With nothing left to tell, and absolutely nothing left to eat, Marcus leaves to go wherever it is that Marcus goes. I call Sam Willis and ask him to come over right away.
“What’s going on?” he asks, probably wondering if he should pack his gun.
“I need your help tracing some phone records.” Sam has amazing ways, none of which could possibly be legal, of finding out information like this on the computer.
“Oh.”
Sam is at the house in fifteen minutes, and I give him the cell phone. “I want to know everyone he’s called, and everyone who has called him.”
“Going back how far?”
“The Revolutionary War.” I also give Sam the motel name and room number and ask if he can check what calls were made from that room.
He nods. “Going out, but not coming in. They would come in to the main switchboard, and there’s no way to know where they’re directed from there. It’s not like the motel was going to bill him for incoming calls.”
“Sam, it’s very important that you don’t leave any trace of yourself in this.”
“Of course not. Why?”
“Because the person who owned this phone and stayed in that room was murdered today.”
Sam lights up like a little boy who’s just been given a lollipop. “He was? Was he a bad guy or a good guy?”
“A bad guy.”
“That is so cool … did you kill him?”
“Of course not.”
“Did Marcus?”
“No.”
He nods. “Cool. I’m on the case.”
Once Sam leaves, my next call is to Pete. “I talked to Double J,” I say.
“Good for you.”
“He doesn’t think Noah did it.”
“Maybe you should try and get him on the jury,” he says. “Are we nearing the point of this call?”
“I need your help.”
“That is the sole reason for my existence.”
“I have a beer bottle. I need it dusted for fingerprints, and then run through the computer for a match.”
Pete is going to give me a very hard time about this, and I considered getting the information from a few other sources available to Laurie and me. But Pete is the only one I trust to do it quickly and discreetly, so I’m willing to endure the abuse.
“Does this relate to the Galloway case?” he asks.
“It does.”
“Give me the beer bottle at Charlie’s tonight,” he says. I wasn’t planning to go, but now I will. “You can give it to me in the parking lot, but keep it separate from the cases.”
“What cases?”
“The two cases of beer you’re going to give me for doing this for you. American beer, none of that stick-your-pinkie-out-when-you-drink stuff.”
“You’re demanding a payoff?” I ask.
“I am.”
“I thought all you cared about was getting to the truth.”
He pauses for a moment. “I see nothing about receiving beer that is inconsistent with the search for the truth.”
“I’ll see you at Charlie’s,” I say.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
For the first time in the entire operation, Loney was worried.
He had made a couple of mistakes, and made some tough decisions, and they seemed likely to come back to haunt him.
His first mistake was hiring Camby, and then having him follow Carpenter. He had no respect for Camby’s smarts or ability, and should have realized that Carpenter would realize he was being followed. Beyond that, there was little value in watching Carpenter at all, and certainly not enough to justify the risk.
Mistake number two, and a much bigger one, was in giving Camby a cell phone, and letting him use it to call Loney. Once Marcus Clark had left, Loney had gone into the motel room and done a quick search. Camby’s phone was missing, and Loney assumed that Clark had taken it with him. That was a real problem.
Loney didn’t feel in any personal jeopardy, at least not from the police and certainly not from Carpenter. Nor was he worried about the people who ran the operation; they were businessmen and weren’t personally dangerous. They hired people to be dangerous for them, which was why Loney wound up in their employ.
No, the man Loney was worried about was his real boss, Carmine Ricci. Carmine provided the muscle for the operation; Loney was the prime example of that. Loney didn’t know if Carmine got a piece of the action, or just a healthy fee, and it really wasn’t Loney’s business.
But whatever the arrangement, it was all predicated on Carmine being kept well out of it. Anything that came back to him personally, or caused him a moment of worry, was something that Loney was not to have happen.
This situation with Camby and the cell phone, while a couple of layers removed from Carmine, was still a cause for concern. And the first decision Loney had to make was whether to tell Carmine about it.
If he didn’t tell him, there was always the chance that the phone records could lead to Loney’s phone, and then eventually to Carmine, or people close to him.
But Loney knew something about the law, and he knew that Carpenter did not have subpoena power. Therefore the phone records would be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain, and in any event the process would be very time-consuming.
Loney decided that it was a risk worth taking not to tell anyone, at least for the moment. He would be alert to problems as they came up, and he’d handle them the way he always handled problems.
By killing the people who created them.
But at the moment he had something else to do. He had a trial to stop.
Judge Anthony De Luca is the judicial version of me.
Just as I’m a lawyer who doesn’t like lawyering, Judge De Luca is a judge who avoids judging whenever he can. I can respect that.
The way De Luca does it is to call the parties to the dispute before him, and ominously warn that a settlement is in their best interest. Since most cases result in a winner and a loser, it’s a testament to De Luca’s persuasiveness that he can make each side panic and feel their interests are in great peril. He served as an officer in army intelligence in his younger days, which may be where he acquired some of his talent for making people cave.
