisely the same as the one she had given during Carson's arraignment. Carson felt a tiny flicker of hope when she mentioned her intent to cast doubt on the identification made by the victims, for two of the magistrates glanced over at the prosecutor with scowls on their faces, as if they might be familiar with the problem of faulty identifications.
Kate finished quickly, and sat down. Magistrate Bogard turned back to Kendall. “Mr. Kendall, you may proceed.”
“Thank you, your Honor,” Kendall said. “The prosecution would like to call its first witness, Ms. Virginia Jackson.”
Ms. Jackson stood from where she sat in the gallery and walked forward. The bailiff escorted her into the witness stand, and swore her in. “Ms. Jackson, please repeat after me. I, Virginia Jackson…”
“I, Virginia Jackson…”
“Do solemnly promise that the testimony I give before this Court will be true and correct to the best of my knowledge and belief.”
Ms. Jackson repeated that line and was told to be seated. Kendall stood at his table and addressed her.
“Ms. Jackson, would you please state your name for the record?”
“My name is Virginia Jackson,” the girl said.
“And you are a student at the University of America, on the local campus?”
“I am.”
“Ms. Jackson, were you the victim of an attack on January nineteenth of last year?”
“I was.”
“You were forcibly raped during that attack, is that correct?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Ms. Jackson, do you recall what your attacker looked like?”
“I do, I could never forget.”
“And do you, by chance, see your attacker here in this courtroom?”
The girl looked directly at Carson. “I do. That's him, sitting right there.” She raised her hand and pointed directly at him.
“Ms. Jackson, how certain are you that is the man who raped you?”
“There is absolutely no doubt in my mind,” the girl said. “Believe me, it's not something you ever forget.”
Kendall looked over at Kate and smiled. “Your witness,” he said, and then seated himself.
Kate rose and faced the girl on the witness stand. “Ms. Jackson, I've gone over all of the details of this case, and I find it very interesting that you are so certain that my client is the man who attacked you, when for the last year and a half you've been unable to provide even a vague description of what his face may have looked like. How is it that you suddenly remember now, what you couldn't remember for so long?”
“Because I buried the memory,” the girl said. “I'm a psychology major, and it's pretty obvious to me that what happened was that I simply buried the memory of his face because it was just too terrible to think about. When I had to look at him again, though, that memory unlocked itself and came back. Trust me, there is no doubt in my mind that I'm looking at the man who raped me.”
“And when did you have to look at him again, to make the identification?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“I understand that someone from CDPA actually sent you photos of my client by email and asked you to consider whether or not he might have been your attacker. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is. That's when I recognized him. In the photo.”
“That's when you recognized someone whose face you could not remember for the past eighteen months? Could it be that someone encouraged you to recognize my client as the perpetrator?”
The girl's eyes flicked for a split second toward Inspector Hansen, before returning to meet Kate's own. “No one encouraged me to do anything. I knew it was him as soon as I saw the photo, and then they called me down to identify him in a lineup, and I was absolutely certain. That man attacked me, threatened me and raped me. That man, sitting right there beside you.”
Kate looked at the girl for a few seconds, then sat down. She glanced at Carson, and the look on her face told him that things had not gone anywhere nearly as well as she had hoped.
Magistrate Bogard dismissed Ms. Jackson and told Mr. Kendall to call his next witness. He called the second victim, Rita Garibaldi. Once she was sworn in, Kendall stood and addressed her.
“Ms. Garibaldi, you are also a victim of an attack by the so-called University Rapist, were you not?”
“Yes, I was, as far as I know I was the second victim. That was on July twenty-sixth of last year.”
“And do you also see your attacker here in this courtroom?”
“Yes, that's him sitting right there.”
“Ms. Garibaldi, how can you be so certain that the defendant is the man who attacked you so long ago?”
The girl gave a derisive snort. “I thought it was him back when it happened,” she said. “I told the investigator then that my attacker was about the same size as Professor Pace, and kind of looked like him, as far as I could see. If he'd listened to me back then, maybe nobody else would've gotten raped.”
