Certain Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  Marc looked at Father John and said, “You can sit at the table with us but when his case gets called I want you to stay there when we go up. If the judge addresses you just answer her questions. I doubt she will. She may have you come forward to stand with us. If she does, come on up.”

  “Okay,” the priest replied. “Will there be cameras in the courtroom?”

  “No,” Marc said. “The TV people are appealing the judge’s order but they’ll lose. It’s totally in her discretion and I am completely opposed to it. So, no TV.”

  “Good,” Howie said.

  The three of them went into the courtroom and Marc saw Steve Gondeck seated at a table. Marc quietly told Howie and Father John to sit at the table on which he had left his briefcase. He then motioned to Gondeck to come to him.

  Anticipating Marc’s question as soon as Marc closed the jury room door behind them, Gondeck said, “I know you’re pissed, I get it but it wasn’t my fault. I can’t prevent others from leaking stuff to the media.”

  Marc stared at him for several seconds showing no expression on his face at all. Finally, he said, “I know. I just wanted to see you squirm a little.”

  “I wasn’t any happier about it than you,” Gondeck said. “If I find out who’s doing it I’ll have their ass. You want a gag order, I won’t oppose it.”

  “A gag order only stops me. Your cops will still ignore it. Actually, the reason I wanted to talk to you is I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t an arraignment a little beneath your totally lofty status?”

  “Kiss my ass, Kadella,” Gondeck replied smiling. “Tell you the truth; I got Slocum looking over my shoulder. He wants a conviction on this one desperately. He knows you’re defending and…”

  “So tell him to try it,” Marc said.

  “…he still hates your guts. But he’s too busy with political crap, or so he says.”

  Marc smiled, turned the handle on the door and said, “Let’s go get this over with. Oh, you will allow bail, right?”

  “Take your best shot,” Gondeck said as he went through an open doorway.

  Marc shook hands with Howie who then turned to be led back to jail by two deputies. Without being consciously aware of it, Marc wiped the hand he used to shake with Howie on his pant leg.

  The hearing had gone as predicted. Howie pleaded not guilty, Marc argued futilely for bail and the whole thing was over in less than fifteen minutes.

  The sheriff’s deputies had cleared the hallway mob beforehand so the courtroom spectators were filing out unimpeded. Gondeck had made his exit through the back hallway and Marc took a seat at the table to wait for the crowd to leave. Gabriella came through the gate, took the chair Gondeck had used and rolled it next to Marc.

  “You got a camera out there?” Marc asked referring to the hall.

  “Yeah, can I get a quote from you? I see Gondeck snuck out the back.”

  “What’s the deal with Melinda Pace? I thought she got canned,” Marc asked.

  “Money,” Gabriella answered. “Ratings are down and her show is cheap to produce and the station makes buckets of money off it.”

  “I thought you were news,” Marc said.

  “We are but the lines get blurry sometimes. She’s mostly entertainment dressed up as news. Stop looking at my legs.”

  “Don’t wear dresses. Will I be on her show again?”

  “That’s not up to me,” Gabriella said. “The station management assured me she’s cleaned up her act and she’s on a short leash.”

  Marc thought about what she just told him then said, “I’ll believe it when I see it. I don’t trust her, but I do trust you. I’ll have to be careful what I say. Plus she’s not my problem to deal with.”

  That afternoon, Melinda’s show, The Court Reporter went live. Normally she taped the show to allow for editing but she had to wait for Gabriella’s report.

  Melinda spent the first half of the show indignantly reporting about judges sentencing decisions. She had two cases: one from California and one from Vermont. Both involved very lenient sentences for child molesters.

  When Melinda returned from the commercial break she reported the arraignment of Howie Traynor. Melinda held a law degree from the University of Minnesota. She also spent several years as a reporter covering the various courts around the Twin Cities. In fact, this was how she came up with the idea for her show. Because of her legal background, she was very well qualified to explain the legal process and court proceedings.

  “Basically, folks,” she said concluding her description of an arraignment, “it’s pretty much a formality. The idea is to make sure the defendant understands the charges against him. It’s also to make a formal plea and to be sure the defendant understands his rights.

  “The lawyers can then argue for or against bail. In this case, given the severity of the many crimes Traynor allegedly,” Melinda held up both hands and made air quotes around the word, allegedly, “committed, no judge would allow bail.”

  She then aired about a minute of the interview of Marc Kadella and Gabriella Shriqui. Melinda and Gabriella did a live two-minute Q & A about the case before the show went to another commercial.

  “It’s time for my favorite part of the show,” she said when the show came back. “Our dumbest criminals segment.

  “Today the award goes to Steven Walker of Tampa, Florida. After robbing a liquor store three blocks from his house, he went directly home and posted a notice on Snapchat that he was hiding there. The liquor store owner, having seen our genius many times and knowing his name because he had carded him many times, told the police who he was.

  “A police monitor of social media found the Snapchat post. While searching his house the suspect mischievously posted another message proclaiming that the police were in his house at that moment searching for him. He then decided to let the internet world know he was hiding in a cabinet, certain the cops would never find him. Of course, this little tidbit was seen by the officer monitoring his Snapchat account.

