Raising Cain

by Gallatin Warfield

“That may never be answered,” King argued. “We have motive, opportunity, fingerprints, the victim’s shoes, witnesses….”

  “You’re still thinking like a defense attorney,” Lin replied. “You’re used to feeding the jury contradictions and hoping they will raise reasonable doubt. Now you have to come at it from another direction. You have to be specific. The jury’s going to want to know exactly how it happened. And you have to be prepared to tell them. We have to give the jury a schematic to go with the circumstantial proof. Remember, no one actually saw Brownie handcuff Ruth to the grid. We have to walk it through and be comfortable with how it all went down. Then we can lay it out for the jury.”

  King smiled. “This is a new experience. I’d rather destroy logic than build it.Why don’t we start again? How do you think he pulled it off?”

  “That’s the problem,” Lin replied. “I’ve been going over and over it, and it doesn’t piece together.”

  “Try this on,” King suggested. “Brown stops the car, interrogates Ruth about his father’s death, takes him into custody, puts the cuffs on him, holds him at gunpoint, drives to the park, walks him up the trail, busts off the lock, and shoves him into the sparkler machine. How’s that?”

  Lin shook her head. “No.”

  “No? Why not? It’s a logical theory.”

  “How did Ruth’s car get over here?”

  “Brown drove it. He made the stop, but he took Ruth’s car instead of the police vehicle. And the rest of the story plays out the same. We found Brown’s fingerprint on the car, remember?”

  “On the outside of the passenger side,” Lin replied.

  “So?”

  “So who drove the car?”

  King blinked. “Ruth drove while Brown held him at gunpoint, directed him to the park, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “So he left the police van on the road, drove ten miles in the victim’s car, parked and locked it, leaving his fingerprints on it, walked another mile, electrocuted Ruth, and somehow made it back to his van, all in one night.”

  King drew a lungful of air. “He was under stress, duress, whatever you want to call it. He was grief-stricken about his old man, and obsessed with Ruth. People in that condition do amazing things. “

  “I’ll buy the grief, stress, and obsession part,” Lin said. “That fills your ‘motive’ blank…” Her voice faded.

  “But?”

  “I just don’t think it’s physically possible. Not for one man. With the distances and logistics, I just don’t see it.”

  The rain was falling faster now, and the clouds seemed to hang over them. “We only have one man charged.”

  “True, but the jury’s going to wonder the same thing: how did he accomplish it alone?”

  King tried to laugh. “That’s a nonissue. No one’s going to think of it. Not even Lawson.”

  Lin looked at him sternly. “The jurors will come up with it on their own. They won’t need Lawson or anyone else to tell them. You know how juries think.”

  King knew she was right. “So they’re going to assume there was more than one person involved, that Brown had help.”

  “Yup.”

  “Or… that someone else did it and Brown wasn’t involved. The logistics were too complicated.”

  “It occurred to me,” Lin said. “And it will occur to the jury.”

  “So the evidence we have won’t make a difference. It will all go up in smoke. I’ve won a lot of locked-in cases that way, with anomalies the state couldn’t explain. So what do we do now, Miss Prosecutor?”

  Lin smiled smugly. “We rework the theory until we can explain it.”

  “Oh shit,” King said suddenly.

  “What is it?”

  “The file. The other suspects we considered might play into the two-man theory.”

  “Let me handle that,” she said confidently. “What Lawson doesn’t know will never hurt us.”

  King smiled and moved closer. “That sounds good. Now what say we get out of this mess and get warm?”

  “This is it, Brownie,” Gardner said. “Decision day. We have to select a defense.” They were gathered in their makeshift office, a cubbyhole in a commercial building complex. Rain lashed the window, and the overhead fluorescent light pulsed as Gardner, Jennifer, and Brownie faced each other across a card table.

  Brownie picked up Jennifer’s notes. “So these are my choices, huh?”

  “That’s it,” Jennifer said. Every conceivable defense was listed.

  Brownie slowly lowered the page. “You missed one.”

  “We don’t have time to play games,” Gardner warned.

  “I’m serious, there’s one defense you haven’t written down, one I’ve been considering since you dragged me back to the power station.”

  “Which one is that?”

  Brownie looked him in the eye. “Suicide.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Yes,” Brownie replied. “I think Ruth killed himself.”

  “But you don’t really believe that,” Gardner said.

  “Who is the defendant and who is the lawyer?” Brownie asked.

  Gardner glanced at Jennifer. She was stunned, wide-eyed with disbelief.

  “Does the defendant get to choose his defense? Or is it up to the lawyer?” Brownie asked.

  “It’s usually a joint effort,” Gardner answered. “They arrive at the decision together.”

  “I want you to go with suicide,” Brownie said firmly.

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “But we know it wasn’t suicide,” Jennifer interjected. “We know that someone did kill Ruth. He did not take his own life.”

  “How do you know that?” Brownie countered. “Were you there? Was anyone there at the time he died?”

  Jennifer turned to Gardner, and he shook his head. “Why are you doing this, Brownie?” she asked.

