Redress of Grievances

by Brenda Adcock

  Opening the folder now on his lap Wayne said, "No, I didn't. Do you know a woman named Sharon Taggart?"

  Larabee seemed to think for a few minutes, mentally searching for a recollection of the name, before shaking his head. "No, I don't. Sorry."

  "You went to high school in Dallas, didn't you?"

  "Well, actually it was in Highland Park, just north of the downtown area."

  "While you were in high school, did you know a Parker Collins?"

  "Yeah." Larabee seemed to brighten at the memory. "He and I were on the school football team together for a couple of years."

  "Have you been in contact with him recently?"

  "I left the Dallas area right after I graduated and haven't been back. My parents moved to Arizona, and I followed them to attend college. I haven't really seen anyone from back then in fifteen or twenty years."

  "Were you ever at the Collinses' house, you know, for parties or anything like that?"

  Larabee shifted in his chair and began to look slightly uncomfortable. "I might have been a couple of times. It was a long time ago."

  "Yes, it was. Mr. Collins is a State Senator from the Dallas area now."

  "I figured Parker would end up doing something like that. He was a very popular guy when I knew him."

  "Yeah, I heard that everyone, especially the boys, enjoyed being invited to his home when his parents were away."

  Spreading his hands in a sign of resignation, Larabee said, "You know how teenage boys are. If we had the chance to sneak a few alcoholic drinks we did."

  "That's true," Wayne chuckled. "Not to mention getting a little pussy every now and then, too, right?"

  Larabee eyed Wayne closely and leaned forward in his chair. "What is this really about, Mr. Graham? If you have a question in mind, why don't you just spit it out, and stop beating that poor bush to death?"

  "Can I assume that you did know Sharon Taggart then?"

  "I knew Sharon Collins, Parker's sister. Apparently she's gotten married since then."

  "Mrs. Taggart has been arrested for homicide. She claims she was sexually molested by her brother and his friends when she was a small child. Do you know anything about that, Mr. Larabee?"

  Larabee pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and lifted out a bottle of Crown Royale and two glasses. As he spun the top from the bottle he glanced up at Wayne, "Would you care to join me?"

  As Wayne took a swallow of his drink, enjoying the feel of it coating his throat, Larabee leaned back holding his own glass. "I wondered if that would ever surface."

  "Want to tell me about it?"

  For the next hour, Thad Larabee recounted what he knew about what had gone on inside the Collinses' home almost twenty years earlier. To Wayne, the man seemed relieved to finally tell the story. Despite that, Wayne couldn't feel sorry for Larabee. What he told Wayne involved more than mere youthful indiscretion, and even though Larabee wouldn't face prosecution for what he did, the incident had obviously troubled him. As he told his story, he glanced repeatedly at the picture of his own daughter.

  Wayne left Larabee Premier Motors with the names of other male classmates. As he drove back to the Phoenix Airport, he called Harriett on his cell phone to let her know she had at least one pervert who corroborated her client's story. If he was lucky, he could be in Tampa, Florida late that evening in search of pervert number two.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  "I DON'T BELIEVE I let you talk me into this," Harriett said as Nick held the door into the lecture hall open for her.

  "It's because you're a sucker for a sob story," Nick said with a smile. "And you owe me big time for agreeing to help with the jury selection."

  "I know, but I have a million things to do. Opening arguments are in four days."

  "No one knows that better than I do, Harriett. That's why I arranged for you to do this before the case goes to court. You need a break from the case right now."

  "Do they know I can't answer any questions about it?"

  "Yes. These aren't first year law students."

