Mary took rapid notes. “Do they have a sign-in at the door, like with security?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you mention any of that to your lawyer?”
Lonnie frowned, scratching his head. “I think so, but I don’t know what he found out. He wasn’t really looking at who did the murder, just trying to show that I didn’t.”
Mary thought back to his trial lawyer’s opening argument. “His basic defense was that they had no murder weapon and no proof of motive by you.”
“Right.”
“But the prosecutor suggested it was a sexual assault that turned deadly when Fiona said no.”
“That didn’t happen.”
Judy gestured to get Lonnie’s attention. “Who was the security company that night? Do you remember, was it in-house or did they contract that out?”
“I don’t know. We used the delivery entrances at the loading dock, and we set up in the kitchen, like the company dining room.”
“Did you notice anything or anyone unusual around Fiona that night?”
“No, I wouldn’t know. I was working.”
“Did you see Fiona that night, before you found her on the floor?”
“Yes.”
“Did you talk to her?” Judy asked, jumping in.
“No, just smiled, and she smiled back.”
“Do you know if she had a date that night?”
“No idea.”
“Do you remember who you saw her with?”
“No.”
“Does the name Tim Gage mean anything to you?”
“No.”
Judy looked over at Mary. “Okay, back to you.”
Mary nodded, turning to Lonnie. “How well did you know John and Jane Gardner?”
“Not very well. My boss dealt with the clients.”
Mary thought about the Gardners’ house. “They entertained at that house out in Townsend?”
Lonnie thought a minute. “Yes, sure.”
“So you were out there, working at their parties?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“About ten.”
Mary made a note. “Did you meet anybody from the Gardner companies?”
“Not really met them, but I saw them. I knew some of their names. I don’t remember them anymore.”
“Did you have a criminal record before this?”
“No.”
“Any drug or drinking problems?”
“No.”
“Where did you go to high school?”
“University City High.”
“Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“No.”
“Are your mother and father alive?”
“My mother is, my father isn’t.”
“What’s your mother’s name?”
“What difference does that make?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Rita.”
“Rita Stall?”
“No, Henley. Gerold Henley was my stepfather, he died when I was in high school. Don’t know where my real father is. Never met the man. I was an infant when he left. Gerold raised me. Worked for the post office.”
“Where does she live, your mother?”
“West Philly.”
Mary tried another tack. “Tell us about your lawyer. How did you find him? How did you pay for him? Why did you use him and not a public defender?”
“I still don’t see why this matters.”
“I’m interested in your view of his competence, so that we can see if there’s grounds for collateral attack on your conviction, like for ineffective assistance of counsel.”
Lonnie pursed his lips. “Okay, his name is Bob Brandt. I had some money and so did my mom, and we figured we had a better shot with a private lawyer instead of the public defender.”
“Do you think Brandt did a good job?”
“He did his best.”
“How frequently did he meet with you? Did he meet with you enough?”
“He met with me whenever I wanted.”
“Did he explain his defense to you?”
“Yes.” Lonnie nodded.
“And he told you to take the deal?”
“Yes, right away, but I didn’t in the beginning. I knew I was innocent and I wanted my chance to say it in court. That’s why I got on the stand. I was going on the truth, but he thought the jury wasn’t going my way and the D.A.’s case was going good, so I took the deal in the end.”
Mary felt any appellate argument slipping away. “Did your lawyer advise you that it was risky for a defendant, even an innocent man, to take the stand in his own defense?”
“Yes, he did. He told me that the prosecutor was going to tussle with me. He told me to tell the truth and only answer the questions they asked me. I was the one who messed up on the stand, I got flustered.” Lonnie pursed his lips. “But I also knew that if I didn’t testify, I had no case at all.”
“Why didn’t you appeal?”
“We ran out of money. I had no grounds.”
“Is there any reason you can think of that would give you grounds for a collateral appeal?”
“No.” Lonnie shook his head. “If I did, I would’ve tried to file one. I spend a lot of time in the prison library and I’m pretty good with the law books.”
“Do you have any other information at all about that night that you can tell us?”
“No.”
Mary couldn’t hide her frustration. “It’s like you’ve given up.”
Lonnie shrugged, yet again. “I don’t think of it that way. I think of it like, I accept what happened. I’m here now, and this is where I live. I made a life for myself here.”
“How?”
“I do my job in the garment shop here, I make uniforms, boots for Correctional Industries. They pay bonuses. Everybody on B-block wants that job, I was lucky to get it. Most of the guys in the garment shop are lifers, they got hundreds of lifers here, and there’s no job opening in the shop unless they die.” Lonnie permitted himself a chuckle. “Also I take courses, trying to get enough for my college degree. I study, read, work out.”
“Do you have friends here?”
“Some, I stay out of gangs, out of trouble.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“Nah. My mom visits every Wednesday and prays with me. We’re allowed four visits a month by the same person. She comes even though it’s not easy to get here from the city. She helps me to accept my life’s path.”
