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

by Dennis Carstens

  By the time he got back to the government center building, Gondeck had made a couple of decisions. He took the street-level escalator up to the building’s main floor and found a bank of pay phones. He looked up the number he wanted on his personal phone and not wanting the call to be traced to his phone, called from the pay phone.

  The woman answered and he identified himself. They agreed to meet for lunch away from downtown right away. Gondeck then took an elevator back to his office. He deleted his resignation email and quickly typed and printed a note, found a blank envelope and left to meet his lunch date.

  Gondeck entered the Applebee’s in a suburb on the western fringe of the Metro area. Gabriella Shirqui was sitting near the hostess stand waiting for him. She rose to greet him and the hostess showed them to a table.

  “I’m really nervous about this, Gabriella. In all my years with the county attorney’s office, I have never done this; meet with a reporter clandestinely like this,” Gondeck said.

  “And you’re worried about your job,” Gabriella stated.

  “Yeah, I’d get fired in a heartbeat,” Gondeck agreed.

  “Tell you what,” Gabriella smiled, reached across the table to pat his hand reassuringly and said, “if I use what you have, I’ll refer to where I got it as ‘sources close to the investigation’ and I’ll be sure to use the plural sources. I’ll go to jail to protect you, okay?”

  “Fair enough,” Gondeck said more relaxed with Gabriella’s assurance.

  They ordered lunch and while they did, Gondeck gave her a quick rundown on the case against Howie Traynor. Almost everything he told her, at first, was already known to her. After their dishes were cleared he got to the good part. He gave her the inside scoop about what happened that morning when he was removed and why Slocum did it.

  “So Slocum’s got a personal grudge against Marc Kadella,” she said when Gondeck paused. “Interesting and unprofessional but hardly the stuff of headlines. I mean, I’ll use it but…”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Gondeck interrupted her. “There’s more. Slocum is deliberately withholding evidence, exculpatory evidence from the defense.”

  “Isn’t that unethical? I thought he had a legal duty to…”

  “Yes, he does,” Gondeck agreed.

  “What evidence is he withholding?”

  “That, I can’t tell you. He’ll know where it came from. But,” he continued as he removed the envelope with the note in it from his inside coat pocket. “I want you to do me a favor, please.” He handed the envelope to her and said, “Call Marc Kadella and give him this. Then wait for him to read it. I have spelled it out for him and wrote in it that he can tell you as long as you protect me. He needs to get this.”

  She took the sealed envelope from him and said, “What if I decide to open this and read it myself?”

  Gondeck shrugged and said, “Once we leave here I can’t stop you but I’ve heard you’re honest and ethical. Besides, you’ll get an exclusive on it anyway.”

  “I’ll call Marc and see him as quickly as possible.”

  Marc’s phone buzzed and when he answered it Carolyn let him know Gabriella had arrived. When she left the restaurant she called Marc to let him know she had something for him and wanted to see him right away. The reporter in her resented being used as a go-between like this but also realized Gondeck and Kadella would both owe her a favor. Besides, something told her she was about to get a juicy piece of information about Slocum.

  “Hi, Gabriella. Come in,” Marc said when he went into the common area.

  Once they were both seated in his office, Gabriella handed Marc the envelope and said, “The letter inside will tell you why I’m here. At least that’s what I was told.”

  Marc slit open the envelope with a letter opener he had in his desk. He leaned back in his chair and read the note from Gondeck.

  “Sonofabitch,” he softly said when he finished. He shook his head and continued by saying. “That goddamn Slocum. What a petty, petulant ass he is.”

  “What? Tell me,” Gabriella eagerly said.

  Marc leaned forward, pulled his chair up against the desk and handed the note to Gabriella. She took a minute to read it over and when she finished softly said, “Sonofabitch.” She looked at Marc and added, “Does this mean what I think it means? That Traynor may be innocent and Craig Slocum is suppressing evidence that you could use to prove it?”

  “We’ll find out,” Marc said. “How are you going to report it?”

