First degree ac-2

  After a few more minutes she pulls into the driveway of a one-story redwood home. Kids play on the street, but none pay attention to her arrival. I realize I have no idea if she has kids or whether she's married or single. For my own limited purposes, I'd rather she lives alone, since I don't want her to have to consider other people when she hears my request.

  I park on the street directly in front of her house, and she's looking in my direction when I get out of the car. I think I see a flash of panic in her eyes, or maybe it's anger, or maybe it's an eyelash. I'm not that good an eye reader.

  She strides directly toward me. "What the hell are you doing here? I don't want you near my house."

  She thinks that will intimidate me; she's unaware that women have been saying stuff like that to me my whole life. "I was hoping we could continue our conversation," I say.

  "What conversation is that?" she challenges.

  "The one about Terry Murdoch."

  This time I'm pretty sure the eye flash is panic, but she doesn't back down. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Now, please, I--"

  I interrupt. "Did you know that Terry Murdoch is dead? Someone killed him to stop him from talking to me."

  She sags slightly and closes her eyes. "Oh, God …"

  "Can I come in?" I ask.

  She doesn't answer, just nods in resignation, turns, and walks toward the front door. I follow her inside. Chalk up another successful stakeout for the good guys.

  We're no sooner in the house than she asks me, "How did you figure it out?"

  I don't want to tell her the truth--that I wasn't even absolutely positive I was right until I saw her reaction to the news about Murdoch's death. So I simply say, "Dorsey's wife said he called someone 'Lieutenant' I assumed it was someone within the police department, until I realized Dorsey was a lieutenant himself, and people of the same rank don't talk that way."

  I pause for a moment, preparing to drop the bomb. "It had to have been Dorsey's commanding officer in the army, the special unit he was in with Murdoch and Cahill. It turns out that your boss Hobbs was a lieutenant in Vietnam at the same time as Dorsey, which makes him the logical choice. Also, the 911 call referred to Garcia as the 'perpetrator.' It's a word you might use."

  She doesn't react with any surprise at all; she's been living with this truth for a long time. "You can't prove it. Nobody can."

  "I don't have to prove it," I say. "I just have to shine a light on it."

  "I can't help you," she says.

  "You're the only one that can help me. And you've already tried to. But now it has to be out in the open. No more phone calls, no more masking your voice."

  She smiles at my naivete. "Do you have any idea what it would be like to come out publicly against a man like Damn Hobbs? Do you know what they would do to me?"

  I nod. "Laurie Collins faced the same decision with Dorsey two years ago. She knew it would be bad, and it's been worse than she could have imagined. It may well ruin her life. But she'd do it again ten times over."

  She speaks quietly, as if she's really talking to herself. I have a feeling this is a conversation she's had with herself quite a few times. "I've wanted to be an FBI agent my entire life."

  I shake my head. "I don't know you, but I'd bet you didn't want it like this. I don't think you can live with it like this, knowing what you know …"

  "I'm telling you, I have no proof that your client is innocent. I have no information about her at all."

  "I know that." I sense that she is weakening, and I am going to stay here and beg and plead and persuade until she caves. It is realistically the only chance Laurie has to stay out of prison. "I just want the information you have about Hobbs."

  She nods. "I've got plenty of that."

  I'm definitely making progress, and I want to be extra careful what I say so I don't blow it. "Would you tell me about it?"

  She sighs her defeat. "Are you hungry? This is going to be a long night."

  "The longer the better," I say. "Besides, I had four stakeout donuts in the car."

  "What is a stakeout donut?"

  This woman is an FBI agent? J. Edgar would snap his garters if he could hear this. "It's a technical term," I say. "You wouldn't understand."

  The next three hours are the most exciting I've ever spent, with a woman with my clothes on. Cindy has made a study of Hobbs from her vantage point as his subordinate/punching bag, and she has the goods on him.

  From his high-level perch in the FBI, he has essentially been providing protection for his elite army squad, which has come together for some domestic work. There were at least four men under Hobbs, probably more, though it will take investigatory work to find any others.