  “The resulting arrest completely shocked Mr. Walker. Have a great day folks.”

  During and after her on air Q & A with Melinda, Gabriella was watching the show on a small monitor she had on-site at the government center. The moment she finished it Gabriella was on the phone.

  “I saw it,” Hunter Oswood said without even saying hello when Gabriella called.

  “What the hell is the matter with her?” Gabriella angrily asked. “Doesn’t she get it that those little air quote gestures she makes are the equivalent of her winking at the audience?”

  “I’ll talk to her,” an exasperated Oswood said. “I already put in a call to her producer to have her call me as soon as she gets off the air.”

  “Okay,” a calmer Gabriella replied. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  FORTY

  Something had been bothering Marc ever since the arraignment of Howie Traynor. It was a thought just below the surface at the back of his mind, a tickle or a minor itch that he couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t there all the time but it wouldn’t completely dissipate either.

  Marc was seated at one end of Margaret Tennant’s dining room table working on a tricky divorce case. Margaret was working on several files at the other end of the table.

  His divorce case was between a couple in their mid-seventies and was quite acrimonious. Marc represented the husband and the reason for the difficulty was entirely on him. In fact, the wife had started the divorce because, as her lawyer told him, she was, “Tired of waiting for the mean old bastard to die.”

  While he worked on his pleadings for a discovery motion made necessary by the recalcitrance of his client, it suddenly occurred to him what was bothering him. Marc put down his pen, folded his hands, looked past Margaret and thought about what had just popped into his head. Marc stared straight ahead like this for over a minute until Margaret looked up and noticed him.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” Marc murmured.

  “You’re thi
nking about something, what is it?”

  “Oh, um, something about the Traynor case,” he quietly said.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Put your judge hat on and let me ask you a question.”

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  “The cops get a search warrant…this is all hypothetical, of course, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway,” he continued, “the cops get a valid search warrant for a specific apartment in a specific apartment building.”

  “Okay,” Margaret nodded.

  “During the course of the search, one of them wanders down the building’s hallway, finds a janitor’s closet and goes in. Inside he finds evidence, I won’t tell you what yet, to use against the defendant. Is it admissible?”

  Margaret thought about it for a moment then asked, “Was the closet door locked?”

  “You know, I don’t know, but I’d guess not. For now let’s assume it was.”

  “If it was locked then you could argue the cop had no right to go inside and it would be inadmissible.”

  “What if it wasn’t locked?”

  “Then, I’d want to see some case law on it but my guess is the closet would be considered a common area for the tenants and anyone lawfully in the building. The person they were searching would have no expectation of privacy for anyone lawfully in the building. If that’s true, then the evidence would be admissible.”

  “Which is probably the case since I know this cop and I don’t see him picking a lock to get into a janitor’s closet.”

  “Why did he go into it in the first place? What caused him to look in there at all?” Margaret asked.

  Marc hesitated for a moment then said, “You know, that’s an excellent question. Why would he bother? Why would he, during a search of the defendant’s apartment, expect to find something in a janitor’s closet, especially one that all of the tenants can access?”

  “Worth checking,” Margaret said.

  “You’re very smart,” Marc said with an admiring look.

  “I know,” Margaret replied and patted herself on the back.

  “That’s why I keep you around.”

  “That’s disappointing. I thought it was my smoking hot body and insatiable sex drive.”

  “That too.”

  “Speaking of which,” she continued rolling her eyes toward the stairs leading to her bedroom. “Getting to be about that time, don’t you think?’

  The next day Marc skipped up the back stairs leading to his office taking them two at a time. When he reached the building’s second floor he was light-headed and out of breath. The life of a practicing lawyer did not always allow for regular exercise. He regained his composure and went into his office.

  That morning on the drive from Margaret’s to his apartment to change clothes, an idea came to him. Someone must have told Owen Jefferson to check out the janitor’s closet and what to look for, especially on the roof. And Marc had a pretty good idea who that someone might be.

  The day before, after the arraignment, Marc had left a message for Maddy Rivers. He was going to need an investigator and he believed she would jump at the chance. Normally she would have called him back within minutes. Oddly, so far, she had not returned his call.

  His number one suspect for the heads up to Jefferson about the closet was Tony Carvelli. Providing a little clandestine information to them is something Marc could see Tony doing. Madeline’s failure to return his call was starting to make him wonder if she was involved as well.

  He settled into his office chair and placed calls and left messages for both Tony and Maddy. The rest of the morning was spent with other cases and billing his time. Shortly after eleven, Carolyn buzzed him for a call from Maddy.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you got my message,” he said.

  “Yeah, I did. Listen, um, we need to talk. Can we meet for lunch in a half hour or so?”

  “That ‘we need to talk’ line usually means your girlfriend is about to dump you. I know that’s not the case so, what’s up?”

  “I don’t want to talk over the phone. I’ll buy you lunch for a change.”

  They agreed upon a place and time and Marc arrived at the restaurant to find her already waiting for him.

