(2012) The Key to Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  The next day Marc arrived early and was surprised to see both Slocum and Gondeck already there patiently waiting for him. After yesterday’s testimony Marc believed that the prosecution was down to their last witness, Martin Hobbs. Marc had awakened that morning feeling better than he had for weeks. The result of a combination of getting the money he had won from the government and the realization that the prosecution’s case against Carl was about to be concluded. The sight of both prosecutors actually a half hour early caused the warning bells to ring in his head.

  “Marc, something’s come up,” Steve Gondeck said to him as Marc passed through the gate in the bar of the otherwise empty courtroom.

  “What?” Marc asked warily as he dropped his briefcase onto the defense table and looked first at Gondeck, who was seated on the edge of the table facing Marc, then down at Slocum. Slocum was seated at one of the table’s chairs his legs crossed, hands folded in his lap wearing, what seemed to Marc at least, another in a seemingly endless supply of expensive suits, silk ties and heavily starched, immaculate white shirts, the gold cuff links gleaming as they peeked out from under the coat sleeve.

  “Well, um,” Gondeck began, “We have some witnesses to add…”

  “I don’t think so,” Marc said staring at Slocum, cutting off Gondeck in midsentence.

  “I told you Steve,” Slocum said with a weary sigh. “I told you he wouldn’t be reasonable. We’ll just have to go see the judge.”

  “Reasonable?” Marc asked glaring at the County Attorney. “You guys try to come up with some last minute surprise witnesses, plural,” the last words said to Gondeck who slightly nodded then sheepishly looked away. “I object to it and I’m not being reasonable? A tactic for which you are well known among the defense bar ...”

  “A criminal’s lobby,” Slocum interjected derisively as he straightened in his chair to glare back at Marc.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Marc responded rolling his eyes heavenward while clasping his hands in mock prayer. “I keep forgetting. God personally sent you here to smite the wicked and protect the oppressed. Forgive me, your Eminence.”

  “This is pointless,” Slocum fumed as he got out of his chair and stomped toward the door leading to the chamber’s area. “We’ll see the judge.”

  Marc and Gondeck maintained their positions as the County Attorney went through the door, still visibly steaming. After the door had finished closing behind him, Gondeck looked at Marc and said, “Why did you have to do that?”

  “Cause he’s a pompous, self-righteous asshole and it felt good.”

  “I know he’s a pompous, self-righteous asshole,” Gondeck replied, his shoulders sagging as if in weariness. “But he’s also my boss and I gotta live with the prick.”

  “So what’s this about surprise witnesses?” Marc asked as he eased himself onto the defense table directly across from Gondeck.

  “You’re not gonna like it,” Gondeck began. “Late yesterday, two of ‘em came forward. Separately. As far as we’ve been able to figure, neither knows the other or even knows about the other.”

  “And?” Marc asked when Gondeck paused.

  “And,” he continued, “one of ‘em is a guy named Edward Hill. You ready for this? Hill’s gonna testify that he was one of the guys who kicked the shit outta your client in jail and it was Fornich’s idea.”

  “What?” Marc said. “That’s bullshit and you know it....”

  “I don’t think so, Marc,” Gondeck replied shaking his head and holding up his hands to cut Marc off. “We were as skeptical as you at first. Questioned the hell out of him. Did a thorough background check on him. He’s very believable. Says he and another guy, both biker types, second guy’s name is Steve Frechette ...”

  “What’s the witnesses name?” Marc asked wondering what else could land on him in this trial.

  “Edward Hill,” Gondeck answered. “Anyway, Hill swears Fornich put ‘em up to it.”

  “Why?”

  “Sympathy, police brutality. That kinda bullshit,” Gondeck said with a shrug. “And, we wanna bring in the Sheriff’s Deputy, Olson. The one Fornich claims witnessed the whole thing.”

  “He’s on your list. You don’t need my permission for him.”

  “I know,” Gondeck said nodding. “I just thought I’d warn you.”

  Just then the door Slocum had gone through a few moments before opened and Slocum reappeared. “The judge is waiting,” he said, obviously annoyed.

