“Truth-telling, I have found, is the key to responsible citizenship. The thousands of criminals I have seen in 40 years of law enforcement have had one thing in common: Every single one was a liar.” J. Edgar Hoover
Blanket Immunity is a work of fiction – any resemblance to a person or event in real life is a coincidence.
Copyright © 2018 Adam Van Susteren, revised 2019.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1725500922
ISBN-13: 978-1725500921
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my wife, Ann Van Susteren, for her support and help editing this book. Thank you to Aunt Mary, Dennis Quinn, and Joe Glickman for encouraging me to get them more chapters for their review and their invaluable help. Thank you to everyone who reads this book or buys me a beer.
Blanket Immunity
A Legal Thriller by:
Adam Van Susteren
Chapter 1
She couldn’t get comfortable. She eased off her heels, pulled up both legs, constrained by her pencil skirt, until her feet were under her.
After a quick tousle of her auburn hair she pushed against her desk to spin the oversized brown leather chair. Three quarters of a revolution later she squirmed to let a foot out to stop. She stared at the plaque thanking her for five years as a deputy district attorney. Her eyes focused on the date on the plaque, six days ago. That was the day she left her job and opened this law practice, not quite envisioning this windowless rectangle of an office.
She sighed, let her head droop, following a crack in the plaster to a nearly identical plaque hanging lower on the wall, commending her for five years as a public defender. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “Judge Joanna P. Channing,” she whispered, like a child wishing on a star.
With exaggerated slowness, as if fighting to hold the fantasy a few seconds longer, she lifted her arm, rotated her wrist so when she was finally ready to open her eyes she would be able to see her watch. She peeked through her left eye to see how much longer until her first prospective client was supposed to show. The pretty, classic gold and silver Anne Klein she bought for just under a hundred bucks said there was more time to kill. She liked the watch well enough, but missed seeing her grandmother’s Cartier Panthére adorn her wrist. “Dr. Jami Channing,” she said aloud in a mocking high pitched voice while shivering her shoulders at the idea of her sister’s perfect little life.
Jo shook her head. “What am I doing?” Even her mother saw how miserable she was and pushed for Jo to get a new start. A new job or a husband — those were Mom’s suggestions. Jo hated to agree, but Mom wasn’t wrong.
While researching options Jo spoke with attorney Aaron Baker who was himself at a bit of a crossroads. Aaron forewarned her she would not only have to work hard practicing law but also running a law practice. With her background she could mine her social network and would be swimming in referrals, eventually. But the business side might be hard to adjust to.
A knock at the door startled Jo. She put her heels and suit coat on and walked to the other side of the office so she could see outside through the glass door, the only view in or out of the office. A man wearing dark blue jeans and an untucked striped button down shirt stood there typing on his cell phone.
Heart pounding, Jo unlocked the door and let the man in. She noticed his clean cut, extremely short dark hair. He was a few inches taller than Jo in heels. Thirty years old or so. If he wasn’t an alleged criminal and a prospective client, he would have been Jo’s type.
Opening the door, she smiled at him and extended her hand. “Joanna Channing. Please come in.”
He took her hand and shook it. “Brad Gecina. Thanks for seeing me.”
“Please have a seat,” she offered, gesturing to two chairs across the desk from her own chair.
“Thanks,” Brad said as his eyes settled upon the plaques on her wall.
Jo sat opposite him. “Well, Brad. Let me start by telling you that everything you tell me here today, unless it’s about committing a future crime, is covered by the attorney-client privilege. Even if you don’t retain me as your attorney. So be completely open and honest with me. Anything you tell me here today can’t hurt you, even if you admit to a past crime. Okay?”
“Sure.”
“So then let’s start at the beginning. What have you been charged with?”
“Nothing.”
Jo’s disappointment caused her to slouch. Her eyes scrunched ever so slightly and she forced a tiny smile. “Then what brings you here today?”
“I’ve been suspended from the force because of a BS allegation and I’m afraid there might be charges against me. A friend said you were a fantastic criminal defense lawyer and a great prosecutor. I figure I’m going to need some help and I want to get ahead of this.”
Jo watched Brad’s eyes move from the plaques and wander around her office. “My office is in the process of opening, but I’ve been doing this for quite a while. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Brad braced himself by squeezing both arms of his chair. “I guess the worst luck in the world.”
Jo nodded for him to elaborate.
“A couple months ago I’m on traffic duty and pull over this woman. She made a complaint that I was unprofessional and harassed her. Internal Affairs investigated, reviewed my body cam footage, and concluded there was no harassment. And to think I let her off with a warning that time.”
Jo noted in her mind, that time, implying more than one. She picked up her pen. “Do you know about what date that was?”
“February 14 of this year.”
She jotted it down then looked up at him with her head turned slightly.
“Yes. Valentine’s Day. As I said, I was cleared of harassment but there was a note in my file not to be flirtatious. I was just being polite and asked about her Valentine’s Day plans that night. Anyway, she took it the wrong way.”