  “I’ll, ah, just say ‘sources close to the investigation’ as my source. I have to run,” she added as she stood up still holding the note.

  “Uh, uh,” Marc said. “Give me the note. That’s going in the shredder.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said slyly smiling as she handed it back to him.

  “Don’t use the part about Slocum not disclosing this evidence because of personal antipathy toward me. He would know where that came from. And keep my name out of it, too,” Marc said.

  “Good afternoon,” Melinda began. “I’m Melinda Pace and this is the Court Reporter.

  “I have a bombshell to bring you today and we are live because it just came in. With me in the studio is Channel 8 reporter Gabriella Shriqui with our exclusive news.”

  The camera moved away to show both women seated at Melinda’s anchor desk. Melinda turned to Gabriella and said, “What do you have for us?”

  Gabriella turned to face the camera and said, “Sources close to the investigation of the Crown of Thornes case have revealed information to me about the prosecution’s office that could be both unethical and illegal.

  “Last week the murdered body of Eugene Parlow was found in an alley in South Minneapolis. He had been shot three times. Parlow is one of the men, along with Howard Traynor, who was investigated for the Crown of Thornes killings. The police were closely watching him because he was one of the men released from prison after it was revealed the DNA test used to convict him was doctored by a lab technician. In fact, my sources tell me that Parlow and Traynor knew each other.

  “At the scene where Eugene Parlow’s body was found, the police discovered a bag nearby containing a coiled length of barbed wire, wire cutters, a Taser stun gun device and a hammer and nails. These are the exact same items that were used in all of the Crown of Thornes murders.

  “It was also revealed that Craig Slocum, the Hennepin County Attorney personally made the decision that because these items were believed to be unconnected to Parlow’s murder, there would be no lab testing done on any of the items found in the bag. Mr. Slocum also decided that because this was not to be used in the prosecution of Howard Traynor, the county attorney’s office had no obligation to reveal any of this to Traynor’s lawyer.

  “In addition, the judge who presided over Parlow’s trial in which the faulty DNA test was used against Parlow was Judge Ross Peterson. The prosecutor was Rhea Watson, the judge who handled his appeal was the man murdered outside Bemidji, Robert Smith and Cara Meyers was his lawyer. All of these people are victims, and tied to the Crown of Thornes.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean Howard Traynor is innocent,” Melinda pointed out. “As you said, Traynor and Parlow knew each other.”

  “Vaguely,” Gabriella said. “There’s no evidence to believe they worked together.”

  “There’s no evidence to believe they didn’t either,” Melinda said.

  “I suppose that’s technically true,” Gabriella agreed smiling yet silently seething at Melinda playing Devil’s Advocate for Craig Slocum. “But at the very least, the prosecution has to legally tell the defense about this. And I can’t help wonder if this had something to do with Slocum’s decision to change lawyers for the prosecution.”

  Within minutes of Gabriella’s report the switchboard at the county attorney’s office lit up like a Christmas tree. The receptionists taking the calls spent the next hour issuing no comment statements to the reporters, locally, statewide and nationally, who wanted answers from Sloc
um.

  The next day Slocum put out a press release denying any intent to withhold evidence. He claimed the bag was not found with Parlow’s body and there was no evidence to directly tie the bag to Parlow. It also stated he would release the information to Traynor’s lawyer as soon as possible.

  FORTY-SIX

  The Twin Cities Metro area received four inches of snow during the night. This was the first measurable snow storm of the season and the heavy, wet, sloppy stuff made a mess of the streets. Despite the fact that snow was hardly a rarity in Minnesota, many of the natives drove as if they had never seen it before. Traffic was barely moving at a crawl, especially in Minneapolis where plowing was not always deemed a necessity.

  Marc spent the Thanksgiving weekend at Margaret Tennant’s relaxing and acting like a normal person. Fortunately, he was in a relationship with a woman who understood the stress he was under and realized trial work is not a nine to five job.

