“I want you to answer just a few questions. First, I’ll ask if you ever brought the heroin when you got together with King. Second, I’ll ask if you brought heroin up to King’s house on the night that he died. Third, I’ll ask if you intended to kill King. The correct answers, by the way, are no, no, and no.”
This got the hint of a smile. “I figured.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Are you up for testifying in the morning?”
She waited a long moment. “I don’t think so, Mike.”
“I’ll be right there. You just need to follow my lead.”
“I can’t.”
“Would you be more comfortable if Nady asked you the questions?”
She thought about it for another interminable moment. “I just can’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
I reached over and touched her hand. “That’s fine, Lexy.”
“Is it enough?”
“It’ll have to be.”
* * *
At ten-fifteen on Monday night, Rosie and I were driving on Presidio Parkway toward the Golden Gate Bridge when Pete’s name appeared on the display of my iPhone.
“Give me some good news,” I said.
“How soon can you get down to Santa Cruz?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. You got other plans?”
“I’ll be there in two hours. What is it, Pete?”
“Kaela Joy found Debbie Steele.”
64
“WE CAN DO THIS ANOTHER WAY”
Pete and Kaela Joy met Rosie and me in the lobby of an upscale treatment facility that resembled the Ahwahnee Hotel at Yosemite. Perched in the wooded hills above Santa Cruz, the aroma of pine needles filled the two-story atrium. At twelve-thirty a.m., it was too dark to see what I presumed was a panoramic view of the Pacific through the picture windows that opened onto a spacious veranda.
“How did you find this place?” I asked Kaela Joy.
“This is where the most affluent residents of Silicon Valley come to dry out.”
“How much does it cost?”
“Ninety grand a month.”
Wow. “You’ve been here before?”
“My ex- came here for treatment several times. I know the people who run it.”
“I trust you were able to persuade them to let us talk to Steele’s daughter?”
“Yes, but there are conditions.” She lowered her voice. “First, we need to keep it short. Second, somebody from the facility will be present. Third, Debbie is having a rough time, so we’ll need to be gentle. Fourth, she isn’t leaving, so don’t even ask. Fifth, she isn’t going to give a statement or sign anything, so don’t ask about that either. And sixth, she isn’t going to testify, so don’t go there. Got it?”
“Yes. Anything else?”
“If anybody asks, I wasn’t here.”
* * *
Rosie took a sip of tea. “Thank you for talking to us, Ms. Steele.”
“Debbie.”
“Rosie.”
The young woman that Pete and I had met at Bird Dog looked pale and tired. Wearing jeans and a turtleneck, her soft features evoked a profound sadness. Debbie, Rosie, Kaela Joy, and I were sitting in a cheerful library with redwood bookcases. To avoid overwhelming her, we had decided that Pete would wait outside. A crackling fire in the stone fireplace provided warmth. The ambiance was soothing.
Rosie’s eyes locked onto Debbie’s. “How’s your treatment coming along?”
“One day at a time.”
“My sister went through the process for alcohol and coke. It’s hard. And it takes time.”
Debbie glanced at her counselor, who was sitting nearby. “That’s what they tell me.”
“We need to ask you about your time at Y5K last year. I know this is difficult.”
Debbie’s lips turned down. “It is.”
“We won’t take much of your time, and we’re grateful for your help. If you want to stop and take a break, that’s okay with us.”
“I’m not leaving here, and I won’t testify.”
“That’s fine, too. We can do this another way.” Rosie took another sip of tea. “We understand that your experience at the company wasn’t so good.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Would you mind telling us why?”
“Jeff.” A hesitation. Tears welled up. “He was a pig.”
“So we understand.” Rosie waited.
“He hit on the women—even the interns. He tried to get us drunk. He wanted us to do coke and heroin. He insisted that we go to strip clubs with him. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. And everybody at the company followed his lead. It was a boys’ club. It was humiliating.”
“Was there something in particular?”
The tears came freely now. “He tried to rape me.”
“Where?”
“In his office. I fought him off and ran down the hall. It was horrific.” She paused to regain her composure. “I took a couple of days off, then I came back to work. It was a huge mistake. I saw him in the hallway, and he pretended that nothing had happened.”
“That’s terrible, Debbie. Did you report it?”
“Are you serious? He was the Prince of Disruption. I was just an intern.”
“Your father was an executive at the company.”
“My father cheated on my mother. And my first stepmother. And my second stepmother. Do you think he was going to protect me?”
“Did you tell him what happened?”
“Not at the time.”
Dear God.
“How did you deal with it?” Rosie asked.
“I stayed away from Jeff for the rest of the summer.”
“What about the other interns?”
“Jeff kept hitting on them.”
Rosie’s lips formed a tight ball. She didn’t say it aloud, but I knew that she was as appalled as I was.
She asked, “Anything else you might be willing to share with us?”
