by Marti Green
“Who?”
“He did some work at the Bradens’ home a few weeks before Kelly was abducted.”
Cannon nodded. “I remember. He worked at a few homes, including others with teenage daughters. Everyone said he did his job, collected his money, and left. No problems with any of them.”
“Still—”
“I know. We would have liked to sit him down, but by the time we found her body, he was long gone. He’d only worked in Stone Ridge for one week. We checked some of the surrounding towns, but he hadn’t been to any of them.”
“Wasn’t that suspicious?”
“Nah. That’s how these itinerant workers are. They move around a lot, get some money together, then go on a drunken binge. When the money runs out, they do some more jobs.”
“Didn’t he have a car? A driver’s license? How else did he get around?”
“Sure. Everyone said he drove a red pickup truck, but no one noticed the plates. Not even what state issued them. We did track down his driver’s license, though. From Nashville. Address was a boardinghouse, and he’d moved out of it years before. Didn’t leave any forwarding address. We spoke to the owner of the boardinghouse. She said he was quiet, kept to himself mostly, but was always polite.”
“Had he done any work at the Hickses’ house, too?”
“Tommy, I know where you’re going with this, but you’ll just be chasing rainbows. Osgood killed her. Everything fits.”
“Did he do work at their house?” Tommy asked again.
Cannon sighed. “Yeah. Carl knew his brother-in-law needed some odd jobs done. He sent him over there.”
Tommy felt a sense of rising anger. “What the hell! Why wasn’t this guy pursued? He was an obvious suspect.”
Cannon’s eyes narrowed. “Look. I’ve been very accommodating to you, and I don’t appreciate you accusing me of sloppy police work. The forensics pointed to Osgood, not this Falcone. We don’t waste time chasing dead ends.”
Despite Cannon’s protests, it seemed too handy to Tommy that the man had just disappeared. Falcone knew Kelly. He knew the Hickses’ home. Maybe he’d even been inside. It didn’t stretch the imagination to think maybe he’d followed Kelly there that night. He had a ladder. Maybe he found Osgood’s bat. Maybe their new client was not just disabled. Maybe he was innocent.
Tommy had found a few of Kelly’s friends who still lived in or near Stone Ridge. He waited until the evening, when he was more likely to find someone at home. At 7:00 p.m., he pulled up to the first house. Stacy Carmichael had been Kelly’s best friend, according to the police notes. He rang the bell, and a burly man with a closely shaved head and a goatee answered the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Is Stacy here?”
“And who are you?”
Tommy handed him his business card.
“Help Innocent Prisoners Project? What’s this about?”
“We’re looking into Jack Osgood’s conviction for the murder of Kelly Braden. Stacy was her best friend back then. I just wanted to ask her a few questions.”
The man stared at him for a bit, then opened the door wider. “I suppose it’s all right. Come on in.” Once Tommy stepped inside, the man shouted out, “Stacy! Someone for you.” He turned back to Tommy and held out his hand. “I’m her boyfriend, Pete Antinoff.”
Moments later, a woman walked down the steps holding a toddler in her arms. She looked like she had once been pretty, but now her mousy brown hair hung limply to just above her shoulders, and her skin had the leathery look of someone who’d spent too much time soaking up the sun. Stacy handed the little girl to Antinoff. “Read her a story, okay?”
Antinoff nodded, then took the child back upstairs.
Tommy gave another business card to Stacy and told her why he was there. She motioned him to follow her into the living room. After they were seated, he asked, “Did Kelly ever tell you Osgood frightened her?”
“She never mentioned him at all.”
“Was there anyone else she was scared of?”
Stacy shook her head.
“Anyone you know of who had a crush on her?”
“No. They all knew she had a boyfriend. Although it wouldn’t have been for long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she was cooling it with Greg. It was too hard keeping it going with him at college.”
Tommy hadn’t seen that in the police reports. “Had she told Greg?”
