Charlie was definitely interested. Hell, he was born interested. “There certainly is! I’ll arrange it with a sergeant at the jail, and someone will let you know when we can get together. Within the next twenty-four hours, I reckon,” he added.
“I don’t have all the papers for my case, but I’ll have everything in my possession at the ‘hotel’ here where I’m staying. My public defender has a big file,” she offered.
“We work with the defenders’ office all the time. They’re good people and excellent lawyers. And everyone has to start somewhere,” he added, betraying his modest bias regarding government lawyers.
“No question about that, in fact we all started at the beginnings of our careers. I just would prefer someone who’s been there before and with more experience to defend me. Nothing personal, naturally,” said Marti, projecting her insecurity about her representation.
“Please, Ms. Barnes, try to put your mind at ease. You need to build your strength. After we talk about the case, I’ll have some ideas to discuss with you, and just maybe we can work out a way for me to become involved in your defense. If I do take your case, I have excellent relations with your attorney in the PD’s office, so transferring your file would be an easy matter. If you don’t mind my being frank, our biggest obstacle will be finances, if you understand my meaning?”
“Oh, I most assuredly do understand, and I have an idea that just might interest you. Do you think you will be able to come and see me? It would be such a comfort, I can’t really put my feelings into words.” Her voice trailed off in hopeful anticipation.
“No doubt, and don’t be worrying about this,” Charlie tried to reassure his potential new client. Both his jail and telephone manners were top notch, and clients loved him for his expressions of care, concern, optimism, and confidence. His courtroom batting average was very good to boot. Yet statistics meant little to clients whose very lives depended on only one outcome: victory in their own cases.
Once he finished the conversation with Barnes, he called his good friend and occasional drinking buddy Sargent Brock. He worked at the jail and Charlie was able to arrange a time to talk privately to the defendant. He scheduled an afternoon appointment almost forty-eight hours later, and the jailer promised to get word to the client. Charlie heaved a grateful sigh of relief, sensing a significant dual accomplishment of surviving the serious assault on his person and possibly falling into a new case that could change his recent misfortune, although he was also wary that he might be in for a wild ride before understanding the complete dimensions of both events.
Malone began the check-in procedure at the county jail at 2:30 p.m., thirty minutes ahead of his scheduled appointment with Barnes. He was well-known at the facility yet every deputy ran this procedure by the book. Probably a good idea, since lawyers were themselves occasionally the victims of their clients’ assaults. In one case, an inmate grabbed a ballpoint pen from his lawyer and used it to murder the hapless attorney without warning by jamming the instrument through an eyeball into his cerebrum. But in this particular instance, Charlie felt no apprehension about meeting the potential client, certain there was no risk of harm posed by her. In any case, the deputy was visually monitoring every move through soundproof glass.
Malone and Barnes were ushered into a secure conference room. Charlie’s first impression was positive. Indeed, how could a jury convict this nice-appearing lady of anything, much less homicide? They observed the usual courtesies and seated themselves at the only table. Marti was also pleased with her initial take of the man she desperately hoped would be willing to represent her.
“Thank you, Mr. Malone. I’m so happy you could come here to talk. I have my hopes up so high I’m almost giddy. I’ve heard wonderful things about you. Especially that you have a reputation for never giving up on a case, no matter what.”
“It’s entirely possible people are misinterpreting my determination. My formula for success is really quite simple. I won’t stop until I understand the theory and the evidence against my client. I’m so thickheaded that sometimes people think I’m brilliant when that’s not the case at all. But I promise you, if I take your case I won’t stop until the verdict is announced, or we both agree that some bargain should be made with the prosecution.”
“I like to hear that, but it’s difficult to imagine any compromise on my case. I’m just not guilty of killing Mr. Martorano. I cared for the man in his last years. Though he was no angel, he did have his redeeming qualities. I would never, never do anything to hurt that man,” her voice trailing into sobs with occasional hiccups for accent.
Charlie thought better of saying it, but he really would be a millionaire by now if he had a hundred dollars for every time he’d heard such a remark.
“It’s unfortunate in your case, Ms. Barnes, but honestly very few of my clients think they are guilty. Sometimes when there is no dispute that my client was involved in the death of another human being, there is still a huge argument over self-defense or the legal level of intent. And since jurors have to decide cases without benefit of any direct personal knowledge, they must rely on witnesses’ testimony and documents offered at trial. There is no guarantee we can show the jury what actually happened because of any number of reasons. For example, disappearance or death of a witness, loss of evidence artifacts, and so on. Although that doesn’t mean we won’t try our hardest. But let’s get to the case. Please, tell me what you’re facing if you’re ready to get into it.”
“Oh, I am so ready. I’ve been waiting for this moment for some time as you may well imagine. I’m accused of murdering my patient, when I was a live-in caregiver at his lovely home in Three Rivers, up the South Fork Road.”
“Yeah, I’m very familiar with the village. I go there in the wintertime to escape the tule fog in the Valley whenever I can get away. So, how did you become acquainted with the victim?” He caught himself and continued: “My apologies. But you may as well get used to the terminology. Law enforcement has a term for everything and everyone in these cases. ‘Victim’ refers to your former patient.”