Of course, De Luca’s tactics are more effective in civil cases than criminal ones, but while he used to operate mostly in that area, in recent years he has moved to almost exclusively handle criminal matters.
The reason for that is simple. De Luca comes from a very prominent local family, and they have long been fixtures in the legal and business communities. There have been Judge De Lucas as far back as the eighteen hundreds, and those De Lucas who haven’t been judges have been practicing lawyers and leading businessmen. There are few major law or business schools in the country that haven’t graduated a De Luca.
The problem with that is the fact that with their enormous extended family, it seemed like some De Luca, somewhere, had an interest in most civil matters that came before the court. Either a De Luca lawyer was representing one of the parties or a De Luca businessman was suing or getting sued.
If you stand in front of the courthouse and throw a dart, you’ll hit a De Luca.
All this meant that Judge Anthony De Luca was constantly having to recuse himself, which on one level fit in with the deficient work ethic that he and I share. But it was getting embarrassing, so he switched to criminal court. There were far fewer De Lucas to be found there.
He still tries to intimidate the lawyers into settling their cases without a trial, but has far less success in criminal court. Most resistant to his strong-arm tactics are cases which are very public and in which there are political considerations.
Both of those things are very prevalent in the Galloway case, so it is unlikely that the hearing he has convened today will have any effect. Of course, Dylan doesn’t know that, and he probably still believes we may cave and avoid a trial.
I bring Hike with me, since for all his personality issues, he’s a
s smart an attorney as I’ve ever met. Dylan brings four lawyers from his office, all young and fresh-faced and carrying identical briefcases. They represent the cream of the crop from the law school at Cookie Cutter U, but I’d bet Hike could wipe the legal floor with them.
The gallery is empty, because De Luca has dictated that the hearing was to be closed. He is planning to cajole or intimidate, whatever is necessary, and he wants to do it in private.
There are a lot of press gathered outside, which is very unusual for a pretrial hearing with a defendant not named Simpson. It’s a sign of what will be intense interest in the actual trial.
Once we’re all seated, Judge De Luca asks, “Where are we, gentlemen?”
Dylan just about jumps to his feet. “The state is ready to proceed at whatever trial date Your Honor sets.” He’s acting like he’s hoping for a positive report on “parent-teacher night.”
De Luca turns to me. “Mr. Carpenter?”
“We’re ready as well, Your Honor,” I lie. “The sooner the better.”
I can see a flash of surprise in Dylan’s face, which quickly turns into a confident smile.
In any event, Judge De Luca is not smiling. “Have you had settlement discussions?”
“We’ve talked,” Dylan says. “I was waiting to hear whether the defense wanted to proceed to trial.”
“Well, now you’ve heard,” I say. “Your Honor, an innocent man is sitting in prison, waiting for his vindication. The sooner the truth comes out in this case, the better.”
“It sounds like you’re playing to the jury, Mr. Carpenter, but I don’t see one here.”
I smile. “I’m practicing, Your Honor.”
“Do it on your own time.”
“Yes, Your Honor. But there is no chance that we will accept any arrangement that leaves Mr. Galloway incarcerated. We would, however, support a motion by Mr. Campbell to dismiss the charges, provided it were accompanied with a gracious apology.”
De Luca pushes and prods a bit more, but even he can see there is no room for compromise here. Dylan has no intention of making a deal, and with his evidence, he shouldn’t. I won’t make a deal because there’s no way I’m going to allow a client to plead guilty when I don’t believe it to be the case. Noah would have to find another lawyer for that, and right now he doesn’t want to.
Dylan must be surprised that I’ve exercised our right to a speedy trial. It’s counterintuitive; the defense usually seeks as many delays as possible. But Noah’s deal with me is that we move quickly, due to a probably misguided belief that it would be easier on Becky. What would actually be best for Becky is for Noah to be acquitted.
De Luca asks if there’s anything else to discuss, and I refer to the brief that we have submitted requesting a change of venue. Hike wrote it, and it was a solid presentation that should prevail on the merits, but in the real world doesn’t have a chance. Dylan has submitted an opposing brief, no doubt written by one of his devoted minions.
“I’ve read the briefs,” De Luca says. “I’ll issue a ruling shortly.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. We believe it effectively points out the dangers inherent in conducting the trial in this jurisdiction.” I believe what I am saying; this was a heinous crime, one of the most notorious in local history. The press coverage was overwhelming then, and shows signs of being so now. There is no doubt in my mind that it would be easier to impanel an unbiased jury, if there is such a thing, elsewhere.
Dylan quickly and confidently sums up his opposition. My goal in the trial will be to wipe that confident look off his face, and I’ll goad him to do so. Dylan has a thin skin, and is prone to mistakes when angry. As Laurie would be the first to say, I can irritate anyone.
But Dylan is going to emerge from today’s hearing a winner, and De Luca revealingly says, “Perhaps I have more faith in our judicial system than you do, Mr. Carpenter.”
“With respect, Your Honor, a change of venue is not a violation of that system.” I’m going down in flames, and annoyed by it.