Mary still didn’t understand. “How can you accept it? If you’re innocent and you didn’t kill her, doesn’t it drive you crazy that you’re in here paying for a crime you didn’t commit?”
Lonnie met her eye, then shook his head again. “No. No. I will not go there. I will not let myself go there.”
Mary swallowed hard, taking another tack. “Did you know Allegra at all?”
“No.”
“Did you ever speak to her at the parties?’
“No, not at all. She was a little kid. I couldn’t even tell you what she looks like. Long hair, glasses, that’s it.”
Mary felt dumbfounded. “She thinks you were very nice and quiet.”
“I am.” Lonnie smiled slightly. “You can see that.”
“Think you ever talked to her, like maybe just made an offhand comment at a party, and you don’t remember it? You know, the kind of thing that might mean a lot to a little kid, but an adult just doesn’t even remember?”
Lonnie shook his head. “No. I was the help at those parties. We were told not to talk to the guests or the clients. We were supposed to be as invisible as possible, not speak unless we were spoken to, and make sure the drinks and food kept coming.”
Mary let it go for now. “Did you have a girlfriend at the time Fiona was murdered?”
“No, not really. I went out, but I mostly went to school and worked.”
“When you went out, who did you go out with?”
Lonnie hesitated.
“Why you want to know that?”
“Just curious.”
“Girl named Linda Wall. She’s married now.”
“Who were your friends at school?”
“Didn’t really have very many.”
“Can you give me a name or two?” Mary paused, reading his eyes. “Again, I’m just curious. I’m trying to get as full a picture as I can of your life. Maybe I’ll be able to figure out something, just the littlest thing, that can prove you weren’t the one who committed the murder.”
“Okay. My friends were Dave Jackson, DeQuan Merry, that’s about it. They went to my church, we were in the choir.”
“Are you religious?”
“I am.” Lonnie’s expression relaxed, and for a moment he looked like a much younger man. “I feel blessed to walk in God’s light, and he guides me every step I take in here, every minute of every day.”
Mary’s ears pricked up at a new strength in his voice. “Have you always been religious?”
“Yes. My mom was in the choir and she took me as soon as she could, yes she did. I accept the world the way it is, and I accept my role in the world. God has a plan for me, and I’m here to fulfill His plan.”
Mary struggled to understand him. “What’s His plan for you? What plan are you fulfilling by staying in prison for a crime you didn’t commit?”
Lonnie hesitated. “I don’t know God’s plan, only God does. I work in the garment shop, so my clothes keep people warm. I help out in the library, and maybe something I tell somebody helps them. That is God, working through me. I don’t know the reason yet.”
“What about, ‘God helps those who help themselves’? What about justice?”
“I am helping myself. I help myself to be a better person, every day.”
Mary couldn’t let it go. “Then help us to get you out of here. If you think of anything that we could use, let us know.”
Lonnie blinked, and his eyes shone. “I don’t want to hope.”
Mary swallowed hard. She had never felt so confused about a case, or a client. “Still, we’re going to try.”
“I wish you luck, but you know what this says?” Lonnie pointed to the dark green script on his forearm. “It says, ‘Only God can judge me. ’”
Mary didn’t remark on the irony, to a man behind bars.
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mary asked Judy, as they walked through the prison parking lot to their car.
“What?” Judy looked over.
“Call me crazy, but I don’t think he did it. I believe him.”
Judy fell into step beside her, nodding. “I agree with you. I don’t think he did it, either.”
“It’s ironic, right? There’s a record full of evidence against him. Like you say, he didn’t have a chance on appeal. Why do you think he’s innocent?”
“Just by what he said, and the way he said it. He gave a completely plausible explanation for how Fiona could have been murdered. If he hadn’t gotten so flustered on the stand and he had a better lawyer, he would’ve had an excellent chance of raising reasonable doubt.”
“That’s why I think it. He’s either the best liar on earth or he’s really telling the truth. Or we’re projecting wildly and being insanely naïve.”
“There’s also the facts of record, not just us being naïve.” Judy shook her head, musing as they walked in the same stride. “He didn’t take the plea deal initially. That intrigues me. Also he has no criminal record, and lastly, he testified in his own defense. You can watch Law & Order and know that’s suicide, especially if you’re guilty.”
“Good point,” Mary said, as they reached the car and she chirped it unlocked.
“What a difference a day makes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yesterday, I believed in our client, but not Stall. Now I believe in Stall, but not our client.”
“I still believe in both.” Mary got into the car, so did Judy, and they closed the doors behind them. “Will you read me those letters he gave us while I drive?”
“If you promise not to drive off the road in despair.”
“Go, girl.” Mary started the engine, they both put on their shoulder harnesses, and Judy dug into the manila envelope, taking out the packet of letters and opening the second one.
“You want me to read to you? It’s all on one line.” Judy cleared her throat. “Dear Mr. Stall, I hope you are doing well. I know you are innocent and you will be free soon. Your friend, Allegra Gardner.’”