  Marc pulled into the early morning line entering the underground parking at the government center. Waiting in line as traffic moved by on Third Avenue spraying his SUV with sloppy, dirty snow did nothing to calm his nerves. No matter how many trials he did, on the morning of the first day his nerves were always as tight as a bowstring. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and silently urged the line to move faster.

  Marc found an empty parking space in the underground garage. The weather geeks were calling for two to three more inches during the day which would make the drive home a pain.

  While still in his car before heading up to the courtroom, Marc took a few minutes to think over his case. He had crammed six months of trial preparation into as many weeks. The realization that the prosecution had the same amount of time was somewhat comforting. What brought him more relief was the fact that the cops had not discovered any additional evidence; at least none that he knew about.

  Lost in his thoughts while gathering up his briefcase, he did not notice the man coming up the side of his car. Suddenly there were two sharp raps on his window which made him jump six inches and grab his chest. Staring down at him was the friendly, familiar face of his officemate, Barry Cline.

  Marc opened the car door and as he was getting out said, “You just took five years off my life.”

  “Sorry,” Barry insincerely said with a big grin. “What do you say we go upstairs and pick a jury?”

  “Yeah, let’s. The sooner I get at it, the better I’ll feel,” Marc said.

  “Marc, everybody goes through those first-day jitters. You’ll be fine.”

  “I know, let’s go.”

  They checked in with Judge Koch’s clerk who took both of them back to the judge’s chambers. On their way back, Marc asked the clerk if the prosecution had arrived. He received a negative response then asked why they were seeing the judge ex parte.

  “The TV lawyers are taking another shot at getting the camera’s turned on. Judge Koch told me to bring you back as soon as you got here.”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” the judge said when they entered her chambers. As they sat down on her couch, she continued by asking, “Mr. Cline, to what do we owe the pleasure of your appearance?”

  “I’m co-counsel for the defense, your Honor. I filed my appearance with your clerk,” Barry said.

  For the next fifteen minutes during which Tommy Harris and Paul Ramsey arrived, the lawyers for the broadcast media made one final pitch to the judge.

  “The court of appeals said no and I’ve said no. I gave you this opportunity as a courtesy but I haven’t heard anything new,” Koch said when the last of the lawyers finished. “What do you think, Mr. Kadella?”

  “I think they’ve billed enough time to this…”

  “I resent that!” the lead attorney said glaring at Marc.

  “… the answer is still no and it’s time we started our trial.”

  “I agree,” Koch replied. “Motion denied. Anything else?” she asked. The judge looked around the room and received no reply. “Good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  With that the small herd of highly priced corporate lawyers filed out followed by Marc, Barry and the prosecutors.

  Howie and Father John were waiting for them, seated at the defense table. Marc introduced Barry to both men and reminded Howie that Barry would be helping him with the jury selection. The four of them discussed their seating arrangement and decided to have the priest at the table.

  When Tommy Harris saw this he came to the defense table and said, “I’m going to object to the priest sitting at the defense table.”

  “Take your best shot, Tommy,” Marc said.

  During the past six weeks, Marc had come to know Tommy Harris and his assistant, Paul Ramsey. Harris was a steady, competent lawyer who wasn’t going to excite a jury but likely wouldn’t make a big mistake, either. Ramsey was a sharp, if inexperienced kid, who came from a well known Minnesota family. In fact, he was a direct descendant of Alexander Ramsey, the state’s second governor for whom Ramsey County was named. Despite that, the young prosecutor was a pleasant man and Marc liked him.

  Tommy Harris, on the other hand was obviously Slocum’s boy. He never missed an opportunity to let you know of his close, personal friendship with the county attorney. As a joke, Marc had considered buying Harris a pair of knee pads and lip balm. Concern for his client prevailed and he let the thought pass, for now.

  Judge Koch came out on the bench a few minutes after nine. She looked over the jam-packed gallery and spent ten minutes politely but firmly explaining court decorum to everyone. When she finished, Harris requested a bench conference.