  As Harriett followed Nick down an aisle toward the podium at the front of the room, she glanced around. The room resembled every law classroom she had ever been in, with elevated seats that gave it the feel of a small auditorium. The front of the room was arranged in the same manner as a miniature courtroom. Students presenting a case could be easily observed by other students in the audience. She had almost forgotten about giving the presentation that day and was dressed in slacks and a tweed jacket over a gray turtleneck sweater. When Nick called to see if she was ready, it had taken her a few minutes to remember where she had put her notes. She opened her briefcase and scanned the few pages she had hastily thrown together, hoping it would be enough to fill the hour and a half Nick had allotted her. As she slipped her glasses on, Nick bent down next to her.

  "I'll make a brief introduction, and then they're all yours," he said.

  "Are you staying or throwing me to the wolves?" she asked with a smile.

  "I'll be around. Try to leave about thirty minutes for a question and answer session at the end."

  "No problem."

  The low buzzing of voices stopped when Nick stepped up to the microphone.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Today, I have invited a respected member of the bar whose specialty is criminal law, and who, incidentally, happens to be my law partner, to speak to you. Harriett Markham has been practicing criminal law for twenty years and has an impressive record of victories on behalf of her clients. After Ms. Markham completes her remarks to you, she has agreed to address any questions you may have. Ms. Markham," Nick said, looking back at Harriett.

  Harriett walked to the podium and placed her notes on it. She had never been comfortable using notes for anything other than preparation, believing that juries instinctively didn't trust an attorney who didn't know his or her case well enough to present without the crutch notes provided. Stepping to one side of the podium, she looked at the students and smiled slightly.

  "I wish Mr. Lazslo hadn't put in the part about practicing law for twenty years. It makes me feel over the hill," she said to scattered laughter.

  "How many of you are considering specializing in criminal law?" she asked. Surveying the room, she saw half the students raise their hands.

  "And of those who plan to practice in that area, how many would rather put the bad guys away?"

  Most of the same hands went up.

  "I hope you realize how difficult it is to do that. As prosecutors, you must prove your cases to a jury beyond a reasonable doubt. I, on the other hand, get to spend my time discrediting your witnesses and excluding your evidence. I only have to deal with one or two clients at a time," she said, sliding her hands into the pockets of her slacks. "You, however, may be juggling dozens of cases in various stages of preparation at any given time. If I'm good at my job, my clients will be paying me substantially more than you'll be earning. Anyone want to change their minds about putting the bad guys away?"

  There was a low buzz of conversation among the students as they considered what she had said.

  "Conversely, if you lose a case you are defending your client may hate you and threaten you or sue you because he or she thinks you didn't represent him or her very well. Every defense attorney hopes to be able to defend in a case in which lives are at stake and to be able to carry that case to a successful conclusion on behalf of his or her client. I'm sure you already know that ninety-five percent of all criminal defendants are guilty. However, they must be defended as zealously as the innocent five percent. Any attorney unwilling to put forth his or her best effort only for the innocent should consider another profession."

  Nearly an hour later, Harriett reached the end of her prepared remarks.

  "To be a successful attorney does not mean making thousands of dollars on every case, although no one objects to making money. However, the happiest and most content attorneys are those who truly love the law and take seriously their oath to assis
t their clients to the fullest capacity within the confines of those laws and the canons of legal ethics. I would be glad to answer any questions you might have at this point, and I will attempt to answer them, even if they are beyond the scope of my remarks," Harriett concluded.

  Picking up a glass of water from the podium, she took a drink as she waited for the first question. As she set the glass down, she pointed to a young woman in the fourth row.

  "Do you believe that women in legal practice are competitive with their male counterparts, or are there the same limitations women have in other professions?"

  "I have found that anyone, male or female, who puts forth his or her best effort practicing the law can be successful. At one time, I was a senior associate with a large, well-known firm and didn't experience any difficulties because of my gender. Unfortunately, there are women in every profession who might use the gender issue as an excuse for their failure to move up. Just work incredibly hard when you start, never believe that you are God's gift to the legal profession, never stop learning, and everything will fall into place."

  A young man in the front raised his hand and stood, "Of the ninety-five percent you know are guilty, have you ever felt you personally let any of them down?"

