Probity

by Thomas Gatta

  - 72 -

  Maddie was standing and talking with Scott on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse when she saw Bennett and some of his team emerge from the building. Bennett grinned as he accepted the congratulations, handshakes, and backslaps of his colleagues. Then he turned and walked down the steps toward the parking garage across the street from the courthouse. One of his colleagues, Maddie thought it was Mortimer, called out to Bennett as he reached the street and started to cross, “Hey, we’re all coming to your place tonight. We’ll bring the booze, just make sure you’ve got the steaks for the grill.”

  Bennett turned back to the group on the steps while he continued across the street. He waved and yelled, “Make sure you don’t just bring beer. Bring a big bottle of Johnnie Red, too! Make that two bottles!”

  It happened fast. Maddie heard a horn, the squeal of breaks, a thud. She thought bones crunched. She looked. A white Cadillac Escalade had skidded to a stop, and a blondish woman in a designer pantsuit bounced out, tossing her cell phone back into the vehicle. The woman looked down at the street and started screaming. Bennett was sprawled on the pavement in a pool of blood. Part of his skull was bashed in. Maddie felt sick.

  Scott sprinted toward Bennett, grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing 911 as he went. He had emergency medical training but was afraid Bennett needed more help than he could provide. Several other bystanders and some of the court officers also were running to help. When Scott reached Bennett, he knew Bennett was gone. His brains were leaking out of his skull. Scott stood back and let the court officers assess the situation while he focused on the driver of the SUV. She was still screaming, “I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him. Oh my God. He’s not dead is he? He can’t be dead?”

  Scott and one of the court officers walked the woman to the curb and asked her to sit down and wait for the police. Scott noticed that the woman was one of the jurors. She looked up at him and said, “Oh my God. This is awful. I do hope he’ll be okay. But I can’t stay right now. Can I leave my number and the authorities can contact me later? It was an accident. I didn’t do anything intentional. I was pulling out, and he just walked right in front of my car. There was no way I could stop. Can’t I get back to the authorities tomorrow?”

  Scott and the officer just looked at her. Then Scott said. “No. You’ll need to remain here. We’ll wait with you until the police arrive.”

  “But I can’t stay! You don’t understand. I have things I have to do.”

  The officer looked at Scott and shook his head. Then he pressed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to keep her from rising. The officer said, “Lady. You’re not going anywhere. Stay put.”

  Scott asked her, “Do you have an attorney you wish to call?”

  *

  As she started to gray out, a man standing nearby grabbed Maddie’s arm and steered her toward one of the lower steps of the courthouse. Then he gently pushed her down to a sitting position with her head pointed toward her knees. “Sit here for just a minute and take a few deep breaths. There’s nothing you can do right now. The rescue squad should be here in a few minutes.” He settled next to her on the steps and kept an arm around her back to make sure she didn’t faint and topple over.

  Maddie did what the man had told her and stayed put. After a few minutes she heard the wails of sirens and looked up at him. She realized her rescuer was the jury foreman. “Thank you. I’m usually not squeamish at all, but I think the strain of the trial—and not eating lunch—may have gotten to me.” She smiled and held out a hand to him. “You probably already know my name—it’s Maddie Kozak.”

  The man shook Maddie’s hand and said, “And you probably know my name, too. I’m Dan O’Neill, and I’m glad I could help.” He pulled a power bar out of his jacket pocket and offered it to Maddie. “Speaking of helping, if your blood sugar is low, you’d better eat this. After all the drama in court and now down on the street, I don’t think it’d look too good if one of the prosecutors pitches down the courthouse steps.”

  Maddie took the bar and said, “Thanks. You’re probably right. I don’t think the District Attorney would like me to add to the headlines tomorrow. They’ll be bad enough as it is.”

  She opened the bar and took a few bites. Then Maddie looked over at O’Neill and asked, “So, a power bar in your pocket? You must have been expecting a long evening here?”

