Warren waved at the campaign flyers on his desk. “Maybe we should put you on the reelection team.” He gulped his tea. The sight of steam rising from the mug made Jessie long for coffee.
“I’m being sincere,” she said.
Rivera ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “Jessie….”
“Just hear me out, okay?”
He stared at her for a few seconds. “I’m listening.”
“I think we should have her arrested, and we should file criminal charges. Assign me to the case. I’ll win.”
Warren held up a hand. “Stop.” He rubbed his temples. “Jessie, we don’t want you to win. Do you watch the news? Brooke Raines is being celebrated for her bravery. You want the DA’s office to charge her? You want us to side with an infamous wife-beater against a battered woman claiming she defended herself? During a reelection campaign? God, I can see the headlines now!”
“Warren, quiet,” Rivera said.
Warren leaned back his head and closed his eyes. “You’re listening to her. I can’t believe this. You’re being persuaded.”
“This isn’t about me,” the DA said. Then, in a careful tone, “What I don’t understand is, how did the police get it wrong?”
“The investigation was sloppy and incomplete. The lead detective, Kyle Fulco, has a reputation for being lazy, and from what I’ve seen, he earned it. His partner recently retired and he handled this case on his own. There are holes in Brooke Raines’s story. Fulco’s quick and dirty investigation didn’t uncover them, but I did find them, after only a few days of asking questions. The evidence doesn’t point to self-defense. It points to murder. Even if he was abusive, that’s still a crime.”
Rivera rubbed his face. “My enemies are going to have a field day with this. Whether we win or lose, they’ll use it against me.”
Warren let out a humorless laugh. “Whether we win or lose? Even if Brooke Raines did murder Keeley, I don’t see us winning here. Jessie, you say her story has some holes. If we bring this to trial, maybe you chip away at the self-defense claim. Show that the use of deadly force was excessive, she could have retreated, whatever. But to what end? Maybe you get a manslaughter verdict. And that’s if we’re lucky and the jury doesn’t just turn against us and deliver a straight not guilty verdict based purely on sympathy for Raines. You’ll need to battle through a trial in which every disgusting aspect of Corbin Keeley’s life gets publicly aired. Jury nullification is always a risk, but in a case like this one, it’s a practical certainty.”
“I understand it won’t be easy,” Jessie said.
“You’re damn right it won’t be easy,” Warren said. “And you know who else it won’t be easy for? This girl who made such an impression on you, and her mother. Their lives will be dragged through the mud.”
She knew he was right. Prosecuting Raines would put Carrie and Nina under the microscope. Even if Jessie managed, through pretrial motions to the court, to keep the two women out of the trial, she could not control the court of public opinion. Carrie and Nina would become targets of vicious op-ed pieces, blog posts, and social media. The thought of Carrie and her mother going through hell gave her pause. But only for a moment. “They’re stronger than you think.”
“Are they? Remember, the ex-wife never reported the abuse, even when rumors appeared in the papers, along with a photo of her. She could have stopped him then, just by telling the police what he’d done. One could argue she’s responsible for Raines, and maybe other women, becoming victims of Keeley. People are going to wonder what the daughter knew, too. Think about it. You seem to like these women. Do you really want to put them through this trial, knowing what it will be like for them? Sometimes everyone’s best interest is better served by prosecutorial discretion, rather than the letter of the law. We don’t need to prosecute Brooke Raines. Jesus, you don’t have to do this.”
Rivera turned to Warren. “I think I do.”
Warren looked incredulous. “Why?”
“Because I’m the DA. And it’s my job to make sure even a person like Corbin Keeley receives justice.”
Warren leaned back in his chair. His expression was one of fatigue. “You’re the boss. For now, anyway.”
“Thank you,” Jessie said. “You’re making the right decision.”
Rivera nodded. “I hope so.”
12
“Are you here to tell me I was wrong?” Carrie asked.