  “Because it’s my right.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Gardner said. “Ruth was murdered. He had a lot of enemies, not just you. If we could locate the killer, we could get you off. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

  Brownie did not answer.

  “I could do the job if you’d let me. I could do a lot of things if I had your cooperation. But you’ve made it impossible.”

  “I told you everything,” Brownie protested.

  “So you say.”

  “I have, damn it.”

  “So that’s the way it is,” Gardner continued. “You’re sticking with that line.”

  “It’s not a line.” Brownie rubbed his forehead.

  “Shit.” Gardner sighed.

  “I have the right to select a defense,” Brownie argued. “You said that yourself. I select suicide. If you don’t agree, I guess I’ll have to get another lawyer.”

  “You can’t get another lawyer. I was appointed.”

  “I can unappoint you.”

  “He’s right,” Jennifer agreed. “As your client, he sets the agenda. You either go along with it or quit.” She turned to face Brownie. “Don’t do this,” Jennifer pleaded. “Please let us help you.”

  “Sorry, Jennifer. I’ve made up my mind. This is the way I want to go. The only way.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Gardner asked.

  “I know. I take full responsibility.”

  “And you realize the consequences? You could get life in the penitentiary.”

  “I know.”

  “Suicide,” Gardner said sarcastically. “It’s not my choice, but under the circumstances….” He looked at Jennifer. There was deep concern in her eyes. “Jen?”

  “Whatever you say.” Her voice was weak.

  “Go with it,” Brownie urged.

  Gardner picked up his pen. A cooperative Brownie was better than an uncooperative one. “Maybe we can put something together. What’s the basis for your hypothesis?”

  “Ruth was strung out when I saw him,” Brownie declared.

  “Strung out? On dr
ugs?”

  Brownie shook his head. “No. His pupils were normal, not dilated. But he went off when I made my accusation about Daddy.”

  “Get specific,” Gardner instructed. “I want you to recount in minute detail everything you and he said after you stopped him.”

  Brownie nodded.

  “Your first words?” Gardner prompted.

  ” ‘Out of the car, asshole.’ “

  Gardner shook his head.

  “I was upset.”

  “All right. Let’s keep going. What did he say?”

  “The first thing he said when I pulled him out of the car was, ‘Again?’ “

  Gardner wrote the word on his pad. “Thought you only stopped him once.”

  “I did.”

  “Then what did he mean by that?”

  Brownie shrugged. “I didn’t give him a chance to explain. I frisked him and ordered him into the van.”

  “What did he say?”

  ” ‘Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything.’ Stuff like that.”

  Gardner made more notes. “And what did you say?”

  “Nothing then. I put the cuffs on and shoved him into the van.”

  “His comments at that point?”

  ” ‘Don’t. Stop this. Leave me alone.’ “

  “Did he struggle?”

  “No.”

  “Did you strike him or injure him in any way?”

  “No.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I told him what I thought he did.”

  “Your exact words.”

  ” ‘You put a fuckin’ snake on my daddy and killed him.’ “ Brownie stopped suddenly.

  Gardner looked up from his notes. “Go on.”

  ” ‘You motherfucker this, you motherfucker that.’ I was cursin’ him good.”

  “Any physical contact?”

  “No. Just words.”

  “What did he say when you gave him a chance to respond?”

  “Said he was sorry.”

  Gardner wrote “sorry” and underlined it. “Did you take that to mean that he had done something to Joseph?”

  “No.”

  “How did you take it?”

  Brownie changed position in his chair. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I sort of skipped over it. I started yelling again. Telling him what I wanted to do to him.”

  “Were these threats?”

  “Sort of.”

  Gardner wrote “threat.” “What exactly did you tell him?”

  “I said he should pay for his crime. That he should die like Daddy did.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He went quiet. Sounded like he was mumbling prayers or something.”

  “So what did you do then?”

  “I stopped talking.”

  “Describe him at that moment.”

  Brownie didn’t answer. That image of Ruth had haunted his nightmares for weeks. “Never seen anything like it. He had some kind of fit or seizure. His eyes rolled back, he was chanting something, uh, like speaking in tongues, acting weird, crazy, talking about death, and bodies, and God.…”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then he stopped and told me he was sorry again, and that he’d never hurt anyone.”

  Gardner put down his pen. “What was going through your mind at the time? You had no plan, you said. You were just rousting him. But after seeing his reaction, what effect did it have on you?”

  Brownie took a breath. “It was strange….” Gardner watched him relive the moment. “I began to believe him.”

  “What?”

  “Gard, I musta locked up ten thousand guys, heard a million excuses. I know when a guy is lying to me, but this time it was different. I had a feeling that he was telling the truth. After all that, after I had decided he was the one…”

  “So you let him go.”

  Brownie nodded.

  “You were convinced at that point that he had not harmed Joseph.”

  “No.”

  “No? You just said you believed him.”

  “The guy was really fucked up. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wasn’t quitting the investigation, just giving him a reprieve till I got myself together.”

  “So you released him in handcuffs to make your point. He wasn’t off the hook yet.”

  “You keep bugging me about the cuffs.”

  “I have to. It doesn’t make sense to me. Why, for God’s sake, would you let a man walk away in a set of your handcuffs?”