  O’Neill laughed and said, “Still the prosecutor, and still the questions? Yes, things were going pretty slowly until the end, but you know the result. And I usually do carry a power bar or two in my pocket anyway.” He had been looking down the steps at the accident scene but turned toward Maddie. He gestured toward his leg and said, “I still run, just not as fast as I did with my old leg. And I still get really, really hungry.”

  Maddie nodded and said, “I understand. I do CrossFit, and I also run four or five times a week. Usually, I have a couple of bars in my bag, but I was in a hurry this morning and forgot them.” Still looking at O’Neill, she tilted her head toward the street and said, “What do you think? It looked pretty bad.”

  “Well, the emergency med technicians are blocking the view of the body, but they don’t seem to be in any hurry. I think that’s a bad sign, particularly given what we saw of the body earlier. Even if the head injury isn’t as bad as it looked, Bennett probably has massive internal injuries.”

  Maddie nodded and said, “He looked dead. I wanted him to be convicted, not for things to end this way.”

  O’Neill responded, “Maybe it’s easier in the longer run.”

  Maddie looked at him and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  O’Neill shook his head and said, “We all bleed.” Then he asked, “So, do you have a husband or friend you can call to drive you home? I don’t think you should be driving right now.”

  Maddie answered, “No. But I won’t drive. I usually take the metro. It’s not that far a walk.”

  O’Neill looked at her and said, “Not happening tonight. Where do you live? I’ll give you a lift home.”

  “No, no, I don’t want to put you to the trouble. I’m fine now. The power bar really helped.”

  O’Neill said, “Look, you probably know from your jury research that I’m not an axe murderer. I’m even a fairly nice guy most of the time. Plus the trial is over, and you don’t need to stay to see anything more here. Let me drive you home. Maybe along the way we can stop for a sandwich and something to drink. You’re probably still hungry, and I’m both hungry and thirsty.”

  Maddie smiled. “Okay. Thanks. That sounds good. But let me buy. After all, I just ate your last power bar. Oh, and the trial is over, so I’m not trying to influence a juror!”

  O’Neill raised himself slowly off the step and offered Maddie a hand to stand. “You’re on. I’m parked in the garage down the street, not the one across from us, so maybe we can avoid some of the crowd and the emergency vehicles.”

  Maddie glanced briefly toward the street. “Good. I think you’re right. Maybe I’ve seen enough for today.”

  - 73 -

  Scott and Maddie walked together into the District Attorney’s office. Cohen had asked them to meet with him this morning. He wanted to discuss what happened yesterday with the conclusion of the trial and afterward with the accident and Bennett’s death.

  Portia, Cohen’s secretary, smiled at them and said, “Hi, folks. Please have a seat. Unfortunately, Mr. Cohen has had something of a domestic crisis. He had to leave but will be back shortly. He just called to say he’ll be a few minutes late for your meeting.”

  Maddie said, “Oh no. I hope it’s not something serious?”

  Portia responded, “Well, I don’t know. It’s something to do with his cat. Apparently it’s been injured, or there’s some other problem. The DA had to take the thing to the vet this morning.” She looked over her glasses at Maddie and Scott. “Don’t worry. Mr. Cohen said he won’t be long.”

  The door opened just then, and Cohen entered the office. He smiled
and said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s head into my office, and we can get this meeting done quickly.”

  Cohen walked into his office, sat down at his desk, and, after Maddie and Scott entered and Scott shut the door, he gestured for them to sit down. Cohen asked, “So what happened at the end of the trial, and what happened to Bennett after?”

  Scott and Maddie explained how the verdict was announced and what they’d witnessed happening to Bennett after the trial.

  Maddie said, “I learned from the jury foreman, after the trial, that the jury had trouble reaching a decision. Apparently, most of them wanted to convict Bennett. Then, at the end, one of the jurors got them to focus on whether there was reasonable doubt that Bennett intended to murder those boys. We really didn’t hit hard enough on the point that Bennett was incapable of pity and out for blood, regardless of the circumstances. It wasn’t the MEJA issue that did us in, after all. It was the ambiguity about what Bennett was supposed to be doing, plus whether he was spooked, shot fast, and bragged it up later.” Maddie shrugged, “So, we didn’t prove our case.”

