Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series)

by Dennis Carstens

  While Marc was still on the office phone with Chuck McReady, he remembered that Carvelli had been one of the arresting officers in the Traynor case. Knowing this, Marc decided he better give his friend a heads up that Traynor was likely to be released soon.

  “How the hell did this happen?” Carvelli angrily asked Marc after the waitress took their lunch orders and left. The two men were seated in the back booth of a small Italian restaurant in the Uptown area of Minneapolis; a place where the two men met with some regularity.

  “The story in the paper has it that this guy, Douglas Dylan, was a tech in the lab at the BCA in St. Paul when he was in college. He claims the cops let him know on a few occasions, with certain suspects, that a positive DNA test result would put away some very bad people. He claims they never put pressure on him, just let him know which ones. So he made sure the test results came back the way they wanted.

  “He’s now terminally ill with cancer and doesn’t want to die without coming clean about it. They are all cases where the defense didn’t request an independent test or he claimed the sample was too small for a second test. He says if anyone requested a second test he would always say the sample was too small and had been destroyed during the original test.”

  “And Howie Traynor was one of them,” Carvelli said, a statement not a question.

  “I thought you should know. After he was sentenced he made some statements about getting even with some people,” Marc replied.

  “Most of these assholes say shit like that,” the P.I. said waving a hand in dismissal. “Though I have to admit, Howie was one of the few guys who scared just about everyone, including Jake Waschke.”

  “Is he still in…”

  “Yeah, but I hear he’s getting out soon,” Carvelli replied.

  “Good,” Marc said. “I was always sorry about what happened to him.”

  “I forgot that you were Traynor’s lawyer. How’d that happen?”

  “I was a couple years out of law school and working for Mickey O’Herlihy. Remember him?”

  “Sure, everyone remembers the Mick.”

  “O’Herlihy got the judge to assign the case to him. Lots of publicity…”

  “Which Mickey was never shy about.”

  “Right. Anyway, I was kind of assisting him, my first homicide, and learning from him. Then two months before the trial, Mickey has a heart attack and dies on me.”

  “Is it true he was in the sack with a high-class hooker client?”

  “Yep, he sure was,” Marc replied. “He dies, I have no experience so I go to the judge to withdraw and have someone else assigned. The judge looks at me and says, ‘Too bad, you’re up.’ So I had to try it. I got him off on the first-degree charge but he went down for everything else. Judge Peterson came down on him like a ton of bricks.”

  Marc then gave Tony the names of the other five convicts, including the two who were now deceased. Tony recognized most of them but he still wrote their names down in a notebook anyway and said he would check on the four who were still alive.

  “Tell your friends at the MPD, they’re about to let this psycho out,” Marc said.

  “And a couple others,” Tony added as he held up the small notebook.

  NINE

  Marc entered the courtroom where the hearing was being held and looked around the room. To his left, seated in the gallery’s first three rows closest to the bar railing were at least a dozen members of the media. Several of them turned to look at him while he stood in the doorway. Gabriella Shriqui, a reporter Marc knew well, smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. Marc made a mental note to ask her how she found out about today’s event.

  Seated at a table in front of the railing, also to his left were three men. One he recognized was the lawyer from the state public defender’s office, Chuck McReady. The one seated in the middle with his back to Marc, must be Howie Traynor Marc assumed. The third man, seated to Howie’s left, startled Marc and caused him to stare. He was an older man, probably mid-fifties, wearing the coat and collar of a Christian cleric. Marc was unsure if the man was a Protestant minister or a Catholic priest. Just seeing him with Howie Traynor was enough of a shock.

  While he stared at the man, the door behind him opened and the attorneys from the county attorney’s office and state AG’s office came in.

  “Hey,” Marc quietly said to the lawyer from the county, Steve Gondeck.

  The two men shook hands and Gondeck introduced Marc to the woman from the AG’s office, Alicia Carlson. Marc and Gondeck had known each other for many years, having tried several cases against each other. The two men were at least friendly, if not friends.

  Marc noticed McReady turn to look at the three lawyers in the doorway and then Marc gestured to McReady to join them. McReady stood and walked back to the doorway and the foursome of lawyers all went out into the empty hallway. Marc introduced McReady to Gondeck and Carlson then asked them, “What’s your position here today?”

  Gondeck gave Marc a puzzled look then said, “We filed pleadings. Didn’t you get them?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Marc answered.

  “Did you?” Gondeck asked McReady.

  “Yeah, I saw them,” McReady answered.

  “Sorry, Marc,” Gondeck shrugged. “You must’ve been overlooked.”

  “We’re totally opposed to release,” Carlson interjected.

  “And we believe there was enough additional evidence to sustain a conviction,” Gondeck added.

  “Okay,” Marc said. “I guess we’ll see.”

  Marc followed McReady through the gate and as he did so, Traynor and the cleric stood to greet him. Marc noticed Howie looked basically the same, a little older for sure, but except for his hair being three or four inches long, he was the same man.

  When Howie saw Marc, he extended his hand and with a genuine smile, pleasantly said, “Mr. Kadella, it’s great to see you again. You’re looking well.”