“Doesn’t that sound like the first letter?” Mary steered out of the parking lot and down the long road to Route 29.
“Yes. Let me see the third one. Lonnie was nice enough to put them in chronological order.” Judy put the second letter away and opened up the third one, while Mary looked over nervously, seeing that it was only one line.
“Please tell me it doesn’t say the same exact thing.”
“It says the exact same thing, which would be the obsessive part.”
“Oh no.” Mary bit her lip, hitting the gas in light traffic, on the two-lane road. “I can’t wait to read the other ones, and try to understand what was going on with her. What’s the next one say?”
“Let’s see.” Judy opened the fourth letter while Mary held her breath. “Mare. Remember in The Shining, when Jack Nicholson writes, ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull dull boy,’ over and over and over again?”
“Yes,” Mary answered, dismayed.
“Well, it’s like that, only less entertaining.”
Mary groaned, hitting the gas and heading for their next appointment.
An hour later, Mary and Judy were sitting across the neat desk of Bob Brandt, who turned out to be an up-and-coming sports agent and lawyer. He was African-American, six foot three and powerfully built, a former running back at Temple, whose broad shoulders strained against the seams of his tailored gray suit with a sharp tie of melon silk. His jovial air belied his size, and his brown eyes were deep-set, earnest, and even playful, under a prominent forehead. He wore his hair natural, cut medium-short, and he had a close-cropped beard. He must have recently turned thirty years old, because there was an array of birthday cards open on a cherrywood credenza, next to framed family photographs of a pretty wife and two adorable little boys.
Mary introduced herself and Judy, then got to the point. “We’ve just come from Graterford, where we met with Lonnie Stall. We know you represented him in the Fiona Gardner murder case about six years ago, and we need to just ask you a few questions.”
“Go right ahead.” Bob leaned forward on his desk, linking his immense hands together. His desk was neat, holding only a silvery MacPro laptop, a stack of neat papers, and a tiny Eagles football. Sports memorabilia shared shelf space with law books behind him, and framed football and baseball jerseys lined the wall of his large, modern office, which occupied an entire floor of a building on Locust Street, one of the nicest streets in Center City. “As I said when you called, I will do anything I can to help Lonnie Stall, and if you are trying to find grounds for ineffective assistance, may God be with you. I was just out of law school when I took that case, but I did everything humanly possible for Lonnie and I believe any court in the land would agree with me. In fact, I wish it weren’t so, because I know he is innocent of killing Fiona Gardner.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know Lonnie, I watched him grow up, I know his mother. He’s worked his butt off, in school and at work, from day one, and he never got anywhere near trouble.” Bob’s eyes burned with conviction. “He was Honor Roll at University City High and Dean’s List at Temple. It’s impossible that he killed her, or anybody.”
Mary brightened, feeling validated. “How did he come to hire you, if you didn’t have much experience in murder cases?”
“As I say, we’ve known each other forever, and we go to the same church, United Bible. Lonnie and his mother thought they would get better representation with a private lawyer th
an they would with the public defender.” Bob paused, pursing his lips. “Sadly, that’s not always the case. The public defenders are more experienced and smarter than anybody gives them credit for. I tried to tell Lonnie and his mother that, but they really wanted to go with somebody they knew. That’s why it kills me that I lost. They put their faith in me, and I didn’t come through.”
Mary felt terrible for him. “It wasn’t an easy case to have for your first murder trial. There was a lot of evidence to deal with.”
“Thanks. It was my first murder case, and my last. I still think about what I could’ve done differently, or better, but I also know I worked my butt off, met with Lonnie more than anyone else would have, and gave him good, practical legal advice. I really wanted him to take the plea deal, and I was glad when he did. The jury would’ve convicted him for sure. He’d be there for life.”
“Why do you think he didn’t take the deal, at first?”
“I know why, and I don’t think it’s breaching any privilege to tell you. He was innocent and he wanted his day in court. He’s that kind of kid.” Bob looked like he was about to say something, then fell silent.
“What?”
“It brings me down.” Bob paused, his dark gaze restlessly scanning his desk. “From the get-go, the cops had their man. From when he ran. Then her blood was on him, his blood was on her, and his saliva in her mouth. I begged Lonnie not to take the stand, but God bless him, he went up against Mel Bount, the District Attorney himself, one of the best practitioners of cross-examination anywhere. It kills me. I firmly believe that if Lonnie hadn’t taken the stand, he’d be walking around today.” Bob gestured to a row of colorful baseball caps on his bookshelf. “You see the kind of guy I am. I love to work for players and fight with management, but the only stakes I like are money. I don’t practice criminal defense anymore, I’m not cut out for it. I can’t move on to the next case, like those dudes.” Bob frowned deeply, raking his hand through his hair. “Lonnie haunts me, and can you imagine what it’s like to know he’s doing hard time, then to see his mother every Sunday, praying for him? She sits where they used to sit together, with his cousins. He should be with her, with them.”
Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel Page 11