by Marti Green
Bruce sat back in his seat and picked up a pencil, which he began to twirl in his fingers. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Much as I hate to say this, it’s something I’m going to have to bring to the board. I don’t think it’s in my job description to turn down that kind of money without consulting them first.”
“You don’t think—?”
“No. But they need to be the ones to turn her down.”
“As she left, she told me she’d call back in two days for our answer.”
Bruce’s eyebrows knit together, and his lips pinched. “Did she now? Well, when she calls back, tell her we’re not her flunkies to order around.” His voice grew progressively louder as he spoke. “We’ll let her know when we have an answer, and if that’s not soon enough for her, too bad. God! The nerve of her. Just because she has money to throw around doesn’t mean we’re going to bow at her feet.” His rant finished, he let out a deep sigh, then said, “I’ll tell the board we need an answer quickly.”
CHAPTER
4
“I call this special meeting to order,” Linda Chase said as she banged the gavel twice. The five men and three women stopped their chattering and turned to the chairwoman of the board of HIPP. “As you know, Jacob’s been working on our budget for next year, and we’re woefully short.” She turned to the man sitting at her side. “Would you give a brief update on this issue?”
“Sure. In past years, we’ve gotten a $500,000 grant from the Department of Justice. For the coming year, they’ve cut it to $200,000. In addition, New York State has cut our grant from $100,000 last year to $25,000 this year. Two of our biggest private-foundation donors have cut their contributions in half, reducing our income by another $200,000. And even the smaller donors are sending in less. The economy is hurting everyone, and organizations like ours are suffering.”
“What’s Margie doing to make up for the shortfall?” Noah Diamond asked, referring to the fund-raising professional the board had hired.
“Everything she can. But every other nonprofit has experienced cuts, so she’s really had to scramble for each dollar. The way I see it, we should be down more than $600,000 for next year’s budget.”
There was silence around the table. Linda knew what they were thinking. Staff cuts. Something they were all loath to do. They had discussed the possibility at the last regular board meeting. She smiled brightly. “I have a solution.”
They all turned their attention to her.
“Amelia Melton has asked HIPP to represent her grandson, Winston Melton. If we agree, she’ll immediately donate $500,000 to us. If our attorneys win his freedom, we’ll get another $500,000.”
Shouts of approval arose from the table, from all except Noah. As the noise settled down, he said, “Doesn’t this go against our mission statement?”
“How so?” Jacob asked.
“We help inmates who can’t afford their own attorneys.”
Linda shuffled through some papers and pulled out HIPP’s bylaws. “It says here our mission is to represent those inmates believed to be wrongfully convicted. There’s nothing about ability to pay.”
“But still,” Noah continued, “we’re a nonprofit. We don’t charge for our services.”
“And we’re not charging here. Mrs. Melton has agreed to make a donation to our cause.”
“A difference without a distinction,” Noah muttered.
Jacob cleared his throat, then stood up. “Noah, I appreciate your concern. But the goal of HIPP is to help free as many innocent men and women as we can. Without funds, we’ll have to let go of staff, and that will dramatically reduce the number of people we can help. It’s not an ideal solution, but right now, it’s the only solution.”
Linda banged the gavel once more. “Is there a motion?”
“I move to accept Amelia Melton’s donation and have HIPP represent her grandson,” Jacob said.
“I second.”
“All in favor?”
All seven in the room said, “Aye.”
“The motion is passed.”
CHAPTER
5
As soon as Dani arrived at HIPP’s office on Fourteenth Street in the East Village, she found a message on her desk that Bruce needed to see her. She got herself settled, brewed a cup of coffee from the Keurig coffeemaker a grateful client had donated to HIPP, then strolled into his office.
He looked up from his work and motioned for her to sit.
“You’re not going to like this. I’ve heard back from the board. They want us to take Winston Melton’s case.”
Dani folded her arms across her chest. “But why? We’ve never represented a wealthy client.”
“Apparently, the board members have been scrambling for money. They see this as a necessary compromise.”
“I won’t do it.”
With a pained expression on his face, Bruce said, “You have to, Dani. If they don’t raise the funds, the board plans to lay off a third of the staff.”
“I’m sorry, Bruce. I can’t do this. When you hired me. I agreed to accept a fraction of my usual salary because HIPP performed a vital service. You convinced me that many innocent prisoners languished in jail because there weren’t enough attorneys who’d work for free. I was moved by your cause. It’s my cause now. I just can’t turn my back on others because Mrs. Melton has bought me. Find someone else in the office to represent him.”
“She insists it be you.”
Dani just shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Then she stood up and left his office.
Back at her own desk, Dani took out her cell phone and called her husband. She knew his schedule. Doug wouldn’t begin teaching his first-year criminal-law class for another fifteen minutes. When he answered, she filled him in on her conversation with Bruce.
“You’re right, of course,” Doug said. “But sometimes, being right isn’t enough. We all have to do things we don’t like at times, for the greater good.”
“What’s the greater good here? The superwealthy often think they can buy anyone and anything. Now it’s at the expense of some poor inmates who I won’t get to represent because I’m tied up with Melton’s case.”
