The Law Partners (Michael Gresham Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by John Ellsworth

  Judge Itaglia gathers us around her desk in chambers--Shaughnessy, Danny, Mira, and me--and she calls court to order.

  She begins. "We're going to take a look at what facts the court was asked to rely on in releasing Mr. Gresham from Cook County Jail. There were many verbal representations made to me by Danny Gresham and the court needs to determine if those are confirmed or misstated. If confirmed, the release on recognizance will continue. If misstated, Mr. Gresham goes straight back to jail and, I kid you not, Danny Gresham with him for misrepresenting facts to me. That said, let's move out into the courtroom. Officer Stormont awaits us there. And just so you know, Marcel Rainford, Mr. Gresham's investigator, is still in jail while we make our inquiry. All else being equal, he will be released OR too if Michael Gresham prevails out there."

  So that answers my question about Marcel's whereabouts.

  We all step into the greater room as directed and take our seats. Once again I have Mira beside me at counsel table, but we're unbalanced at the other end. Harley is missing and this no longer feels right. DA Shaughnessy is set to go at his table, with Detective Weldon beside him. Just in front of the bar sit two huge deputy sheriffs and between them sits Officer Stormont. He looks calm and unruffled and I hate him for it. I know who he is and what is he, but what I don't know is whether I can prove it.

  "Mr. Gresham," the judge says to me, "please proceed with the presentation of your motion to release OR."

  I lean forward and nod at the bench. "Thank you, Judge Itaglia, and thank you for your help in this case thus far. Your Honor, I am prepared to prove to the court that Officer Tory Stormont removed Mira Morales' gun from her home the night of the Harrow shooting; that Officer Stormont had the opportunity and reason to shoot Darrell Harrow; and that Officer Stormont and our very own Detective Jamison Weldon are acting together to prevent a defense verdict in this case for political and criminal reasons."

  "Very well; please proceed, counsel."

  "The movant calls District Attorney Ronald Shaughnessy to the witness stand."

  There are complaints and emotional pleas to the court, but in the end the judge orders Shaughnessy to the stand. An Assistant DA steps up and takes his place at the State's table.

  Shaughnessy pauses before he sits down in the witness chair and the clerk swears him in. Then he stands alone, looking around, blinking hard, perhaps deciding whether he will even sit. The judge clears her throat and Shaughnessy takes a seat.

  The judge then has the bailiff bring the jury in and they are seated. She simply advises the jury that we're proceeding with the trial, that the defense is calling its first witness, and that the witness just happens to be the District Attorney himself. Then she looks at me and nods to proceed.

  "State your name for the record," I tell Shaughnessy.

  He looks at me long and hard. Again, as if mulling.

  Then he says, "Ronald Shaughnessy."

  "You are the Cook County District Attorney?"

  "Yes."

  "And you have served in that capacity up to this point in the trial, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "You are a Democrat?"

  "Yes."

  "And you are acquainted with CPD officer Tory Stormont?"

  "Vaguely. I might know him if I met him in the hall."

  "Did you? Did you meet him in the hall?"

  "What? No!"

  "How do you know him?"

  "My office investigates all police shooting cases in Cook County. We don't have jurisdiction to do that, so we do it as a public service. We investigated Officer Tory Stormont who was eventually indicted by my office for second degree murder in the shooting death of a young citizen of Chicago, a Mr. Johnny Washington."

  "So you're prosecuting Officer Stormont?"

  "Not me personally, no. My office is doing that."

  "What's the name of the attorney in your office who got that indictment?'

  "Darrell Harrow."

  "Would that be the same Darrell Harrow who is the victim in our case in which you are claiming Miranda Morales was the shooter?"

  "The same."

  "What do you think of this proposition, Mr. District Attorney: Darrell Harrow indicts Officer Stormont. Officer Stormont shoots and kills Darrell Harrow. Does that make sense to you?"

  "Not at all."

  "You see no connection between a man who is charged with a crime and how he might feel about the people who are claiming he committed a crime?"

  "No connection."

  "Then tell me if this is more of a connection: Darrell Harrow indicts Tory Stormont. Tory Stormont was present at the scene of the crime where Darrell Harrow was murdered. Except the District Attorney, instead of suspecting Tory Stormont, picks out another prosecutor in his office, the same prosecutor who was on tap to take over the prosecution of Tory Stormont and, as if that's not enough, the same prosecutor who, if she's elected tomorrow, will bow her neck and make that case against Tory Stormont stick. Do you get the connection?"

  "No."

  "Well, let's try this. What if Stormont figures out how to kill the prosecutor who indicted him and make it look like it was done by the new prosecutor who, if elected, will come after him next. Does your mind grasp a connection on these facts?"

  "No."

  He is weakening in his resolve to keep playing the "no" card. You can sense it in the courtroom air. The jury is no longer on his side as it might have been since juries always are always siding with the witness at least up to when the first answer is given. He has lost that advantage now. Surely someone on that jury is thinking, This guy must be absolute bonkers if he doesn't see the connections between these people!