“Not yet. But she was going to soon.”
“Did you know him?”
“Sure. We all hung around together.”
“What was he like?”
“Handsome, charming. He was captain of the football team. Not good enough to play college level, but still—you know the type. Used to getting whatever he wanted.”
“Sounds like you didn’t like him.”
Stacy frowned. “I didn’t. He was too full of himself. Thought Kelly should consider herself lucky that she’d caught him. I never thought he treated her well enough.”
“In what way? Did he ever hit her?”
“Nothing like that. He’d just—you know how it was in high school. Silly stuff. He’d flirt with other girls in front of her. When we’d all go out together, he’d spend the night talking just to the guys, and ignore her. He’d forget her birthday. It just didn’t seem to me like he put her first.”
Tommy knew his type. The kind people flocked around, but who thought only of himself. The kind, Tommy suspected, who wouldn’t handle rejection very well. Maybe Kelly had told him that night it was over. Maybe he decided to pay her a visit. Tommy flipped through his notepad. The police had questioned him. He’d claimed to have been asleep in his dorm room all night. Greg’s roommate vouched for him—said he’d come back from a party around 3:00 a.m., and Greg was fast asleep. When he woke up at 6:30 the next morning to use the john, Greg was still asleep. Maybe Whitman was lying. It wouldn’t be the first time one friend covered for another.
Tommy finished up with Stacy, then left. It was time to head back to New York. As he got into his car, he smiled. It seemed he had two potential suspects in the murder of Kelly Braden.
CHAPTER
7
1994
He drove up to the house and sat for a moment, enveloped by the darkness. The closest street lamp was four houses away. I just want to talk to her, that’s all. She was so beautiful, with a smile that drew you to her, that said, “You’re special.” He got out of the car and walked to the back of the house. When he saw the bat lying in the nearby yard, he picked it up. He wouldn’t use it. He just thought, Well, maybe she’ll need persuasion to leave the house in the middle of the night. He didn’t want to talk to her in the bedroom. He wanted to take her for a drive and tell her what he felt, that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, that he wanted to take care of her, to cherish her. He’d taken a ladder with him and placed it against the side of the house leading up to the bedroom he knew she was in, then climbed up to her room. The window was open. He removed the screen and dropped it to the ground, then pushed the window up enough for him to slide through. Her cousin was sleeping soundly, a teddy bear clutched in her arms.
He bent down beside Kelly and just watched her breathe for a while. She was so impossibly beautiful. Knowing she would be startled when she saw him, he placed his hand over her mouth before he whispered, “Wake up.”
Her eyes shot open.
“Don’t be afraid. I just want to talk to you,” he said. But he could see in her eyes that she was afraid. She tried to shove his hand away, but he was strong. He clamped his other hand around her neck, just to frighten her enough to stop resisting. Maybe he’d pressed too hard, because slowly her eyes closed, and he couldn’t wake her anymore. He picked her up from the bed—it was easy for him—and began to carry her away when her cousin woke up and started to cry. He placed Kelly back on the bed, then picked up the bat and hit the little girl, just enough to make her stop crying. Though maybe that was too much,
also.
He picked Kelly up again, this time putting her over his shoulder so he could grab the bat, and quietly walked through her bedroom door and down the stairs, then out the back door. After laying Kelly down in the backseat of his car, he went back to retrieve his ladder, then got in and drove her to the creek.
It was pretty at the creek. He thought she’d like it there. He waited next to her on a patch of grass by the water until she woke again. When she did, she immediately screamed and scrambled to her feet.
He had to stop her. She was easy to catch, but she wouldn’t stop screaming, so he pressed his hands around her neck once again—just to quiet her, that’s all. But this time it was too much. When her body dropped to the ground and her big blue eyes stayed open, fixed in an accusing stare, he knew she was dead even before he felt for her pulse, and found none.
