Hate Crime

by William Bernhardt

“Kincaid? I’ve heard that name.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s who Mom wanted.”

  Christina leaned forward. “What?”

  “Yeah. When I was first arrested. I remember Mom mentioning his name several times.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Ended up hiring that Mahoney guy.”

  Christina’s brow furrowed. Curiouser and curiouser.

  “Johnny, I’ve read Kevin’s notes, and I read the transcript of your initial police interrogation, but could you please tell me what happened that night? In your own words.”

  A lot of the flash went out of his smile as she drew him back to the main subject. “I’d rather not. What do you need to know?”

  “Well, I gather you don’t deny that you and your friend beat up Tony Barovick.”

  “Hey, he was coming on to us. Right there in the bar!”

  “And you thought that made it okay-”

  “Oh, sure, it’s easy to criticize after it’s all done, but how would you feel if some guy came out of nowhere and started hitting on you?”

  Flattered. “You thought he was making sexual advances?”

  “And staring at me like I was a piece of meat. Really creeped me out.”

  Christina inhaled. “Johnny, I gotta be straight with you. The fact that a gay man supposedly came on to you in a singles bar is not going to fly as a defense. The prosecutor will crucify you.”

  “Well, it’s sick!” He threw himself back against his chair. “I mean, why can’t those people keep to themselves?”

  “I’m sure he-”

  “I mean, they always say they just want to be free to live their lives, but the truth is they’re always out there promoting their lifestyle.”

  “He might’ve thought you were gay.”

  “I am not gay!” His words boomed out so loudly Christina didn’t need the phone receiver to hear him. His face was transformed; all the charm drained out of it. She was suddenly glad there was an acrylic barrier between them. “I am 100 percent straight! Always have been.”

  “Johnny-”

  “I want us to be absolutely clear on this, lady. I am not some goddamn queer.”

  “Johnny-”

  “And I don’t want anyone suggesting that I am.”

  Christina gritted her teeth. “Do you want to die? As in, lethal injection?” He fell silent. “Because that’s what’s gonna happen if you go into that courtroom talking like this. I guarantee it. The press has been demanding that someone pay for this crime. The DA has lost one defendant. He’ll do anything possible to avoid losing you. And if you go up on the stand behaving like this, he won’t even have to try hard.”

  Johnny thrust his hand against his forehead, staring at the ceiling. “Man. This whole mess sucks so bad.”

  “Yeah.” She thumbed through her papers. “So would it be safe to say you were the one who instigated the attack?”

  “No way, man. It was Brett-Brett all the way. He was a firecracker.”

  Christina didn’t know if that was supposed to be good or bad. “He was the one who started it?”

  “Absolutely. I think he went a little nuts, to tell you the truth. Lost it. I mean, I just thought we’d rough the kid up a little, you know? Teach him a lesson. But that wasn’t enough for Brett. He wanted the kid to hurt. He brought the Taser. He insisted on breaking his legs.”

  “And you just stood there and watched?”

  “Kinda. I mean, I’m not saying I did nothing, okay? But it was mostly Brett.”

  Christina didn’t know whether to believe him or to assume this was the usual game of blame-the-dead-guy. Putting the blame on a codefendant was a standard defense maneuver. But would the jury buy it here, when the codefendant has been executed on national television? It might seem too convenient.

  “Brett would’ve never stopped. He wanted to keep at it, even after he did both legs. I was the one who pulled him off, finally got him out of there.”

  “Now that’s something I wanted to ask you about,” Christina said. “You say you left Tony in that vacant lot?”

  “Right.”

  “And when you left him, he was still alive?”

  “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. He was hurtin’, to be sure. But alive.”

  “Then how did his very dead body end up in your fraternity house?”

  “Don’t you think if I knew that I would’ve said something before now?” He thumped his hands against the acrylic. “Somebody else must’ve come along.”

  “A third man? Who also had a psychopathic hatred of gay men?”

  “Something. Someone who could get the kid back to Beta house.”

  “But you have no idea who it was?”

  “No.”

  “Or why anyone would do such a thing?”

  “No.”

  Christina puffed out her cheeks. She wished to God Ben were here. He was good at handling the impossible ones. She was considering switching to a wills-and-estates practice. “I’ve read the M.E.’s report, Johnny. She says what you’re describing is impossible. She says Tony was killed in the fraternity house shortly before the body was found.”

  “I don’t care. She’s a liar.”

  “The coroner? Hard to imagine.”

  “Are you sayin’ I’m lying?”

  “I’m saying the physical evidence doesn’t support the testimony you’re presenting. If you appear before the jury with that, you’ll go down in flames.”

  “It’s what happened.”

  “You’re going into that courtroom with multiple strikes against you, Johnny. The city is up in arms. The gay alliance groups are demanding action. The national news agencies are outraged. Basically, everyone wants to see you convicted, and the jury knows it. If they even get a hint that you’re lying to them-”

  Johnny sprang out of his seat. “Why does everyone care so much about a goddamned fag! It isn’t fair!”

  “Johnny, calm down.”

  “Explain it to me, would you? Why some fuckin’ queer has more rights than I do?”