  All were involved in different types of criminal activity, still under Hobbs's command. But his blanket of protection was not total. Dorsey, for instance, drew too much attention to himself, and Hobbs couldn't keep him out of trouble without exposing himself. Murdoch had the bad luck of having his counterfeit plates found by the fire department, and it became public so quickly that Hobbs was powerless to intervene.

  For all intents and purposes, Cindy can prove what Hobbs has been up to, but with some glaring gaps, the main one being the Dorsey murder. She believes that Hobbs either murdered Dorsey himself or more likely sent Cahill to do it, but the evidence simply does not exist to get Laurie off the hook.

  By the time I leave her house at eleven o'clock, I've got a plan formulated. I call Kevin and bring him up to date, then I give him a list of subpoenas to start serving. I also tell him to call Captain Reid and ask for some special help. For us to have any chance to pull this off, we've got to start now.

  Laurie is waiting up when I get home; she would have stayed up if I didn't come home until November. She devours what I have to say and wants me to tell her exactly what we're going to do from here on in. I describe it as best I can, but a lot of it is going to be reactive, and she's just going to have to trust me.

  We get to sleep at two and we're up at six-thirty. I've got to be ready to play a different role today. I've spent most of my adult life in courtrooms, but today, for the first time, I'm going to be a witness.

  Kevin and I meet at the coffee shop to do a crash preparation for my testimony, since we didn't have a chance to go over it last night. What I learned from Cindy Spodek has changed our goal for my testimony. Rather than provide the crucial basis for our defense, I am in effect a setup man, helping the jury understand what they will later be presented with.

  Dylan again objects to my testifying, and Hatchet shoots him down. Kevin takes me through the basics of my relationship with Laurie, from our first meeting until today. I openly admit our romantic attachment; the jury knows about it anyway, and it's better that we acknowledge it voluntarily than let Dylan appear to be exposing it.

  Within fifteen minutes we're at the meat of what I'm here to say. I talk about the day that Stynes came into my office, describing my attorney-client privilege dilemma, my subsequent decision to defend Oscar, and my sending Laurie out to the stadium to retrieve what I thought were Stynes's clothes.

  "Did you ever see Stynes again?" Kevin asks.

  I nod, and for the first time I'm in danger of losing my focus and becoming emotional. "I asked a young man to help me find Alex Dorsey. His name was Barry Leiter, and when it was discovered that he was helping me, Stynes shot him to death in his home. The police killed Stynes on the scene, but it was too late to help Barry."

  After a few more questions Kevin and I make eye contact, and I can tell that we both feel we've covered the facts that we wanted the jury to hear. He sits down and lets Dylan have a shot at me.

  "Mr. Carpenter," he begins, "did anyone else hear Stynes's confession to you?"

  "No."

  "Had you ever met him before?"

  "No, I had not."

  "Was he referred to you by someone?"

  "No."

  "So out of the blue he came into your office and told you a story, which
you are now telling the jury. A story which just happens to argue against your client's guilt. Your lover's guilt. Is that what you're telling us?"

  "Yes. That's what I'm telling you."

  "This is a woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

  Kevin objects as to relevancy, but Hatchet lets me answer.

  "I certainly do."

  "And that would be difficult if she were in prison?" he asks.

  "It would. Which makes me glad the truth is on her side."

  Dylan objects, and he and Kevin fight it out for a while in a bench conference. When it concludes, Dylan veers off from this area and focuses on my involvement with Oscar Garcia. His contention is that I was less than zealous in my representation of Oscar, questioning me about my inability to uncover the bank tapes in the supermarket. The clear implication is I was throwing Oscar to the wolves to make sure Laurie stayed in the clear.

  Dylan asks, "If Mr. Garcia had been convicted, then Ms. Collins would likely not have been charged. Isn't that true?"

  "I can't answer that. You're the one who charges people without regard to the facts, so you might want to testify after I do."

