Degree of Guilt

by Unknown

  Brooks’s secretary answered on the second ring. Paget told her who he was, and waited.

  ‘Hello, Christopher,’ Brooks said. ‘Long time no speak.’

  ‘No deal, either.’

  Beneath the opening banter, Brooks had sounded tense; now Paget could measure by his silence how little more he relished this trial than Paget himself. ‘You needn’t be precipitous,’ Brooks said. ‘Really, I didn’t expect you back so soon. If you want more time to think, take it.’

  ‘Don’t need it. I’m bringing her in for photographs and prints. All I want is a few courtesies.’

  He could hear Brooks exhale. ‘All right. Anything else?’

  ‘One suggestion. Keep Ms Savonarola under control. For both our sakes.’

  ‘I read you,’ Brooks said, and hung up.

  Paget turned to Mary.

  She looked hopeful, watchful, scared. The look reminded him of the moment before she had testified in the Senate, first pregnant with Carlo, when she had gazed into his face.

  He did not need to tell her what was coming: the reporters shouting questions, the flashbulbs popping, the cameras. Nor did he need to hear the voice-over that night, as he and Carlo watched alone:

  ‘This afternoon in San Francisco, television journalist Mary Carelli was charged with the murder of America’s most celebrated writer, Mark Ransom.’

  PART THREE

  The Witness

  JANUARY 27 – FEBRUARY 10

  Chapter 1

  Five days later, Mary Carelli was in court.

  Terri and Paget stood next to her, facing Municipal Court Judge Caroline Masters, Terri’s former boss at the public defender’s office. The occasion, the arraignment of the accused, was the most humdrum grist of the criminal mill. Paget would plead Mary innocent, and Judge Masters would set another meaningless date: the preliminary hearing in municipal court, where all that Marnie Sharpe had to establish was that there was ‘probable cause’ to believe that Mary Carelli had committed a crime, an event as routine as singing the national anthem before a football game.

  The arraignment, Terri knew, was likely to be Caroline Masters’s first and last appearance in the case; another municipal court judge would likely preside over the preliminary hearing. After the prosecution showed probable cause, the muni court and its judges would have finished their work, and the case would be dispatched to the relative grandeur of the superior court, the forum of higher jurisdiction, to be tried by a superior court judge.

  The sole reason Judge Masters had borrowed such an impressive courtroom was that this time the mill was grinding on Mary Carelli, and space was needed for all the media people who wished to watch it happen. The sterile courtroom where Caroline Masters usually processed the minions of muni court – traffic violators, parking scofflaws, and petty disturbers of the urban peace – could barely accommodate the defendants and their sport-coated lawyers; the more spacious courtroom specially assigned for People v. Carelli could absorb a greater crowd, and its oak bench, high ceiling, and wood-paneled walls would show well on television. Watching Caroline Masters and knowing her aspirations, Terri was certain that she enjoyed this respite, however fleeting, from processing the dregs of the justice system in a room that looked like public housing.

  ‘How do you plead?’ Judge Masters asked.

  Paget paused. ‘Not guilty,’ he answered calmly.

  Judge Masters gazed at the participants, stretching out the moment. At one long table, both dressed in gray, were Marnie Sharpe and a young male assistant D.A., who Terri guessed had been selected for his ability and inexperience, so that Sharpe would have competent help without being challenged by a seasoned homicide prosecutor with ideas of his own; McKinley Brooks was nowhere in sight, for what Terri was certain were reasons of political prudence. At the other table were Paget, Terri, and Mary Carelli, Mary in a simple black dress, Paget dressed with a bit less dash than usual. Even Caroline Masters seemed to have given her appearance some thought: her black robe looked freshly pressed and her straight black hair newly cut, and her gold-and-onyx earrings and red-orange lipstick nicely complemented a deep tan acquired at her time-share in Puerto Vallarta. But as with other things about Caroline, Terri had no idea whom she might have vacationed with or what she might have done; in two years of work, Terri had learned little more about Caroline Masters than that she was quite ambitious and very smart.