  A startled Marc shook hands with Howie then Howie said, “I’d like you to meet my good friend, Father John Brinkley. Father John,” he continued turning to the priest, “this is Marc Kadella, the lawyer who handled my trial.”

  The two men shook hands, exchanged a brief pleasantry then Howie stepped up to Marc and quietly said, “You might not believe this, Marc, but I’m a changed man and Father John is totally responsible for it.”

  “That’s great, Howie,” Marc said looking directly into his eyes. “Maybe we can get you released and you can salvage your life.”

  “Bless you, Marc,” Howie sincerely said. “That would be a gift from God.”

  “All rise,” the sheriff’s deputy said as Judge Whitney Hogan came through the door and onto the bench. She quickly ordered everyone to be seated. The court clerk read the case number and file number into the record. The judge then took a few minutes to say a few words to the audience about court decorum.

  Judge Hogan looked over both tables and said, “Starting with the Petitioner, let’s have the lawyers enter their appearance.”

  McReady went first then each of the four lawyers stood and announced their name to the court reporter and whom they represented.

  Hogan looked at the priest and politely asked, “Is it Father or Reverend?”

  The priest arose from his chair and said, “Father John Brinkley, your Honor.”

  Hogan looked at the court reporter and said, “Let the record reflect the Petitioner is accompanied by his priest, Father John Brinkley. Okay,” she continued looking at McReady, “you may proceed.”

  For the better part of an hour, each side, in turn, argued about whether or not the tainted DNA was sufficient to overturn the second-degree murder conviction. Since both sides had already submitted lengthy legal briefs detailing their respective arguments, complete with legal authority, the oral arguments were not all that necessary. Both sides essentially restated what was already in the pleadings and affidavits previously filed with the court. Marc sat quietly during the entire exchange, as did Alicia Carlson, and
allowed McReady and Gondeck to do all of the talking.

  When both lawyers had exhausted their argument, Hogan said, “Bearing in mind, I’ve read the pleadings, briefs and affidavits, do you have anything else?”

  None of the lawyers had anything further and after a moment of silence, Judge Hogan looked at Gondeck and Carlson and said, “From what I can see, without the DNA evidence, the prosecution has no way of linking anyone to the death of Lucille Benson. She died of a heart attack and without the DNA you can’t prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she wasn’t already dead before Mr. Traynor entered her bedroom.

  “The lipstick and saliva on the pillow are hardly enough and even the bruising on her jawline does not point to Mr. Traynor without the DNA. Do you have any other evidence to link Mr. Traynor to the deceased to prove causation?”

  “No, your Honor,” Gondeck reluctantly replied.

  The judge looked at Howie and said, “Do you have anything you wish to say to the court?”

  Howie stood up and when he did, Father John also stood causing Marc and McReady to stand as well. “Yes, your Honor,” Howie began. “I admit I was a bad man. A criminal with no concern for anyone or anything. Then, in prison, I met Father John and through his help and the love of our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, I changed my life around.

  “I believe God is giving me this second chance and if you agree and overturn my conviction, I won’t let you down.”

  Impassively, having heard this same claim or close variations of it dozens, if not hundreds of times, Hogan said to the priest, “Would you like to add anything, Father?”

  “Nothing except to confirm what Howard told you, your Honor. He is a changed man,” the priest said.

  Hogan looked at Marc and McReady and asked, “Gentlemen, anything else?”

  “No, your Honor,” they said in turn.

  “All right,” Judge Hogan began, “the Petitioner’s conviction for second degree-murder and manslaughter are hereby overturned and will be expunged from his record. All other convictions will stand. Petitioner will be credited for time served on those convictions and I order his immediate release. Mr. Traynor, you’re free to go and sin no more…”

  With that, Hogan dropped her gavel down once and left the bench. While the subdued crowd was leaving Marc noticed his friend, Tony Carvelli looking at him from the gallery. Tony held his hand up by his ear in the universal symbol of a phone then joined the crowd squeezing through the exit.

  Marc congratulated Howie, then the deputy escorted Howie and the priest out the back to process Howie’s release.

  “Do you believe him?” Marc heard Steve Gondeck’s voice behind him.

  Marc turned, shook hands with his friendly adversary and said, “Don’t be so cynical. It happens. He might’ve turned his life around.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Gondeck replied. “But usually not until they are about to throw the switch on Old Sparky.”

  TEN

  Marc went out the courtroom’s exit door and ran headfirst into a wall of reporters. Since the story first broke, the media was all over it. Marc managed to make his way through the small crowd leaving Chuck McReady to get a little publicity. He turned left when he reached the elevators and almost ran into Gabriella Shriqui. She was waiting with her cameraman, Kyle Bronson, to get Marc alone.

  “Hey, Gabriella, how’s my favorite TV person? That’s not much of a compliment, by the way,” Marc added.

  “Hi, Marc,” she replied ignoring the mild insult. “Do you have a minute for me?” she asked intentionally personalizing the request. Gabriella was stop traffic gorgeous. The product of Moroccan Christian parents who immigrated to America when her mother was pregnant with her older brother. Gabriella had silky black hair six inches below her shoulders, light caramel colored skin that looked like a perpetual tan and dark, almost black, slightly almond shaped eyes. She was also quite adept at using her looks to help her get a story, especially with the males of the species.