  "I believe I have represented every client as well as I could have. Have I ever let any of them down personally? I don't believe so. There have been clients I wasn't crazy about representing, of course. But at that point you have to overlook the person and remain faithful to the law and the spirit of the law."

  "Are there any criminal defendants you would not take as a client?"

  "I like to think not."

  "Are you less zealous about representing clients who have been court appointed than the ones who pay your full fee?"

  "This is certainly a money hungry little group you have here, Mr. Lazslo," Harriett said over her shoulder. "I am fortunate enough at this point in my career for money not to be the determining factor in client selection. Hypothetically, those clients who come to you through court appointments are among the neediest clients. And incidentally, a rather large percentage of those clients fall within the five percent I mentioned earlier."

  "How do you handle getting a client off when you know he's guilty?" a young woman asked.

  "That's a difficult question to answer. However, if an attorney has performed his or her duties with a clear conscience, then he or she will have to learn to take it in stride. It certainly happens. Get over it and move on."

  A man in his mid thirties stood up near the middle of the auditorium. "Have you gotten over the Wilkes case yet?" he asked.

  For a moment, Harriett didn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe that any of the students would have known about the Wilkes case. Quickly, she glanced back at Nick, who got up and joined her at the podium.

  "Is he one of your students?" she asked softly as Nick reached her.

  "No. I'll take care of it," Nick said, leaving her side.

  Turning back toward the man, Harriett cleared her throat.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, the case this gentlemen is referring to was resolved before it came to trial," Harriett explained. "Occasionally, you may have cases that, for one reason or another, are settled prior to the adversarial process."

  Students in the auditorium watched as Nick approached the man and spoke to him briefly. The man smiled as he spoke to Nick and finally shrugged. As he left the room, he turned his head toward Harriett and grinned as he slipped on a pair of sunglasses that looked suspiciously like the ones the mysterious jogger had been wearing.

  "That concludes today's presentation," Nick said as he rejoined Harriett at the podium. "Briefs for your assigned cases are due at our next meeting. Be prepared to argue both sides."

  Nick stood with Harriett as the students began filing out.

  "I'd be willing to bet serious money that son of a bitch Collins was behind that," Harriett said.

  "He said he was paid by someone to show up here today, but didn't know who. Think he's responsible for the jogging incident, too?"

  "I don't know. I'll ask Wayne to find someone to keep an eye on Collins. He might just be trying to rattle me."

  "Is he succeeding?"

  Harriett looked at Nick. "Yes."

  "I THINK YOU should make this section on your burden stronger," Nick suggested as he read Harriett's draft of her opening remarks to the jury that afternoon. "Emphasize that you know the burden of proof is yours and that you welcome it."

  "Okay, how about this...," Harriett said as the intercom buzzed.

  "Yes, Phyllis," she answered as she jotted notes in the margins of her statement.

  "Ms. Raines from the Attorney General's Office is here to see you," Phyllis said.

  "I called a friend about Collins," Harriett said, pressing the intercom button. "Send her in please, Phyllis."

  Harriett moved around her desk and greeted Jess at the door to her office. Turning toward Nick, she said, "This is my law partner, Nick Lazslo. Jess is an investigator for the Attorney General."

  Jess approached Nick as he rose and extended her hand. As they shook hands, Harriett noticed a pistol in a shoulder holster under Jess's jacket.

  "Please have a seat," Harriett said.

  Unsure what Harriett's co-workers knew about her personal life, Jess said, "I understand you have a problem that may or may not involve my department at the AG's office."

  "Harriett is representing a client who is accused of murder," Nick explained.

  "Actually multiple murders," Harriett added.

  "And that would be Sharon Collins Taggart?" Jess asked, looking at papers in her portfolio.

  "Yes," Harriett answered.

  "You had the case transferred here from Dallas County, and your client is pleading insanity. Correct?"

