Justice Delayed (Innocent Prisoners Project)

by Marti Green

  Doug crossed his arms. He took a deep breath and held it in before speaking. “I haven’t been offered the job. They’re looking at others. It’s still the exploratory stage. But they want someone in place by July—August at the latest—for the incoming class. What’s the harm if I go out for an interview?”

  “The harm is you’ll get the job, and want to take it, and I’m the bad guy holding you back.”

  “Instead, you’re the bad guy keeping me from being considered.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Doug looked away, but not before Dani could see that his cheeks had reddened. She knew it wasn’t from the chill in the air. He always turned red when he was angry.

  “Let’s catch up to the kids,” he said. “We can talk about it more tonight.”

  The conversation didn’t go any better that evening. The kids were hyped up from the party and the sweets they’d collected and didn’t fall asleep until after nine, delaying “honeymoon hour.” By the time Dani and Doug settled down in the living room, they were both tired.

  “Have you thought any more about Stanford?” Doug asked.

  “Haven’t thought about anything else all evening.”

  “And?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to move.”

  “You’re just afraid of change, like I was afraid of the change a baby would bring. But look how well that’s turned out.”

  Dani glared at him. “How dare you compare the two.”

  “I’m not saying the decision is the same. Just that both involve an adjustment to change.”

  “Don’t you like teaching at Columbia?”

  “I do. I’ve settled into it like an old comfortable shoe. Now, I want more. I want to be challenged, just like you are with every new case you take.”

  “There are plenty of law schools in the New York area. Apply to be dean at one of those.”

  “There aren’t any openings at those. And other than Columbia, none have the prestige of Stanford.”

  It didn’t matter to Dani that Doug was right. It didn’t matter to her that he deserved a chance to advance. She just couldn’t bear the thought of picking up her family and leaving everything that was familiar and safe. She took Doug’s hand in her own and began stroking it. “Please, don’t pursue this. I really want to stay here.”

  Doug pulled his hand away from hers. “You may get your wish. They may decide on someone else. But I’m going out there next week for an interview. It’s already scheduled.”

  Dani couldn’t believe he’d gone ahead before even discussing it with her. She stood up from the couch. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep early.” She turned and walked away without even finishing “honeymoon hour.”

  CHAPTER

  18

  Three weeks had passed since Dani had filed a writ of certiorari with the US Supreme Court. Each day she pounced on the mail as soon as it was delivered to her assistant, not waiting for Carol to go through it first. Today was no exception. As soon as the mail carrier arrived at their office, Dani grabbed the stack of envelopes. Sitting on top was a letter with the return address of the US Supreme Court. She handed the remaining mail to Carol, then retreated to her office. She sat down on her chair, still holding the letter in her hands, afraid to open it. If cert had been granted, that meant Osgood had time. Time for HIPP to continue its search for witnesses, time for HIPP to find evidence of Osgood’s innocence.

  After five minutes, she gathered up the courage to tear open the envelope. Dani’s hands trembled as she stared at the single sheet of paper she held. Certiorari denied. Those were the only words she focused on. The US Supreme Court had refused to consider Osgood’s appeal, and so the decision of the Supreme Court of Georgia was the final word. This man, with an IQ of 68, would be executed by the state. It’s so wrong, so very wrong. One of the reasons behind exempting those with an intellectual disability from execution as a punishment stemmed from an understanding that those defendants had a reduced capacity to control impulses, and to learn from mistakes and experiences. In many respects, they were like children, and children certainly couldn’t be executed, no matter how brutal their crimes. Dani didn’t know with certainty that Jack Osgood hadn’t murdered Kelly Braden, but she was convinced that if he had, he hadn’t known what he was doing. He certainly didn’t seem capable of planning it.

  She stood up from her chair and headed over to Tommy’s desk, then sat down across from him. “The Supreme Court turned down Osgood’s appeal.”

  Tommy frowned, then uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. “Damn. What now?”