  Cohen nodded, “Sorry, I felt the case was going to be difficult from the beginning, but we had to try it because of all the pressure from the Hill and main Justice.” He looked over his glasses at Maddie and Scott. “You and Scott did a good job.”

  Cohen sat back and frowned. “I’m actually sorry about Bennett, though. I wanted to try him for rape.”

  Scott said, “I don’t think that was a possibility. Kate Gutzmann wasn’t going to cooperate on that. She told me she’d had enough. And she’s gone up to New Jersey to be with her sister for a while.”

  “I see. Well, maybe things worked out okay, then.”

  Maddie snorted.

  Cohen looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Then he said, “So, are you going to ask me about my cat?”

  Maddie responded, “Of course. How is Ziegfried?”

  “Well, turns out, even Ziegfried wasn’t what we thought. Lots of ambiguity with that cat.”

  Scott said, “I don’t understand.”

  Cohen responded, “That makes two of us.” He shook his head and said, “Things just aren’t always the way they seem. Apparently, the vet was wrong a while back. So much for his expensive schooling. Ziegfried isn’t a Ziegfried. My cat is a Zelda. And Zelda just had six kittens.” He leaned back in his chair and asked, “Want a kitten?”

  Maddie smiled and shook her head, “Sorry, I have a dog. That’s enough in my condo.”

  Scott raised his eyebrows and said, “I don’t, but I know someone who might like one, that is, when she gets back from New Jersey in about six weeks.”

  “You mean Gutzmann?”

  “Yes, I think she could use one.”

  “Hmm. Okey dokey. As long as she’ll be nice to it.” Cohen looked at Scott again. “I gather you plan on overseeing the kitten’s progress with her?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s my plan.”

  Cohen shrugged. “Well, okay, I guess. I’ll let you know when it’s time to choose a kitten. Now you two can get back to work. By the way, you need to touch base with Nick Delgado. I’ve assigned him to look into the case against the juror, what’s her name, that struck Bennett?”

  Scott grimaced and responded, “Vivian Markham.”

  Maddie waved goodbye to Cohen and said, “Thanks, we’ll get with Nick,” as she and Scott headed for the door.

  Cohen leaned over his desk and said, “Good, good, don’t forget the kitten, Scott. Oh, and shut the door on your way out.”

  *

  Cohen plucked the picture of his cat from the mess on his desk and studied the photo for a minute. Then he put down the frame. He reached for his phone, punched in a number, and leaned back in his chair, waiting until David Craddock answered.

  “Yes, hello?”

  “David, Andy Cohen here. How are ya? I guess you’ve seen the press this morning— about the trial and what happened, afterward, to Bennett?”

  Craddock responded, “Yes, fortunate on both accounts.”

  “Think so? Really?”

  “Well, it’s simpler, isn’t it? After all, everyone has a view about what’s right and what’s not. Now it’s all done. No laws to bend.”

  Cohen said, “All done? I don’t think so. I’ve had the press calling here all morning. Lucky I was out. The reporters are asking questions about a huge cover-up. So, maybe you might want to haul out another of those press releases you have ready. I think you might need it. Oh, and would you like a kitten? Appears things aren’t always quite what they seem.”

  “I hate cats.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ONCE UPON A TIME BEFORE turning to crafting novels, Thomas Gatta earned degrees in International Relations from schools in US News’ top colleges lists. Although both options had considerable appeal, Gatta jettisoned the ideas of pursuing additional degrees in writing or certifications at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). Instead, Gatta served for more than 25 years in the US Government. He held various jobs, doing a lot of interesting stuff without becoming a renowned expert (much of it was, after all, hush hush stuff, so forget notoriety). Nor did Gatta ever become a famous chef. He now works at writing, thinking, and consulting on vital issues—such as plumbing fixtures, new carpet, and dinner. In his spare time, Gatta chases squirrels, chipmunks, and, occasionally, deer.