He didn’t expect the thrill that shot through his body when he realized what he’d done—the feeling of power that overwhelmed him. He didn’t mean to kill Kelly Braden, but he had to admit, as he stared at her dead body, that he felt good. No, not good. He felt godly.
CHAPTER
8
Meghan Milgram is on line one,” Dani’s assistant announced.
Dani quickly picked up the phone. A week had gone by since she’d met with the psychologist, and Dani was anxious to hear her evaluation of Osgood. “Hi, Meghan. Have something for me?”
“I do. I’ll e-mail a copy of my report later this afternoon. I’m just writing it up now. I thought I’d call, though, and tell you what I determined.”
“And?”
“He definitely fits the Supreme Court’s definition of intellectually disabled. My report will go into the test results and the reasoning for my conclusion.”
Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Her work was cut out for her now. She needed to prepare a motion to stop Osgood’s execution.
“His full-scale IQ on the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale was seventy-one,” Milgram continued. “But in real numbers, it’s sixty-eight.”
“What do you mean, real numbers?”
“It has to do with when the test is standardized. It’s explained in my report.”
“And the other factors?”
“You’ve already given me two people who can testify about his actual behavior in the community. The tests I’ve performed and my interview of him confirms a deficiency in adaptive skills. And the last prong—age of onset—is shown by his school records.”
“That’s great, Meghan.”
“Don’t get too excited. This is Georgia. They’re going to fight hard.”
“I know. But I’m going to fight harder.”
Two hours later, Milgram’s e-mail arrived with her report attached. There was plenty in the report for Dani to use, and she hunkered down to prepare the brief—the legal argument—that would accompany her motion to the court. The hours went by quickly, and when she glanced at her watch, she saw it was after four, past the time she normally left for home. Leaving this late would put her smack in rush-hour traffic, extending the half-hour drive home to double that time. She was heading out the door when her assistant, who was on the phone, motioned for her to stop.
“Hold on one moment,” Carol said to whomever she was speaking with, then looked up at Dani. “It’s Mr. Dingell, from the prison. Calling about Jack Osgood.”
Dani nodded, then went back to her office and picked up the phone. “Is everything okay with Jack?”
“You’ll probably get the notice tomorrow, maybe the day after. I don’t know how long they take to tell the attorney, but I thought you should know right away.”
“What is it? Is Jack hurt?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—you need to move fast. The warden just got the notice. His execution’s been scheduled. Ten days from today.”
Damn. Dani thanked him and hung up, then took off her jacket and placed it on the back of her chair. She wouldn’t be leaving for home now, after all. She’d stay as long as needed to finish up her brief, so that first thing tomorrow morning, it would be filed with the court.
Four days later, Dani was at the prisoner lockup at the Gwinnett County Superior Court in Lawrenceville, Georgia, sitting in a cell with Jack Osgood. He was clothed in his prison garb—there was no jury for the hearing scheduled to start in twenty minutes, and therefore no need for him to dress in a suit and tie. She suspected he would wonder why his mother wasn’t in the courtroom. It was time for Dani to tell him. When she’d asked Dingell, the one guard who seemed to care about Osgood, why he hadn’t been told she’d died, he’d said that since prisoners on death row weren’t permitted to attend a funeral, they’d thought it kinder to keep him in the dark. Dani thought otherwise. Sometimes it was hard to hear the truth, but knowing it allowed the healing process to begin.
“Jack, I want to tell you something.”
He looked at her expectantly.
“Your mother passed away many years ago. That’s why she hasn’t been to see you.”
Osgood looked up at the ceiling, then back at Dani. Just that quickly, tears were streaming down his cheeks. “My being in jail killed her, I think.”
“No, Jack. It’s not your fault.”
“Now there’s nobody who believes I didn’t hurt that girl.”
“I believe you.”
