“Okay then, I’ll stop. My wife says I love to talk about myself, and she might be right.” Bob permitted himself a slight smile. “How can I help you?”
Mary knew this would be the difficult part, because she could see a major error that Bob had made, which no experienced criminal lawyer would have. She didn’t know how to broach it tactfully, so she started slowly. “Well, we think the best way to go about it is to try to understand who else was on the suspect list. What other suspects were there, in your mind?”
“I didn’t have any. I didn’t think that was my job, that was the police’s job, and they had their man. This was the highest-profile case you can imagine, and I had my hands full, just trying to deal with the evidence they had against Lonnie.” Bob’s tone turned defensive. “Also Lonnie answered a lot of questions when they picked him up, so I had to file a suppression motion, which I ended up losing anyway. They went by the book, they didn’t play. They weren’t about to make any mistakes with him, except the biggest one, they got the wrong guy.”
Mary remembered reading the motions in the file. They were well-written, but they lost because Lonnie had been properly Mirandized and had nevertheless gone on to answer questions, the actions of someone who felt confident in his own innocence.
“I’m no detective, and I certainly wasn’t then. I didn’t know the victim, Fiona, and I had no information on who murdered her or why.”
“Did you have a firm investigator?”
“You’re kidding, right? I didn’t even have a firm.” Bob laughed, without mirth. “I had a desk in a room that I rented with three other frat brothers, and we pooled for a reception service.”
“You’ve come far.” Mary smiled.
“Thanks.” Bob smiled back, but it faded quickly. “I handle myself better now and I’m tougher in negotiations, but then, I let myself get pushed around, and they threw everything they had at Lonnie. They rushed him to trial, they gave us no extensions, and it was a fast-track to hell.”
Mary could hear the anguish in his tone. He was blaming himself, over and over, like the boy version of herself.
“I’m not making excuses, believe me, but you have no idea of the kind of media attention and the sheer heat this case got.” Bob hunched over the desk, eager to elaborate. “The Gardner family was as major a family as Philadelphia has, they still are, and when the D.A. himself tries the case, there’s no way he’s going to lose. They won’t let him lose. Everybody falls in line, from law enforcement on down. It was David and Goliath, and Goliath is on deck to be the next governor. Governor Goliath!”
Mary could imagine the pressure. “Let’s go back to this idea of a suspect list.”
“Okay, but why?”
“You know, I’ve only worked on a few murder cases, but my partner, Bennie Rosato says—”
“Bennie Rosato is your partner?” Bob’s eyebrows flew upward in surprise. “She spoke at our Young Lawyers luncheon last year and she was awesome. She’s impressive.”
“I know, I’m as impressed as you are.” Mary smiled. “Anyway, she always says that, in murder cases, it helps raise reasonable doubt if you can point to another person who might have committed the murder. She doesn’t think it’s enough to just say anybody could’ve done it, but it really helps the jury visualize it if you give them a name. They find it easier to go your way.”
“Oh, no.” Bob grimaced, rubbing his face, then his beard, with strong hands. “I didn’t do that, not at all. Like I say, I didn’t have a chance. I was so over my head.”
“The purpose of this isn’t to make you feel worse.” Mary felt like the guilt fairy, flitting from Lonnie Stall to Bob Brandt, raising false hopes and lowering self-esteem. “You couldn’t be expected to know that, and I didn’t know it myself until Bennie explained it to me. Some people think it’s a lawyer’s trick, and maybe it is with other lawyers, but in this case it can serve us well. We have the luxury of representing someone who is innocent.”
Judy interjected, “Mare, we represent Allegra Gardner, not Lonnie Stall.”
“Right, sorry.” Mary faced Bob. “So back to the suspect list. The murder occurred at a party, and I’m assuming that this was essentially a closed system.”
“Sure.” Bob leaned forward eagerly, putting his hands on the desk. “It’s a huge system though, two hundred people. Caterers, two bands, a DJ, sound equipment dudes, and other equipment rental guys, like chairs or a dance floor, all at a party spread to show off the new offices.”