They sat at the girl’s kitchen table, in the same chairs they’d occupied the other day. Sunlight filtered through the curtained window and gave the room a warm, pleasant light, but it didn’t seem to brighten the mood. Carrie sat stiffly, her face pinched with worry. Nina busied herself at the other side of the kitchen, pulling clean dishes from a dishwasher and stacking them in a cabinet.
“Should I make coffee?” Nina said.
“I’d love some.” Jessie felt a rush of relief just at the thought. But Carrie didn’t acknowledge her mother’s words. She continued to stare at Jessie, waiting for an answer. “I’m here to tell you that the DA’s office is reconsidering its decision not to prosecute Brooke Raines.”
Nina, who had been spooning coffee grounds into a machine, stopped abruptly and turned to watch them.
Carrie’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!”
Jessie wanted to smile along with the teenager, but she couldn’t. “I want you to be ready. Both of you. Once we do this, the media will come after you.”
“That’s nothing new,” Carrie said. “The media has been following me around since the night my dad died. I stopped talking to them when I saw how they were slanting their coverage against him.”
“It could get worse. It probably will. Reporters love the spectacle of a trial. They’ve already decided that Brooke Raines is the good guy. Once we attack her, we become the bad guys in their story. They might try to make you and your mom seem like enablers, like your silence resulted in other women being hurt. They may try to dig up moments from your past to make you look bad. If they can’t find any, some reporters will just invent them.”
The coffee machine beeped. Nina, looking relieved to have something to do, started filling mugs.
“I don’t care,” Carrie said. “You need to show the truth. My dad deserves that.”
Jessie glanced at Nina, who walked toward them, carefully carrying the coffee mugs by their handles. As she placed the mugs on the table, Jessie asked her, “How do you feel about this, Nina? You’ll probably take the brunt of the public’s disapproval.”
“Maybe I deserve it,” Nina said. “In any case, if Carrie is brave enough to do this, then I am, too. Put that woman in a prison cell where she belongs.”
Jessie looked from the mother to the daughter and back again, then picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. The hot liquid felt comforting as it rolled around her mouth and down her throat.
“Okay,” she said. The three of them sipped coffee, and a peace descended on the kitchen. Jessie wished it would last, but she knew it would be short-lived.
13
Brooke Raines’s arrest resulted in an explosion of negative media coverage. The DA’s office became a tense and nervous place. Whoever came up with the phrase “all publicity is good publicity” definitely wasn’t an incumbent district attorney seeking reelection, or anyone working for him. Jessie could practically feel the weight of her colleagues’ disapproval as headlines like Police and DA Seek Prison for Abuse Victim and Battered Woman to Stand Trial for Death of City Councilman hit the front pages of the city’s papers. News websites and legal blogs posted opinion pieces by lawyers and experts opining on the intricacies of the self-defense doctrine. Outlets ran personal interest stories delving into the lives of Keeley, his ex-wife, and their daughter. These stories were low on details when it came to the life of Brooke Raines, but almost all of them reprinted the horrific photograph of Nina Long, as if it were all the evidence anyone needed. A string of biting hit pieces targeting Jesus Rivera raised the question of whether his reelection
—once a foregone conclusion—would be a huge misfortune for the city.
Through this storm, Jessie kept her head down and worked.
The arrest also set in motion a chain of legal events. Brooke Raines was jailed, but only temporarily. A preliminary arraignment was set—a hearing at which a bail commissioner would determine whether she remained in custody pending her trial or was released.
Jessie told Carrie and Nina about the preliminary arraignment and urged them to attend. She had a tactical reason—she wanted to humanize Corbin Keeley as much as possible, given the history of domestic abuse—and a tearful ex-wife and daughter sitting in the gallery might help accomplish that. But she had a personal reason, as well. She knew that Carrie had suffered for over month with the belief that the murder of her father might go unpunished, and that she was suffering even more now, as members of the media hounded and vilified her. Jessie wanted to give the girl a chance to see Brooke Raines stand accused of her crime, and hopefully to hear the bail commissioner send her to a jail cell pending her trial. She hoped it might help Carrie come to terms with her father’s death.