Kendall smiled and sat down. “Your witness,” he said to Kate.
Kate stood. “Ms. Garibaldi, I've read through your entire statement after you were attacked, and while you did say that your attacker was about the size of the professor, there is no record that you ever said it looked like him. Could it be that you're making that up right now, for the benefit of the prosecution?”
“Hey, if the inspector didn't write down what I said, that's not my fault. I remember exactly what I said, and I told him that I thought it was Professor Pace. It's not my fault he was an idiot and didn't bother to check it out back then.”
Kate looked at the girl for only another second, then said, “No further questions.” She sat down and looked at Carson, and shook her head softly. “They've been coached,” she whispered.
Kendall called the third victim, Martha Weaver. She took the stand and was sworn in, and quickly gave her own identification of Carson as her attacker. Like the first girl, she claimed that she had probably buried the memory of her attacker's face, but that the memory had returned when she saw Carson in the lineup. Kendall did such a good job of establishing her certainty that Kate didn't even bother to ask any questions.
The last witness called was an expert on DNA evidence, who testified that getting a partial match was possible, depending on what types of contamination the samples were subjected to on the victims or in the laboratory. Kate tried very hard to get him to admit that a ninety-six-percent match would be less-than-reliable evidence, but he stuck firmly to his own story.
The prosecution rested, and Kate called her one and only witness: Charlotte Reynolds. Charlotte was called to the witness stand and sworn in, and then Kate stood and addressed her.
“Ms. Reynolds, how long have you lived with my client?”
“It's been a little over two years, now.”
“And have you ever seen him display any behavior that might be considered violent? Anything that might make you think he could be capable of the things he's accused of?”
Charlotte shook her head emphatically. “No, absolutely not. This would be so out of character for him, it's just not even possible.”
“Ms. Reynolds, it has been suggested by the prosecution that my client may have tampered with the computer logs that record entries and exits at your apartment. Do you believe that he is capable of doing anything like that?”
Again, Charlotte shook her head. “Carson is a history professor,” she said. “Whenever he has to deal with anything computerized, he comes running to me. It took him two months to get used to the new email set up on the holo-tab. There's no way he could have tampered with the logs, I don
't think he'd even know how to find them.”
Kate smiled at her. “It sounds like you know him pretty well.”
Charlotte smiled back, and shrugged. “Of course I do,” she said. “We've been together this long, and we're about to get married. Obviously, I wouldn't be willing to marry a man who could do something like this.”
Kate nodded once, and turned to Kendall. “Your witness,” she said.
Kendall rose to his feet and smiled at Charlotte. “Ms. Reynolds,” he said, “have you ever had any reason to be afraid of Mr. Pace?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. Carson doesn't have any kind of violence in him.”
“Really?” Kendall asked. “Then what would you say to those who have said you occasionally have to wear extra makeup on one side of your face, to cover up the bruises that he leaves on you?”
Charlotte's face was suddenly a mixture of shock and rage, but Kate interrupted before she could say anything.
“Objection, we've not heard anything about any such claims. The prosecutor is hinting at evidence that has not been disclosed.”
“Defense's objection is sustained,” said Magistrate Bogard. “Mr. Kendall, don't play games like that in my courtroom.”
Kendall tried to look innocent. “My apologies, Your Honors, but I thought it a legitimate question. Inspector Hansen, the lead investigator on this case, has been approached by friends of Mr. Pace and Ms. Reynolds who say they have long suspected that the couple had an abusive relationship.”
“Have you got those friends here on a witness list? Have you registered them as witnesses you plan to call? You have not, and therefore I will tolerate no further mention of these so-called friends, or their comments and accusations.” The magistrate's face was red, and it was obvious that he was quite annoyed with the prosecutor.
Kendall looked at the magistrates, and then shook his head. “Then I have no further questions for this witness, and the prosecution rests its case.” He sat down, his demeanor indicating that he felt he was not getting the respect he deserved.
