by Teri Ames
“Could you? Forget about sex? It feels like it complicates things too much.”
“I’m not going to forget about it. It was too good to forget. But we can step back a little if it’s what you need.”
Shannon grinned. “Okay.”
“But don’t expect me to give up kissing.” He bent over and kissed her deeply.
“Wow. I forgot how good you are at that.”
“Try to keep it in mind while you’re studying this weekend. I’ll call you after we get back from Rochester.”
Keenan felt better as he was walking home. It seemed like Shannon was just getting cold feet. He would back off a little, but he wasn’t ready to give up by any means.
AFTER KEENAN left, Shannon sat on her bed and opened her calculus textbook. She was glad she had finally seen Keenan, and that he had offered her a solution to her problem. Well, a temporary solution anyway. The problem wasn’t dating two guys at the same time, but having sex with both of them. Without sex involved, she could take a little time to figure things out.
She started her homework problems and felt relaxed for the first time since she’d left Jake.
Chapter 37
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
THE MORNING after he testified, the grand jury indicted Keenan on a single charge of voluntary manslaughter. Barry wasn’t surprised when Fred called to give him the news.
“The indictment was sealed,” Fred said. “And the court staff isn’t supposed to say anything to anyone about the grand jury.”
“Which means that Manny Rodriguez is already writing his story for the Gazette.”
“That’s what I was going to say next.”
“How much can you afford to play this down?”
“Why are you asking?”
“My client obviously knew there was a chance he would be indicted, but he showed up to testify.”
“What do you want?”
“You’ve already got bail on him from the assault charge. How about you flash cite him for tomorrow on the manslaughter charge?”
“A flash cite instead of an arrest? On a homicide charge?”
“I know it’s unconventional, but the kid’s not going to flee. He’s known all along this was a possibility. That way, we might be able to avoid some of the media circus.” Barry waited while Fred considered his unusual request.
Fred sighed. “I’m getting pretty damned tired of the media myself.”
“Imagine how the Brody family feels about now.”
“But if he doesn’t show, I’ll look like an idiot.”
“He’ll show.”
“Okay, but consider it a favor.”
“Thanks, Fred.” Barry was truly grateful for the favor. He knew it was a big one. And he wondered why he had used it up on Keenan Brody. Was he sure the kid was innocent? Or was he, too, falling prey to psychological phenomena?
“You were indicted on a charge of voluntary manslaughter,” Barry explained to Keenan on the phone a few minutes later.
“How?”
“I told you it would be stacked.”
“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
“I don’t envy the position you’re in, but it could’ve been worse. At least it wasn’t a second-degree murder charge. You never know. If you hadn’t gone in to talk to the grand jury, it might have been.” Barry wasn’t sure that was true, but he wanted the kid to feel better.
“So, what happens if I get convicted?”
“Manslaughter has a one-year minimum and a fifteen-year maximum.”
“Fifteen years is a long time. I’d be an old man when I got out.”
Barry was glad Keenan couldn’t see him smirk. He was thinking that thirty-four isn’t even considered middle-aged anymore. At least he hoped not, since he’d passed that mile marker a long time ago. “I could probably negotiate a plea deal that would get you out sooner.”
“I can’t go to jail for something I didn’t do. This is so fucked up.”
“I’m sure it feels that way.”
“Tell me something. Can you win?”
“I’m not going to make you any promises, other than that I will do my best. But, yes, there’s a chance I can win.”
“I really didn’t kill her, you know.”
“I already told you it doesn’t matter if you did.”
“But it does. To me. You ever lost a trial you should have won?”
“I’ve lost a few over the years.”
“Were those clients innocent?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s why I need you to believe me.”
“Point taken. I really will do my best. That’s all I can promise. Now, you promise me you’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow at 8:45 a.m. Your arraignment’s set for nine o’clock. I had to use up a favor to keep you from spending the night in jail tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Just be there. And bring your parents. Actually, you should probably have your dad call me. We need to talk about money.”
CASSIE BRODY clutched her husband’s hand while he talked to Barry on the phone. She was shivering despite the warm spring day. Usually spring was her favorite time of year. She loved when everything came to life again after the dormant winter. This year everything was ahead of schedule because of the sudden shift into spring. The azalea outside her kitchen window had its first flower. The willows were budding out, an electric yellowish green, getting ready to burst, and the marsh marigold around the pond was in full bloom. But, though she noticed, it didn’t bring her joy; all she could think about was the cruelty of a world that would persecute her child.
“How could they do this to him?” she said as Greg hung up the phone. “He’s such a good kid, an honest one.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t understand this,” Greg said. “None of it makes sense.”
“Remember when he was eleven? And he put a hole in the drywall playing knee hockey in the living room?”
“After we told him no knee hockey except in the basement. I remember.”
“He came to me, found me out working in the garden. To tell me what he’d done. And to apologize. None of our other kids would have done that.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I know it. Liam would have rearranged the furniture so we wouldn’t find out.”
“Or blamed Keenan.”
Cassie sobbed. “I know they don’t know him like we do, but they should have believed him.”