  It was not, Terri thought now, that Caroline had not been pleasant to her – in her incisive way, she had quickly concluded that Terri had enough talent to make her worth Caroline’s time. But the advice she had given had been strictly professional; Caroline, Terri learned, drew a wall around herself. What, if anything, she was protecting, Terri did not know; Caroline acknowledged her passion for privacy only by making it seem impersonal. ‘The way for a woman to survive,’ she once told Terri, ‘is to make men see you as a lawyer. If they see you as a woman – someone with fears or a troubled marriage or a lover who’s broken your heart – they’ll start seeing weakness that they’d never see in a man. It’s sad but true.’ To Terri, the comment seemed too stark, the flip side of some hurt that Terri could not see. Since she had been appointed to the court, Caroline had not changed; Terri would see her come alone to bar functions, nursing one drink carefully, determined to be nothing but a judge. By consensus, Caroline Masters was a good one.

  ‘The defendant,’ Judge Masters repeated for the record, ‘has entered a plea of not guilty to the charge of murder.’ She stopped a moment, allowing the court stenographer to catch up, and then turned again to Paget. ‘Has the defendant arranged for bond?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honor,’ Paget answered. ‘Five hundred thousand, by agreement with the district attorney.’

  Judge Masters nodded. ‘In that case, Mr Paget, we are required by statute to set the preliminary hearing within thirty days. Do you wish to waive the ten-day period?’

  It was, Terri knew, the standard inquiry. In practice, the preliminary hearing was worthless to the defense; by waiving the right to a hearing within ten court days, the defense lawyer typically lost nothing of value, and in exchange gained time to prepare by putting off the setting of a trial itself. From her expression and tone of voice, that was what Caroline Masters expected of Christopher Paget.

  ‘The defendant,’ Paget answered pleasantly, ‘chooses not to waive time.’

  For the first time, Judge Masters registered surprise, her raised eyebrows making her thin face seem longer, her expression more intent. At the prosecution table, Marnie Sharpe had turned to look at Paget.

  ‘Might I inquire,’ Judge Masters said to Paget, ‘as to why you want the prelim so promptly? As you may know, our docket is stacked up like planes at the airport. If you’re going to discommode the court, it ought at least to serve your client’s interests. It’s not apparent to me, Mr Paget, that this does.’

  Already on edge, Terri began to lose hope. The question was vintage Masters; it was Caroline’s habit to decide what lawyers should do, and lawyers who did otherwise affronted her sense of strategy. But that she was so direct in saying so told Terri that Paget was not among those defense counsel who, by virtue of their experience in murder prosecutions, might get some slack from Caroline Masters. Sharpe, who had shown a moment’s surprise and annoyance, now looked pleased.

  Tense, Terri watched Paget frame his answer. But Paget seemed unaffected; perhaps only Terri could tell how uncertain he was that he could draw Judge Masters into a plan that had little precedent.

  ‘There are several reasons,’ Paget responded. ‘But one, I think, should suffice. My client is a television journalist. She does not make her living in the state, but in New York and around the world. Yet at the insistence of the district attorney’s office, in the person of Ms Sharpe, Ms Carelli is not allowed to leave the state until the case is over.’ He paused. ‘Apparently, Ms Sharpe is concerned that Ms Carelli is going to escape justice. In truth, all Ms Carelli wants to do is escape Ms Sharpe’s misguided charges. But i
f what Ms Sharpe requires for Ms Carelli to resume her life is to get this trial over with, that’s what Ms Carelli wants – just as quickly as these charges warrant.’ Turning to Sharpe, Paget inquired amiably, ‘I assume, Ms Sharpe, that you’re prepared to show probable cause within the statutory period.’

  Caroline Masters did not appear sympathetic; she did not yet see, Terri realized, what Paget was about to do. As for Sharpe, she was openly annoyed.

  ‘Of course,’ she told Paget with asperity, and then turned to the judge. ‘If it would make Mr Paget happy, the People could show probable cause by the close of business today.’

  Judge Masters gave her a curious look. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said. ‘Just as I wonder if it’s necessary to keep Ms Carelli on quite so short a tether.’

  ‘We think so.’ Quickly, Sharpe sought the cover of her office, making her judgment institutional. ‘Mary Carelli has considerable resources, and the charges pending, in our view, make her a serious flight risk.’ Sharpe turned to Paget and Mary, speaking with a certain bite. ‘The court will remember, as will Ms Carelli and Mr Paget, the case of William Lasko. After Mr Lasko’s conviction, with his appeal pending, he fled to Costa Rica. It took several years for the United States government – with all its legal and diplomatic resources – to secure Mr Lasko’s return. Where the district attorney has not insisted on prohibitive bail, the least we can do is not facilitate that kind of risk.’ She turned again to the judge. ‘We therefore join Mr Paget in requesting the promptest prelim possible.’