When the bailiff called State v. Osgood, Dani stood before Judge Edith Beiles. The hearing was in one of the smaller courtrooms in the building, with just four rows, separated by an aisle, behind the counsel tables. The gallery was empty. Gary Luckman, the assistant district attorney, was by Dani’s side. He looked young and eager, Dani thought, with his clean-shaven face, wide blue eyes, and ears that stuck out just enough to look almost comical. But there was nothing amusing about him, or about anything else in this courtroom that stood in the way of her intention to convince this judge to spare Jack Osgood’s life.
“Your client is five days away from execution, Ms. Trumball,” Judge Beiles said. “Why is this claim first being raised now?” The woman looked like she should have retired ten years earlier. She was well into her seventies, and her hair was a silvery white. Still, her eyes shone brightly, and her voice was strong.
“I first became aware of Mr. Osgood’s plight, and his alleged condition, less than two weeks ago. Unfortunately, the attorney who handled Mr. Osgood’s trial and appeals is now confined to an Alzheimer’s care facility and has few periods of lucidity.” This was true. Dani thought it wasn’t necessary to add that during one of those periods of lucidity, he’d lambasted the harshness of Georgia law in requiring proof of a disability beyond a reasonable doubt.
The judge stared hard at Dani. “I’m familiar with this case. Hasn’t Mr. Osgood always maintained his innocence? Is he now ready to acknowledge his culpability?”
Dani glanced back at Osgood, sitting at the defendant’s table, his hands clasped tightly together. His hangdog expression told her he was still distraught over the news she’d given him thirty minutes earlier. Although his hands weren’t cuffed, nor his legs shackled, two guards, with their holstered guns in plain view, stood nearby. She turned back to the judge. “Whether or not he committed this crime, we wish to show that the law doesn’t permit his execution.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“No, Your Honor, the defendant does not admit that he murdered Kelly Braden. In fact, he continues to maintain that he is innocent, and I reserve the right to bring a future motion should new evidence come to light which proves that. But in the meantime, we have brought the current motion to address the defendant’s intellectual capabilities.” Despite Judge Beiles’s age, Dani knew she had a reputation as a tough jurist. Dani hoped she hadn’t just gotten off on the wrong foot with her.
“Are your witnesses ready?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Beiles turned to the prosecutor. “Are you ready to proceed?”
“I am.”
“Let’s get started, then.”
It was Dani’s motion, so she went first. Whether or not Jack Osgood was intellectually disabled, and therefore couldn’t be executed, would be decided by this judge. At least, at this first stage. If Dani lost, her appeal was ready to be filed.
Dani called Meghan Milgram to the stand. She strode into the courtroom dressed in a navy-blue jacket and matching straight skirt, with an air of confidence. After Milgram was sworn in, Dani ran through her credentials. When finished, she asked, “Have you had the opportunity to examine the defendant?”
“I have. I met with him over three days. During that period, I did a clinical interview and administered several psychological tests, designed to evaluate intellectual, personality, and behavioral functioning. In addition, I reviewed his school records, including psychological testing performed by the school’s psychologist.”
“Did you reach any conclusion when you finished?”
“Yes. I’ve determined that Jack Osgood suffers from an intellectual disability that presented before the age of eighteen.”
“On what did you base that conclusion?”
“I administered the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, or WAIS, in which he scored a full-scale IQ of seventy-one. But in real numbers it was sixty-eight.”
“Would you explain what you mean by that?”
“Yes. The IQ of the general population rises each year. Since the norms for IQ scores are set when the test is standardized, then the farther away from the year of standardization, the higher the score will be. In the current case, the WAIS was last standardized eleven years ago, so one would expect a test-taker to score three and a half points higher than if he took the test when it was normed.”
“Did you administer any other tests?”
“Yes. The Wide Range Achievement Test, or WRAT4, also used to test intellectual functioning, and the Rorschach and the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory-2 Restructured Form, or MMPI-2-RF, both of which, among other things, help evaluate a person’s social adjustment.”
“And what did those tests show?”