  “We’re coming” Gondeck replied as he stood up. “I was just filling him in a bit.”

  “Fine,” Slocum steamed and went back through the door. Again it closed behind him as the two men headed toward it. While they walked across the carpeted floor along the front of the empty jury box, Marc whispered to Gondeck, “How many tickets you figure we could sell to his ass kickin’?”

  “Everybody in the C.A.’s office, at least,” Gondeck replied with a grin.

  As Marc grasped the door handle and was about to open it, Gondeck gently placed his left palm against the door to stop him. “Marc,” he quietly continued turning serious again, “that’s not the worst of it. You didn’t let me finish. We got another guy yesterday. Been in jail for a few days on a drug bust. Marijuana wholesaler.”

  “So?”

  “Says your client confessed to him about the killings. All of ‘em.”

  “What is this shit, Steve?”

  “I swear, it’s true,” Gondeck said holding up his right hand as if taking an oath.

  The in-chambers discussion about the surprise witnesses, a stunt that Marc reminded Prentiss he had specifically warned them about when the trial began, was predictably acrimonious and, for Marc, futile. Prentiss wasted little time in ruling in favor of the prosecution. For Marc’s benefit he made a show of sternly lecturing Slocum and Gondeck but Marc had the uneasy feeling that it was insincere. Prentiss did agree, reluctantly, to grant Marc an hour to consult with his client before testimony would begin.

  “It’s bullshit,” Carl seethed at Marc in the small room “I had them kick my ass? That’s fuckin’ bullshit.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Marc quietly replied. “There’s a courtroom full of people out there,” he continued gesturing toward the door.

  “And I confessed to this other guy? This Bingham guy,” Carl whispered, leaning on the table to get as close to Marc as he could. “Confessed to what? I aint done nothin’ to confess to,” he said while staring angrily, his eyes unblinking, directly into Marc’s face. “Do you believe it?”

  “What? No. what do you mean, do I believe it?”

  “Do you believe I had those two assholes kick my ass and do you believe I confessed to this other guy. This asshole Bingham?” Carl asked, a pleading look on his face and in his voice.

  “No, Carl,” Marc softly said returning Carl’s look. “Do you know him?”

  “Know who? Bingham? Yeah, I know who he is. He’s in the cell across from me. Been there, I dunno, four or five days now.”

  “What about the other guy, this Ed Hill?”

  “No, I didn’t know their names. They jumped me in the can, worked me over real quick and left me layin’ there while the guard, whats-his-name, Olson, watched it,” Carl said as he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stared up at the ceiling. “This is just fuckin’ beautiful. I might as well go plead guilty right now and get it over with,” he said dejectedly.

  Marc sat quietly, his hands folded together on the tabletop, his eyes shifting about the room, uncertain as to what to say. The two of them sat this way for a couple minutes, neither speaking, both lost in their own thoughts. Marc, momentarily mentally reviewing the possibility of making a plea agreement and then quickly dismissing it. Carl sneaking a glance at his lawyer, trying to read Marc’s thoughts. Marc’s reaction.

  “Look, you’re not changing your plea,” Marc said, breaking the awkward silence. “What they have here are a couple of jailbirds trying to save their own ass. I’m sure they’ve
both made some kinda deal with the cops and prosecutors. That doesn’t make them the most credible witnesses.”

  “Yeah,” Carl said, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. The jury should be able to see that dontcha think?”

  “Yes, I do,” Marc answered as he reached across the table and gently patted Carl’s left forearm. “Let’s go hear what they have to say.”

  After they left the judge’s chambers, Gondeck went into the courtroom and, seeing Jake Waschke in his usual seat, gestured for him to follow Gondeck into a meeting room at the side of the courtroom. The two of them went in and found Wally Bingham seated at the table and after they had seated themselves opposite their witness, Gondeck said, “Okay, the judge has ruled that you will be allowed to testify. We went over your testimony last night and you did great. Just remember to take your time and don’t rush it. If we need more information from you, Slocum can always ask a follow-up question.”