  The jury laughs, which pleases me but infuriates Dylan. We spar for a little while longer, but he seems even happier to finally let me off the stand than I am to get off.

  The testimony went very well. We got out the story about Stynes without having to reveal what we know about his military connection to Dorsey, even without revealing that his real name is Cahill. The less of this that comes out before Hobbs takes the stand, the better. That's if we can get Hobbs to take the stand.

  Tomorrow will be the key to the entire trial, and Kevin and I go over our approach until past midnight. Marcus calls to report that the subpoenas have been served and that Hobbs was furious to receive one. Marcus served that one personally. He thought the level of Hobbs's anger was pretty funny; the fact that Hobbs might well be a Green Beret killing machine did not intimidate him. If I ever meet someone who intimidates Marcus, I am going to be very afraid of that person.

  Simply put, we have to make Hobbs look bad on the stand. So bad that suspicion gets cast on him and away from Laurie. We cannot prove that he murdered anyone, but we can prove some other facts, and the trick will be to get him to perjure himself by denying those facts. It's risky; if he detects our strategy, he can just admit to the facts and explain them away with minimal embarrassment. That would be it for our defense.

  Which means that would be it for Laurie.

  DYLAN HAS SMOKE COMING OUT OF HIS EARS when I arrive in court. He has been confronted by a roomful of potential witnesses that we have subpoenaed, none of whom were on our witness list. Which means he has not prepared for any of them.

  Those witnesses consist of four members of the Paterson Police Department, including Pete Stanton, as well as three FBI agents. Two of those agents are Darrin Hobbs, who is angry at the imposition, and Cindy Spodek, who is secretly privy to our scheme and nervous about her crucial role in it.

  Before the jury is called in, Dylan objects to the witnesses' appearance, based on our not having put them on our list, and also based on relevance. Hatchet agrees to hear argument on the matter, and I suggest that we might as well let the witnesses be in the courtroom to hear the argument themselves, as well as each other's subsequent testimony, should it be admitted. Dylan agrees, as I hoped and expected he would.

  If we don't get these witnesses in, we are dead in the water. "Your Honor," I say, "these people were not included on our witness list because they are rebuttal witnesses, called to rebut the specific testimony of Captain Franks."

  Hatchet is properly suspicious of my motivation here, since this is clearly overkill to rebut a relatively innocuous witness like Franks. "I didn't realize Captain Franks was that powerful a witness, nor that significant a part of this case," he observes dryly.

  "Respectfully, Your Honor, I disagree. He portrayed Lieutenant Dorsey as cut down in the prime of life just before reaching sainthood. I believe these witnesses will paint a truer picture, and it is important for the jury to hear that truth."

  "This is a delaying tactic, Your Honor," Dylan argues. "As well as an attempt to muddy the water and blame the victim. I urge you not to allow it."

  I jump in before Hatchet can say anything negative to our side; this is not an issue I can be passive about. "Your Honor, it is entirely possible that all of these witnesses will not be necessary. And if you determine that I am not eliciting significant and relevant facts, you can stop me in my tracks with a ruling."

  Hatchet stares another hole through my forehead. "Are you saying you will abide by my future rulings? Is that your idea of a concession?"

  He's caught me; I can't help smiling. "No, Your Honor. I am saying that you will find I would never waste the court's time."

  Hatchet lets the witnesses testify, putting me on a short leash by announcing he will not let this drag out if he feels it's repetitive. He also takes pains to confirm that I am not using Hobbs's presence as a backdoor attempt to get in the FBI report that he has already ruled out. I feign horror at even the prospect of it.

  I do have another request of Hatchet. "Your Honor, if we call Special Agent Hobbs, I would like to qualify him as an adverse witness. He has been antagonistic toward the defense throughout these proceedings."

  Qualifying a witness as adverse, or hostile, allows me to question him as if it were a cross-examination, giving me the leeway to ask leading questions. At this point the request does not seem to be a big deal to Hatchet or Dylan, and it is granted without objection. Satisfied that I've gotten what I need, I call FBI agent Albert Connolly.