Preliminary arraignments were conducted in a basement courtroom in the Criminal Justice Center. Jessie met the two women there.
“Over there is where members of the public can sit and observe.” She indicated the pew-like rows of the gallery. That Brooke Raines would appear today was public information, and the seats were already filling up with media and curious spectators. She recognized several of the reporters. Most seasoned media outlets knew better than to expect fireworks at a preliminary arraignment, even in a case like this one, but a good reporter could add drama even to a routine prelim. The presence of reporters in the gallery increased the pressure on her, but Jessie was glad they were here. She would be explaining her version of the shooting today, and she wanted that version to gain traction with the press, if she was going to have a chance of winning at trial and also swaying public opinion.
“It smells terrible in here,” Nina said.
Jessie almost laughed. The stale, unpleasant smell was the furthest thing from her mind. She had been doing this for so long, she hadn’t noticed it. “This is the preliminary arraignment courtroom. It runs twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“I guess that explains it,” Nina said.
Before Jessie could leave them, Carrie took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This is only the beginning. The trial is going to be difficult, and I can’t guarantee we’re going to win.”
Carrie nodded. “I know. I’m thanking you for caring.”
Jessie smiled and tried to hold back her emotions. It wasn’t easy. Carrie’s sincerity, and the faith she’d placed in Jessie, made her feel both grateful and anxious. A lot of people had put their faith in her recently. Carrie. Rivera. Warren. Leary. She didn’t want to let them down.
She spotted Raines’s defense attorney, Aidan Hughes, talking with two of the deputy sheriffs near the other side of the room. Hughes must have made a joke, because the two deputies laughed. Hughes was the kind of man who seemed able to make friends with everyone he met. He had a handsome face, a warm manner, and a gaze that seemed to convey sincerity.
Jessie, on the other hand, felt sick to her stomach.
Hughes boasted an impressive win record and was one of the highest paid attorneys in the Philly criminal defense bar. With a young, white, female client, and a self-defense claim, he would be going into this trial with the advantage. She might have wondered how Brooke Raines could afford his fees, but knowing Hughes, he’d probably taken her case pro bono. The publicity from a high-profile trial like this one would be worth more than a fee.
The room filled up and activity began to stir around her. She watched as the desperate, recently jailed men and women shepherded here by deputy sheriffs—accused of everything from the worst felonies to the mildest misdemeanors—took their turns appearing before the bail commissioner for their formal bail arraignment proceedings. The bail commissioner held the power to decide if each accused criminal would be released from jail pending the outcome of his or her trial, or whether that person would spend that time in jail.
The bail commissioner working this shift was Howard Boggs. Boggs was known to be “tough on crime,” when it came to felonies, and could generally be counted on by the DA’s office to set a high bail or deny it altogether. Normally, the sight of his heavy frame at the bench was reassuring. But Jessie wasn’t sure how he would respond to the circumstances of this case. Would he see Raines as Jessie wanted him to see her—as an accused murderer—or as Hughes would present her—as the real victim?
The room hushed as two deputy sheriffs brought Brooke Raines into the courtroom. It was the first time Jessie had seen the woman in person, and she almost did a double-take. Flanked by the two deputies, Raines’s petite frame looked almost childlike. Her face, with big, blue eyes and a pert nose, added to an appearance that could only be described as innocent. She wore a plain, blue suit with low heels, which Hughes must have brought her so she could change out of the orange jumpsuit she would have been wearing in jail.
Hughes waited for her at the defense table. Jessie risked a glance at the gallery, where Carrie and Nina sat. The mother and daughter wore identical expressions—eyes staring with what looked like a mixture of anger and fascination, foreheads crinkled with concentration. Neither woman looked at Jessie. They were both riveted to Raines.