“Barry warned us that they probably wouldn’t.”
“I know. But I was hoping he was wrong.”
“Me, too.”
“What else did Barry say just now?”
“He said that we should plan on at least another $100,000 for the trial. He needs $80,000 by next week.”
Cassie gasped. “Where are we going to get that kind of money?”
“We’re going to take a second mortgage. But first, we’re going to go to Middleton Falls tomorrow morning and stand by our son while he gets arraigned.”
“Oh my God. How is he going to survive this?”
Chapter 38
Thursday, April 24, 2014
KEENAN WAS in the bleachers at the ice rink. He had put his phone on mute. The enormous arena was empty, the rink nothing more than a slab of concrete.
How had his life gone so bad so fast?
He knew that he needed to get to the courthouse, but he just wanted to check out. He could hitchhike back to the Northeast Kingdom and spend the summer living in the woods. Thanks to his grandpa, he knew how to hunt and fish. He could survive and they’d never find him, even if they figured out where to look. It might even be peaceful. Except he’d always be looking over his shoulder. And by October, the nights get mighty cold. He’d need shelter and a fire. Once you lay down roots, you’re easier to find.
Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do that to his family. If he ran, everyone back home would think he was guilty. His family would pay the price and he wouldn’t get to be with them. The
re was no choice here, but he still couldn’t get up.
He heard footsteps and saw his coach approaching.
“I was sorting through some equipment, saw you up here. I sometimes come here to think too.”
Keenan wished he would leave, but he nodded.
“It was a good season. The team played well.”
“Except the game against Trinity. We lost six to nothing.”
The coach shrugged. “That wasn’t good, but the important thing is that you guys didn’t let it psych you out. It was hard to lose so heavily first game of the season. It could have set the tone. I’ve seen it in other years, but you guys made it your Alamo. That’s what a winner does. Keenan, you’re a hard worker.”
“Thanks, coach.”
“You know, I was under a lot of pressure to suspend you from the team.”
“Pressure from who?”
“The other players’ parents, the administration.” The coach rubbed the top of his balding head before he continued, “But in this country, a person is innocent until proven guilty. That’s part of what makes this country great. I don’t know if you had anything to do with that girl’s death––“
“I didn’t.”
“––but, whether you did or didn’t is in the past. What you do from here on speaks to the kind of man you are. Anyway, I hope you’re back on the team next year.”
“Thanks, coach.”
FRED WASN’T sure whether he was more pissed at Barry or his client. He sat at the prosecution table doodling geometric patterns on his yellow legal pad. Barry appeared calm at the adjacent table, but Fred could tell by the way he was jiggling his right leg that he was using his game face. The massive clock on the courtroom wall moved to nine o’clock and there was no sign of Keenan Brody. The kid’s parents were in the gallery behind Barry looking rumpled and weary. They had probably gotten up in the middle of the night to come and watch their son get labeled a fugitive.
Olivia Dawson was at the back of the courtroom, both her hands clutching the arm of a woman he recognized as an advocate from Safe Haven, the local women’s shelter. He had told Olivia about the grand jury in hopes that she would stay in California, but she had insisted on returning “to see things through,” whatever that meant. It wasn’t a huge surprise that she wanted to be involved––the families of victims frequently needed to feel a part of the court process to get closure. But that usually meant driving an hour to get to court proceedings, not moving across the country.
The only other spectator was Manny Rodriguez from the local paper. Thanks to his contacts in the courthouse, he would scoop the other journalists. And it might be a bigger story than expected. Something like, “Brody Indicted for Homicide, On The Run After Prosecutor Cites Him.” He should have just had Dustin arrest the damn kid.
Barry got up and walked back to the Brodys. He maintained a studied calm, but it was obvious he was asking them where their son was.
Finally, at 9:10 Keenan burst into the courtroom and made his way to his seat next to Barry, who somehow managed an aura of nonchalance. The parents were visibly relieved.
Barry pushed the mute button on his microphone and waived his client into a huddle. Even without hearing it, Fred had a pretty good idea what Barry was saying to his client. It could only be a form of the riot act. However, the conversation ended abruptly when the clerk bellowed, “All rise, the Honorable Edmund Whippet presiding.” The judge strode quickly across the front of the room, his black robe floating behind him. As soon as the clerk had announced the case, the judge began.
“We’re here for an arraignment on a charge of voluntary manslaughter. Mr. Densmore?”
“Waive the reading, waive the twenty-four-hour rule, enter a plea of not guilty, Your Honor.”
“I see that the defendant appeared today on a citation. We already have ten thousand dollars’ bail and conditions in place. Are you seeking anything more, Mr. Dutton?”
Fred wanted to ask for $100,000. It was a homicide charge after all, and the kid had been late. But then Barry would be pissed at him. And the kid had showed up. On the other hand, if he didn’t ask for an increase, Olivia would surely communicate her displeasure. “In light of the more serious charge, we believe an increase in bail is appropriate. We’ll leave the amount to Your Honor’s discretion.” Fred glared briefly at Keenan, who probably didn’t understand just how much his tardiness could have cost him.