  Marc had first met her while he defended a corrupt judge accused of murdering his wife. Despite the fact that he was well aware of her game of using her sensuality, looking into her eyes once again caused him to cave in and talk to her.

  Marc spent a few minutes answering her questions about Howie Traynor’s case. Mostly what he had to say amounted to little more than innocuous statements such as, “Justice has finally prevailed.”

  When his elevator arrived, as he held the door open he said to her, “Seen Maddy lately?”

  “Sure, we get together once in a while. She’s a good friend.”

  “I should take her to lunch. Maybe both of you. If you talk to her, tell her to call me.”

  “I will and thanks, Marc.”

  Marc ascended to the seventeenth floor and quickly walked down the hallway to courtroom 1745. This was the courtroom of his much better half, Judge Margaret Tennant. They had made a date for lunch as they normally did whenever Marc was downtown.

  When he reached her courtroom door, it banged open and Marc was almost knocked down by three angry insurance defense lawyers and one smiling plaintiff’s lawyer. Marc stepped aside to let them pass then went into the courtroom. Expecting to find Margaret still on the bench he was mildly surprised to see she was already gone. Still at her desk next to the bench and writing in a file was the judge’s clerk, Lois.

  “Hi, Lois,” Marc said as he passed through the gate in the bar. “Is her Highness available?”

  “Hey, Marc, let me check,” she said picking up her phone. A couple of seconds later Marc heard her say, “There’s a smartass man out here who wants to know, and I quote, if her Highness is available.”

  Lois listened for a moment, then said, “I don’t know. I’ll find out,” she covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said to Marc, “She wants to know if the smartass man has a cute butt. Turn around and let me take a look.”

  Marc’s shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes, shook his head and with a half-smile, half-laugh said, “I am not going to turn around and let you take a look.”

  Lois said into the phone, “He won’t cooperate.” She listened, for a moment then said, “Uh huh, yeah, I’ll tell him,” and then looked back at Marc.

  “She told me to tell you that you’d better have a cute butt or she’ll throw your non-cute butt in jail for contempt.”

  “Tell her if she’s not careful it could be a while before I let her get another look at my cute butt,” Marc said doing his best not to laugh.

  Lois repeated this, barely containing her own laughter. She listened for a moment, hung up the phone and said, “She says she’s really sorry, she doesn’t want you to withhold butt viewing privileges and you’re to go right back.”

  While Lois laughed, Marc thanked her and went through the door to the judge’s chambers. As he walked passed her desk, Lois couldn’t resist saying, “You do have a pretty cute butt.”

  “And they talk about us…” Marc muttered as he entered the back hallway.

  The waitress finished taking their order, a salad for Margaret and a cheeseburger and fries for Marc, then left to place the order. They were in a booth in a restaurant named Peterson’s across Fourth Avenue from the government center. Margaret caught Marc watching the teenage girl walk away.

  “A little young, don’t you think?” she said.

  “I was just thinking that,” Marc smiled. “How young they’re getting to be.”

  “They’re not getting younger,” Margaret started to say.

  “I know you don’t need to remind me.”

  “Well, tell me about the hearing. How did it go?” she asked.

  “Interesting,” Marc said after thinking it over for a moment. Marc spent the next ten minutes briefly describing the arguments made and the judge’s decision.

  “So she kicked him loose, huh? I’m not surprised. I probably would have also. Even with the other evidence the tainted DNA test makes the murder conviction impossible to uphold.”

  “She let stand the convictions for ever
ything else. The B & E, the burglary, assault on a cop, resisting arrest, all of it. Even without the DNA there’s enough to uphold those convictions. She let him off with time served.

  “Let me tell you about Howie Traynor. Remember how scary I told you he was? The attitude and dead eyes?”

  “Yeah,” she answered as the waitress returned with their meals.

  When the pretty blonde left, Marc continued. “It seems Howie found Jesus in prison. He even had a priest there on his behalf. He sat at the table with us. Howie greeted me like we were old friends.”

  “It happens,” Margaret said pausing with a forkful of salad on its way to her mouth.

  Marc had wolfed down his burger and was now working on the fries. He paused between bites and said, “Yeah, but it’s usually right before they throw the switch on Old Sparky. He seems genuine but…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “You didn’t know him back when. Did I tell you Tony was one of the arresting officers?”

  “No, really?”

  “Yeah I didn’t know him then. I talked to him a couple days ago and he was in court this morning, probably checking on things for Vivian Donahue.”

  “Why would Vivian Donahue care about this case?”

  “The victim was her aunt,” Marc replied.

  “Really? Small world,” Margaret said.

  “Anyway, Tony remembered Howie and said he even scared the shit out of the cops who had to deal with him. He said when they went to arrest him one of the guys hit him in the chest with a Taser and Howie jerked the Taser leads out, threw them at the cop then busted the guy’s jaw with one punch. It took four cops to put him down.”

  “Do you think he’ll sue for wrongful imprisonment?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t know. What do you think? You think he has a case? What are his damages? The time he served could easily be for the other convictions.”