“The greater good is what can be done with that money. HIPP can keep attorneys on staff who will fight for those poor inmates. You have to pick your battles. I don’t think this should be one of them.”
Dani felt the steam go out of her. She hated the thought of feeling she’d been bought. Even more so, she hated that Doug was right. She hung up, then walked back to Bruce’s office.
“I don’t like this, but I’ll represent Winston.”
“I don’t like it either. But thank you.”
“I’ll give Mrs. Melton a call. I assume I can use Melanie and Tommy?”
“Of course.”
Melanie Quinn, once a junior associate at HIPP and now seasoned enough to handle her own caseload, still worked with Dani on death-penalty cases. Tom Noorland, a former FBI agent and now an investigator at HIPP, was always Dani’s pick to help her ferret out the facts of a case.
Dani headed back to her office, stopping on the way to let Melanie and Tommy know of their new case. Once settled behind her desk, she began where she always did—with a Nexus search of news reports on Winston’s case. The first article she came across was of his arrest.
Palm Beach Gazette
December 20, 2007
Winston Melton, son of Donald and Lucy Melton and grandson of Amelia Melton and the late Horace Melton, was arrested yesterday and charged with the rape and murder of 17-year-old Carly Sobol. Ms. Sobol’s body was found behind Palm Beach High School four days ago. According to the Palm Beach police, evidence found at the scene clearly implicates Winston Melton. Those close to the Melton family assured reporters that Winston had nothing to do with that tragedy and expressed confidence that he would be cleared.
&nbs
p; Melton, a freshman at Princeton University, was at his family’s winter home in Palm Beach for his semester break. He graduated from Vanguard Preparatory School in Connecticut, where several faculty members described him as an excellent student.
Horace Melton was the founder of HoMe Bank, the nation’s third-largest financial institution. Later, he diversified his holdings into real estate, including two Las Vegas casinos and numerous luxury condominium buildings in Manhattan, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, all under the umbrella of HoMe Properties, Inc.
Dani scrolled down to the next article.
Palm Beach Gazette
May 6, 2008
The trial of Winston Melton began today with a police description of the discovery of Carly Sobol’s body behind Palm Beach High School. The medical examiner testified that the high school senior had been raped and killed. The cause of death was ruled as strangulation. No DNA was recovered from Ms. Sobol’s body, but a strand of hair identified as belonging to the defendant was discovered near the body. During the afternoon, several of Ms. Sobol’s classmates testified that Carly and Winston had been dating until he broke off the relationship when he left for college.
Dani skimmed the rest of the article, as well as the daily accounts that followed. The last one appeared a few weeks later.
Palm Beach Gazette
May 22, 2008
GUILTY!
The jurors in the murder trial of Winston Melton, dubbed by the national media as the “Princeton Rapist,” returned a guilty verdict today. The defendant showed no emotion as the verdict was read, while his mother, sitting behind him, sobbed loudly. Bail was revoked, and sentencing was scheduled for one week from today.
When she finished the news accounts, she turned to Lexis and read the appellate decisions. From the newspaper accounts and court decisions, it didn’t seem like a slam-dunk case against Winston. With high-priced lawyers representing him, Dani was surprised he’d been convicted. And even more surprised that, given his family, the state attorney hadn’t glommed onto the new confession. There had to be more going on than she’d read. That was usually the case. She’d have to wait until she spoke to his past lawyers to find out what. Fortunately, the always unpleasant task of informing prior attorneys they’d been replaced had been left to Amelia Melton. Just as well, Dani thought. When a Melton spoke, no one dared raise any questions. As Dani had now seen firsthand from HIPP’s board of directors.
She’d have to wait until tomorrow to phone Jackson Donahue, head of the criminal trial division at White, Cobbs, and Donahue. It was one of the largest of the mega Wall Street firms, headquartered in New York City but with offices around the world, and its attorneys handled the legal work for Horace Melton’s various business enterprises. It was not surprising that his widow had turned to that firm when she’d looked for a lawyer to represent her grandson.
Reluctantly, Dani gathered some files she’d been working on to bring to Stan Eustice, another attorney at HIPP. Stan would have to take over her cases so she could give her full attention to Winston Melton. With the death warrant already signed, HIPP had less than six months to try to clear him.
CHAPTER
6
Something had gnawed at Dani throughout the night. She kept waking up with a feeling of discomfort. It was only after she’d gotten her son, Jonah, off to school, that she realized what was wrong. As soon as she arrived at HIPP’s office, she poured a cup of coffee for herself, then headed into Bruce’s office.
“I need to be clear about something,” she said after she took a seat.
Bruce smiled at her. “No ‘good morning’ first?”
Dani felt foolish. She’d been so wound up since realizing the root of her concern that it felt like she’d entered Bruce’s office in the midst of a conversation that she was now ready to continue. “Sorry. How are you?”
“Better than you, apparently. What’s bothering you?”
“Winston Melton’s case.”
“Of course.”
Dani raised her eyebrows. “Why ‘of course’?
“Because I know you’re not happy about our taking it.”