“Well, I think you’ll be surprised at my knowledge of crime terms by now, although I never had any premonition of something like this happening to me. Anyhow, now that I’m in all this trouble, I know I must keep myself together and stay focused, otherwise anyone trying to help will become very frustrated.” She hesitated just momentarily, catching herself briefly before another sobbing attack suddenly overwhelmed her.
With her head in her hands and hunched over with the weight of the world on her shoulders, Marti slowly regained her composure and sat upright. “I’m very sorry. I’m certain you must think I’m an emotional mess and probably won’t be able to help with my own defense. But believe me, I’m tough and I’m a fighter, and I’m just not guilty!” she uttered through clenched teeth and pursed lips that impeded temporarily another gush of sobs and spittle.
Finally getting a handle on her emotions, Marti choked and sputtered out, “I’m so sorry, but that’s oh, oh, oh … out of my mouth, and I think I’m ready to get to work now.”
Marti took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly and fully as though practicing some CPR procedure she had learned years ago, and she continued with her explanation.
“I met Mr. Martorano about six years ago. I’m not an RN, but I do have my LVN license, I think, unless it was suspended over this case. But I have years of experience caring for people like him. In this case, he was old and very cranky at times. At first, I told the family I’d come for an interview and meet everyone involved. When I went to the house in Three Rivers, I had never seen such a gorgeous place with a perfect view up the Kaweah Gap of the great western divide of the Sierra. Inside, the house was comfortable and a little disorganized, but that’s to be expected in these situations. A friend knew someone who was looking for an in-home caregiver, with a room and kitchen privileges. A family member, a son I believe, called me and explained the situation. I knew from experience that these jobs could
be difficult and sometimes impossible. I didn’t take every assignment that I interviewed for. Anyhow, when I first met the son, the conditions looked acceptable, but I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
“My host showed me into the ‘sitting room’ a term I learned later referred more to the patient’s preference for inactivity than a description of the room itself. At first, I saw only the back of his chair, so I still was not prepared for the visage sitting in it. We quietly approached the old man, and once he came into view I could hardly contain myself. Mind you, I had seen people who obviously didn’t seem to give a hoot about anything much less their personal grooming and all the rest of it. What little hair he had was totally unruly, a sign I should have taken seriously and simply excused myself without completing the interview. I had seen all these signs many times before. But I have to say, I’m the kind of person who relishes a challenge and, after all, I am a professional and this is my career—or was anyway.”
Marti looked away momentarily and then fixed Charlie straight in the eye. “Am I giving you too much background, Mr. Malone?”
“No, ma’am, no, certainly not. No such thing in a capital case, that’s for sure! Everything counts. Don’t spare any details. Please continue just as you have been. I’m getting the background and the full story, and that will be a huge help presenting your defense, if, I must say, I get involved in your case.”
“Oh, I guess you’re probably aware that I don’t have a nest egg, although depending on the outcome of my trial, my prospects are very good.” Malone raised both hands in protest, resembling a conductor leading a symphony orchestra.
“Please allow me to explain myself a moment. There is definitely a time that we will discuss the finances of your defense. That point is certainly important, but we’re not there yet. Take my word. If I’m attracted to a case, I do everything to make the financial arrangements fit the client’s needs and abilities. No two cases are the same. Most lawyers, or at least the ones I admire, are professionals first, just as you mentioned a moment ago.
“Maybe it is time to talk fees, okay?” Charlie announced fixing his gaze on the prospective client. Marti had been waiting for this moment, actually. She had practiced the presentation she was about to make to Malone. More than ever, she really wanted him to handle her case. Getting to meet him had given her a surge of new hope.
“Mr. Malone, the way I see it is you’ll get paid very handsomely but only if you win my case, and that’s not meant to be a demand for a guarantee. Let me explain. You see, part of my arrangement with Mr. Martorano was a financial package for me after his death. We agreed, a handshake really, that if I cared for his needs for the remainder of his life, he would leave the Three Rivers house to me, and the family would pay me an annual allowance of a minimum of $100,000 for the rest of my life. Now, there was nothing between us in writing and no witnesses but the two of us. I always thought the deal was solid between us, at least I never thought of bringing in a lawyer to draw up an agreement. If I had, I probably would not have said anything for fear of insulting Mr. Martorano, who told me he would handle it through his own attorney. He was a very proud and powerful man. Neither of us ever imagined that his word would be disregarded as soon as he was gone. I never thought the heirs would ever cause such a ruckus, really.”
Charlie thought to himself and interjected, “I think I remember something about this type of arrangement from law school. It’s called an oral contract to make a will, and, like you say, is a simple but genuine handshake deal. If I have it correctly, such a deal should be in writing, but if it isn’t, there are circumstances that still make it enforceable in order to avoid unfair harm coming to a caregiver like yourself.”