Mary made notes. It was more than she had thought. “So let’s reason together. It was a private party, of about two hundred guests, and God-knows-how-many service people. Any one of the guests or staff could be the killer, and I’m going to assume that one of them was, because I don’t think a private party given to celebrate the Gardners’ new offices would be easy to get into. They had to have some kind of guest list and security to check them in.”
“I bet, and as I recall, the Gardner family companies owned the building, but they subcontracted the security to Brockmore, so the security must have been Brockmore people.”
Mary made a note. “I didn’t see any guest list in the file. Do you know if you were given anything like that?”
“Not that I recall.” Bob gestured vaguely to his right. “I sent for the file when you called today, I had it stored in business archives. When I get it, I’ll have it messengered to you.”
“Thanks. Did you know if Fiona had a date at the party?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Do you know if she was there with any of her girlfriends?”
“No I don’t know that, either. I’m sure the Gardner family could give you that information, though.”
“They’re not exactly cooperating. We went to their house and sat in a home conference room that was wired for—” Mary caught herself, then glanced at Judy. “Wait a minute. They taped our meeting. I wonder if they had a videotape going the night of the party.”
Judy’s eyes lit up. “I’m sure they’d have one. If they do it at home, for sure they’re going to do it at work. There are security cameras and videotapes everywhere, these days.”
Bob frowned. “I didn’t get a security videotape from the D.A. and I don’t believe there was one introduced into evidence by the Commonwealth. So I don’t know if the police got one from the family, or they got one but didn’t turn it over. They have to turn evidence over only if it shows a defendant is innocent, right?”
“Right. They have a duty to turn over only exculpatory evidence, and there can be prosecutorial misconduct issues, where the D.A. has exculpatory evidence but hides it.”
“It would be such a risk for the D.A. to do that, in Lonnie’s case.”
“But it happens.” Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. “I would love to see the videotape of that party. It could show us Fiona, who she was with, who she talked to, everything about her that night.”
Judy looked over. “I don’t remember seeing security videotapes listed on the exhibit list, do you?”
“No, but I didn’t get as far as the exhibit list.” Mary was kicking herself for not staying up to work last night. “But even if it wasn’t turned over to the police, I assume the Gardner family company has a videotape, or the very least, they’d certainly have a guest list, in addition to a list of the service people.”
Bob nodded. “I’m sure they would. They would turn over copies of those things to the police, not the originals. Who would part with the original videotape taken at a party the night your daughter was murdered? That’s what I’m talking about.” Bob threw up his hands. “Nobody was looking to cast the net wide, because they thought they had their man. The only person who believes Lonnie was innocent was Lonnie and his family, and all of us, at church.”
“Why did he take the plea, in the end?”
“I begged him to, and after he testified, he saw the light. He talked to his mom, then Linda, who he saw from time to time, she had a crush on him anyway. Then he gave me the word, t
ake the deal.”
“Why did they still offer it?” Mary wanted to verify her theory. “They’d gone all through the trial.”
“There was still a risk they would lose, or hang the jury, and they didn’t want to risk anything. They increased it, added five more years.” Bob’s voice turned bitter. “It was payback for Lonnie’s turning down the deal when it was first offered. I do the same thing when I negotiate, but a man’s liberty and life aren’t involved.”
“Was race a factor, at all?” Mary was wondering if it was grounds for collateral attack.
“No.” Bob’s tone was firm. “There were twelve people on the jury, and ten of them were black. But you know what was a factor? Gender.”
“How so?”
“There were eight men and four women, and even I knew that was bad news, as soon as they were empaneled.” Bob shook his head. “It was the first jury I ever picked, but even a rookie could tell that a young, good-looking black kid, Dean’s List in college, who had a steady part-time job, also sang solos in two church choirs, was going to appeal to women, especially the older ones we had to choose from. I struck every middle-aged white man I could, to try to get more women, but it was just luck of the draw.”