  Connolly had been mentioned in the FBI report as one of the agents involved in the surveillance of Petrone's people and therefore of Dorsey. There is really nothing I want to get from Connolly; I am merely questioning him so that Hobbs will not realize that he is being targeted. When Hobbs is asked the same questions that he has heard asked of Connolly, he will be less likely to realize that we are laying a trap.

  So, with Hobbs and Cindy Spodek watching from the gallery, I have Connolly identify himself and describe his role in the Petrone investigation.

  With a glance at Hatchet, I tell Connolly, "I am not interested in the details of your investigation. I am simply trying to get your knowledge and impressions of Lieutenant Dorsey. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir," he says.

  "Good. Had you known or had any contact with Lieutenant Dorsey before you encountered him on this investigation?"

  "No, I had not."

  "Did you have occasion to have any direct conversations with him during the investigation?"

  "No."

  I take him through his observations of Dorsey during this investigation. My questions are brief and designed to elicit quick responses, since there is a very real danger that Hatchet will intervene.

  Connolly says that he really hadn't had much occasion to watch Dorsey, nor had he had much knowledge of his activities. Clearly, Dorsey was involved with members of organized crime, in ways that his police bosses would not have approved.

  "Are you familiar with a man named Roger Cahill, who also goes by the name Geoffrey Stynes?"

  "I am not."

  I let Connolly off the stand, and Dylan does not cross-examine. Instead, he calls for a bench conference, during which he again asks Hatchet to stop "this unproductive waste of the court's time." Since it is out of earshot of Hobbs, I promise that I will not call four of the seven witnesses I brought in today and will end the parade after only two more, Agents Hobbs and Spodek. Hatchet accepts the compromise, and I call Darrin Hobbs to the stand.

  I can count on zero fingers the number of times I've seen witnesses knowingly make self-incriminating statements. I would love trials to be like the one in A Few Good Men. I could get Jack Nicholson on the stand so he can scream, "You can't handle the truth!" at me and then, in a rage, admit his own guilt. But I never get that lucky, and I'm not going to get that
lucky with Hobbs. He will incriminate himself only if he doesn't believe he is doing so; he will expose himself to danger only if he is unaware that the danger exists.

  "Good morning, Agent Hobbs."

  "Good morning."

  "As I told Agent Connolly, I am not interested in the details of your investigation. I am simply trying to get your knowledge and impressions of Lieutenant Dorsey. Do you understand?"

  "I do."

  "You were in charge of the investigation which included Lieutenant Dorsey. Is that correct?"

  "He was a peripheral figure."

  "I understand. Had you known or had any contact with Lieutenant Dorsey before you encountered him on this investigation?"

  Hobbs doesn't even flinch; the son of a bitch lies through his teeth. "No, I had not."

  "Did you have occasion to have any direct conversations with him during the investigation?"

  "No."

  "How about since then?"

  "No."

  As with Connolly, I ask Hobbs a few quick questions about Dorsey's activities during the investigation. My final question is, "Are you familiar with a man named Roger Cahill, who also goes by the name Geoffrey Stynes?"

  "No, I am not. Other than what you've told me and I've read in the paper."

  "Thank you," I say. "No further questions." I want to add, "I've got you, you son of a bitch," but I control the impulse.

  Dylan again declines to cross-examine, and I surprise him and Hobbs by asking Hatchet to keep Hobbs present and available for recall this morning. I can see a flash of worry across Hobbs's face, but he still has no real idea of the hole he has just dug for himself.

  "Call Cindy Spodek."

  Cindy rises and walks to the witness stand, passing Hobbs on the way and staring him right in the eyes. If he didn't know he was in trouble before, he should now.

  "Agent Spodek," I begin, "who is your immediate superior at the FBI?"

  "Special Agent Darrin Hobbs."

  "The man who preceded you to the stand?"

  "Yes."

  "Were you present in the courtroom during his testimony?"

  "Yes, I was."