  Terri knew that the gratuitous reference to the Lasko case, and therefore to the tapes, was meant to put Paget on edge. But his face showed nothing. ‘We appreciate Ms Sharpe’s endorsement,’ he responded pleasantly, ‘if not her analogy to William Lasko. And for the record, Ms Carelli prefers Bolivia.’

  Sharpe stared at him; for the first time, there was laughter from the press. Caroline Masters raised her gavel with a look of annoyance, signaling her intent to run a tight courtroom, and the noise subsided.

  ‘All right,’ she said crisply. ‘We’ll need an estimate on time. How long, Ms Sharpe, will you require to show probable cause?’

  The usual prelim, Terri knew, consisted of a couple of witnesses and lasted one to two hours. For an important homicide case, it might run on for the morning; for someone as careful as Marnie Sharpe, it might extend to midafternoon.

  ‘One day,’ Sharpe responded. ‘Max.’

  ‘All right.’ Judge Masters turned to her courtroom deputy, Charlie McWhorter, a paunchy factotum who seemed to predate the courtroom and, perhaps, the court itself. ‘Charlie, find out from Department 20 when they can hear this.’

  ‘Pardon me, Your Honor.’ Paget stepped forward. ‘Might I be heard on the question of time?’

  This time, Masters showed genuine surprise. As she paused before answering, Terri watched the judge begin to wonder where Paget might be heading. ‘The prelim is the D.A.’s show,’ she said flatly. ‘Were you intending to cross-examine?’

  ‘What we’re intending,’ Paget answered, ‘is to challenge the D.A.’s entire case.’

  Sharpe spun to look at him; Terri heard another, deeper murmur from the press. There was no laughter at all.

  The judge’s aquiline features had rearranged themselves into a stare of incredulity. ‘You intend to challenge probable cause?’

  Paget nodded. ‘Specifically, we intend to refute probable cause and to ask this court to dismiss all charges against Mary Carelli.’

  In the silence, a reporter murmured, ‘Jesus Christ!’ There was a babel of sound. Paget glanced at Terri, as if to say: It’s all right, and then Judge Masters’s gavel cracked like a whip.

  ‘How long,’ she asked in hostile tones, ‘do you expect that process to take?’

  ‘Two weeks,’ Paget responded blandly. ‘Give or take a day.’

  ‘Your Honor,’ Sharpe cut in angrily, and then Judge Masters waved her silent; to Terri, the gesture said: I’ll take care of this myself. Terri wished she did not have to watch.

  ‘This is unheard of,’ the judge snapped at Paget. ‘And two weeks’ cross-examination is absurd.’

  With whatever effort, Paget looked unruffled. ‘Not just cross-examination, Your Honor. We intend to challenge the admissibility of certain prosecution evidence; to put Ms Carelli on the stand; to put on other witnesses and evidence; and to proffer the testimony of at least two further witnesses in closed sessions in the chambers of the court itself.’ Paget turned to Sharpe. ‘And now that Ms Sharpe knows our plans, I expect she’ll want a bit more than one day. Our two-week estimate includes several days for the prosecution.’

  For the first time, Masters’s look of irritation betrayed a certain interest. ‘As I said, Mr Paget, I’ve never seen this done. The role of a preliminary hearing is not to replace a trial – even if the prosecution loses for lack of probable cause, they can refile if they find more evidence. Nor does the defense have an automatic right to put on its case in advance of trial.’

  Paget nodded. ‘That’s correct, Your Honor, as a general matter. But my understanding of the law is that at a preliminary hearing, the defense is entitled to establish an affirmative defense. Self-defense is an affirmative defense to murder, and preventing rape is a form of self-defense.’

  Caroline Masters examined him for a while, suspended between annoyance and intellectual fascination, and then permitted herself a thin smile. ‘That’s also my understanding of the law. Which may or may not be terribly fortunate for you. Seeing that you propose to give Ms Sharpe a preview of the entire case.’