  “The state will schedule Osgood’s execution again. We don’t have much time. We’ve got to find Greg Johnson.”

  “Well, we’re in luck there. I just located him ten minutes ago. Adam was right—he’s living in Cambridge, just outside Boston. I was thinking of flying up there tomorrow. Want to come with me?”

  Dani hesitated just a moment before answering, “I can’t. Doug’s away tonight and tomorrow. I don’t want to be out of town while he’s traveling.”

  “I didn’t know law professors took business trips.”

  “It’s not. He . . .” She took a deep breath. “He’s interviewing for a job at Stanford Law.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Dani just nodded.

  “And if he gets it? You moving?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Tommy leaned in toward Dani. “You’re not talking about a separation, are you?”

  “No. It won’t come to that. Right now, he’s just exploring the opportunity. Nothing’s been offered.”

  “I’d hate for you to leave. We make a good team.”

  “I know.” Dani stood up to leave. She held a finger to her lips and said, “Don’t say anything to Bruce, okay?”

  “Mum’s the word.”

  Tommy waited to take the 4:00 p.m. shuttle up to Boston. No point in leaving earlier. Most likely, Greg Johnson was at work during the day. Tommy arrived at Logan airport at six, got a rental car, then drove into the city for dinner at the Parker House hotel. Its restaurant was his go-to anytime he found himself in Boston. He knew there were fancier places, maybe even those with better food, but he could never pass up the Parker House rolls. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted rolls that could compare.

  He finished dinner at 6:25 p.m., then retrieved his car and drove to Cambridge. With luck, Johnson would be home, and Tommy would be able to catch the last shuttle back to LaGuardia. He pulled up to the address. It was a sprawling single-family home on a tree-lined street. Kid’s got money, Tommy thought.

  He rang the bell and waited only moments before the door opened. Before him stood a middle-aged man, at least six feet two, dressed in a neatly pressed suit, with a tie loosened at the neck. All of Kelly’s girlfriends had described him as handsome, but if that was once the case, his good looks had morphed into features that blended together in his bloated face.

  “I’m not buying whatever you’re selling.”

  “Are you Greg Johnson?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tommy handed him his card, and Johnson glanced at it. “What’s this about?”

  “Kelly Braden’s murder. My office is representing Jack Osgood.”

  The scowl on Johnson’s face disappeared, replaced with a look of melancholy. “That’s the son of a bitch who killed her, right?”

  “He’s the one who was convicted for it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Can I come in and talk to you? It won’t take too long.”

  Johnson hesitated, then opened the door fully. “I suppose it’s okay.” As Tommy stepped into the front hallway, with its stairs that swept around in a curve to the second floor, Johnson said, “You know, you should have called first. I’m not usually home this early. Just got back from a business trip.”

  “Oh, yeah? What do you do?”

  “Senior VP for Atlas Insurance.”

  Tommy whistled. “Aren’t they the bigge
st insurance company in the United States?”

  “Second biggest.”

  “Do you travel a lot for them?”

  “Used to. When I was working myself up the ranks. The whole East Coast was my territory. Now, just occasionally.”

  Tommy followed Johnson into the den, furnished with a dark-brown leather sofa and two leather club chairs, and wall-to-wall bookcases on two sides. When both were seated, Tommy said, “My colleague is trying to prove that Osgood didn’t murder Kelly.”

  “Of course he’s guilty.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Well, I . . . I . . . Didn’t they find his bat? With her little cousin’s blood on it?”

  “Yeah. But Osgood said he’d lost it. Anyone could have found it and used it that night.”

  “Who else would kill her? The guy was weird.”

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t him. We’re just double-checking everything. And, you know, police always look at those closest to the victim first, so I’ve got to ask you some questions. I’m not trying to pin anything on you. I just need to rule you out.”

  “I was in my dorm room, fast asleep when it happened. My roommate saw me.”

  “Whitman?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You were friends with him from home, right?”

  Johnson nodded. “We played high school football together.”

