by Marti Green
He nodded. Dani gave Halstein her cell-phone number, then they left to find a restaurant. When they returned ninety minutes later, Halstein said, “Betty found them quickly. Here’s a set for you.”
Dani glanced at the top page of the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children, given when Jack was eleven years old. Total IQ-68. She then looked at the next one, given when he was fourteen. Total IQ-70. Both scores were right at the border, just as Bennington’s psychologist had said. Still, the results of a full forensic examination should have been brought to the jury’s attention before they sentenced Jack to die. She hoped it wasn’t too late for that now.
Their next stop was the office of Meghan Milgram, the forensic psychologist Dani had chosen to evaluate Osgood. A relatively new specialization, those practicing it were trained to apply clinical-psychology principles to assess individuals involved in the legal system. They might be called upon to assess competency to stand trial, or whether a defendant had the requisite state of mind to be found guilty of the offense charged. Or, as here, whether a defendant met the legal definition of “intellectually impaired.” Dani didn’t know, but she suspected, because it was so long ago, that the psychologist hired by Bennington hadn’t received the kind of special training undertaken by Milgram.
Milgram’s office was just down the block from the county courthouse, thirty minutes north of Stone Ridge, in Lawrenceville, Georgia. The brick building contained a number of offices, mostly law firms, plus a few accounting firms and one architect. Sitting in the reception area was a young woman with pink streaks going through her black hair and a nose ring. She wore a sleeveless blouse, and tattoos covered both arms from her shoulders to her wrists. Not what I expected to see in a psychologist’s office, Dani thought.
Dani introduced herself and Tommy, and the receptionist buzzed Milgram’s office to announce their arrival. Moments later, a striking woman, at least five ten, emerged and, with a warm smile, shook their hands. She appeared to be in her midforties, like Dani, with wavy, dark-brown hair that fell to the middle of her back, high cheekbones, and perfect features. Dani wondered if she’d once been a model.
“Come on in.” Milgram motioned to them.
Dani and Tommy took seats in front of Milgram’s desk. Dani glanced at the diplomas on the wall and saw they were all from New York schools—a bachelor’s degree from New York University and a PhD in clinical psychology from Columbia University.
“Are you originally from New York?” Dani asked.
“Nope. Born and raised in Hartford, about fifteen minutes north of here. All through high school, I had only two goals. I wanted to be a model, and I wanted to get away from Hartford.”
“So, you applied to colleges in New York?”
Milgram shook her head. “I wasn’t even thinking about college. I headed to New York after graduation to pursue modeling.”
“That’s a tough career to break into.”
“I got signed to an agency pretty quickly. I thought my future was set. I expected excitement and glamour and instead found it excruciatingly dull.”
Tommy chuckled. “I never heard anyone describe New York as dull.”
“Oh, no. Not New York. Modeling. Standing around for hours while being photographed. Never being able to indulge in the incredible restaurants in Manhattan because one extra pound would show up in the pictures. You’re both from New York, right?”
“We are,” Dani answered.
“Then you can appreciate how frustrating it was to be in the glamour capital and always be worrying about calories.”
Dani certainly could appreciate that. She’d battled with losing weight ever since Jonah had been born, getting back to her desired weight only this past year. “So, you gave it up for college?”
“I worked at modeling for two years, then applied to colleges in New York and stayed until I finished my education. When I was done, I realized I missed living in a small town, in my small town. So, I came back.”
“And is there enough excitement for you here?”
Milgram chuckled. “More than enough. It’s funny how things look different when you’re older.”
Dani handed her the copies of tests she’d gotten from the school. “What do you think?” she asked after Milgram had skimmed them.
“It certainly suggests that the issue should have been raised before the sentencing phase. There’s enough here to indicate intellectual impairment. Whether it rises to the level of the legal standard, I won’t know until after I complete my examination of him.”
“These test scores aren’t enough?”
“No. There are three prongs that need to be satisfied. And the timing of the past intelligence tests is significant as well. I’ll go into all of that with you when I present my results.”
“How long will that take?”
“I understand the need for speed. I’ll get on it right away.”
Dani left, satisfied that she’d know soon, one way or the other, whether she’d have an argument that Osgood was innocent of the death penalty. She’d need much more to know whether he was innocent of the crime.
CHAPTER
6
Dani left Tommy behind in Stone Ridge and returned to the office. He would stay another few days and speak to as many people as he could find who knew Jack Osgood before his arrest. At this stage of the case, Milgram had said Dani would need to show the court that, back when the crime was committed, Osgood lacked the adaptive skills most people found routine—the second prong of the legal test to establish an intellectual disability. Those skills included communication ability; understanding of money, time and number concepts; self-direction and self-care; social skills; and problem solving. They needed to find evidence that Osgood was deficient in at least two of those areas. Dani knew she had to first stop Osgood’s execution—later, she could focus on proving him innocent, if indeed he was.