That was true. Dani resented decisions that were based on money—who had it and who didn’t. Still, she understood the board’s decision and, like a good soldier, would march to her orders. To a point. And that’s what troubled her.
“What if Melton is guilty?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“I mean, our whole purpose is representing inmates we believe have been unfairly convicted. Men and women who are innocent of the crimes they’re in jail for. We don’t take a case unless we believe the person isn’t guilty. What if Melton really is?”
“Didn’t someone else confess?”
“That’s what Mrs. Melton said. But shouldn’t we make our own determination? What if we investigate and decide we think he murdered that girl? Does the board expect us to represent him anyway?”
“I suspect they do. After all, we don’t get Mrs. Melton’s donation if we don’t.”
Dani folded her arms across her chest. “Well, then, you’re going to have to find someone else, if it comes to that.”
“C’mon, Dani. We all sometimes need to do things we don’t like.”
Bruce might be right, but Dani wasn’t sure she’d be up for the task. As a former assistant US attorney, she’d prosecuted criminals. Although many of her colleagues had left government service to argue for the other side, her desire to work for HIPP was predicated on righting a wrong. Freeing the unjustly convicted. Despite the constitutional guarantee of adequate representation at criminal trials, the thought of taking on the defense of someone she believed guilty of the crime rankled her. She just couldn’t do it.
“Not this. Not if I think he’s guilty.”
“Well,” Bruce said as he picked up his pencil, signaling that this would be the end of the discussion, “it’s likely a moot point. Winston insists he’s innocent, and someone else has confessed. No reason to believe the truth is anything else.”
As Dani left Bruce’s office, she fervently hoped he was right. Despite her tirade, she knew, guilty or not, she had to represent him. Otherwise, she’d be responsible for staff layoffs and, as a result, a cutback in inmates HIPP could take on. It would be a classic avoidance-avoidance conflict. Even if it turned out she had doubt about Melton’s innocence, she’d need to look at the bigger picture.
She settled back in her own office and picked up the phone to call Winston’s trial attorney. After identifying herself to his personal assistant, she was passed through to Jackson Donahue. She hadn’t needed to do any research to know he was one of the preeminent criminal defense attorneys in the United States. It wasn’t surprising that Amelia Melton had turned to him to represent her grandson.
“I’ve been expecting your call,” Donahue said when he answered the phone.
“Good. Is this a convenient time to talk?”
“Actually, I’m heading into a meeting shortly. Are you free around noon?”
Dani looked at her desk calendar, then answered, “That works for me.”
“Fine. Why don’t you come to my office, and I’ll have lunch brought in.”
Dani smiled to herself. Wall Street firms didn’t stint on the niceties. Lunch wouldn’t be stale sandwiches and a platter of cookies, standard fare when HIPP had lunch meetings. It would be catered by one of the gourmet restaurants nearby. “I’ll see you then,” she said, then hung up.
Two hours later, she exited the subway at Broad Street and walked over to Donahue’s office. His firm occupied the top eight floors of a forty-eight-story skyscraper constructed in the early seventies. The lobby had been renovated in the late nineties, during the height of real-estate values, and was clad in marble and granite. Dani signed in at the security desk, flashed her attorney’s identification, and then rode the elevator to the top flo
or. She stepped out into the hallway, which led to a reception area, and gave her name to the young woman sitting behind the rich mahogany counter. A crystal vase with a large bouquet of fresh flowers was the only item on its top.
Dani took a seat in one of the overstuffed club chairs reserved for visitors and waited. In just a few minutes, a diminutive man wearing neatly pressed beige slacks and a multistriped brown shirt, open at the collar, approached her.
“Dani Trumball?” he asked. When Dani nodded, he held out his hand. “I’m Jack Donahue.”
She’d expected to meet with a stuffy man dressed in a custom-tailored cashmere suit and a tasteful silk tie, befitting her image of this old-line firm, founded fifty years ago by Donahue’s father. Instead, with his round face, chestnut-colored hair that drooped over his forehead, and black-rimmed glasses, Jack looked like a man just out of law school, although Dani knew from her research that he was the same age as she—forty-five.
After they shook hands, he led her into a conference room. Its wall of windows afforded a 180-degree view of the rivers surrounding the southern tip of Manhattan. Arrayed on a credenza along the side wall were silver trays. The flame underneath indicated that hot food awaited them, and the aroma that filled the room told her it was gourmet.
“I should have asked you if you have any food allergies or aversions, so I apologize in advance if there’s nothing here to suit you,” Jack said.
Fat chance, Dani thought. She knew she was in for a treat, something far different from the tuna-salad sandwich and bag of potato chips that she’d brought to her office for lunch. And she was right. Beef bourguignon filled one tray, and the other held pasta—in case she was a vegetarian, Jack explained. The garlic odor from the pasta brought out a smile, and she happily filled her plate. Next to the trays of hot food were soft drinks, juices, and Perrier water, both sparkling and flat. Last, a platter of petit fours and a tray of fruit covered the remaining space on the credenza top. The display was typical for firms of this type. It was intended to seduce their wealthy clients, to show them they’d made the correct decision in choosing their lawyers. It said, “We’re just like you. We understand you.”