  “Tell me about you and Kelly.”

  “What’s to tell? We were high school sweethearts. Then I went away to college, and frankly, it was going to end anyway. It seems silly now, just two years’ difference in age, but back then, it felt huge.”

  “So, you were going to break up with her?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Some of her girlfriends said the opposite. That she planned to break it off with you.”

  Johnson laughed—a deep, hearty guffaw. “They’re pulling your leg. Kelly was crazy for me. Visited me on campus every other weekend. I finally had to tell her it was too much, so she dropped it to once a month.”

  Was this true? Was Kelly’s friend mistaken? Maybe Kelly hadn’t wanted to admit that her boyfriend was pulling back from her. Still, Stacy had been her best friend. Tommy knew from his own daughters that they shared everything—good and bad—with their own best friends. There was something about Johnson that put Tommy off, something just a little too slick.

  “The police records showed a call to you from the Hickses’ phone the night she was murdered. Wasn’t that from Kelly?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  “Usual stuff—school, parents, mutual friends. I told the police all this back when it happened.”

  “She didn’t tell you that night she wanted to break up?”

  “You kidding? I told you, it was going to be the other way around. But I didn’t tell her that night.”

  “How would you have felt if she ended it before you did?”

  Johnson smirked. “Relieved.”

  “Whitman said he got back to the room sometime after three, and you were sound asleep.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How long’s the ride from the college back home?”

  “Little more than an hour.”

  “So, if you woke up after Whitman fell asleep, you could have driven home and back before he woke up.”

  Johnson’s face darkened. He started cracking his knuckles, not saying a word, then stood up. “I’ve been trying to help you, but it seems you just want to pin this on me. I loved Kelly once, and grieved when she died, and you can just go to hell.” He stormed toward the front door and held it open for Tommy to leave.

  Tommy left. There was nothing more he’d get from Greg Johnson.

  As he flew back to New York, Tommy kept thinking about Tony Falcone, the missing handyman who’d worked at both the Braden and Hicks homes. He’d had no luck finding a trace of him, or anyone named Abigail Falcone in the right age range. Although Dani wanted him to be on the up-and-up, they weren’t getting anywhere that way. He’d already tapped friends from his days at the FBI, and they hadn’t come up with anything. Now, he had one last hope—his hacker contact. He didn’t just hack into unsuspecting accounts. He used his computer skills for tracing people. Tommy didn’t ask him too many questions about how he did it. All he cared about were results.

  He wanted to find Falcone, find something that would tie him to Kelly’s murder. Because so far, nothing he’d found said Jack Osgood hadn’t committed the crime. That wouldn’t matter to Dani. She hated the death penalty, hated its finality. Not him. If you took a person’s life, you deserved to lose yours. Maybe he could see Dani’s point of view that someone as slow as Osgood couldn’t have understood what he was doing, and therefore shouldn’t be executed, but that was as far as he’d go. If Osgood did it, he should stay behind bars for the rest of his life. Except that wasn’t an option now. Either the state killed him for the crime, or they got him a new trial and raised enough reasonable doubt for an acquittal. He didn’t like either of those choices. So, he hoped he’d find Falcone. Hoped that led to proving Osgood innocent.

  Dani waited impatiently for the front door to open, and for Doug to walk in. The three-hour time difference between New York and California meant his plane wouldn’t land at JFK until 8:30 p.m., eastern time. She glanced at her watch once more, as she’d done every five minutes for the last half hour—it was 9:35. His plane had landed on time, and she’d expected he’d be back already, but New York highways were always unpredictable. He’d told her little when he’d phoned from the San Jose airport—just that he’d fill her in when he returned.

  She picked up the book she’d been trying to read, although her head wasn’t in it. No matter how much she tried not to, all she could think about was Stanford University. Ten minutes later, she heard a car door slam, and moments after, the front door opened. She jumped off the couch and ran into Doug’s arms. “I missed you.” She was used to being the one who traveled, not Doug. Being home, with just the kids, had seemed out of kilter.