“I ran into Jeff at a restaurant about a week before he died. He pretended that nothing had happened. He said that he wanted to go out for coffee and talk about my career—as if I would ever work for him or ask him for advice. When I went out to my car, he was waiting for me. He told me that he wanted me to come back to the company so that we could get to know each other better. I was terrified.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No. He just leered.”
“I’m so sorry, Debbie. Did you tell your father this time?”
“Yes. I told him everything.”
“Did he do anything about it?”
“He said that he was going to teach Jeff a lesson.”
Rosie leaned forward. “Did you talk about this in person?”
“Mostly.” Her eyes filled with panic. “I’m not going to testify.”
“We won’t ask you to do so. Are there any e-mails or texts between you and your father about this?”
“Maybe some texts.”
“May we have permission to look at your phone?”
“I bought a new one.”
“Did you transfer your texts to the new phone?”
“No.”
“Any chance your messages are archived somewhere in the cloud?”
“Maybe.”
“What about your father’s phone?”
“Maybe.” She thought about it for a moment. “We never called or texted on the phone that he used for company business.”
“He had a second phone?”
“Yes. A burner.”
“Do you happen to know the number?”
“I don’t remember. It was programmed into my old phone.”
“Is he still using the same burner?”
“No. He got a new one a few weeks ago. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been incredibly helpful. And very brave.”
“Thank you.”
“Good luck with your recovery, Debbie.”
* * *
Pete, Rosie, Kaela Joy, and I were standing in the driveway of the treatment facility. I spoke to Kaela Joy. “I can’t imagine what she went through.”
“King was even more vile than I thought. I hope my daughter never works for somebody like him.”
“I hope my daughter never knows anybody like him.” I turned to Pete. “Can you track down Steele’s burner?”
“Maybe.”
“He may have used it when he set up his account with Mature Relations.”
“I’ll call your pal, Brian Holton.”
65
“I PROMISED TO TALK TO HIM”
When I walked into my office at eight-fifteen the following morning, Pete was sitting behind my desk and sipping coffee. “Morning, Mick.”
“Morning, Pete. You stay up all night?”
“Possibly.”
Holton was sitting on the sofa. “Morning, Brian. All good at Mature Relations?”
“Couldn’t be better. Did you ever sign up for a trial membership?”
“Not yet.”
“Every day is a beautiful day for people to fall in love.”
Uh, right. I turned back to Pete. “Anything I can use?”
He handed me a sheet of paper. “This is everything you’ll need from King’s old burner phone.”
“Thank you, Pete.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Brian.”
* * *
An hour later, I spoke to Steele from the lectern. “You’re still under oath.”
He responded with an impatient, “Yes, Mr. Daley.”
I moved in front of the box. “Your daughter worked as an intern at Y5K last summer, didn’t she?”
His eyes narrowed. “I fail to see how her internship has any bearing on this case.”
I turned to the judge. “Would you please instruct the witness to answer?”
“Please, Mr. Steele.”
He pushed out a melodramatic sigh. “Yes, Mr. Daley.”
“She had an unsatisfying experience, didn’t she?”
“It was fine.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was.”
“In fact, her experience was unsatisfying because Jeff King made numerous inappropriate sexual advances to her, didn’t he?”
“There were some issues that were resolved.”
“He assaulted your daughter.”
“There was a misunderstanding.”
“Why are you still protecting him?”
“I’m not.”
“He made inappropriate advances and encouraged the interns to use illegal drugs, didn’t he?”
“It wasn’t reported to me at the time.”
“He took your daughter and other interns to strip clubs, didn’t he?”
His tone became grudging. “Yes.”
“And when this was reported to you, you did nothing.”
“I spoke to Mr. King. The practice stopped.”
“Did it? We heard testimony yesterday from a private investigator who reported that Mr. King was still taking Y5K personnel to the Gold Club several times a week.”
“I wasn’t aware of it at the time, and nobody reported it to me.”
“Except your daughter.”
“I told you that I took appropriate steps to make sure that Mr. King modified his behavior.”
“Seems he didn’t listen.”
“Objection. There wasn’t a question there.”
“Withdrawn. Mr. Steele, late last year, your daughter reported to you that she saw Mr. King at a restaurant in Palo Alto, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And she told you that Mr. King had made inappropriate comments to her, right?”
“Yes.”
“And she told you that Mr. King had made inappropriate sexual advances to her during her internship, didn’t she?”
His face tightened. “Yes.”
“Did you do anything about it?”
“I talked to Jeff. He promised to change his behavior.”
“He assaulted your daughter and all you did was gently ask him to change his behavior?”
“I was very direct with him.”
“Why didn’t you fire him and report him to the police?”
“He acknowledged his inappropriate behavior. He was remorseful.”
“And he was your meal ticket.”
“Objection.”
“Withdrawn. Mr. Steele, isn’t it true that when you daughter informed you of Mr. King’s latest attempts at sexual harassment, you promised her that you would do something about it?”