“That’s what happened here,” Marti continued, “and I never thought a thing about seeing a lawyer. At the time, Mr. Martorano’s family was being so good to me since they were happy with my services, especially after the poor luck they’d been having trying to get someone on a semipermanent basis. For six years, I not only cared for him, but I paid the bills, hired the gardener, did maintenance, and even sang in the choir at their little church up there. But everything ‘went south’ when I mentioned their dad’s promise to me. Before that happened, I was still an unofficial member of the family and helped with making the funeral arrangements, whatever.
“In fact I was beginning to feel at home in the house, when his son Bill brought up the subject of what I would be doing to find another job. I looked at him in surprise and then realized his dad had probably never mentioned our agreement. When I told Bill about it, he turned bright purple, and I thought I was looking at a cardio stat moment. He never said another word to me. He turned on his heel, and I’m certain he went directly to his friends at the sheriff’s office. It looks to me like he is the one responsible for my new living arrangement. Now I’m working harder than I ever did before I started defending this murder charge. My living arrangements are obviously unbelievably different.
“But what I’m saying is that if I win the criminal case, I should have a straight shot at the life-care agreement benefits and then there will be sufficient money to pay you appropriately. In the meantime, my family and friends have been so good to me, and with my little savings, I am able to pay an initial retainer of fifty thousand dollars, if that does you any good. But the remainder of the fee is another promise, this time from me to you to pay the balance after the trial, but I won’t have any real money unless you and I win both the criminal and the will-contest cases.”
Charlie sat there amazed. He felt he had heard dozens of stories from people anxious to find a lawyer in very serious criminal cases, yet this one was undoubtedly the most unique. Marti was a good thinker and understood that if she were to be acquitted on the murder charges her chances of enforcing her claim against the estate would be vastly improved. Here was a shimmering opportunity for Charlie to take on two challenges, each with extremely high stakes with the outcomes determining whether he would be adequately paid. He knew the fifty thousand dollars would be gone before trial even started in the murder case. If the jury acquitted Barnes, he would be on full contingency through the case against the estate, meaning he would be highly overworked and well underpaid if he didn’t win both cases. But he was a good candidate for a gamble of this magnitude and here was one with some very decent odds landing right in his lap. As he pondered the odds, he realized that the new client already had passed the ‘look right, feel right’ test in his gut.
“Okay, I’m ready to hear more about the murder charges,” and Charlie pressed for further details.
“As I said, I was hired to take care of Mr. Martorano by the family when they were desperate to find someone. Several caregivers had worked for the family, but no one had stayed on board very long. He was the poster patient for an irascible personality, but once I got to know him better, I could overlook the surface warts and see a wonderful spirit deep inside the man. Anyway,” she added playfully, “the term ‘old man’ is what I heatedly yelled at him early in our relationship, and he seemed to take to the name somehow. We became very close in our unique way. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. That’s why these crazy criminal charges are so wrong headed and self-serving for the heir who stirred up all this trouble. I can’t help but think some petty jealousy might also be involved. You know, I actually had a close relationship with Mr. Martorano, while his family pretty much remained at a distance.
“I had to learn about a new medical problem that my patient had. It’s an immune system malfunction called primary immune deficiency disease. His body no longer made its own immunoglobulin. The treatment involves giving the patient an infusion of immunoglobulin, that the doctor called IgG, every month. That was something I was particularly good at because it involved a skill I always had a knack for, finding the proper vein in my patients to set a needle for the intravenous infusion treatment. We used an infusion pump that I knew how to calibrate.”
“Excuse me,” Charlie interrupted, “but wh
at is the medication that’s given to such a patient?”
“Good question. Actually, as I understand it, the medication such patients get is actually a protein. I think they call it a biologic. It is harvested from blood donated at blood banks. Maybe a thousand or more donated units are needed to make just one infusion dosage that the patient gets regularly, like every twenty-one or twenty-eight days. In the case of my patient, since his body no longer made its own antibodies, his immune system was broken. HIV patients, have a different problem. They’re also short of antibodies, but for different reasons. Turns out there are many subcategories, maybe two hundred or more, to the immunoglobulin made by healthy B cells. Mr. Martorano had common variable immune deficiency, which is ‘CVID’ for short. The treatment replaced the immunoglobulin G component primarily, which is the most abundant portion of the B cell produced antibodies. His treatment was replacement intravenous immune globulin G therapy, or ‘IVIgG,’ for short, as I say.
“Dear me! I am so rambling on. I’m sorry to bore you with this much technical information, but I really get deeply into the issues when my patients are involved in medical problems. When Google came along, it became easier to keep up. If these patients pay attention and stay with their treatments, they can live normal lives in most cases. Frequency of this problem is about one in fifty thousand of the population.
“Oh my, I apologize. Once I get started, I don’t know when to stop talking about it. CVID just fascinates me.”
Charlie was not the least bit bored and sensed from Marti’s words that she would strike a jury as anything but a cold-blooded killer. Instead, she would come across as someone trying her darnedest to preserve the old man’s life rather than shorten it for her financial benefit. After all, it seemed she really had no reason to kill him, since she was already living in the home in Three Rivers and loved her work and her patient, but that point would emerge later, he fully expected.
(2012) The Court's Expert Page 17