“Ms. Raines,” Boggs said, reading from a sheet of paper on his podium. “I understand you’ve been charged with criminal homicide, and that you are asserting an affirmative defense of justifiable homicide.”
Raines stood up straight. She faced the bench without any apparent nervousness. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Boggs read aloud a full summary of the charges, which included first degree murder as well as lesser included charges. A wave of murmurs and whispers roiled through the gallery.
“Ms. Black,” Boggs said, “would you like to begin?”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Jessie said, “given the seriousness of the offenses, the Commonwealth does not believe bail is appropriate here.”
“Your Honor,” Hughes said. He strode leisurely toward the judge, smiling at the bail commissioner as if Boggs were his dearest friend. “I would urge you to consider all of the circumstances here. My client is educated, she has no criminal record, and she has been—and still is—employed by the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, where, as a nurse, she cares for children. Moreover, despite the Commonwealth’s ludicrous charges, Ms. Raines is not a cold-hearted killer. She was the victim of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of the victim, and she only fired her gun as a last resort to defend herself.”
“That’s what Ms. Raines claims,” Jessie said, “but her story has not been demonstrated with evidence.” She knew she was walking a dangerous path by challenging the truthfulness of the abuse claims, but she thought the risk was worth taking, especially given the sympathetic way Boggs was looking at Raines. “Ms. Raines is accused of intentionally shooting an unarmed man in a public location.”
Hughes shook his head. “Mr. Keeley was armed with a rock and he attempted to use it as a weapon. Even without the rock, he was physically much more powerful than Ms. Raines and had terrorized her with violence in the past. Frankly, I’m shocked that Ms. Raines is being prosecuted here at all.”
Jessie forced herself to keep her attention on the bail commissioner and to speak in a calm, reasonable voice. “Again, those claims have not been established with evidence, Your Honor. Whether or not the victim engaged in those acts is a question for trial. In the meantime, Ms. Raines presents a flight risk—she’s not a Philadelphia native and has no ties to the community—and she is a danger to the public as well.”
“A danger to the public?” Hughes said. He recoiled from her, as if genuinely insulted. Maybe he was. “My client has never hurt anyone. She was hurt—”
“She fired a
gun in public and killed a man, so yes, I would call her a danger to the public.”
“She has no criminal record, no history of violent acts—”
Boggs raised a hand. “Counselors, please. There’s a procedure here, of which you are both well aware.”
Jessie and Hughes fell silent.
“Thank you,” Boggs said dryly. “After weighing the relevant factors and considering the bail guidelines, I am ruling that the defendant Brooke Raines be released on her own recognizance pending trial.”
Jessie felt dazed. ROR? That would mean Raines could walk out of here a free woman, without even a bond to pay, just by giving her word that she would appear for trial.
Hughes looked relieved. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
“With all due respect, Your Honor,” Jessie said, “this is a murder trial. Releasing the defendant would be unprecedented, even taking into account the factors Mr. Hughes raised.”
“I think it’s a well reasoned ruling,” Hughes said.
Boggs knocked his gavel and they quieted again. Jessie worried that she’d gone too far and braced herself for a reprimand. But after a stretch of seconds, Boggs nodded thoughtfully. “My ROR decision stands. Ms. Raines has no criminal record and appears to be a productive member of this community. I have no reason to doubt her claims of abuse at the hands of Mr. Keeley, and, as she has asserted a self-defense claim, it will be the Commonwealth’s burden to disprove that at trial. Therefore, I am releasing Ms. Raines on her own recognizance. However,” he said, looking at Jessie, “I must agree with Ms. Black that given the seriousness of the charges, there is at least some risk of flight here. I am therefore ordering that Ms. Raines be placed under house arrest and monitored via an electronic tether. Ms. Raines,” he added, looking at her, “please be aware that my decision today will be revisited should you fail to comply fully with these conditions, including appearing precisely on time for all of your court appearances. Am I understood?”
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