Mary made a note. “How about Judge Vander, was he a factor? He sounded fair and reasonable in the transcript, but I know a judge can sway a jury in a way that doesn’t show in print.”
“Nothing there. Vander was completely down the middle. He wasn’t prejudiced either way.” Bob’s gaze traveled to the window, but Mary knew there was nothing to see, except for the blinds. “That’s the thing about this case. We had so much right, but so much wrong, from the jump.”
Mary recognized the resignation in his tone, and he sounded uncannily like Lonnie at Graterford this morning. “You know, when we went to see Lonnie, he wished us luck, but he said he doesn’t have any hope. He doesn’t even want to hope.”
Bob turned to Mary, locking eyes with her over his desk. “I didn’t want to hope either, until you two walked in.”
His words stayed with Mary, worrying her as they left Bob’s office and walked back to Rosato & Associates, where hope had arrived, or at least help, in one of its many forms.
Chapter Seventeen
“Lou, you came back!” Mary cried out, when she and Judy stepped off the elevator to find Lou Jacobs, their firm investigator, standing at the reception desk, talking to Marshall. He was in his mid-sixties, but hardly looked it, trim and fit in his white polo shirt and khaki pants, which he always called slacks. He had a year-round tan that he earned fishing on his boat, but he made a sunburn look outdoorsy, rather than carcinogenic.
“Hiya, girls!” Lou turned with a broad smile, throwing open his brawny arms. His hair was a slicked-back white-gray, his eyes a lively black-brown, and his nose curved like a seagull above thin lips. His cheekbones were high and slanting in a weathered face creased by deep crow’s-feet and even deeper laugh lines. “Mare, you gettin’ married? Marshall just told me! Congratulations!”
“Thanks!” Mary dropped her gear and hugged him, breathing in his smells of salt air, Drakkar Noir, and the liverwurst and onion sandwich he’d undoubtedly had for lunch, because he was a walking deli. She released him, happily. “That was so nice of you, to come back from your vacation. I feel guilty.”
“Don’t. I woulda felt guilty if I stayed. Jewish guilt trumps Catholic, every time. We’ve been at it longer than you guys. Experience shows.” Lou grinned down at her. He was only of average height, but had been a beat cop and later a homicide detective, so he had a naturally commanding presence. “And you, kiddo? I turn my back five minutes, and you become a partner and get engaged? I’m happy for you, and I love Anthony, but if he does you wrong, I’ll break his face.”
“Now, that’s love.” Mary smiled.
“Only kidding, anyway, I got you something, to say congratulations on your partnership.” Lou reached into his back pocket, produced a long skinny box wrapped in newspaper, and handed it to Mary. “Sorry, I didn’t have any gift wrap on the boat. But at least I didn’t use this for the fish.”
“Lou, you didn’t have to do that. We said no presents.”
“I don’t listen to you ladies, and we know I’m special.”
“You are.” Mary tore off the paper to reveal a dark blue box, which she opened. Inside was a silvery Cross pen, and she held it up to the light, where it gleamed. “Oh, you’re too nice. What a great gift, thank you so much!”
“Happy to.” Lou nodded, pleased. “I know you’re on the computer, but every lawyer should have a nice pen, don’t you think? At least to sign those nice big checks that’ll be coming in.”
“True! Or those big bills that will be going out.” Mary put the pen back, closed the box, and gave him another hug. “Thanks again.”
Marshall stood up, frowning. “Mary, where’s your engagement ring, to show Lou?”
Mary reddened. “It’s being resized.”
“To nothing,” Judy added, and Mary shot her a look.
Lou was oblivious, having learned to disregard their girl talk. “So what do you ladies got for me? That case in the conference room? I glanced through the file already.”
“Good, then let’s go. We need you.” Mary took Lou’s arm, and she and Judy led him to the war room, where they settled in around the conference table, and Mary and Judy took turns bringing him up-to-date, which included showing him the stack of letters that Allegra had written to Lonnie Stall, which were all basically identical, except that Allegra’s handwriting got better as she got older, then turned to typing, on laser-printed computer paper. When Mary was finished, she eased back in the chair and asked Lou what he thought, because she respected his judgment.
