Jack didn’t answer right away. There were several things he needed to bring up, and he wanted to sort them out in his head before speaking.
“Luis, I’m not a criminal lawyer. My background is as a civil defense lawyer. I represented insurance companies. This second career I have is as an appellate attorney representing people like Henry who are on death row. I know how to try a case, and I now know criminal law thoroughly, but here’s the distinction: criminal lawyers represent anybody who comes in the door. I only represent people who I believe are innocent. Is Benny innocent?”
“I don’t know. It looks pretty bad though.”
Jack started to respond, but Luis continued talking.
“You gotta understand this, Jack. I owe this boy. I wasn’t there for him when he was a kid. His mother wasn’t there for him. If he’d had a mother and a father behind him, he wouldn’t be where he is now.”
“You’re probably right, Luis, but he is where he is now. And if he’s a murderer, there’s not a whole lot I can do for him.”
Luis’s shoulders sank, and he dropped his head. For a moment Jack thought the man was going to cry. He hated being so direct, but he truly didn’t want to represent a murderer.
“Luis, what if he is guilty? I don’t want to put a murderer back on the street, even if he is your son, and I don’t think you do either.”
Luis didn’t lift his head. “I just thought I could give him another chance at life,” he said. “I’ve had that second chance. I’ve got a business now—I’m a framing contractor. I thought I could take Benny into the business and teach him the trade.”
“You wouldn’t be able to do that if he’s a hardened criminal, Luis.”
“He’s not,” he said looking up at Jack. “I’ve seen him and I’ve talked to him. He’s a lost soul, but he’s not a hardened criminal.”
“How long were you with him?” Jack asked.
“Five minutes maybe, but I could tell.”
Jack knew it was wishful thinking. He wanted to help Luis, but representing a murderer would be against the principle he’d established for himself.
Henry, who’d been listening intently to every word, jumped in. “Maybe what you could do, Jack, is hold off making a decision until you look into the case. You could learn all the facts first.”
Jack was annoyed at Henry’s interruption. He knew Henry was probably identifying with Benny—their childhoods were certainly similar. Henry did have a point, though. Maybe he was being a bit premature.
Luis kept his eyes focused on Jack.
“That’s a good idea,” Jack finally said. “I’ll look into the case before I make a decision. But if the evidence clearly shows that he’s guilty, Luis, I’m not going to be your man. Do you understand?”
Luis stood up, elated. “Yes, yes, I understand. I can give you a few thousand to get started. And I can get some more.”
“Put your money away,” Jack told him. “This isn’t about money. Let’s see what we can find out, and we’ll go from there.”
43
A week after Luis’s visit, Jack flew to New York with Henry.
“Why do you want me to go along?” Henry had asked when Jack first extended the invitation. “You probably don’t remember this, but I was in prison for seventeen years. I don’t like to fly.”
“Well, you are my investigator, and it will probably be a good thing to check out the place where the murder occurred. Besides, I’m going to have to make a decision while I’m there, and since you’ve already interjected yourself into that process, I want you to be with me and help me.”
“I don’t know about that,” Henry replied.
“Yes, you do, Henry. You’re going to give me your opinion anyway, solicited or unsolicited. I’d just like to have it beforehand. Sometimes you see things I don’t.”
“All right then,” Henry sighed, still not overly enthusiastic about the trip.
Jack contacted the public defender’s office before they left for New York and made arrangements to review Benny’s file and meet with the attorney handling the case afterward. He and Henry spent most of their first full day in the city poring over the police reports. At four o’clock that afternoon, they met with Assistant Public Defender Bruce Sentner. Bruce was in his late forties, a short, slight, balding man who had spent his entire career at the public defender’s office. He appeared to be genuinely excited to meet both Jack and Henry.
“I’ve read about you, and I’m aware of your work,” he told Jack as they shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Jack replied, a little embarrassed by Bruce’s effusiveness.
“And Henry, your story is inspiring to those of us who work in this business. We’d like to get it right at the trial stage, though.”
Henry just grunted. He’d made his peace with Wofford Benton, but public defenders still weren’t his favorite people.
“I have to admit I’m a little perplexed,” Bruce said, turning to Jack again. “I thought you only did death penalty appeals.”
“Benny Avrile’s dad is an old friend of mine,” Jack explained. “Besides, I haven’t taken the case yet. I’m just looking into it.”
“Well, fire away. I’ll be glad to answer any of your questions if I can.”
“Why don’t you just give us your overall analysis.”
“Off the record?” Bruce asked.
Jack wondered for a moment what record he was talking about. Then he remembered that government workers were all paranoid. It was an institutional disease.
“Off the record,” he replied.
“Benny’s guilty. Or at least, he’s going to be convicted.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve been doing this for twenty-five years, Jack. I’m as sure as I’ve ever been. He was at the scene. He had a motive—robbery. The witnesses against him are solid. He doesn’t have an alibi or any other defense that I’m aware of. I’ve been concentrating my efforts on a plea, but Sal Paglia, his prior attorney, pissed the governor off so badly that nobody will even talk to us about a plea.”