  Which is the point of this whole exercise: to alienate the jury and the judge from Shaughnessy by making them see him for the manipulator and liar he really is. If A equals B and B equals C then you just can't deny for very long that A is also equal to C. Before long you're going to find a whole roomful of people who are going to call you out for that. It is my job to make that happen. I can't get a confession out of Shaughnessy--nobody can--but I can get denials of truth out of him and expose him. That is my job.

  "Mr. Shaughnessy, isn't it true that your office is tight with the police union?"

  "Define 'tight,' please."

  "You're in bed together?"

  "You mean like literally in bed? Not hardly. I'm much choosier than that."

  A light ripple of laughter crosses the jury but I come right back.

  "I mean like conspiring to allow crimes by the police to go un-prosecuted. That's what I mean by tight and in bed together. Please answer, have you been conspiring with the police union?"

  "No."

  "With its police membership?"

  "No. Look at my prosecution of Stormont to see this."

  "Not your prosecution. You told us it was Harrow's prosecution. And that it happened without your approval, correct?"

  "No. It had my approval."

  "Good. Then perhaps you can bring us the email or office memo where you order Harrow to prosecute Stormont. The jury would like to see that if it's not too much trouble, sir."

  "It's not too much trouble."

  "Good. Then will you have it here at one o'clock when we begin the afternoon session?"

  "Of course I will."

  "Thank you. That is all. For now."

  "Counsel," says the judge, "may the witness be excused?"

  "No, Your Honor." I reply. "I will need to call him once again after another witness or two."

  "Thank you. Please call your next witness."

  43

  "Movant calls Tory Stormont," I proclaim.

  The bailiff steps into the hallway and returns with Stormont in tow. Stormont, on my earlier motion, has been barred from the courtroom while other witnesses have testified throughout this trial. This is his first visit here with the jury present.

  Stormont takes the witness stand.

  He is a burly man, rough around the edges like Shaughnessy. I am str
uck by the resemblance between the two men: both large and raw-boned, rough-hewn, with solid jaws and that kind of charisma that makes you eager to vote in their favor. For his part, Stormont radiates it. The man will be hard to hate. But it must happen. Now.

  "Tell us your name."

  "Officer Tory Stormont."

  "Your first name. It's 'officer?’”

  "No. It's Torrance. The 'officer' designates that I'm a sworn police officer with the Chicago Police Department."

  "Well, thanks for straightening that out."

  His answer hasn't been angry, not even heavy-handed, as I had hoped it would be. He has been friendly and not at all insulted or belittled.

  "Are you acquainted with District Attorney Ronald Shaughnessy?"

  "Distantly, I suppose. He was prosecuting me."

  "For what?"

  There is a long sigh. “Murder in the shooting of Johnny Washington, a young black man in South Chicago. Mr. Shaughnessy must have thought I was guilty because he turned Mr. Harrow loose on me.”

  "Really? Has he told you he thinks you are guilty?"

  "No."

  "Has he sent you a letter or an email saying he thinks you're guilty?"

  "Well, he was prosecuting me."

  "He was or his office was?”

  "Well...his office, I guess. But his name's on all the papers, including the indictment."

  "Because it's all being done in his name as the elected official, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Not because he's personally on your case?"

  "No, I guess not."

  "That was Darrell Harrow, correct?"

  "Correct."

  "Until you shot him to death, correct?"

  "Shot him to death? Are you serious?"

  "It's true, you shot him and tried to make it look like Miranda Morales was the shooter, didn't you?"

  "No. I mean no!"

  "Not only that, Friday night you shot and killed a lawyer on my defense team, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but only after I was threatened by her."

  "How did she threaten you? Look over at the jury and tell them that."

  "She--she was with you and your bodyguard outside my door. I know you had guns!"

  "Did Harley Sturgis have a gun?"

  "I don't know."

  "Did you know when you shot her to death Friday night?"

  At this point a juror stands up and begins waving her arms. "Wait a minute, Judge, are we talking about that nice lady at the lawyers' table? She's been shot?"

  "Ladies and gentlemen, the court has just learned over the weekend that Attorney Harley Sturgis of Mr. Gresham's firm was shot and killed Friday night by Tory Stormont. I have seen the initial police reports and know this to be true. Tory Stormont has claimed the shooting was justified. Your job is not to decide that. This is neither the time nor forum for that. Your job is to decide whether he's giving truthful answers to the questions put here today and that is all. Please proceed."

  The jurors sit back uncomfortably. The scenery has been changed. There are no raised hands, no questions. But they are clearly upset. Several are crying openly, two women and one man.

  I lean down to Mira. "We are making progress," I whisper.

  She says nothing.

  "I'm waiting to hear your answer, Officer Stormont. Did you know Friday night when you shot Harley Sturgis whether she was armed?"

  "No. I didn't know."

  "Did you later find out whether she was armed?"

  "I did."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "Detective Pamlico of Arlington PD told me she was not armed."

  "What?"

  "She was unarmed."

  "What?"

  The witness looks at the judge.

  "Let me rephrase," I tell the court. "Are you telling us that you just shot and killed your second unarmed civilian in Cook County last Friday night because you felt threatened by her?"

  Dead still, deathly quiet.

  It is a good point. The jury has picked it up and embraced it.