“You wanna know what I think?” Lou rubbed his eyes, leaving a little redness under his fresh tan. “I feel sorry for this kid, Allegra, for lots of reasons, but that’s not the point.”
Mary felt comforted. “It’s not the point legally, but I feel it, too.”
Judy sipped a fresh coffee. The late-day sun beamed through the windows and flooded the conference room with a warm golden hue, as it began to dip over West Philly. “Me, too. Do you think Stall did it, Lou?”
“Too soon to say. I’m reserving judgment, and we all know I’m not the bleeding heart that you ladies are.” Lou’s expression settled into grave lines. “They had a boatload of evidence on him, and I agree you want to look at that videotape.”
“The security company they use is Blackmore.”
“Good, I know a few guys at Blackmore. I can make some calls. Unofficially.”
“That would be great.” Mary brightened. Lou had been their security guard when Bennie had hired him, and he was totally plugged into the retired-cop network, most of whom were bored to tears working as security guards.
Judy straightened up. “But what’s our next move? Ideally, we’d try to get information about that night from the family, but that isn’t happening anytime soon. Should we try to talk to some of the trial witnesses? Does that make any sense?”
“No.” Mary leaned forward, trying not to look at the letters from Allegra that littered the table. “I don’t think we should be talking to the trial witnesses. Allegra asked us to solve her sister’s murder, and so far, what we’ve done is retraced the steps of the police. I get it, because we needed the background, but if we do only that, we’re just going to end up in the same place that the police did, without testing their conclusion.”
Lou nodded. “That’s right. I looked at the file and I can tell you that they had only the best personnel on this case. Not just with Mel trying it himself, but I know Mort Ledbetter, the lead detective and his partner. They’ve been around a long time and they’re some of the best in the department, even now.”
Judy looked over. “What’s your point? That they’re right?”
Lou shook his head. “No, but given the circumstances, I see why they liked Stall.”
Listening, Mary reminded herself that Lou,
as an ex-cop, still used cop jargon, so when he said the cops liked somebody, it meant that they suspected him. It was probably why Mary couldn’t have been a cop, because she liked everybody and suspected no one.
Lou continued, “And I know that confirmation bias affects even the best guys. It’s not really a rush to judgment, but more, we like this guy, and then you start to see only the facts that support your theory. That could be what happened here, but you won’t find that out, or challenge it, by following what they did.”
“Right.” Mary found herself rising, as it was a little-known fact that though Italians needed their hands to talk, they needed their feet to think. “We have to start fresh and not continue on the track we were starting with. We have to talk to Tim Gage.”
Lou nodded. “That’s right, the boyfriend. I’d like to know if he was there that night.”
Judy sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowing. “I see, and we should also look into whether Fiona had any friends there. Girlfriends. Allegra may be a loner, but I get the impression that Fiona wasn’t. She was pretty and popular, and she probably had lots of friends. Maybe Allegra could give us some of their names. If Tim Gage wasn’t there, she could’ve been there with her girlfriends, any guy friends, or all of them.”
Mary felt her heart beat a little faster. “This should take about thirty seconds on Facebook. Start with Gage.”
Judy was already pulling over her laptop. “Right, he’s the only name we have, and boys are so dumb, they keep everything in their profiles public.”
Lou rolled his chair next to Judy, to see her laptop. “I remember when your profile was how you looked from the side.”
“Lou, don’t start.” Mary smiled, then pushed her laptop across the table, to work next to Judy. “You’re hipper than you think. You’re a hep cat. Or for this case, you’re the bee’s knees.”
Judy looked over as she typed. “Mary’s right, Lou. You’re hot for an olds. You’re hot enough to be on a Cialis commercial.”
Lou laughed. “Never touch the stuff. Ask Michelle.”
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