Before Ruth was born, Dani might have stayed back with Tommy to interview potential witnesses. Now, she loathed being away from home. It was different from the past, when she’d felt consumed with guilt for leaving her son with a nanny. Now, she knew Ruth was in good hands with Katie. It was no longer guilt that tugged at her heart. She simply missed her daughter, with her infectious laugh and chubby legs that begged to be pinched. She had missed being home when Ruth took her first steps on her own. She had missed being home when Ruth said her first word, Dada. She’d been grateful that the first time she said “Mama,” it had been on a weekend, when she was snuggled in Dani’s arms.
Dani shook her head to brush away thoughts of Ruth. She’d been a stay-at-home mom for Jonah’s first nine years. Now, she knew she was meant to work. She spent the rest of the day researching the law on intellectual disabilities and the death penalty, not just in Georgia but in other states as well. When she finished, she gathered up her belongings. Just as she was heading out of the office, a call came in from Tommy.
“Learn anything helpful?” she asked him.
“Maybe. Ted Bennett, the manager of the A and P when Osgood worked there, retired a few years back, but he still lives in Stone Ridge. He told me he hired him as a favor to Osgood’s mother. They’d been friends since high school, and he knew she’d struggled since her husband had left.”
“Did he say anything about how Osgood handled the job?”
“Yeah. Said he was always polite, showed up on time every day, but each morning had to be told what to do, even if it was the same as the day before.”
That’s good, Dani thought. One of the characterizations of adaptive skills was the ability to self-direct. It sounded like Osgood couldn’t do that. “Will Bennett sign an affidavit?”
“I’m sure he would. He seemed to have a soft spot for the guy. Definitely doesn’t believe he had it in him to kill anyone.”
“Between his statement and the principal’s, we should be able to show that his disability presented before he was eighteen.”
“There’s more.”
“Go ahead.”
“I know you’re not focusing on innocence yet, but I nosed around a bit anyway. I got the names of some of Kelly’s friends back then. A couple of them are still living nearby. Mind if I talk to them before I return?”
“I suppose that’s fine.”
“And I thought I might poke around the police station that handled the murder, since I’m here anyway.”
Dani sighed. Once Tommy got the scent, there was no holding him back. She’d wanted to handle Osgood’s case step-by-step. First, stop the execution. Then, investigate the crime. But she knew if she stopped Tommy, it would churn him up, with him constantly wondering whether or not Osgood was guilty.
“Go ahead. Talk to anyone you want. Just not Kelly’s or Lisa’s parents. Or Lisa herself. I want to be there for that.”
Dani left the office and walked to the parking lot down the block to retrieve her car. She’d gotten into the habit of driving to Manhattan when she’d first returned to work. Because of the medical problems that often accompanied Williams syndrome, she was afraid to be at the mercy of the Metro North train schedule. Having her car a block away gave her the comforting assurance that she could get back to Jonah quickly, if needed. Now that he was older, she no longer felt the same urgency to have her car with her. But it had become habitual to drive to work, and habits were hard to break.
It had been a long day, starting with the flights to and from Atlanta, then into the office to start her research. By the time she reached home, she was beat. Doug had returned before her and was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Jonah was up in his room doing homework, and Ruth sat in her high chair at the kitchen table, busily scooping up the Cheerios on her tray and stuffing them into her mouth. As soon as she saw Dani, Ruth’s arms shot up, and her legs began kicking.
Doug turned from the stove to kiss Dani hello. “She has strong legs. Maybe she’ll run track, like you did.”
Dani picked Ruth up from the high chair. “I’d like that.” As soon as she said the words, she wondered if all parents wanted their children to imitate their own lives. To follow into their professions, or enjoy the same things they did growing up, or achieve the dreams their parents dreamed. Had Doug been disappointed when it became clear his son wouldn’t do any of those things? She hoped not. Jonah had brought them both so much joy just by being who he was.
“Take a look at the mail,” Doug said, pointing to a stack of letters on the kitchen counter.
Dani put Ruth back in the high chair, then picked up the letters and leafed through them. She stopped when she saw one from the Westchester Philharmonic orchestra that had already been opened. She pulled the letter from the envelope and began reading.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Trumball,
The Westchester Philharmonic has decided to institute an honorary position of Youth Musician. The position will be awarded each year to a high school (or equivalent) student who lives in Westchester County and has demonstrated excellence in performance of a musical instrument, or as a composer. The chosen student will be honored at the annual banquet of the Westchester Philharmonic held in December and will receive a $10,000 scholarship to his or her chosen college. At the Board’s most recent meeting, your son, Jonah, was unanimously chosen to receive its first honorarium.
On behalf of the entire Board, I wish to extend congratulations to Jonah. We are indeed fortunate to have such a worthy musician as our honoree.
As Dani placed the letter down on the table, she felt awash with pride. Her son! Jonah! “Does Jonah know?”
“I think he’s called every single one of his friends to tell them.”
Dani ran upstairs to Jonah’s room, the letter in her hand. “Congratulations, maestro,” she said as she gave him a kiss on his cheek, then a big hug.
“I’m very jubilant,” he said.
Dani tousled his hair. “As well you should be. I’m happy, too.”
She walked back down to the kitchen. Jonah had phoned all his friends—now she wanted to call hers. As she picked up the phone, the words How about that? kept popping into Dani’s head, and a smile never left her face.