  The man is a killer.

  "When speaking to you, we also need to keep in mind you shot and killed Johnny Washington this past year because you felt threatened by him too. So let me ask, do you feel threatened right now? Should we feel threatened by you?"

  At that point, the prosecution against Mira is all but over and I know it. It is just a matter of finishing out the trial at this point. Finish the trial and wait for a defense verdict of not guilty.

  But there is one more thing. I'm going to break this wide open with the video that Marcel so carefully put together for me. Danny comes forward and keys it up for me on my laptop.

  "Permission to play the defendant's video for the witness, Your Honor."

  "You may proceed."

  I nod to Danny. She presses PLAY and we all watch the video where Officer Stormont enters the video view surrounding the elevator vestibule. The camera mounted on the far wall recorded a gun clearly bulging in Stormont’s hip pocket. When we are finished we turn up the lights and I again approach Stormont.

  "Now, let me ask, since we're all wondering. As you're leaving the Morales floor the night of the murder of Darrell Harrow, whose gun is it we see bulging in your back pocket?"

  His eyes dart around the courtroom. "You know, I want to talk to my lawyer. I'm taking the Fifth Amendment. I'm done here."

  So I look up at the judge.

  As simply as I can, I say, "Your Honor, the defense rests its case."

  The defense case would never be stronger than at that very moment. Something about quitting while you're ahead.

  So I quit. I have bagged my man.

  He is my first kill of the new week.

  And it's only Monday.

  44

  While the jury is out deliberating, Danny and I walk back outside and down to the jail. We ask to see our client, Marcel Rainford.

  Ten minutes later, we are alone with Marcel in a conference room. He looks very tired but he is keeping his spirits up, he tells us, by reviewing court papers with other prisoners who are coming to him for advice. "I'm not a lawyer, I told them. But that doesn't matter. I work for a lawyer and that's enough for them. It keeps me from thinking every second about Harley. I got that girl killed, you know."

  "No, Stormont did that. We were just doing our job, trying to serve him with process. Please don't beat yourself up, Marcel. We're all in this together."

  He looks to Danny and back to me. We both nod that we're in agreement on this. It was a horrible thing, but, in the end, it was part of our job.

  "So how close am I to getting out? Any movement on that?"

  "Yes, the judge signed an order releasing you OR. You'll be out in the next hour. We just didn't want to leave you hanging."

  "The jury's out?"

  "The jury's out."

  "How did it go?"

  "Well, you know I didn't have a confession or even a statement from anyone because the police never did investigate this case beyond immediately pointing the finger at Mira. And of course Stormont made himself totally unavailable, so I went with what I had."

  "Which was?"

  I sit back and lace my fingers together on the table.

  "I went with logic. That good old standby, logic."

  "Also known as common sense," adds Danny. "He was terrific. He called Shaughnessy and Stormont and drew the lines that connected them. The jury definitely bought it."

  "They didn't have much choice, once Stormont shot poor Harley. He as much as admitted he had also killed Harrow when he did that. Sayonara, fool."

  "It sounds like a defense verdict is on the horizon for some time today, then," Marcel says.

  "Yes, then it's off to the news media. We've got a hell of a story that we have to get out there before voting starts tomorrow."

  "How's Mira feeling?"

  "You know, when we left she said she was going to go for a long walk. I asked her why. She said she needed some space to start thinking about h
er staff as the new District Attorney. She's come back around."

  "That's good to hear," says Marcel. "She's been through hell over this."

  "Yes," says Danny, "she was a pawn in their little game. Pure and simple."

  "That's all over," says Marcel. "Thanks to our boy, Michael Gresham."

  "Thanks to all of us," I add. "We're all responsible for whatever happens next."

  Speaking of which, the jailer comes for me one last time.

  "The court called," he says. "You have a verdict."

  The three of us look at each other.

  "How long they been out, Boss?"

  "Less than two hours."

  "Oh, my God. I'll be over as soon as they spring me out. Please stick around."

  "You know we will, Marcel. We'll be waiting right there."

  Danny and I leave the room and walk outside. Early November snow is spitting. The air is flaked with sideways-blowing particles of the white stuff. A vulnerable part of me deep inside suddenly wants to get home away from all this. Away from the court, the black robes, the detective shields, the police uniforms, the jail and jailers. Get home and never leave again. That just might happen, too.

  Mira is already at counsel table when we walk into the courtroom. Judge Itaglia is on the bench, the courtroom is packed with media and court watchers, and the State is settled in at their table.

  "Mr. Gresham," says the judge, "the court has received notice from the bailiff that the jury has a verdict. Are you ready, sir?"

  "We're ready, Your Honor, thank you."

  "Very well, the bailiff will bring in the jury."

  Minutes later they are led in single file, all twelve of them--the alternates have been excused--and they take their places in the box. The verdict is passed from the jury forewoman and handed to Judge Itaglia, who studies it. She then hands it back to the clerk.

  "The clerk will read the verdict."

  The clerk stands and studies the paper, then he reads. "We the jury duly impaneled in the case titled State of Illinois v. Miranda Morales do find the defendant not guilty on all counts."