Desperate Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  She retrieved her purse in a way so she could feel the glass still in it, nodded at the bartender and backed up several steps away from the thunderstruck Leo, unconscious Ike and still moaning and bleeding Johnny. Without another word she turned and quickly walked out of the bar. A minute later, the deputy who was to be her backup slipped unnoticed out of the restaurant to follow her. When he reached the parking lot, he found Maddy and his compatriot waiting for him.

  As he approached the two of them, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Tony answered on the first ring and anxiously asked, “Everything okay?”

  “I thought you said she might need some protection. Or did I misunderstand? Was I there to protect her from Leo and his thugs or protect them from her? I may have been confused. Here, I’ll let her tell you,” he said as he handed the phone to a smiling Madeline.

  Without telling him the details of the fight, she told him everything went well and she got what they wanted. They made plans to meet at Vivian’s right away and she ended the call. She thanked both of the deputies and asked if they had been paid.

  “I would have paid you to see this,” the second deputy said. “You should have seen the show,” he said to the one who had left first under Leo’s escort.

  “Thanks again, guys. I have to go,” Maddy laughed as she headed to her car.

  Two hours later, the glass with Leo’s fingerprints and maybe a little DNA, were being couriered to Vivian’s New York friend. He would get the prints professionally lifted from it, any trace DNA swabbed out of it and the results sent to his contact in Russia.

  EIGHTY-ONE

  Marcella Washington looked up from her desk when she heard the knock on the office door directly in front of where she sat. Without waiting for Marcella to answer, the door slowly opened and three serious looking men, all dressed similarly in standard business suits, stepped through the door and looked down at Marcella. The first one to enter, an attractive young black man reached in his inside coat pocket, removed a billfold and opened it to show Marcella his credentials.

  “Good morning, Ms. Washington,” the man said. “I’m Damian Darsen. I’m a lawyer with the US Attorney’s office here in Minneapolis and it’s very important we meet with Judge Rios.”

  “About what?” Marcella asked.

  “That’s none of your business,” the oldest of the three men, a dour, almost bald white man said.

  “And who might you be?” Marcella asked with obvious attitude.

  “Wait,” Damian interrupted, turning first to the bald white guy then back to Marcella. “Please, Ms. Washington. It’s very important we see her before her trial starts,” he softly said.

  “I’ll see if she has the time,” Marcella testily answered him as she got up and walked around her desk. She lightly knocked on the door to the judge’s chambers, went in and closed it behind her.

  Without looking up from the document she was reading, Judge Rios asked, “What’s going on out there?”

  “There’s a fine looking young man I want to introduce my niece to from the U.S. Attorney’s office and a couple of grumpy old white guys with him. They look to be feds. They say they need to see you.”

  Rios laughed and said, “At eight o’clock? Show them in, please.”

  Marcella opened the door and stood aside as the three men entered. She scowled at the three men behind their backs, went out and closed the door as the judge pleasantly told the men to be seated.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “Your Honor,” Darsen began, “we have an order here enjoining you from allowing Leo Balkus to be forced to testify. I’m afraid he cannot be put on your witness stand.”

  “An order from whom?” she asked as she reached across her desk to take the document from Darsen.

  “It’s a FISA court order,” the bald man said.

  “And who are you?” she asked him.

  “My name is Benton Alquist. I’m here from Washington. The Department of Homeland Security. This is a matter of…” in a clearly condescending voice.

  “We’ll get to that,” Rios said abruptly cutting him off and sending him the unmistakable message that she ran her office. “And you are?” she asked the third one.

  “Charles Swain, your Honor,” he answered respectfully. “Special Agent, FBI. I am with the local office,” he said as he handed her his credentials case.

  Rios took the credentials from Swain and began to write down his name and his number. As she did this she said, “I want to see both of your ID’s as well.”

  The two men handed them over and Rios wrote down the information from them. The Homeland Security representative, visibly annoyed with how this was proceeding, sat back, crossed his legs and sighed heavily.

  When Rios finished reading the order, she handed back their credentials and said to Darsen, “What’s going on here, Mr. Darsen?”

  The bored Alquist said, “This is a matter…”

  “I was talking to him, Mr. Alquist. Now, you may be a big deal hotshot from Washington but this is still my court and you will treat me and it with due respect or I will put your ass in jail. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” a chastened Alquist answered her.

  “All we can tell you, your Honor, is that this is a matter of national security and the government has obtained an injunction to stop you from putting Leo Balkus on the stand. To be honest, your Honor, I don’t know why and if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Mr. Alquist?” Rios asked.

  “That is correct, your Honor,” he answered much more respectfully. “And you are not to discuss this with anyone except the lawyers. We will stay behind to discuss it with them.”

  “Agent Swain, why are you here?”

  “The FBI has an interest in this matter that I cannot go into. I’m just here to observe and report.”

  Rios silently looked back and forth at the three men thinking it over. Finally, she said, “I’ll tell you men something. I don’t like this one bit. I have a man on trial for his life and he is being precluded from putting on a key witness. This will certainly be grounds for an appeal.” She then picked up the phone, dialed Marcella and asked her if the lawyers were in her courtroom and if so, to bring them in. Two minutes later, Marcella opened the door and stood aside as Marc, Gondeck and Jennifer Moore all walked in looking puzzled.

