“Just my bad luck, then,” Thane said.
“I was sick about doing what I did,” Stone said. “But every asshole politician who runs for this office talks about being tough on crime, pledging to make the community safer. But they’d never do what I did, make the choice I made. Yes, I let one innocent man go to jail—but I kept hundreds of murderers and rapists locked up. Do you have any idea how many lives I saved by doing that? Nobody else would have had the guts to make that decision, but I did, and I stand by it.”
“You had to make a tough call.”
“You’re damn right I did,” Stone said, almost indignantly. “That’s what being tough on crime means. It’s not a slogan. It’s an alter you sacrifice to.”
“And I was the sacrifice.”
Stone looked apologetic for the first time. “You were the sacrifice.”
“Did you ever think about what you did to my life? To my wife’s?”
“Of course I thought about that,” Stone said. “If your point is that it wasn’t fair, you’ll get no argument here. It was easily the most shameful thing I’ve ever done. And I’m not trying to diminish what you went through, but if all of those convictions that Gruber had secured over the years were overturned, then a lot of other innocent people would also be finding out how unfair life is when they or a loved one was robbed or raped or murdered.”
“I spent five years on death row because you were worried about all the ‘what ifs’,” Thane said.
“They weren’t ‘what ifs’. They were certainties. But I was never going to let them kill you, Thane. I left that loophole open on purpose—the one you used to get free. And if you hadn’t found it, I would have fed it to you myself.”
“That’s a lie,” Thane snapped. “You argued against my release.”
“I knew the judge would side with you. The precedents you cited were perfect. The law is the law and I knew he had no choice but to release you. So yeah, I had to stomp around a little bit that day, but that was just for show. That’s also why I didn’t push for a retrial once you got yourself released. I knew we could have put you away again—but we didn’t. I wanted to see you free. I’m sorry for what you had to go through. I truly am . . . But I did not kill Gruber, although God knows I wanted to. I made damn sure, though, that the son of a bitch resigned from the force immediately after your conviction.”
Thane walked over to the window and looked down at the front steps of the courthouse, toward a crowd of reporters waiting for him.
“So think about what you’d be doing if you tried making this known,” Stone said. “A lot more people would be the victim of violence. And don’t you dare tell me I’m a hypocrite about being tough on crime.”
“All right,” Thane replied at last. “I won’t talk with the reporters. Just answer one question for me: How do you justify changing the security footage? Were more criminals going to be released if Skunk went free?” Stone stared back at Thane but couldn’t answer. After a minute of silence, Thane shook his head and started back toward the door.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“There’s no proof of any of this,” Stone called after him. “It’d just be your word against mine. And if you talk, I promise I’ll send your friend back to Forsman. Today.”
“Now we’re back to blackmailing. You really are a man of honor.”
“I will not sit back and watch you tear down everything I’ve accomplished. You won’t risk your friend’s freedom––hell, his life––by talking with a bunch of reporters who you know damn well will believe me over you any day of the week.”
“I don’t need to talk to the press,” Thane said. “You just did.”He reached into his front shirt pocket and brought out his cell phone.
“You get all that, Angelique?” Thane asked.
“Oh yeah,” came a woman’s voice over the speakerphone. “You don’t suppose District Attorney Stone is open to a few follow-up questions, is he?”
Thane looked up from the phone. “Angelique Arvand from QMZ wants to know if you’re up for some questions.” Stone didn’t move. Didn’t appear to even breathe. “Angelique, it doesn’t look like he has any comment right now, but maybe you can catch him later. And I recognize I still owe you an exclusive interview, but hopefully this will keep you busy until we can get together.”
“Oh yeah, I think I can do something with this.”Thane hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. “You’ll probably be getting a call from her pretty soon.” Thane opened the door, the noise from outside flooding the room.
“Now we’re done.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
When court reconvened at two o’clock––four hours after the last recess had been called––the world had changed. Skunk sat between Thane and Kristin, no longer squirming as though he was already sitting on the electric chair. He and Kristin whispered back and forth before the judge arrived; Skunk even giggled at something Kristin said, but Thane couldn’t imagine what it could be.
Across the aisle from Thane at the prosecution table sat only one man: the distinguished-looking State Attorney General, Ian Lord, reading through some papers as though it was just another day at the office. He gave Thane a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder when he first came into the room, even though Thane knew what he had done would no doubt consume the A.G. office for months to come.
The gallery was packed to capacity, with a throng of spectators standing in the back of the room.
News from the morning’s session had been broadcast for the past four hours, with two of those hours being dominated by Angelique’s coverage of Bradford Stone’s confession, complete with audio. Reporters who had only yesterday trumpeted the travesty of justice that came with Thane representing a cop-killer were now scrambling to turn him into some sort of folk hero. There were no mea culpas being served up by any of them; there were too many fast-breaking exclusives to waste time wallowing in hindsight.
Hannah sat near the front of the gallery next to Gideon. She occasionally leaned over and said something to the big man, who just kept smiling and nodding, smiling and nodding.