Brad leaned forward. “Look. I mean, I admit I thought she was pretty and I might have been flirting a little. But that’s not a crime. And I don’t have a hard time finding a girlfriend.”
Jo smiled at him. “I could see that.”
“Thanks.” Brad leaned back a little more relaxed. He nodded excitedly. “See. Just like that. What you said was friendly. Not flirtatious. But someone could easily misunderstand. That’s what the misunderstanding was about.”
Jo nodded. “You said that you were cleared of the incident. I think I’m missing something because it’s been months and you’re currently suspended from the force.”
Brad retreated into his chair. “She claims I stalked and raped her. And to clarify, I’m on leave. I shouldn’t have said suspended. It just feels that way.”
Jo had spent the past five years putting criminals behind bars. She tried to keep a poker face as she wondered if the good looking guy sitting across from her was someone who took advantage of women. By force.
As if reading her mind, Brad shook his head. “I didn’t rape her. And I didn’t stalk her. The rape charge will be easy enough to beat. The stalking…” He looked Jo in the eyes for the first time, then back down at her desk. “Look. The stalking was just bad luck. Our department received complaints about people speeding on the street she happens to live on. She happens to drive fast. I happened to catch her speeding on radar a couple times. What was I supposed to do? She was breaking the law so I pulled her over.”
“Okay. Is that why you’re here?”
Brad leaned to his left, reaching into to his back pocket, pulling out a few sheets of folded over paper. “Two weeks ago I’m out with some friends celebrating a thirtieth birthday. We get bottle service. We do shots. Lots and lots of alcohol. I try not to have much because my shift starts at six am.” He handed
her a credit card statement with yellow highlights across three charges, all for the same bar, totaling almost three hundred dollars.
“So then the bar closes at two and I take an Uber to this girl’s house that I’ve kind of being seeing for the past few months.” He handed her a second piece of paper.
“Here’s the problem. That girl I was seeing lives in the same apartment complex as this woman with the false allegations. Different floors. A few units apart.” Brad shook his head. “So that night, I stumble up to my girl’s place and fall right into her bed. I think I was more tired than drunk and don’t entirely remember this. Apparently I woke up and started peeing in her closet. I don’t really remember peeing but I remember her yelling things like ‘No, don’t, stop.’ That woke me up from my, uh, sleep walking. She kicked me out. I waited outside and Uber picked me up at three fifteen and took me to the station.” He handed Jo the final piece of paper.
She looked at them, maintained her skepticism, but found his presentation credible. She kind of believed the guy and the receipts supported his timeline. “Will your girlfriend corroborate your story?”
“Ex-girlfriend. If we even made it to that status. But yeah. She already gave a sworn statement.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Brad. I’m just a touch confused.” She prepared to jot notes on her pad. “What’s the name of the woman you went to see that night and the name of the person alleging your wrongdoing?”
“The ex, April. The person trying to ruin my life, Cassie Young.”
Jo wrote the names down, asked for and received their addresses. Brad knew April’s unit number but provided only a guess at Cassie’s. After taking down notes she looked Brad in the eyes. “I wouldn’t think, based on your account, a rape charge would be brought against you.”
“I would think the same thing. But. But Cassie made a statement to the police saying that I was in her apartment and that she was yelling at me, ‘No, don’t, stop’ but I forced her into having sex with me.”
Jo sat silently.
“Look. I didn’t do it. The reason I came to you first is not only because I heard you’re a great lawyer. You ran for judge. You were in the DA’s office. You know so much of this stuff is about politics. I don’t want to even be charged with rape. Even an acquittal or dismissal of charges will stain my reputation forever. I’ve got most of my life ahead of me. I don’t want a charge like this brought against me.”
“Sounds like you want me to negotiate a deal for immunity?” Jo exhaled and felt deflated thinking there was no legal work to do for this prospective client. “You should know the DA doesn’t just hand out immunity deals. I’m not sure this is a possible ask.”
Brad leaned in towards her. “I get that. But this is different. I have proof of innocence. I took the second Uber to the police station and just crashed there, showered, then started my shift. I went to an underpass and slept for a few hours while I was supposed to be on traffic duty. I don’t want it to get out that I slept on the job, but I’ll admit to that. I’ll do anything to make sure I don’t get charged.”
Jo shrugged. “What do you have to offer the DA in exchange to even consider an immunity deal?”
“If we can get it so there are never any charges pressed, I’ll agree not to go after Cassie for making this up. I’ll agree to keep quiet about everything.” Brad looked down at his knees and softly said, “And I’ll resign from the force.”
Jo leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure how possible that will be. The idea of shutting down a potential scandal would be palatable. But I’m not confident that the DA’s office would go for this. To even have a chance, we’d need to get as much proof of innocence as possible and present our case in a Free Meeting with a prosecutor.”
Brad nodded. He looked at Jo intently. “Okay. How much will this cost me?”