  “We have a problem,” Rios announced to them as they came in. She held up the federal court order and motioned for Marc to come forward and get it.

  While Marc and Gondeck, with Jennifer looking between their shoulders, read the injunction, Darsen said, “That is for you to read only. That document leaves with us and no copies will be made.”

  After Marc had read enough to know what it was, he angrily said, “You got a Federal Intelligence Surveillance Act court order to protect Leo Balkus. What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you know what a sleazy scumbag this guy is?”

  “We’re not here to debate this,” the DHS representative said. “We’re here to inform you, as politely as possible, that Leo Balkus will not take the stand. Further, none of this leaves this room. There are serious national security concerns which we cannot go into.”

  “Marc,” Darsen said. “They’re serious about this. If you go out there and raise a stink about it, you will be prosecuted. Sorry but that’s the deal.”

  “I have to tell my client,” Marc said as Gondeck handed the document back to the government’s lawyer.

  “No you don’t,” Darsen answered him. “No one outside of this room, period. And this will not be grounds for an appeal. You do not even present this to an Appeals Court.”

  “Then I want a mistrial, your Honor,” Marc said to Rios.

  “No, no mistrial,” Darsen said. “At least not because of this. If you declare a mistrial, your Honor, you’ll have to explain why. Sorry, can’t allow it.”

  “Who is this guy?” Gondeck asked. “What the hell is going on here? Marc’s right, Leo Balkus should
be on death row, not protected by the government. What the hell is going on here, Charlie?” Gondeck asked the FBI agent, a man he had known for several years.

  “Sorry, Steve. My hands are tied.”

  With that, Darsen stood up and the two men he came with did also. “Thank you for your time, your Honor.” He held out his hand for the FISA order and Marc reluctantly gave it to him. The three men from the federal government silently filed out of Rios’ chambers leaving the judge and the three lawyers, all of whom were still standing, mildly shocked at what had just happened. No one knew quite what to say and after a minute, the judge finally asked Marc, “Do you have any other witnesses ready to go this morning?”

  “Uh, yeah. I have my character witnesses lined up. After this, they’ll take up today.”

  “Okay,” Rios said. “We’ll get started at nine. You good with that, Marc?”

  “Yes, your Honor.”

  For the rest of the day the trial dragged on with Marc’s list of character witnesses. He and Maddy had had a difficult time finding any who were willing to testify on behalf of Prentiss. Mostly what he wanted them for was to testify that they had known both Gordon and Catherine for years. They all testified that they considered themselves good friends and were extremely shocked at the allegations of domestic abuse.

  Marc had each on the stand for a little over an hour apiece. None had anything to offer about guilt or innocence, but he could at least use their testimony to argue reasonable doubt about the second murder one charge; a homicide arising from domestic abuse when there has been a pattern of abuse.

  The last one was Prentiss’ former partner, Carter McElhenney. He spent almost two hours on the stand late Monday afternoon. He came across extremely well and not only refuted the allegations of abuse but literally scoffed at them. He admitted that Gordon could be difficult at times and demanding. And yes, he had an ego which was hardly unusual in their profession. This hardly made him an abuser let alone a murderer. Marc ended his questioning and turned him over to Gondeck for his cross-examination.

  Each of the previous character witnesses had been forced to admit, by Gondeck on cross-examination, that no matter how well they knew the Prentisses, or anyone else for that matter, they could not be sure what went on behind closed doors.

  “You seem pretty certain in your belief that the accused did not abuse his wife.”

  “I am very certain of it,” McElhenney answered.

  “How could you be so sure?”

  “Because Catherine would have told me,” he answered. McElhenney almost stopped there wondering if Gondeck would ask the obvious follow-up question. Since the prosecutor might not and since it was a poorly worded, open-ended question, he decided to make sure he said what he wanted to say. He finished his answer and dropped the bombshell. “You see, last year, for almost ten months, Catherine and I were having an affair. We spent two or three afternoons each week in a hotel room and I have no doubt she would have told me.”

  As soon as he said it, a buzz went through the courtroom and all of the jurors sat up looking alternately between McElhenney and Gordon Prentiss. Taken off guard, a stunned Steve Gondeck tried to recover but quickly knew it was futile. He asked a few more innocuous questions in a lame attempt to change the subject and distract the jury, but it didn’t work.

  “Redirect, Mr. Kadella?” Rios asked.

  “Yes, your Honor. Mr. McElhenney, did Judge Prentiss know about your affair with his wife?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “I’m curious, why didn’t you tell me about the affair?”

  “Because my wife didn’t know about it. I never told her.”

  “I see. Why did it end?”

  “My wife and I were having problems before I became involved with Catherine. I ended it to try to save my marriage.”

  “And you became close enough with Catherine Prentiss so that if she was being abused by her husband she would have told you?”

  “No doubt about it.”

  “Did you ever see any physical signs of abuse on her?”

  “None.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McElhenney. I have nothing further, your Honor.”