  "Yes," Harriett nodded. "Recently, my client's brother threatened me and my family. Since then two incidents have occurred, one of which directly involved my niece and caused me some concern for her safety."

  "The brother originally hired Harriett to defend her client and now isn't very happy about the way her investigation is going," Nick added.

  "Sounds a little like you're biting the hand that feeds you," Jess frowned.

  "I'll do whatever is in the best interest of my client," Harriett snapped defensively.

  "I'm not making a judgment," Jess smiled. "Just want to make sure I get all the facts straight. Did you know the individual you had contact with?"

  "No. He claims he was hired anonymously to carry out the stunt at the law school, and although I believe he was the same man involved in an attack on my niece, I can't prove it. I need to know what my options are, other than filing a restraining order. My client's brother is a member of the state legislature, and I can't allow this threat to distract me from the case."

  "I certainly understand your concern," Jess said as she ran her fingers through her short amber hair. She knew that Harriett wouldn't breach her client's confidentiality. "But there really isn't anything the Attorney General's office or the police department, for that matter, can do until a criminal offense actually occurs."

  "Which means what?" Harriett asked as she leaned forward on her desk. "There's not a damn thing I can do to protect either myself or my niece?"

  Jess answered, "I didn't say that. Give me a day or two to look into it. It's really outside the jurisdiction of my section, but I'll check around to see what, if anything, can be done. In the meantime, feel free to call me any time. I'm used to phone calls in the middle of the night," she said, smiling at Harriett.

  "And that's it?" Nick asked.

  "Pretty much," Jess shrugged as she stood up. "I'll do what I can, but I can't promise anything."

  "We'd appreciate anything you could do," Nick said, shaking Jess's hand again.

  Turning to Harriett, she said, "Would it be possible for us to speak alone for a moment?"

  As Jess looked at her, Harriett saw a penetrating intensity in her hazel-green eyes that she hadn't seen be
fore. Jess waited for the door to the office to close before she spoke again. "Why didn't you call me about this before now?"

  Leaning against her desk, Harriett nodded. "I can't compromise my client's confidentiality because of an unsubstantiated threat against me."

  "I know you can't tell me anything about the case, but I wish you had told me about the threat sooner, Harriett," Jess said pointedly. "I could have found someone to watch you both."

  "Well, I've told you now," Harriett retorted as tears began forming in her eyes.

  Stepping closer, Jess reached out and drew Harriett to her.

  "I can't let anything happen to Lacey, Jess. I wouldn't be able to stand it," Harriett said weakly, tightening her grip around Jess.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Sharon Taggart is charged with causing the deaths of four human beings and serious bodily injury to three others," Sean Lassiter began his opening statement. "They had no relationship to her whatsoever. They were simply random anonymous targets who happened to wander into her path. There is no dispute about what Sharon Taggart did. She took a high-powered rifle, lay in wait, and fired it at oncoming vehicles on a busy Dallas freeway not once, not twice, but on seven separate occasions during a two-year period. In easily understood terms, the law states that an action is murder in the first degree if there is either the intent to cause serious bodily injury or the act that caused the death of an individual was clearly dangerous to human life. No one can argue that the defendant's actions meet both these criteria. Sharon Taggart is responsible for the deaths of four innocent people.

  "I know what you're thinking, ladies and gentlemen. Anyone who would do such a thing must be crazy. They must surely be insane. And we would all like to believe that because it is incomprehensible to us that any normal person would do what Sharon Taggart, in fact, did. However, in order for Sharon Taggart to prove she is innocent because she is insane, she cannot rely on the medical definition of insanity. Medically, she may very well be insane. That, however, does not make her legally insane, and therefore, not responsible for her actions. To be insane in the eyes of the law, Ms. Markham must prove by the weight of the evidence presented that her client did not know the difference between right and wrong at the time she committed the crimes. It's really a very simple test. Either she knows she committed a wrongful, therefore, illegal act or she doesn't.