  Christina eyed the door. If the guard outside heard this, their interview would be terminated but quick. “Johnny, please sit down.”

  “If we’d beat up some white Christian guy, no one would care. A woman, even. Big deal. But because we took out a pervert, suddenly I’m public enemy number one.”

  “Johnny, you can’t talk like that.”

  “Why not?” he bellowed. “Don’t we have the First Amendment anymore?”

  “You’re right, Johnny. We do.” She banged against the window to get his attention. “So I guess you’re going to have to make a choice. Do you want to express your constitutionally protected opinion, or do you want to live?”

  Johnny lowered himself back into his seat, glaring.

  Where did this kid come from? Christina asked herself. What could give birth to enmity of this magnitude? Normally, she would blame his parents, but Christina had met the guy’s mother and she seemed like a perfectly nice, well-educated person. Where had he gotten his indoctrination into hate?

  “This is the sort of thing I should expect from a lawyer. Hell, not even Jesus loved lawyers.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “ ‘Woe unto you, lawyers! For you have taken away the key of knowledge.’ That’s what our Lord and Savior said. In Luke.”

  Thanks so much for making my day… “Look, kid, I’ll level with you. I don’t know if I can win this case or not. I’ve read Kevin’s files, and what little defense he was planning to put on won’t cut it. This story about someone else coming along and moving the body won’t cut it. We need something more.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like proof that you didn’t kill Tony Barovick.” But only mangled and mutilated him. That’s all.

  “How are we going to get that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll get my investigative staff on it immediately.”

  “You think they’ll find something?”

  “I can’t possibly predict that. But I know this.�
�� She leaned forward. “If you don’t cooperate with me, we will lose.”

  He stared through the acrylic at her.

  “If you start spouting off in court, we’re history. You’ve got to do what I say, when I say it. Including keeping your mouth shut. And be nice about it. Got it?”

  He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She began stuffing her notes back into her briefcase. “And one last requirement. You absolutely positively cannot keep secrets from me. None. I don’t care how bad it is. If there’s anything you haven’t told me, anything at all, I want to hear about it. Before the DA does.”

  “Understood. I mean, I will.”

  “I hope you mean that. I really do.” She rose. “I’ll be back tomorrow. There are some papers I need you to sign. In the meantime, your assignment is to search that little brain of yours for anything that might help your case. Even the tiniest detail. Maybe something you never told the police or Tony or anyone.”

  “Well, I’ll… try.”

  “Good.” She stood. “Can I give you one last piece of advice?”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Don’t talk.”

  He craned his neck. “You mean… to the police?”

  “I mean to anyone. Not the cops, not the guards, not your cell mate. No one.” She smiled. “You’re in serious trouble, Johnny. So don’t make it worse than it already is.”

  8

  As Christina took the elevator up to Kevin Mahoney’s twentieth-floor office in the heart of the Magnificent Mile, all she expected was a pleasant pneumatic ride. And Kevin’s office! Compared to what she was used to working out of, it was like setting up shop in Taj Mahal. Gorgeous bay windows in every office looking down on Michigan Avenue. Nice clean carpet, modern art prints on the wall. The way a law office was supposed to look.

  Except not today.

  In the elevator lobby, covering the brass nameplates and the rest of the wall, was a spray-painted drawing of an upraised clenched fist. Beneath it were the words: NO MORE HATE. DEATH TO FASCISTS!

  She took a deep breath, then slowly released it.

  In the corner, Christina spotted a man with a digital camera photographing the display. He was obviously a professional.

  “Tribune, or Sun-Times?”

  He looked up from his viewfinder. “Tribune.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Anonymous call. Group called ANGER.”

  “And you really think this is newsworthy?”

  “Are you kidding? This is front-page art. My editor loves a strong graphic. Hey, do you work here?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Mind posing in front of the fist?”

  “As a matter of fact.”

  She pushed past him and entered the lobby. Jones was sitting out front, having totally taken over the space normally occupied by Kevin Mahoney’s receptionist. He had a phone in each hand and a stack of pink message slips as thick as a sandwich.

  “There you are!” he said. “Thank God. The phone has been ringing off the hook.”

  “Why?”

  “Morning papers announced that you’ve taken over the Christensen defense. You wouldn’t believe how angry some people are about it.”

  “Because, of course, bad men aren’t entitled to attorneys.”

  “That’s pretty much their view, yeah.” He passed her the messages. “Here’s more than twenty protests.”

  “I saw some of that in the elevator lobby. What’s ANGER stand for?”

  “Act Now for Gay Equal Rights.”

  Christina pondered a moment. “Why is that name familiar?”

  “The guy who shot your client’s codefendant was a member of ANGER. One of the local leaders, actually.”

  “So we’re talking major extremists.”

  “A lot of these people are threatening violence if you don’t drop the case. Not against the hatemongers-against you. Us. Letter bombs and stuff. Paula’s pretty concerned.” He wiped his brow. “I know I was in favor of taking this case, but now I’m wondering if we need to give this some more thought.”

  “I gave his mother my word, Jones.”