  With that exchange, the trial recessed for the day. As Carter McElhenney walked past the defense table to exit the courtroom, he was watched with a murderous stare by Gordon Prentiss. It was a look Marc noticed and prayed none of the jurors would see the violence in Gordon’s heart.

  “What do you have to report today, Gabriella,” Melinda asked into the camera.

  “A bit of a bombshell was dropped in this afternoon’s session,” Gabriella replied. “The defense started its case today and Marc Kadella, the lawyer for Judge Prentiss, put on several witnesses that knew both judge and Catherine Prentiss very well.”

  “Gabriella, please stop calling him judge. He’s a murdering, wife-beating, sex pervert and it makes my skin crawl when you call him that,” Melinda interrupted.

  Gabriella managed to keep a straight face and not show her displeasure at Melinda’s blatant unprofessionalism. Instead, she ignored the foolish remark by her and continued reporting.

  “Each of today’s witnesses testified that they had known the Prentisses for years and had never seen any indication of any abuse. The last witness, a partner in the defendant’s former law firm, a man by the name of Carter McElhenney, also testified he was a friend of both. Then he told today’s big surprise. He claimed he and Catherine had a ten-month long affair last year and she never once mentioned anything about being abused and he never saw any signs of abuse. He was the last witness of the day and the courtroom was certainly buzzing with that bit of news.”

  “Did he say anything about Gordon Prentiss knowing of the affair? That would certainly be motive for domestic abuse by the pervert.”

  Gabriella cringed a little at Melinda’s characterization then said, “He was quite clear that the defendant knew nothing about it.”

  “Interesting. Well, who can blame her for getting involved with another man after living with Gordon Prentiss for years? Thank you for that report, Gabriella.”

  As Marc was riding down in the crowded elevator to go back to his office, he was scrolling through the day’s text messages. He ignored and deleted all but three. There was an urgent one from Carolyn, one of the office assistants telling him to call Maddy and an urgent one from Maddy requesting a callback. The third one was from Margaret Tennant sarcastically wishing him to get well soon. This one caused a twinge of guilt knowing he had not spoken to her for more than a week.

  When Marc reached the building’s main floor, the second-floor atrium, he found a quiet spot and called his investigator. Madeline answered right away and without even saying hello, said, “We need to meet as soon as you’re done for the day.”

  “I’m done now. What’s so urgent?”

  “I’m at the New Kid’s Brewery. Do you know it?”

  “No, what and where is it?”

  “It’s a trendy new place in the Warehouse District. It’s a block south of Washington on North Second. Do you know it?”

  “I’ll find it. What’s up?”

  “I’m sitting here having a drink with Ava Hammond. She has something to tell you.”

  EIGHTY-TWO

  Marc arrived at the courtroom shortly before 8:00 A.M. Tuesday morning. When he stepped off the elevator, his anxiety level was through the roof. As soon as he walked around the corner away from the bank of elevators and into the hallway leading to the courtroom, a wave of relief washed over him and he physically slumped, relaxing at the sight that awaited him. Seated on one of the cushioned benches two doors down from Rios’ courtroom was Maddy Rivers literally holding the hand of Ava Hammond.

  As his next witness, the one to be first up this morning, Marc had scheduled the therapist who had seen Catherine Prentiss before she started working with Jeffrey Chase. The doctor’s name was Lionel Parker and he was going to testify that Catherine had not mentioned any abuse to him. Marc was still going to
have him testify, but he wanted the man on and off the stand as quickly as possible.

  Marc opened the door of the courtroom next to Rios’ and was pleased to find it empty. He motioned for Maddy and Ava to follow him inside and when they sat down in the empty gallery he said, “I want you to stay here until the deputy comes for you. I don’t want Gondeck to see you sitting in the hallway.”

  “You think he’ll wonder what’s going on?” Ava asked with a weak smile.

  “Exactly. How are you doing?”

  “I’ll be glad when it’s over. Maddy was right. I feel better just telling someone. Even if I get in trouble, I just don’t care.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Marc said.

  Since he had plenty of time, he went over her testimony again. They had left the bar shortly after Marc arrived yesterday afternoon. He had gone back to his office with both women and spent almost four hours going over her story and laying out her testimony. A quick once over this morning was just the thing to help calm her down.

  Marc put Dr. Parker on the stand and as quickly as he dared went over his credentials, his professional history and treatment of Catherine Prentiss. Originally Marc had wanted to parade all of Catherine’s therapists before the jury but had been dissuaded by Rios and common sense. Too much of this would have bored and annoyed the jury and could actually blowback on his client. One expert to testify Catherine had not mentioned anything about abuse during their sessions would get the message across.

  “Why did she stop coming to you, Doctor?” Marc asked his final question.

  “It was basically mutual. She wasn’t getting anything from the sessions so she stopped and I didn’t see any reason to dissuade her.”

  Jennifer Moore spent fifteen minutes with cross-exam to get him to admit had Catherine told him about her problems at home, could he have done more?

  “Certainly,” he answered. “In fact, I always felt she was withholding from me,” an answer that made Marc cringe.

  Jennifer did what she could to get the doctor to elaborate on this. He tried, but it was mostly speculation and conjecture and Marc’s objections put an end to it.