“So the case has to be tried?”
“Yeah. It’s set in three weeks, and there won’t be any continuances. Somebody lit a fire under the judge’s ass. Before this case, you couldn’t get to trial with this guy. Now he’s as hot to trot as the state.”
“Do you have Sal Paglia’s records?”
“No, but I have everything he had, I’m sure.”
“I did see the report of Dr. Wong when I read your files. It was pretty convincing.”
“Let me tell you a little bit about Dr. Donald Wong, Jack. He’s been around for a while. Excellent credentials. There was a time when everybody was using him. And that was just it. He got the reputation—and I’m sure you’ve heard this term before in the civil arena—of being a “whore.” Whoever paid him got the opinion they wanted. About five years ago, prosecutors stopped using him, so all his opinions for the last five years have been for the defense. And I’m telling you, no matter how heinous the crime, Dr. Wong is there with a reason why your client didn’t do it. The state’s got a dossier on him that would fill this room. You put him on the stand and they’ll rip him a new asshole for about four days—excuse my French. I’m not saying his opinion is bad—he always has great charts and stuff—but he’s a powder keg that will ignite that jury.”
“Why was Sal Paglia using him, then?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know for sure. Sal didn’t often represent people on trial for murder. He may have used Wong years ago and simply may not have known how Wong’s reputation had deteriorated. I can tell you this—the state was salivating over the prospect of cross-examining Wong.”
“So I take it you wouldn’t recommend that I get involved in this case, and you definitely wouldn’t recommend using Dr. Wong as an expert?”
“I wouldn’t let Wong come within a hundred miles of the courthouse, but if you can get his exhibits, I’d use them. Like I
said, he’s always got great charts and stuff. In this case, I’m sure he’s diagrammed the whole murder scene, especially how and where the bullet struck, since his opinion is based on that information. All you need to do is get somebody a little more credible to provide the same opinions using Dr. Wong’s exhibits.
“As for the case itself, I’d be happy if you took it off my hands. Frankly, in my opinion, it’s going to hurt your reputation.”
Jack stood up to leave. There was no sense taking any more of the man’s time. “Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate your candor. I’ll have an answer for you very soon.”
“My pleasure, Jack.”
Henry waved good-bye as he followed Jack out of the office.
“You were awful quiet in there,” Jack commented as they walked across the street toward the subway.
“I didn’t have anything to say.”
“At least, not in front of him, is that it?”
“That’s about right, Jack.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think that Mr. Sentner was a little too sure of himself. He’s got Benny convicted already. I think that happens all too often in the public defender’s office. I imagine that same conversation happened when I was coming up for trial.”
“I don’t know. I understand your position, Henry, considering your own personal experience, but the evidence against Benny is pretty substantial. I think he’s right about this Dr. Wong too. I’ve seen experts like him skinned alive during cross-examination.”
“I imagine you did some of that skinning yourself, Daniel Boone,” Henry said with a sideways look at Jack, who cracked a smile.
They met Charlie that evening for dinner at an intimate little Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side called Pinocchio. When Jack called to tell Charlie they were coming to New York, she had insisted that they stay with her.
“I’ve got two extra bedrooms and I won’t hear of you staying anywhere else,” she’d declared. Jack couldn’t say no but mentioned that he couldn’t speak for Henry. When he brought up the invitation later, Henry told him he had relatives in Harlem and he wanted to get a chance to stay with them if possible.
“Just be ready. She’s going to bring it up as soon as we sit down,” Jack said as they walked into the restaurant.
Sure enough, after they had all kissed hello and were seated, Charlie got right to the point. “Are you going to stay with me, Henry?”
“I’d love to, Charlie,” Henry began, “but I have an aunt who lives in Harlem, and I’ve only met her once. She’s my mother’s younger sister, and I’ve already made arrangements to stay with her. I want to find out a little bit more about my mother. Besides, we don’t eat the same food as you folks. There’s only so much of this stuff I can take.”
Charlie laughed. Henry had totally disarmed her.
It was a wonderful dinner. Henry and Jack entertained Charlie with their stories about weekends on Lake Okeechobee. Afterward, Henry hopped a cab uptown while Jack and Charlie took a leisurely stroll to her apartment between Lexington and Park Avenues. She lived right in the heart of the neighborhood where Jack and Pat had grown up.
“Did Pat tell you this was our old neighborhood?”
“Of course she did.”
“It’s changed a lot. It used to be blue-collar. Nobody I know could live here anymore.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. The only working people left are the ones who live in rent-controlled or rent-stabilized apartments.”
“It’s the same all over New York. This city has lost some of its soul.”
“You’re probably right, Jack. I don’t know. I’m originally from Indiana.”
“So is everybody else,” Jack replied. “Not from Indiana, I mean, but from someplace else. The people who were born and raised in Manhattan are gone.”
“Pat took me to some of your old hangouts. They seem the same.”
“The difference is there are only a few of them left.” Jack realized he was sounding like an old curmudgeon. He decided to change course. “Maybe we’ll stop at the Carlow East one night this week,” he suggested.