“Yes. I promised to talk to him.”
“You promised even more, didn’t you?”
“I don’t recall.”
I walked back to the defense table, where Lexy handed me three copies of a printout showing texts from Steele’s old burner phone. I introduced the document into evidence and handed copies to the judge, Harper, and Steele.
“Mr. Steele,” I continued, “I trust that you’re familiar with the messages that you sent to your daughter from your own throwaway phone?”
He speed-read the printout. “Where did you get this?”
Wikileaks. “Your Honor, would you please remind Mr. Steele that he isn’t permitted to ask questions of counsel?”
“Please, Mr. Steele.”
I flipped to page two. “On December twelfth of last year, your daughter sent you a text asking what you planned to do about Mr. King’s latest sexual assault, didn’t she?”
“Yes. And I wouldn’t describe it as ‘sexual assault.’”
Your daughter would. “Isn’t it true that you sent your daughter a text indicating that you would talk to Mr. King and reprimand him for his behavior?”
“Yes.”
“You also sent her a text noting that Mr. King was a regular heroin user, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you said that you would teach him a lesson, right?”
“Yes.”
“You arranged to give Mr. King a substantial dose of pure heroin to send him a message, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean that I would actually give him enough heroin to cause an overdose. It was an expression. A metaphor.”
“You’re testifying under oath that your blatant threat was just a metaphor?”
“Yes.”
“It sounded like a threat to me.”
“You are misreading my intent, Mr. Daley.”
“You aren’t really going to tell us that it was all a misunderstanding, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You were at Mr. King’s party a few days later. You knew that he was meeting with Ms. Low. You knew that Mr. King always left the heroin in the master bath. So you substituted a baggie of highly potent heroin, didn’t you, Mr. Steele?”
“No.”
“You knew that there was a substantial likelihood that he would overdose and become sick or even die, didn’t you? That’s what you meant by teaching him a lesson, right, Mr. Steele?”
“Absolutely not, Mr. Daley. That’s utterly preposterous.”
“Do you really think anybody in this courtroom believes you?”
“Objection.”
“Withdrawn. No further questions. Your Honor. The defense rests.”
Judge McDaniel looked at Harper. “Anything further from the prosecution?”
“No, Your Honor”
“I’d like to meet with counsel in chambers to discuss jury instructions and schedule closing arguments. We’re in recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
66
“YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED SOONER”
Judge McDaniel put her reading glasses down on her desk. “I would like to hear closing arguments tomorrow morning and hand this case over to the jury. Does that work for you?”
Harper and I nodded.
“Good.” She picked up Harper’s draft jury instructions. “I see that you are now requesting a manslaughter instruction.”
“It seems
appropriate given the testimony and the evidence presented at trial.”
I invoked a respectful tone. “Your Honor—,”
She stopped me with an upraised hand. “I’ll get to you in a minute, Mr. Daley.” She turned back to Harper. “You should have asked sooner.”
“With hindsight, I would have.”
“Here’s my problem. We’ve empaneled a conscientious jury and conducted a trial under the assumption that you would not be asking for a manslaughter instruction. Mr. Daley has made certain strategic decisions based upon your choice. I am therefore reluctant to approve this request immediately before we begin closing arguments.”
Harper frowned. “The jurors may decide the facts warrant a conviction for something less than murder. I think it is fair and just to give them the opportunity to apply suitable law in light of their determination of the facts.”
“If you had asked for it earlier, I might have been more inclined.” She turned to me. “How do you feel about this, Mr. Daley?”
Did we create enough doubt in the minds of the jurors to get an acquittal on the murder charge? Should I hedge my bets and ask for a manslaughter instruction to give the jury an easier route to a lighter sentence? Which is better for Lexy?
“Your Honor, we tried this case on the assumption that there would be no manslaughter instruction. We would have done things differently if manslaughter was on the table.”
“You understand the risks if there is no such instruction? And you realize that your client would be subject to a shorter sentence—potentially much shorter—if she’s convicted of manslaughter?”
“Yes.”
Harper spoke up again. “Your Honor, you still have the authority to include a manslaughter instruction, even if Mr. Daley does not request it.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. Harper.” She turned to me. “I am not inclined to act unilaterally and include a manslaughter instruction—especially since you’ve never asked for it, and Mr. Harper made his request so late in the process. However, if both you and Mr. Harper agree that such an instruction is warranted, I will abide by your unanimous decision. Mr. Harper has expressed his preference. So it’s up to you, Mr. Daley. What say you?”
My mind raced to consider the possible ramifications. I thought about the things that I would have done differently. I flashed onto Lexy’s face. Then I remembered Rosie’s advice during our first trial together: sometimes it’s necessary to make course corrections, but you should never second-guess yourself in the heat of battle.
Higher Law Boxset, Volume 3 Page 78