  He wrapped his arms around her, tilted her head up, and kissed her. “Missed you, too.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Nope. Bought something at the airport and ate on the plane.”

  After Doug hung up his coat, Dani took his hand and led him to the couch in the living room. There was a bottle of Chianti and two glasses on the cocktail table. She poured wine for both of them.

  “So. Tell me everything.”

  Doug sighed deeply. He leaned into the couch and closed his eyes.

  “You tired?” Dani asked.

  He sat back up. “No. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to get into it tonight. I thought maybe we could just cuddle.”

  “If it’s bad news, I’d rather have it now.”

  “There’s no news. It was just an interview.”

  “But you liked it?”

  Doug took a deep breath. “Yes. I liked it very much. The new dean will have a great deal of autonomy in creating the vision for the law school moving forward.”

  “But you love teaching. Won’t most of your time be spent on administrative tasks?”

  “I’d still teach one class.”

  Dani turned away from Doug. How could she make him understand her deep fear of moving? It wasn’t because she’d be leaving HIPP, although she loathed the thought of that. It wasn’t because she’d leave her friends behind, although that, too, made her sad. It was Jonah. Her fears had always revolved around her son. Fears that had finally moved into the background, just a gentle buzz that reminded her to be extra cautious when it came to his welfare. Would he be able to make friends if they moved? Would they find a good school for him near San Jose? Once she obtained a new job for herself, would they find a sitter as kind and loving and reliable as Katie? Would the music community in Northern California recognize and laud Jonah’s musical talent, his key to living a productive life? She could accept uncertainty for herself, but never for Jo
nah.

  Her stomach felt tied in knots. “I don’t want to move.”

  “I know,” Doug said, and pulled her back into his body.

  “How did it go with Greg Johnson?” Dani asked.

  Tommy was sitting in her office, coffee cup in hand. He’d brought Dani a cup as well, along with a blueberry muffin from the corner grocer. There were hundreds of small shops in Manhattan that stocked fresh fruits and vegetables, along with essentials and freshly baked goods. Practically one every few blocks. But both Dani and Tommy knew the one on their corner of the East Village was the best. Now that Dani was jogging regularly, she allowed herself to indulge in one muffin or doughnut every morning. It just seemed to make the coffee taste that much better.

  “Hard to tell. He claimed he was about to break it off with Kelly, not the other way around, and got huffy when he realized I was honing in on him. Maybe that means he didn’t do it, or maybe he’s a good actor.”

  “Did you get anything helpful from him?”

  Tommy shook his head. “If he killed Kelly, it’s going to be damn hard to prove. Unless we can shake Whitman’s alibi. Even then, won’t we need more?”

  “We need new evidence to get a new trial. If Whitman lied, and fesses up now, that might be enough. And then—we don’t have to prove Johnson killed her. Reasonable doubt. That’s all we need. It’s time to talk to Derek Whitman.”

  “Okay. I’m available. Also, I’m pretty sure I found Lisa Hicks.”

  “In Houston?”

  Tommy nodded. “There are two federal public defenders out of the Houston office named Lisa—Lisa Albans and Lisa Montague. I cross-referenced both last names with graduates of Texas law schools around the time Lisa should have graduated, and found Lisa Hicks and an Ethan Montague at the University of Texas Law School. I’m pretty sure that must be whom she married. I’ve gotten an address for Lisa Montague in a suburb of Houston.”

  “Good. We can interview them both. First Whitman, then Hicks. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  1999

  He’d been so good about it. He’d known, after Osgood took the fall, that he needed to stop. It had been so damn hard. He understood what addicts must feel, trying to get off the booze or drugs. It was a need, deep and strong, one that wrapped itself around his insides and had to burst free. But he’d quelled it. For five years. Only lately, now that his life was settled, had it begun waking him up at night, covered in sweat, desperate to re-create that feeling, the one at the end, when he’d taken the girls’ lives, when he’d felt suffused with power.