Tommy headed over to the Stone Ridge police station. It had been more than twenty-two years since Kelly Braden had been murdered, so it was unlikely that the detectives who’d investigated the case were still on the force, but he needed to check it out nevertheless. The building was a small, redbrick one-story. He went inside and showed his ID to the officer sitting at the reception desk.
“I’m looking into an old case, the murder of Kelly Braden, probably before your time,” he said to the twentysomething man. “I’m hoping I can get a look at the records, if no one’s around who remembers it.”
“Are you kidding? Everyone here knows about that case. It was probably the worst thing that’s ever happened in Stone Ridge. I mean, she was taken from a goddamn bedroom, for Christ’s sake.”
Tommy wasn’t surprised. This was a small town, after all. “Anyone still here who worked on it?”
“You’re in luck. My uncle is the captain now, but he was still a rookie detective back then. He and his partner were the lead investigators.” The young man picked up the phone and pressed some buttons. “Hey, Ed, I got someone here who wants to talk to you about the Braden case.” When he hung up, he said, “You can go on back. He’s the last office on the right.”
Tommy found the office and stepped inside. A slim, sharp-featured man with spiked hair sprinkled with gray and finely etched lines around his eyes stood up from his chair and held out a hand. “I’m Captain Cannon. How can I help you?”
“Okay if I take a seat?”
The captain nodded.
Tommy slid into the wooden chair. “I’m with the Help Innocent Prisoners Project, in New York City. We’re representing Jack Osgood in connection with his conviction for the murder of Kelly Braden.”
“No question he did it. We had a solid case.”
“Well, at this point, we’re looking into whether he should have gotten the death penalty for it. Because of his impairment.” Tommy pointed to his head as he said the last words.
“He was slow, all right. But this murder took planning. He got the ladder to climb up to the second story; he took a bat with him, which showed he expected to hurt her. And then he got rid of the bat afterward, which in my mind showed he knew what he’d done. So, maybe he’s slow, but not so much so that he can’t be executed.”
“That may be the case. I don’t know yet. We’ve got a psychologist who’s going to give him some tests. But while I’m here in Stone Ridge, I thought I’d poke around a bit. I spent ten years with the FBI, so it’s kind of hard to keep my nose out of things.”
“Which office?”
“New York. First criminal investigations, then counterterrorism.”
“Know Mark Knickerbocker?”
“Sure. I worked a lot of cases with Mark. He’s still going strong there.”
“I went to college with him. Roomed with him my second year.”
“Georgia Tech, right?”
Cannon smiled. “Yeah, that’s it. I guess if you worked with Mark, I can cut you some slack. Normally, we don’t let private folks see files without a subpoena. Go grab an empty desk, and I’ll have them brought to you.”
“Thanks, Captain. Appreciate your help.”
Twenty minutes later, Tommy was buried in a sea of papers. Methodically, he went through each one, making notes as he went along. After Kelly’s body was found, the police had put together a list of people to question based on interviews with family. The first on the list was Jack Osgood. He lived next door, his mother owned a ladder, and his bat was missing. Osgood told the detective the same thing he’d told Tommy and Dani a few days ago—he didn’t know what happened to the bat. The notes in the file said Osgood had been questioned for five hours, but no transcript had been made. Par for the course back then, Tommy thought. Recording the interrogation of suspects on tape or video didn’t become routine until much later.
The detectives had also question
ed Kelly’s boyfriend, Greg Johnson. Back then, he was a freshman at the University of Georgia, in Athens. His claim that he was asleep in his dorm was backed up by his roommate, Derek Whitman. None of Kelly’s friends could point to anyone who had a grudge against her, or who might have harbored a secret crush on her, or who she’d complained was stalking her. The one open strand was a man named Tony Falcone, an itinerant laborer who’d been going door-to-door in Stone Ridge, soliciting for odd jobs. Kelly’s father, Carl, had hired Falcone to clean out his gutters, a job he’d let slide since the fall but knew had to be taken care of before the spring rains. Once up there, Falcone had spotted some loose roof shingles and fixed those as well. He’d used his own ladder, Braden had reported. Kelly had been in and out of the house while Falcone was working outside, and once, Braden said he’d caught the worker staring at his daughter. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—Kelly was beautiful, and most men stared at her.
Tommy couldn’t find any interview of Falcone in the file. Surely, the man had to have been a suspect, or at least a person of interest. He stood up from the desk, stretched, then walked over to Cannon’s office. Before he asked about Falcone, he needed to clear up something that had bothered him as he looked through the records.
“All finished?” Cannon said when Tommy filled his doorway.
“Just about. Couple of questions first.”
“Fire away.”
“Everyone we speak to says Osgood was slow, like, intellectually disabled. I was wondering, do you know if he had a driver’s license?”
Cannon chuckled. “You’re thinking he couldn’t have driven the body away, right?”
“Yeah.”
“We checked that out. It took him four times to pass the written test, but he did. Two times to pass the driving test. He was allowed to drive his mother’s car to work and back, maybe a few other places nearby, but that was it. So, yeah, he had the ability to drive Kelly Braden to where we found her.”
“Okay. Just one other thing. Did you ever question Tony Falcone?”