Everyone rose as Judge Reynolds entered the courtroom. He looked through a couple of pages from a file in front of him as the crowd retook their seats, then looked up at the crowd.
“First of all, I would like to thank the State Attorney General for agreeing to fill in this afternoon. As I’m sure most of you already know, District Attorney Stone and his team have been removed from this case. Mr. Lord, it is my understanding that the State is requesting that all charges against Mr. Burns be dismissed?”
“That is correct, Your Honor,” Mr. Lord said as he rose to face the judge. “Given the recent evidence, the State of California requests that all charges be dropped, and I want Mr. Burns to know that the State is truly sorry for what has happened to him this past week.” Several people in the gallery broke out in applause. The first rap of Reynold’s gavel, however, quieted them immediately.
“Mr. Burns, you are free to go,” intoned the judge. “I can’t even begin to apologize for what was done to you, although I’m quite sure the city is going to try. Normally I would suggest you find a very good lawyer to help you through that process, but I believe you already have one.”
Reynolds then turned his attention toward Thane. “And Mr. Banning . . .” He looked at him for a moment and shook his head. “I have no idea if words can even begin to describe the injustice you’ve endured for over five years. I am usually extremely proud to be a part of this great country’s legal system. Today I am not. Today I feel ashamed. I just wish . . .”Reynolds stopped, and could only once again shake his head. “There are no words.” He then grabbed his gavel, brought it down half-heartedly, and said, “This case is dismissed.”
He rose and strode from the courtroom.
Half of the journalists began hollering questions at Th
ane. The other half raced from the courtroom, determined to be first on the air with the afternoon’s events.
Everyone at the defense table stood and Gideon stepped up to the front of the gallery next to them. Kristin wrapped her arms around Skunk’s neck and gave him a tight hug, the stunned expression on his face making him look as though he had stopped breathing. When she finally released him, Thane reached out and shook Skunk’s hand.
“My friend, you should be in a strong position to sue the city for a whole lot of money.”
“You really think?” Skunk asked.
“Count on it. So don’t be going out on any more ‘job’ interviews. You’re going to be set for life.”
Gideon reached out and squeezed Thane’s shoulder, the closest he would probably ever come to giving another man a hug. “However much Skunk here’s going to get, I’ll betcha you’ll get fifty times as much.”
“I don’t want their money,” Thane said.
“Man, I do,” Skunk said, flashing a true smile for the first time in years.
Thane looked past the journalists calling his name, most of whom had a different tone in their voices, and found Hannah in the crowd. The look on her face hovered between a smile and tears. He worked his way through the mob and when he finally reached her, she wrapped her arms around him, putting her face in his chest. The tears came fast and hard as years of sorrow poured out.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he whispered.
More than an hour after the trial ended, the corridor outside the courtroom remained packed with spectators, including workers from other parts of the building, who scurried up to the fourth floor as soon as word got out that the trial was over. The clamor finally died away when Thane and Hannah made their way out of the courtroom. They had hung back, hoping the crowd would subside, but finally ventured out when they realized the mob wasn’t going anywhere.
Thane was used to conversations going silent when he appeared, but this time something seemed different. A respectful hush fell across the huge crowd—and then applause started rippling down the hall, growing louder and louder as it swept through the building. He looked down the corridor, hoping to find someone from security who could clear a path for them. He spotted the press surrounding Skunk, peppering him with questions, each of which Kristin answered with grace and confidence.
Thane looked the other way and saw Joseph leaning against a nearby wall, smiling. Thane and Hannah made their way over to him and were greeted with an extended hand, which Thane quickly accepted.
“Congratulations!” Joseph exclaimed. “That was incredible.”
“It ranks right up there, doesn’t it.”
“When I heard what that son of a bitch had done, I had to get down here to watch.” His broad smile started to fade, blanketed by a look of discomfort. “Look, buddy, I’m sorry for what happened. I—”
“You did what was right for the firm, Joseph. I don’t blame you. Really.”
Hannah took hold of Joseph’s hand and squeezed it. “Thane told me he shouldn’t have put you in that position. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Joseph’s smile snapped back into place. He gave Hannah a quick hug, then turned back to Thane. “Any chance of your coming back?”
“As luck would have it, if I clear out my office by midnight, I won’t have to pay next month’s rent. I’m thinking maybe I’ll spend part of this evening doing just that.”
“Then give me a call Monday and we can talk more then. With the publicity you’ll get after this, I’ll have to add another floor to the building. But for now, you two go enjoy yourselves.” He shook Thane’s hand one more time then walked away, chuckling and shaking his head, still in disbelief. “Absolutely incredible,” he said to no one in particular. “That’s my boy.”
Thane and Hannah ate a quiet dinner at their favorite restaurant, a small Italian place in Santa Monica called Fellini’s where they used to go for special occasions before the arrest. The first time they ate there was when he had accepted Joseph’s first job offer following law school. Over the years, they found themselves gravitating back there time and time again for birthdays, anniversaries, or simply when they decided life was too short.