  “Told you I wasn’t a hundred percent myself.”

  Gardner looked him in the eye. “That’s obvious. It’s the stupidest thing you ever did.”

  “Well, I did it, and that’s that. Can’t we move on to something else?”

  Gardner picked up his pen again. “You said he was fucked up. Would you say he was suicidal?”

  “Yes. That’s the point. When I let him go, his fuse was lit.”

  Gardner glanced at Jennifer. He shot her a What do you think?look. But Jennifer stared back in silence. It was clear she wasn’t buying a single word of the suicide theory.

  The scheduling conference for Brownie’s case was set for two P.M. in the judge’s chambers. Rollie Ransome presided, and Kent King and Lin Song were there for the state. Gardner was late. The meeting with Brownie had gone into overtime.

  Gardner finally arrived wet, out of breath, and alone.

  “Good afternoon,”Judge Ransome said, “so glad you could make it.”

  “Sorry,” Gardner apologized, shaking out of his overcoat. “I got held up.”

  “Let’s get started.” Ransome was tired of waiting. He looked at Gardner. “Kent has asked that we begin trial the first week of January. How’s that for you, Lawson?”

  Gardner scrutinized the fat man as he sat down. So it was “Kent” and “Lawson.” “Let me check my calendar,” he replied, pulling out his book. The pages were filled with State’s Attorney’s business, but that no longer applied. January was free. “Got a conflict,” he finally said. If King wanted that time slot, he didn’t.

  “When can you do it?”

  “Not then.”

  “How about we slip it back a month, say into December?” King suggested.

  Rollie looked at Gardner. “The second week of December. How’s that?”

  Gardner sensed a fix. “Christmas holidays,” he replied. “It’ll conflict.” Court was always suspended the last two weeks of December.

  The judge smiled. “I’m Jewish, Lawson.”

  Gardner reddened. “Sorry, Your Honor,” he recovered, “I meant our court is usually shut down during that time.”

  “You forget I’m specially assigned. I don’t have to follow the rules. I can work through Christmas. How about you, Kent?”

  “Sure,” King said.

  “December, then?” the judge asked.

  December was special to Gardner. It was the one time of the year when he and Granville spent a lot of time together.

  “Well?” Rollie said. “Whenever you’re ready, Lawson.”

  “On second thought, the first suggestion might be fine after all.”

  Rollie wrote a date in his book. “We begin trial in State v. Brown on January eighth. Agreed?”

  The lawyers said yes.

  “Now let’s discuss motions, discovery, and other housekeeping issues.” The judge checked an entry on his pad. “What about discovery?” He looked at King.

  “Complete,” the special prosecutor said.

  Gardner did a double-take. “I haven’t received an outline of the state’s witnesses and evidence it intends to use at trial.”

  “Mailed out this morning,” Lin Song added.

  “Obviously not received,” Gardner answered. “But that’s all right. I’m filing a supplemental discovery request today.” He handed a sheaf of papers to the judge and a copy to King. “I want all exculpatory information in Mr. King’s files under the Brady cas
e, and I want the additional items outlined in this petition.”

  Lin Song glanced at King.

  “I suggest you read this carefully,” Gardner said. “It’s quite specific.”

  The room went quiet while the documents were perused. King dropped the papers onto his lap. “What is this, a joke?”

  “No joke,” Gardner replied.

  Rollie was still reading. Finally he put the papers down. “Your request goes beyond statutory requirements,” he told Gardner. “The state is under no obligation to give you any of its internal reports. You, of all people, should know that. And this paragraph about medical records, what’s that about?”

  “I want every witness statement, investigative report, background check, and medical and psychiatric record that the state has pertaining to Thomas Ruth,” Gardner answered. “Every one.”

  Rollie looked at King.

  “Don’t look at me,” King said.

  “You have such reports?” the judge asked.

  “No.”

  “He has them, and what he doesn’t have, he can get,” Gardner said.

  Rollie turned back to King. “Can you?”

  King shrugged. “Maybe and maybe not. I really don’t care. None of that information is relevant to the case. We’re going to try a live defendant, not a dead one. Brown is on trial, not Ruth. What possible relevance does his background have? We know he was alive, and we know that he’s dead. End of discussion.”

  “Under normal circumstances that might be true,” Gardner replied, “but we’re raising a defense that makes it relevant.”

  “What defense?” Rollie asked.

  Gardner stared at King. “Suicide. Ruth’s records become relevant under that defense. They can be used to establish his state of mind.”

  King looked to Lin Song for help. “We do not have any such records,” she said.

  “But if you did,” Rollie interjected, “you understand that you might have to turn them over to the defense.”

  “The law says that it’s their obligation to release what they have and to obtain what they lack,” Gardner declared, “because they have exclusive access to the victim’s personal files.”

  “What about that?” Rollie asked. “Are you going to secure Ruth’s records for Mr. Lawson or not?”

  King glanced up. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

  “You have three days to reply,” Rollie said firmly.

  “I understand.” King stood. “Three days to help Lawson with his defense. Can’t do it himself, so we have to do it for him. Pathetic.”