“I’d like that.”
They walked in silence for half a block until Charlie popped the question she’d been meaning to ask all night.
“So, have you been thinking about dating?”
Jack stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “Of course not,” he replied.
“Well, you should be, Jack. It’s time.”
“How do you know it’s time, Charlie? Is Pat talking back to you now?”
“Very funny, Jack. Actually, this is something she talked to me about before she died. She asked me to tell you when the time was right that she wanted you to go on and live a full life in every respect. I think this is the right time.”
They started walking again.
“Well, I don’t,” Jack finally answered. “I don’t know if it will ever be time.”
“Just be open to it, Jack. That’s all I’m saying. You’re too young to become a dried-up old prune.”
That got a laugh out of Jack. “All right, Charlie. I’ll try and be open to it. I’m sorry I jumped all over you like that.”
“Does that mean we’re still on for the Carlow East?” she asked.
“We’re still on for the Carlow East.”
Jack tossed and turned all night, wrestling with the decision of whether to represent Benny or not. He and Henry met for breakfast early the next morning.
“I can’t do this, Henry,” Jack said after they got their coffee.
“Do what?”
“Represent Benny. I’m convinced he’s guilty. I’m trying to seek justice for people who aren’t guilty. I’m not trying to get guilty people off.”
Henry didn’t answer right away. He simply took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. “Jack, you know I love you,” he began. “You saved my life. But you need to expand your view of justice. It’s not black-and-white. It’s multicolored, and the different shades are very subtle. Your friend Luis was railroaded into the service to fight a war that, by the way, just about everyone now agrees was unjust. And the state put Benny into a foster-care program that was nothing more than legalized child abuse.”
“I hear you. But should I try to get a murderer off because he had a bad childhood? Is that what you’re saying to me?”
“Not at all. I’m just saying that justice means Benny is entitled to his day in court. Neither you nor anybody else should prejudge him. He should get the best defense he’s entitled to and the state should be required to prove its case—nothing more, nothing less.”
“What if I get him off and put a murderer back on the street? That’s the part I can’t get past.”
“All right, let’s work on that. How do we resolve that dilemma?”
“I don’t know, Henry. That’s what kept me up all night. I’d really like to help Luis.”
“Let me make a suggestion. Let’s go see Benny. We can get a feel for him just like you got a feel for me on that first visit. Let’s find out where he lived and talk to people who know him. If in the end it’s pretty clear that he’s a violent, dangerous person, then we walk away. But if he’s not and this murder charge appears to be an aberration, then you take his case and give him the best defense you can, which means you make the state prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Jack looked at Henry. It was a reasonable compromise, and it appeared that Henry had taken a long time to think it out. He’d probably done some of his own tossing and turning the night before.
“You think he’s innocent, don’t you?” Jack asked.
“Not necessarily, Jack. I think he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence—something I never had.”
“All right, Henry, we’ll talk to Benny. If he doesn’t appear to be a violent criminal and we can verify that independently, then I’ll take his case. The rest is out of my hands.”
44
The next day they rented a car and drove to Ossining Correctiona
l Facility in Ossining, New York, about an hour and a half from the city. Jack had called ahead and made arrangements to see Benny. He was an expert at cutting through the prison red tape and expediting things; he’d spoken directly to the warden.
After they signed in and went through the normal procedure of being searched, the prison guards led them to a private visiting room. The guards were clearly keeping an eye on Henry, probably figuring that a man that size didn’t need a weapon to orchestrate a prison break.
Henry wasn’t feeling all that comfortable either. Walking through the prison gates and hearing them clang shut behind him sent chills up and down his spine. For a moment he felt like running, but he steeled himself. Henry knew that Benny’s fate actually depended on him. Even though Jack had experience dealing with death-row inmates, he didn’t really know how to get behind the almost impenetrable wall of a guy living in the prison system.
Benny Avrile was no longer the fast-talking, pot-smoking flimflam man he’d been a year ago. At five feet, eight inches and slight of build, the young, fairly handsome Benny had been a sight for sore eyes to more than a few inmates who thought it would be easy to make him their bitch.
Benny had known what was coming. He’d heard enough horror stories over the years from ex-cons—none of whom ever admitted to being molested—to realize that he was literally going to have to fight for his ass. It wasn’t going to be the first time, however, and his experience as a foster kid had given him at least some preparation. Back then when his back was to the wall, Benny had always come out swinging. He adopted the same attitude the day he walked through the prison gates. If somebody even looked at him wrong, he hit him and hit him again and kicked him in the balls and bit him and head-butted him and didn’t stop until the guards pulled him off. The next day he’d do it all over again, constantly the aggressor, never waiting for somebody to make a move on him. He talked to nobody. If somebody talked to him he hit him and hit him and hit him. He was put in solitary a few times and got beaten up by the guards, but nothing stopped him. Eventually he didn’t get the looks anymore. He’d been tagged as crazy and was left alone.
The Law of Second Chances Page 23