  “Hey,” Wally began to answer, “I’m not an idiot. Didn’t I do okay last night?”

  “You did great, “Gondeck answered acknowledging how well he had done while being prepared for today’s testimony.

  “I’m not some dipshit street hustler,” Wally continued looking directly at Jake. “I know what’s what and I can testify just fine. You’ll get your guy. He told me all about everything,” he said all the while thinking, ‘Since I have my get out of jail free card because you screwed up the search warrant, I am gonna fuck this up and shove it right up your ass.’

  “Did somebody put you up to this?” Gondeck asked for at least the tenth time.

  “No one put him up to it,” Jake said.

  “How many times you gonna ask me that?” Bingham answered.

  “All right. You wait here and we’ll bring you in when we call you,” Gondeck said not really believing a word this guy had to say.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  After a brief greeting to Carl’s brother, the two men took their seats at the counsel table and waited patiently for the morning session to begin. A few minutes later, the jury was led in, Prentiss took his seat on the bench and Slocum solemnly rose to call his witness. Marc stole a glance around the spectator’s section and, not the least bit surprised, noticed that the press was back in full attendance. Funny, he thought sarcastically, how they always seemed to know when Slocum was about to give them something.

  Ed Hill was brought in through a side door opposite from the jury box. A door Marc knew led to the in-custody area. Hill was a tall, well built man and though Gondeck described him as a biker type, today he looked like Joe Citizen, come to Court to help see justice done. Unknown to Marc, but not to Carl, his hair was freshly cut. The long, dirty-blonde, scraggily mess replaced by a neat, well groomed look. Hill still sported a moustache, neatly trimmed, but the goatee and four day stubble were gone. A light blue button down pressed shirt, dark slacks and black loafers had replaced the leather vest, dirty jeans and biker boots he normally wore. Marc glanced down at the small slip of paper Carl slid to him with the note Carl had scribbled on it: ‘Doesn’t even look like the same guy’ the note read.

  Hill was sworn in, took his seat on the stand and, with Slocum’s guidance, told his story. He had been arrested on a car theft charge, along with another man, a casual friend named Steve Frechette. They had been in the Hennepin County jail for two or three days while awaiting arraignment and a chance to make bail.

  He continued to testify, over Marc’s hearsay objection, that Frechette came to him late one afternoon and told him a guy Frechette knew from prison wanted them to do him a favor. This guy, Frechette told him, was awaiting trial for the serial killer murders that Hill had heard about and wanted to pull a stunt on the cops. He wanted Hill and Frechette to knock him around a bit. Nothing serious. Just enough to cause some cuts and bruises.

  “Why did he want that?” Slocum prompted.

  Frechette told Hill it was to get some sympathy in the press. Maybe even make a police brutality claim against the cops. So that night, a Saturday night when the jail was real busy and the guards didn’t have time to keep an eye on everybody, he and Frechette met the guy in one of the johns and worked him over a bit. Hill testified it was one of the weirder things he had ever done, beat somebody up while he just stood there and took it. In fact, he actually helped them do it. Pointed out places he wanted them to hit that would cause cuts and bruises but not hurt him too much.

  It only took a few minutes and afterward they simply left him lying on the floor in one of the stalls. The next day, Sunday, they heard he’d been taken to the hospital. On Monday, Frechette and Hill were brought to Court, made bail and walked away from the whole thing.

  “Was there a guard at the door of the restroom watching the assault?” Slocum asked.

  “No, there was no guard watchin’, “ Hill answered. “Just me, Frechette and him,” he continued pointing at Carl. “I heard about that later. That he claimed a guard was watchin’ and saw it all but, it was a total lie.”

  Slocum then tackled head on the issue of Hill’s credibility. Instead of leaving it for Marc to explore and possibly shred his witness, Slocum did the smart thing and brought it out himself.

  After making bail Hill and Frechette split up. The last Hill heard from Frechette was that he was going to either Texas or Florida. He wasn’t sure which. Some place down South. Hill went to Wisconsin for a couple weeks but came back to Minnesota about three weeks ago.

  “Where are you currently residing?” Slocum asked.