  “Okay, so what’s going on that you haven’t returned my call?” Marc asked.

  Maddy hesitated to answer and then the waitress appeared. The two of them ordered their lunch and she left.

  “I can’t work for you on the Traynor case, Marc. I have a conflict and I’m not sure how much I can tell you,” she finally replied. “I’m really sorry. You know I love working with you but I can’t this time. Don’t hate me,” she added with a sorrowful, pleading look.

  “Hate you?” Marc said completely taken aback by that comment. “Of course I don’t hate you. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Thanks,” she said, obviously relieved. “I was worried you’d be mad.”

  Marc silently stared at her thinking about what she had told him and knowing why.

  “What? Say something,” she nervously said.

  “Did the cops send you into Howie’s building or did you and Tony come up with that on your own?”

  At that moment, the waitress reappeared with their lunch salads. Maddy used the time she was serving the two of them to gather her thoughts before replying to Marc’s surprising but accurate question.

  “Why, ah, why would you think…”

  “Madeline!” Marc sternly whispered. He was leaning across the table, the lawyer cross-examining a hostile witness now. “Stop it. I know it was you and Tony. I know who your client is and she shall remain nameless. But I have every right to know what the hell is going on here. Don’t try to play me, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” she meekly replied.

  “I’m going to rephrase the question. I want you to listen carefully and answer only this question. Okay?”

  “Yes, I get it.”

  “Was it you that found the stairway to the apartment roof in the hallway janitor’s closet?”

  “Yes,” she quietly answered.

  “Did you break into the building at the behest of the police?”

  “No,” she defiantly answered. “The cops knew nothing about it. And I didn’t break into the building at all. I went to the front door and a woman, I assume she was a tenant, came out and let me in.”

  For the next few minutes, the two good friends picked at their salads in silence. Madeline had convinced herself that she could beg off working with Marc on the Traynor defense by simply claiming a conflict of interest. When he verbally slapped her by asking her about being in Traynor’s apartment building, she was almost stunned. Now that fact was out in the open and she could not put it back.

  At the same time, Marc was contemplating the dilemma he was in. His legal, moral, and ethical responsibility was to go after her on behalf of his client. If he did, she could lose her P.I. license and maybe go to jail. Marc knew she broke into Howie’s apartment. He knew she was quite capable of it and that was the real reason she went into the building. He made up his mind he would not ask her about it unless he absolutely had to.

  “Your opinion of me means a great deal to me,” Maddy said. “I don’t want to ruin that.”

  “My opinion of you hasn’t changed a bit,” Marc replied with a smile. “He reached across the table with both hands to hold both of hers. “I will do everything I can to protect you but my first duty is to my client. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” she said with a weak smile and a squeeze of his hands.

  He released her hands then leaned back in the booth. After a moment, he sighed and said, “I won’t ask you what else, if anything, you did in that building unless I absolutely have to, which I may have to do. Okay?”

  “I understand,” she said. “Marc, there’s something I want to tell you but it has to be off the record. Will you promise me that?”

  “Madeline, I can’t do that,” he said. He hesitate
d then added, “Or at least I shouldn’t. Okay, you have my word, it will be just between you and me.”

  She leaned forward as did Marc and their noses were barely inches apart. “The evidence the cops found in his apartment, the barbed wire, wire cutters and gloves were not there the day before.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked then quickly added, “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

  Remaining in her position leaning across the table, she added, “I’ll tell you something else, too. This you can use. Tony and me and a few retired cop friends of his did surveillance on your guy for about three weeks.”

  “When?”

  “Tony will have a record. Lay a subpoena on him and he’ll give it to you. I don’t have all the details. But I know it was during the time of the first three killings. That judge up North, that woman prosecutor, what’s-her-name…”

  “Rhea Watson,” Marc said.

  “Right and the judge, the second one…”

  “Peterson?”

  “Yeah, him. Then we dropped it because Traynor wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Why did Vivian Donahue want him watched?” Marc asked. “Off the record, of course.”

  “Because he murdered her aunt and she wanted someone to check him out. Keep an eye on him. She didn’t believe his ‘I found Jesus’ act and neither do I. Do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Marc said. “It really doesn’t matter what I believe.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Gene Parlow and his younger brother Troy were heading south on I-35W. At Burnsville, the freeway coming out of Minneapolis, I-35W joined I-35E coming from St. Paul to re-form to become southbound I-35. About a mile past the junction of the two parts of I-35, the brothers opened up their Harleys. Traffic was still fairly heavy but concern about ending up on a slab in a morgue was never high on their list. Weaving in and out of traffic also made it impossible for the two MPD cops to keep up with them.

  They covered the fifty miles to Faribault in less than forty minutes. Approximately half-way through the small city they exited the freeway. Heading southwest the brothers drove four miles and arrived at their destination; a public beach and picnic area on Cannon Lake. Because it was an October weekday the area was completely empty. As instructed, they parked their bikes and found a picnic table to sit at and wait. Thirty minutes later a black Escalade parked next to the bikes and four men got out to join them.