  Paget smiled back. ‘If I’m right, Your Honor, a preview is all that Ms Sharpe will ever get.’

  Masters looked dubious. ‘There’s a big difference between “probable cause” and “reasonable doubt.” In my experience, the D.A. never blows “probable cause.” It’s hardly a daunting standard.’

  ‘Daunting enough,’ Paget answered, ‘if the D.A. doesn’t have it.’

  ‘I would like to be heard,’ Sharpe demanded. When Terri turned, she saw that Sharpe had grasped the table with both hands. ‘Mr Paget’s ten-day ploy has now become transparent. He means to rush the prosecution into a minitrial before the case is ready.’

  ‘And you bit, Counselor, didn’t you?’ Masters’s tone was dry. ‘Do you still think Ms Carelli’s such a flight risk, or are you willing to loosen her bonds?’

  Sharpe shook her head. ‘The People will not change their position on flight. We will be ready within the ten-day period, and simply ask that the prelim be set at the end of that period.’

  ‘Very well.’ Turning back to Paget, Masters used her most ironic tone. ‘Is there anything else, Counselor?’

  ‘Just one more thing, Your Honor. The matter of Court TV.’ Paget paused. ‘I’ve had several discussions with their representatives, the short of which is that they very much want to televise all public sessions of the prelim. On behalf of Ms Carelli, I request that they be allowed to do so.’ Glancing over at Sharpe, Paget added, ‘The prosecution purports to bring these charges on behalf of “the People.” We believe that “the People” should be allowed to watch.’

  Masters was silent for a moment, examining Paget with an opaque expression, and then looked to Sharpe. ‘Ms Sharpe,’ she asked, ‘have you some thoughts on this?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sharpe answered succinctly. ‘This trick is worse than the last. Having invented an unnecessary hearing on the question of probable cause, Mr Paget now proposes to use it to generate so much prejudicial publicity that it will be impossible to ever select a jury once we do prove probable cause. The People are opposed.’

  ‘Mr Paget?’

  ‘My reaction is that having invented an unnecessary charge of murder, Ms Sharpe now proposes to hide it.’ Paget paused. ‘The primary concern regarding pretrial publicity is the defendant’s right to a fair trial. Ms Carelli believes that fairness is best served by full disclosure.’ Once more, Paget looked at Sharpe. ‘Indeed, listening to Ms Shar
pe, I’m reminded of Justice Cardozo’s dictum that “sunlight is the best disinfectant.”’

  When Sharpe began to retort, the judge cut her off. ‘Enough, both of you. I think I understand the argument. I will say to Ms Sharpe, without prejudging what should be done here, that a defense request on this issue is entitled to great weight.’ Masters turned again to her deputy. ‘Now I really would like to see the calendar.’

  McWhorter brought a bound logbook to the bench. Masters motioned him closer. Bending over the logbook, they murmured to each other. Then Masters turned to McWhorter, said a few final words; he nodded and then retreated to his desk at the side of the courtroom, looking bemused.

  Caroline Masters surveyed the courtroom. To Terri, she seemed to sit straighter, look even more like a judge. ‘All right,’ she announced. ‘The preliminary hearing will begin on February 10 and will continue five days a week until concluded.’ She paused, looking from Paget to Sharpe. ‘Generally, this would go to Department 20. but it’s my current intention to delegate my normal caseload to a judge pro tem and to handle the prelim myself.’

  With that, Terri knew, Paget had achieved what he wanted. ‘Thank you, Your Honor,’ he said.

  Masters nodded to each side. ‘Mr Paget, Ms Sharpe. See you in two weeks. And thank you for this morning’s entertainment.’

  ‘All rise,’ the deputy called out. As the courtroom stood, Caroline Masters walked from the bench.

  In the eruption of sound, Terri felt the release of tension. Mary uttered her first words in an hour. ‘Congratulations,’ she murmured to Paget. ‘For a single father, you’re remarkably well prepared.’

  ‘Congratulate Terri,’ he answered coolly. ‘The reason I’m so well prepared is that after two straight nights of research, she knows more about preliminary hearings than God or Marnie Sharpe.’

  Mary turned to her. After a moment, she said, ‘Thank you.’

  Terri nodded. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. But Mary had already turned away; Terri stood there, wondering what it was about her that Mary so disliked.