  “In the Hennepin County jail. I got picked up on the bench warrant that was out cause of when I skipped bail.”

  “Why did you decide to testify?”

  “I’m hopin’ to get some deal for the charges against me on the car theft. The cops wanted me to rat out some guys I know on a stolen car chop shop but I won’t do it. Too dangerous. Those are some bad dudes. But this guy,” he continued again pointing at Carl, “well, you know, a car theft is one thing but a serial killer, that’s a whole different deal.”

  After being asked by Slocum, Hill calmly testified that no promises had been made to him. He had come forward entirely on his own and, in fact, the cops were extremely surprised at his story. He had spent the entire day, yesterday, being questioned by the police and prosecutors. Obviously they were very skeptical about him and his story. A couple of them even flat out told him they thought he was lying. They checked him out, checked out Frechette and found out Frechette had been in prison with Carl and had been in the same cell block with him for several months. It wasn’t until after that that the cops began to believe him. All in all, Marc glumly realized, a very credible, very believable performance.

  At that point Slocum turned the witness over to Marc who stood up and made the obligatory objection. Pointing out for the record, and the jury, that this witness’ testimony was totally irrelevant since it added nothing to the question of guilt to the charges brought against Carl. Prentiss politely overruled Marc and the cross examination began.

  “Mr. Hill,” Marc began looking directly at the witness with barely disguised contempt, “how many times have you been arrested?” By tossing out an open ended question, he was breaking the cardinal rule of cross examination: Never ask a question if you don’t know the answer. He was fishing a bit but figured this was safe enough water to toss out a line or two.

  “Um, I’m not sure. A few times, I guess,” Hill calmly answered.

  “Well, Mr. Hill, let’s try to narrow it down. More than ten?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “More than twenty?”

  “No, not that many.”

  “So, you’ve been arrested for a variety of crimes somewhere between, ten and twenty times, is that correct?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “How many felony convictions do you have?”

  “Three,” Hill answered, still looking calmly at Marc.

  “Have you done time in prison?”

  “Yes, once in prison. A couple times at the
County workhouse. I got nothin’ to hide here, counselor. Does your guy?”

  “Your Honor,” Marc angrily said as he rose from his seat.

  “Mr. Hill,” Prentiss sternly said to Hill jabbing his right index finger toward him, “you will restrict your answers to the questions asked. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, your Honor. Sorry,” Hill fumbled trying to sound apologetic.

  “The jury will disregard that last remark,” Prentiss admonished the jurors knowing full well they couldn’t. “You may continue, Mr. Kadella.”

  “Thank you, your Honor,” Marc said as he sat back down.

  “Mr. Hill, the reason you’re presently in jail is because you were arrested for grand theft and then skipped bail, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Hill said, now leaning forward slightly to speak directly into the microphone.

  “If you are convicted of the present charge, do you believe you’ll get another prison sentence?”

  “Yes, I believe I will. That’s why I’m here. I told you that before. I’m tryin’ to cut a deal. Get some leniency but that doesn’t mean I aint tellin’ the truth”

  Marc continued along this line of questioning for a few more minutes, but it was pointless. Hill made a very convincing, very credible witness. Marc could, and would, make the argument during his summation that Hill was a career criminal trying to win favor from the prosecutors and even if Hill was to be believed, he offered nothing as far as Carl’s guilt or innocence was concerned. It was weak though, and he knew it. No promises had been made to Hill and, at the very least, it looked like Carl was up to something with the assault allegations. Trying to hide something. Besides, Marc had a bigger worry on his mind after this morning’s revelations. Marc finished up his questioning of Hill by going over Hill’s attire and freshly groomed appearance. The questions were designed to point out to the jury the length’s the police and prosecution would go to present Hill as a model citizen. Hill readily admitted to all of these claims. That his clothing, haircut and freshly shaved appearance were provided by his jailers. His manner was calm, cool and dignified and Marc finally began to realize that it was himself and not Hill who was coming across badly to the jury. He wrapped it up, unable to shake Hill, and turned him back to Slocum.