“Okay, I’m ordering another ten thousand dollars in bail. How much time do we need for initial discovery?” the judge said.
“I’ve already turned over most of the evidence in connection with the related assault case,” Fred said. “I should be able to do the rest within two weeks.”
“Let’s come back in four weeks on both cases. I want preliminary witness lists exchanged within three and the first round of depositions scheduled before the next status conference. I want to fast track this case if we can. Any objection?”
“No, Your Honor,” both attorneys said simultaneously.
“May eighteenth at 9:00 a.m.,” the clerk said.
Fred nodded at Barry as he walked past the defense table. Fred had been fair throughout the whole process. He was pretty certain of that. Mostly because he had wanted to believe that Brody was innocent. There were probably a lot of complex reasons for that, some of them relating to his friendship with Barry. He probably let Barry take advantage more than he should. After all, Dustin and the chief had been convinced of the kid’s guilt long before there was even a body. He probably should have listened to them. Of course, the grand jury hadn’t been influenced by politics or friendship. They had heard an unbiased version of the evidence and decided to indict. That meant the kid was probably guilty. He should have realized it sooner.
CASSIE STILL couldn’t believe that her son had been charged with manslaughter––it was surreal. She hadn’t slept because she’d been worrying about Keenan and what might happen in court. Even though Barry had told them it was unlikely that Keenan would go to jail that day, she had still been afraid that Barry might be wrong. Thankfully, he hadn’t been.
After posting the additional bail, they met with Barry at his office. “We have some decisions to make,” Barry began. “First, the judge is giving us an opportunity to fast-track. I suspect it’s because he doesn’t want to deal with a prolonged media circus any more than we do.”
“I want to get this over with,” Keenan said.
“I can do that,” Barry said. “I don’t have any other cases that will require this level of attention in the short term. But you need to understand that, if we rush this, we’re more likely to make mistakes.”
“I need my life back,” Keenan said.
“Okay. When do you start school in the fall?” Barry said.
“Classes start the first week in September.”
“I’ll try to get trial dates at the end of August,” Barry said. “That might work to our advantage anyway. I like Judge Whippet, and Adams County is supposed to be getting a new judge in September.”
As the thought of a trial brought back images of her son in the courtroom, Cassie felt the now all too familiar turmoil in her stomach. She had to force herself to pay attention to Barry’s words––there might be something Keenan needed her to remember later.
“Right now, because of the timing, Keenan is facing charges under two separate docket numbers. The judge will want to join them, try the assault and manslaughter charges together. The prosecution too. We have to decide whether to oppose it.”
“You mean ask for two trials. Why would we want to do that?” Greg said.
“The biggest reason is that even if they’re not convinced of the assault, the jury may convict him of it as a compromise.”
“I don’t get it,” Cassie said. “Compromise?”
“Being a juror is a tough job. There’s pressure to be fair, but also not to let people get away with crimes. If we convince them that there’s not enough evidence for the manslaughter charge, they may convict
on the assault charge to hedge their bets on whether they got it right. I’m not saying they do it consciously. It’s just psychology. The conventional wisdom is that we’re better off splitting the charges if we can. That way we can also try to keep the evidence of Shannon’s death out of the assault charge.”
“But everybody around here already knows she’s dead,” Keenan said.
Barry shrugged. “I’m hoping to find fourteen jurors who don’t read the papers.”
“And two trials will cost twice as much, right?” Greg said.
“For the most part.”
“I don’t want to go through two trials,” Keenan said. “I just want to get this over with.” So did Cassie. But maybe she should try to talk him into two trials. If that would help keep him out of jail. It felt so counterintuitive. How was she supposed to know what was the right thing?
“I don’t blame you,” Barry said. “Ultimately, just like everything else we do, it’s your decision. I’ll tell you what I think is the best way to go, but I can’t force you to do things my way unless there’s a matter of ethics involved. Now for the second question. We need to decide if we’re going to file a motion to change venue.”
“What does that mean?” Keenan said.
“If we do nothing, the trial in this case will take place here in Adams County. If we don’t think we can get a fair trial here, we can ask to have it moved to another county here in Vermont. It’s generally within the judge’s discretion whether to allow it, but given the amount of media attention, there’s a good chance he’d grant it.”
“What are the pros and cons?” Cassie said. It was so much to process. She needed it distilled.
“If we keep it here, we’ll probably get to keep Judge Whippet. If we move it, we don’t know who we’ll get.”
“Judge Whippet’s good?” Cassie said.
“He’s fair. And that’s more than I can say for a lot of judges I’ve encountered. There’s also the expense. If we move it to another county, I’ll have travel expenses.”
“That could add up,” Greg said.
Barry nodded. “But by far the primary consideration is whether we’ll be able to find enough unbiased jurors in this county to get a fair trial. The media coverage may make that difficult. It’s been front page on the Adams Gazette for months. If we move it to a different county, it may be easier to find jurors that don’t read the bigger papers and their local papers may not have covered the story, or at least not have given it as much attention.”