Jo felt uneasy as she scanned the man for signs of his ability to pay. She saw no watch, couldn’t tell if any of his clothing was designer or not. She didn’t know if he had student loans. The only thing she knew was his officer pay bracket, that he spent three hundred dollars on alcohol, and he had money to take Ubers all around instead of carpooling with a designated driver.
“Well, Brad, I think we can break this up into stages. I can agree to represent you in terms of investigation and trying to negotiate an immunity deal for a certain fee. Then if charges are filed we can negotiate our fee for a criminal action. How does that sound?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Good, I guess.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “So what will that cost?”
Jo wanted to do a happy dance. He had his checkbook in hand. He was going to pay her money! Shit, she worried, if she said too much he might put his checkbook away and think things over. She had to sell the value of her services. She had to be a saleswoman now, lawyer later.
“My standard rate is three hundred per hour. But I like to bill with flat fees so that I can spend less time worrying about keeping track of minutes and more time actually representing you. I need to get all the discovery available from the prosecutor, if they even have anything yet. I need to talk to witnesses, review, and even gather evidence. I’d estimate one or two full days of investigation. Plus another half day of setting up and attending discussions.”
Jo gestured a writing motion with her pen not touching her legal pad. She looked back at him. “I would suggest twenty five hundred dollars to retain me to investigate your matter and another one thousand to try to negotiate a deal so that charges are never brought against you.”
He motioned for her pen. Jo felt relieved that Brad didn’t understand he could have bargained her down significantly,
“I need to draft a retainer agreement. Can you come back later today? Or can I email you and then you sign and email it back?”
Brad handed her a check for thirty-five hundred dollars. “I’ll come back. I’m on leave and have nowhere else to be.”
Jo stared at the check in her hands then looked up at Brad. “It will take about twenty minutes.”
“Is that donut shop,” Brad pointed over his shoulder towards Jo’s front door, “any good?”
“I don’t know. Never been.”
“I’ll give it a try and come back.”
“Sounds good.” Jo walked Brad to the door then danced her way back to her desk after he was gone.
Back to business, she typed up the retainer agreement, shuddering when she wrote out the nature of her services, defense to a rape allegation. Her eyes darted around her office. The windowless rectangle suddenly seemed a little smaller and a lot scarier.
Chapter 2
Jo sat in her red Camry, shrugged her shoulders, and smiled wide. Brad Gecina signed the retainer agreement, his check was safely deposited, and she still had half of the delicious iced coffee he bought her from the store next door.
Right after the bank, Jo stopped at the DA’s office and met with a former colleague. After reviewing the prosecutor’s file she got the impression the DA’s office was just going to check off a few more boxes after the police finished their investigation and would not be prosecuting Brad Gecina.
With a few boxes to check herself, Jo sat in her car about to investigate her first case on her own. It was a huge change from relying on police officers and forensics departments to obtain and interpret evidence. All Jo could do was choose between smiling and crying. She decided to smile now. She could always cry later.
Jo read the police report for the second time. In all there were seven witness statements. The alleger, Cassie. The ex-girlfriend, April. One eye witness, two ear witnesses, and the statements of two Uber drivers. The file was thin and the investigation was ongoing. Jo thought it slightly unusual the DA’s office had any information at all at this early stage while police were still gathering evidence.
The two ear witnesses swore they heard a woman yelling at around three in the morning. They were consistent in reporting a woman screaming, “No, no, no! Stop! Get th
e fuck out!” and a door slamming. An eye witness saw Brad leaving the apartment complex in the morning, around eight am. The first Uber driver dropped Brad off at a little after two am and had the time stamps on his records to corroborate their accounts. The second Uber driver picked Brad up at three fifteen am and also had the time stamps to support it. Jo felt something was off, her initial impression was it had to be with the eye witness.
Jo put the report back in the folder and dropped it on the passenger seat. She looked out the window at the apartment complex. Nice landscaping. Fresh and crisp paint on the exterior. It was an upper middle-class complex. Probably three thousand dollars a month to rent a two-bedroom apartment, meaning most units were occupied by professional couples and roommates. Most people here would make solid, reliable witnesses.
Jo walked up to the front of the complex but was stymied by a security gate. To her left was a call box so she started scrolling through names until she finally came across the eye witness, Hector Medina. She buzzed his unit.
“Hello,” came a voice through the intercom.
“Hi, Mr. Medina. My name is Joanna Channing, I’m Brad Gecina’s attorney. I was hoping for a few minutes of your time to ask you some questions about what happened here the weekend before last.”
“Uh. Okay. Come on up.” The front gate buzzed and Jo opened it.
Her high heels clicked and clacked on the concrete walkway until she reached his three-story apartment cluster in the complex. A staircase and hallway led her to his unit on the third floor. Walking down the hallway Jo noted three doors on the left and three doors on the right. Six units per floor, three floors. This was cluster C. Cassie, along with the two ear witnesses were in cluster A.
Hector, wearing cargo shorts, a gray sweatshirt and flip flops, opened the door. “Hi, come in.” After Hector closed the door behind Jo, he ran his fingers through his short curly hair, trying to make himself look a little more presentable.
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