  “Nonetheless-”

  “I’ve filed papers with the court. It’s a done deal.” She scanned the messages. “I don’t suppose any of these are supportive?”

  “Actually, there was one. Even offered to help finance the defense.”

  “Super! ACLU?”

  “Nah. Some ultraright fundamentalist group. God’s Chosen, or something like that. Wants to support Christensen the holy crusader in his battle against the sodomites.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Holy crusader. More like ignorant putz who joined the wrong fraternity.” She tossed the messages into her briefcase. “Has Loving’s plane come in yet?”

  “Yeah. And Paula came up with him. They’re in the kitchen scarfing doughnuts.”

  “Good. Team meeting in ten minutes. Main conference room.”

  “Sure. Will Ben-?”

  “Has he left Tulsa?”

  “Not to my knowledge. What’s up with that, anyway?”

  “Don’t know. But I’ve got some suspicions. I’ve got a call in to his mother.”

  “In Oklahoma City?”

  Christina shrugged. “Something my client said made me think there might be some history on this.”

  “But-isn’t she kind of… frosty?”

  “Says Ben. I adore the woman. Who knows, if I can squeeze in a visit, we might have time to go shopping.”

  She knew she was wasting her time, even as she dialed the phone. But she couldn’t help herself.

  “Ben, would you please reconsider-”

  “No.”

  “You don’t have to go to court. Just stay in the background. Give me the benefit of your wisdom.”

  “No.”

  “Ben, who’s gonna know?”

  “Will she be there?”

  Christina hesitated. “You mean Mrs. Christensen? Well, of course she-”

  “My answer is no.” There was a staticky pause on the line. “Now I have to get back to my work.”

  “Ben, I’ve known you since the day you started practicing, and you’ve never behaved this way.”

  “What way? Smart?”

  “As if you don’t care. About”-don’t say it, she told herself-“anything.”

  “I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”

  “Ben, don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on is that I have a lot of work to do. And so do you, apparently.”

  She hesitated. “Ben-I missed you last night.”

  After a painfully protracted silence, she hung up the phone.

  A girl hears the strangest things when she walks into a conference room unannounced.

  “Cutter-Sanborn? No one uses Cutter-Sanborn.”

  “Well, they should.”

  “You can’t turn your back on two hundred years of library tradition.”

  “Times change. The U.K. is way ahead of us on this.”

  “It’s a losing battle, Paula. Dewey Decimal is here to stay.”

  “I’m not trying to junk it. I’m just saying Cutter-Sanborn is a viable alternative.”

  Christina cut in between Jones and Paula, his wife, who worked as a reference librarian at the downtown Tulsa City-County library. “Is this another one of those fascinating library science debates?”

  “Can you believe it?” Jones said. “She’s advocating a whole new system of cataloguing.”

  “A much better one,” Paula insisted.

  “Has poor Linda Saferite in a tizzy. What an idea! I mean, I’ll admit there are advantages. But any change would be unforgivably burdensome to the rank-and-file librarian.”

  Christina shook her head. And they called lawyers nerds. “Look, team, we’ve got a major case on our hands and less than a week to get ready for it. I need everyone’s cooperation.”

  “Ain’t the work mostly done already?” This came from Loving, thei
r investigator. He was a large, physically imposing man. When she’d first met him, Christina assumed he’d be able to extract information from people just by hovering over them and snarling. And although he never ruled that out, as it happened, he was usually far more subtle. And successful. There was a brain rattling around somewhere in that massive down-home frame. “Mahoney’d already started the trial when that wacko broke into the courtroom with the gun.”

  “I’ve read through Kevin’s files,” Christina said. “And here’s the bad news. He didn’t have squat. He was going down in flames and he knew it.”

  “Why didn’t he plea-bargain?”

  “None offered,” Christina said. “Too much publicity. The DA was sure of his case. I’ve been reading Tony Barovick’s journal. He was a fascinating young man. I keep hoping I’ll find a clue in there somewhere-but so far nothing.”

  Jones threw up his hands. “Then what are we going to do?”

  “That’s what we’re here to discuss.”

  “Christina, think for a minute,” Jones said. “I’m used to this never-say-die attitude from Ben. But you’ve always been the sensible one. So do the sensible thing. Ditch this case.”

  “I told you already. I can’t.”

  “Give the court some excuse. Temporary insanity or something.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why should we risk letter bombs? I’m not even sure it will be good publicity. Getting creamed in a case that’s getting national attention is not going to attract clients.”

  “We have to be tough. To boldly go where no lawyer has gone before.”

  “Split infinitive, Christina,” Paula said. “You know I think we girls should stick together. But I have real concerns. This kid killed a man in cold blood.”

  “He says he didn’t.”

  “Well, of course he-” She drew in her breath. “Listen, Christina. I know everyone is entitled to a fair and able defense. But this is a hate crime.”

  “I remember a very similar discussion a few years ago. When Ben insisted on representing that racist in Arkansas. I told him I wouldn’t be any part of it. But Ben insisted he was the only chance the kid had at anything like a fair trial. And he was right.”

  “So where’s Ben now?”

  Christina closed her eyes. “Look, people, I can’t waste time. Are you with me or not? I need to know.”