  The four lawyers went up to the bench and Harris argued that the priest’s appearance at the defense table was prejudicial. Marc argued his client was allowed spiritual comforting and Koch split the difference. She ruled Father John could not sit at the table but could use one of the chairs in front of the rail directly behind the table but only during jury selection. During the trial she would have the deputies reserve a front row seat for him behind the bar.

  While the lawyer’s retreated to their seats, Marc looked at the empty chairs behind their table. Something about them bothered him and it finally occurred to him what it was. He missed having Maddy sitting there. In big cases like this, having her there was somehow a comfort and it didn’t hurt to have a beautiful woman distracting the jurors.

  The prosecutors and the defense had been given a list of one hundred prospective jurors. Each name contained some basic information about that person; such as age, marital status, employment and a few minor details.

  Marc and Barry, with Connie Mickelson and Chris Grafton providing occasional help, had gone over every name on the list. In addition, Sandy and the office paralegal, Jeff Modell, had conducted a thorough internet search of each of them. The two lawyers had put each name into one of three categories; yes, no and maybes. The maybes had then been further classified on a one to ten scale. One being almost a no and ten being almost a yes.

  The prosecution was working with a professional team of people to provide jury selection guidance. The firm they hired consisted of sociologists, psychologists, a retired trial judge and lawyers. They believed theirs was a much more scientific method of selecting jurors. Some lawyers swore by them and some swore at them. The simple truth is every lawyer has an opinion about how to select a jury and they are all about as accurate or inaccurate as any. Virtually all of them agree you could probably take the first twelve people you meet on the street and do about as well. No one has the balls to do it.

  Because this was a homicide trial, the jurors or, more accurately, the veniremen, by Minnesota court rules must be questioned and selected one at a time. Obviously, this would slow the process down significantly.

  The prosecution had requested that the identities of the jurors be kept secret. This was the subject of a very heated argument between Marc and Harris. The prosecution argued that since one of the victims was the foreman of Traynor’s previous trials, the jurors were not safe
from retribution. Marc countered by pointing out that to do so would have the practical effect of sending a clear signal to the jury. The jury could easily infer that the defendant was presumed guilty and must prove his innocence. Keeping their identities secret would tell the jurors they were not safe from the defendant. Fortunately, the judge agreed with Marc.

  The first venireman to be brought in was a man named George Zimmer. He was a sixty-seven-year-old, retired firefighter with the Minneapolis Fire Department. Marc had him listed as a “no” for his selections. Likely a little too law and order conservative.

  Judge Koch began the questioning of him to probe a bit for any obvious biases. Each prospective juror had received a questionnaire and their answers to these had been provided to both the prosecution and defense. Most of the questions the judge asked were covered in the questionnaire. She asked them anyway because reading a sterile, written document is not the same as having the live person in front of you.

  Judge Koch completed the questioning then turned Zimmer over to Marc. By the rules of criminal procedure, the defense would question each juror first.

  Marc wanted to use this opportunity to accomplish a couple of things. Since it was extremely unlikely anyone would admit to a blatant bias, although occasionally it did happen, Marc wanted to indoctrinate each juror in certain legal concepts.

  Anyone in America with a TV set had heard the terms “beyond a reasonable doubt” and “innocent until proven guilty.” Judge Koch had gone over these concepts with Mr. Zimmer but Marc took the time to make sure he understood them specifically with a slant favorable to the defendant.

  More importantly, this was each lawyer’s opportunity to make a good first impression on the juror. After all, if this pleasant, well dressed, soft spoken man believed in his client, maybe the defendant is innocent. It didn’t hurt to have a priest sitting directly behind the defendant, either. Marc did this by engaging Zimmer in a conversation getting Zimmer to talk about himself. Most people like to tell others about their lives, their families, their careers and Marc was becoming quite adept at conveying to a jury that he genuinely cared about what they have to say. Marc’s original mentor, Mickey O’Herlihy, liked to say, “If you can fake sincerity, you’re half way to an acquittal.”