De Luca is dismissive. “As I said, I will issue a ruling shortly. But I would suggest you not purchase plane tickets just yet. Now, is there anything else?”
I object to the state’s decision to charge Noah with four counts of murder. Technically, if Noah was acquitted, they could come back and charge him with the other twenty-two deaths, without violating his double-jeopardy rights. It’s a chickenshit thing for Dylan to do, but I don’t have a legal leg to stand on, and De Luca points that out.
When Hike and I leave the courtroom, we opt to walk right out the front door, into the waiting questions of the press that are camped out there. Our client is accused of being a mass murderer, a killer who burned twenty-six victims to death. People like that, even people alleged to be like that, are not usually favorites of the general public. The same general public from which we will choose our jury. The same general public we therefore need to suck up to.
I mouth platitudes about how anxious we are to get to trial and clear Noah’s good name, and how confident we are that justice will prevail.
“No chance of a plea bargain, Andy?” The questioner is Dina Janikowski, a reporter who works for Vince at the Bergen News. Vince must like her, because when someone mentions her name in his presence, he doesn’t snarl or spit.
I look shocked, as if it was absurd to consider such a thing. “Would you admit to killing twenty-six people if you had nothing to do with it?”
She smiles, knowing better than to get drawn into this kind of back-and-forth. “No one has accused me, Andy.”
“Then you’re very, very lucky. Because innocent people can be victimized by overzealous prosecutors. The fact that Noah Galloway is sitting in jail is proof positive of that.”
It’s a parting shot at Dylan that will anger him when he sees it on the news. There’s even a chance he’ll take me off his Christmas card list.
Sam Willis is getting frustrated.
When I give him an assignment to research something on the computer, he takes definite pride in giving me a complete, accurate report on a timely basis.
He couldn’t do that, at least not to his satisfaction, when it came to learning who was killed in the fire. The information was vague, and three people are still unidentified. Sam also had trouble identifying surviving family members for some of the victims.
The problem is that the only information you can get from the Internet is information that has been entered into it. While that encompasses almost everything in recorded history, there are exceptions, and Sam has just hit on another one.
Sam comes to the office to report on the phone that Marcus took from the dead body in the motel. “It’s registered to Buster Douglas,” he says.
“The fighter that beat Mike Tyson?” I ask.
“No, this guy couldn’t beat Mike Tyson. He couldn’t beat you.”
“Because he’s dead?”
Sam shakes his head. “No, because he doesn’t exist, never did. Fake address, fake driver’s license number, fake Social Security number, fake everything.”
“Not a major surprise,” I say. “Do we know who he called, and who called him?”
“Partially. He only made seventeen calls in the last month. Six were to a landline number in Missoula, Montana, and the other eleven were to a New York City cell number. He only received four calls in that time, all from the same New York number as the one he called.”
“Why did you say ‘partially’?”
“The number in Montana is to a Doris Camby; I’ve got the address. But the New York number is registered to Trevor Berbick.”
“That’s another guy that fought Tyson,” I say.
Sam nods. “And he doesn’t exist either. And both Berbick and Douglas paid their phone bills in cash, so there’s no way to trace them back.”
What Sam is saying is disappointing, but not necessarily without promise. “You up for some more work?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Good. Then check ou
t this Doris Camby; find out what she does, and whether she has any family. If she has any close male relatives, maybe a husband or son, try and find out where they are.”
“I’m on it. Anything else?”
“Check out her phone bill; see who she’s called. But most importantly, check out the phone bill listed in Berbick’s name; let’s find out who he called. If he’s using a fake name, then he’s likely somebody we’ll be interested in.”
“If I find out where he lives, you want me and Marcus to pay him a visit?”
“That’s about as bad an idea as any I’ve ever heard,” I say.
“Come on, Andy. I’m ready for some real detective work.”
I nod. “Maybe you and Hike can work the streets as a team.”
“Me and Hike?” he asks, panic in his voice. “I think I’d work better alone.”
“He’s really a laugh a minute when you get to know him.”
“I know him.”
“Sam, all kidding aside, what you’re doing on the computer is really important. Believe it or not, it’s the best thing we have to go on at this point.”
He nods, resigned. “Okay, I hear you.”
Sam leaves, and Mr. Barrel of Laughs himself comes in a few minutes later. I brief him on what Sam has found out, and Hike says, “Time to start focusing on the defensive side of the ball.”
I know what he means. The investigation, the effort to find the real killer, represents the offensive side of the game plan. But we are defense lawyers, and we need to spend time refuting the prosecution’s version of events. That is the defensive side of the ball, and almost always the most important side. We don’t have to reveal the real killer, all we have to do is raise a reasonable doubt that it was Noah.
The first step in doing that is to become totally familiar with every single fact in the case. There can be no hesitation in court, no surprises. We must know everything Dylan and his witnesses are going to say and do before they say and do it. Stretching the football analogy a bit, it’s like I am the quarterback, and when I get to the line of scrimmage, I have to be completely familiar with whatever formation the defensive team presents to me.
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