They had not been to Fellini’s since Thane’s release from Forsman, and this time, the reception inside was much different than their experience in the little diner four months ago. Twenty-four-hour cable news meant that big stories like his hit the press at record speed. He caught several people looking and pointing, but nobody jeered or called him a murderer or threatened him with a broken bottle. He did catch one middle-aged man staring, as though he was about to storm out of the restaurant in protest, but the man’s wife whispered something and his reaction quickly changed to one of surprise.
The owner of the restaurant sent over a wonderfully aged bottle of Gaja Barbaresco with a note attached, which simply read ‘so very nice to have you back.’ They had never enjoyed a meal more, and they savored every drop of the wine. The whole evening brought back vivid memories of their honeymoon in Italy, when they were young and in love and felt they had their whole lives ahead of them. There was an unspoken agreement between them that during dinner they would not discuss the trial.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
Fine food was abundant and conversation was sparse. They often found themselves lost in each other’s eyes like school kids, not needing words to communicate their feelings. Quiet smiles often crept across their faces, even when nothing had been said. For the first time in forever, it felt like old times. They had been given a fresh start.
After dinner, Thane dropped Hannah off at their apartment. He said he wanted to pack things up at his office, but that he would be back as soon as he could in order to continue their celebration. He didn’t want to be far from her, but there was still one more thing to wrap up.
He went to his office and glanced out the window at the rooftop across the street, an act that had become habit. He then pulled up the blinds and turned on his office lights. Empty boxes from his initial move had been stored in a vacant room across the hall, so he once again started putting them to use. After half an hour of packing books and desk drawer contents, there was a knock on the door: Joseph leaned in, looking as though the grin on his face had yet to fade from earlier that afternoon.
“Hey, come on in,” Thane said.
Joseph entered and surveyed the decrepit state of the office, poking his finger in one of the many holes in the ratty sofa. “Good God, have I been that sheltered, or is this office a slum?”
Thane laughed and waved him off. Joseph walked over and pulled up a chair in front of the desk, examining the cushion closely before sitting down, probably concerned it might contain vermin. “You know me,” Joseph said, “there’s no way I can wait until Monday to see if you’ve made a decision. I hope finding you cleaning out your office is a good sign for me.”
“It very well could be.”
Joseph stretched his legs out in front of him. “I have to tell you, when I heard that tape of you on the news accusing Stone of murdering that girl, I really thought the bastard had done it. I’ll bet you were blown away when you heard it was Gruber.”
Thane shook his head. “No, I knew Stone didn’t kill the girl. He’s not a murderer. But when he mentioned the ether in my release hearing, a lot of things came together for me. When Gruber put me in the backseat of his car to take me to the station, I noticed a bottle of ether rolling around on the floorboard. Kind of odd what you remember at times like that, but I remember wondering if cops used it to subdue prisoners who got out of hand. Believe me, I didn’t really pay much attention to it, not after what had happened, but it stuck in my mind.”
“So you knew Gruber was involved.”
“That raised my suspicions. After I got out, I learned that Lenny was Gruber’s snitch, so it wasn’t hard to figure out that he’
d been paid to testify against me.”
“Unbelievable,” Joseph said.
“Gruber also left the force shortly after I was convicted. I knew that had to have been Stone’s doing, after he learned what had really happened.”
“The McCoy girl must have had something on Gruber, or she did something to really piss him off.”
“No. Gruber was just the hired help, but I promise you, I’ll find whoever was behind it. In fact, I’m almost there.”
Joseph looked at his watch, then stood slowly, as though he needed to head off to his next appointment. But instead he reached inside his jacket.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t let it go.”
He pointed a .38 snub-nosed pistol at Thane.
“You couldn’t carry a shotgun under your jacket, huh?” Thane said, nodding toward some of the holes blasted in the walls and furniture. “If I don’t get my security deposit back, I’m holding you responsible.”
Joseph looked impressed. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t let you keep digging.”
Thane leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. “There’s no more digging left. Remember when McCoy confronted me outside my apartment and I asked you about the security company you’d used in the past? You said you couldn’t remember the name but would go through old invoices and get it for me. I said I’d be happy to do that, but you insisted I let you. No offense, Joseph, but you never hesitate to delegate that sort of thing.”
“Am I really that unwilling to do scut work? Say it isn’t true,” Joseph asked, aping wounded pride.
“That’s why I asked if you remembered what Lauren told me. About her suspicions.”
“About the possibility of internal malfeasance?”
“Yes,” Thane said, “except I never actually told you about that. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anybody what she said. Of course, after I was arrested I told the lead detective, but he said it led nowhere. Yet somehow you knew exactly what she said. So I went ahead and looked through past invoices for security companies and it turns out the actual name of the security company you’d used in the past was different than the one you told me. And, surprise, surprise, it was the same company Gruber worked for part time.”Joseph smiled. “I see all those evenings you spent working late at the office weren’t just on real estate.”
Contempt: A Legal Thriller Page 21