First Degree

by David Rosenfelt

  I’m up watching the news by five-thirty in the morning, but it isn’t until an hour later that I discover the “sunrise scam.” The weather guy has proclaimed that six-thirty-one is the moment of sunrise, yet I can now bear witness to the fact that at that exact time it is already light out, and has been light for fifteen minutes.

  Does no one check these things out? Do they think the light is coming from another source, perhaps helping our eyes adjust to the upcoming sudden onset of sunlight? Or are we being deceived by someone, maybe the tanning or suntan lotion industrial complex?

  And no matter what the reason for the deception, what is the value of knowing when sunrise is? Wouldn’t we be better served by knowing when “lightrise” is? And are there any other idiots like me, up at this hour and paying attention to this nonsense, so as to take their minds off of something important, something that’s gnawing at their insides?

  How the hell am I going to help Laurie? And what if I can’t?

  I get up and take Tara for a two-hour walk. As always, she can sense my mood and mirrors it. She doesn’t do anything to distract me from my thoughts; even when a squirrel passes, she doesn’t try to go after it. I’m able to focus on the job ahead, and by the time we get home, I’m ready.

  I shower and get to the courthouse at ten-thirty. As I did with Oscar, I meet with Laurie in an anteroom and prep her for the hearing. I tell her basically the same things, but I hug her considerably more than I recall hugging Oscar.

  We are led into the courtroom on time, and Kevin is waiting at the defense table. Dylan and his colleagues are already in place, though this time he forgets to wish me good luck. The courtroom is packed with perhaps twice as many people and press as when Oscar was playing the lead.

  Judge Timmerman once again handles the hearing. She asks if there is anything to be discussed before we begin, and Dylan immediately demonstrates just how contentious this is going to be.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” he says, “we believe that it is a conflict for Mr. Carpenter to be representing this defendant, and we ask that he be removed as counsel.”

  “On what grounds?” she asks.

  “As you know, he represented Oscar Garcia when Mr. Garcia was charged with the same crime. Mr. Garcia may well be a witness in this case, which would be a clear conflict of interest for Mr. Carpenter.”

  As Dylan is speaking, I can feel Laurie tense up next to me, fearful that she will lose me as her lawyer. Kevin slips me a piece of paper, but I don’t look at it, since I’m too intent on what Dylan is saying. There is no way I’m being taken off this case.

  The judge turns to me. “Mr. Carpenter?”

  I stand up. “Your Honor, just three days ago, Mr. Campbell stood before you and told you Oscar Garcia was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. We told you he was wrong, and he now admits that he was. Now Mr. Campbell is telling you that it is Laurie Collins that is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. He is wrong again. I don’t know what the indoor record is for bizarre and false accusations in connection with a single crime, but he certainly is on a pace to break it.

  “Since it is clearly his intention to keep charging people until he finally blunders onto the guilty party, and since there are more citizens in this community than lawyers, eventually some of us are going to be called on for representation more than once. We might as well start now.”

  “Your Honor,” Dylan says, “I object to the frivolous nature of the response. This is a serious matter.” As Dylan speaks, I take the time to look at the paper Kevin has given me.

  “It is very serious,” I agree, “and it was equally serious in New Jersey v. Clampett, which is directly on point and favors the defense position.” Kevin had amazingly anticipated this possibility and found case law last night.

  “But far more serious,” I continue, “is the fact that this prosecutor has accused two innocent people of a brutal crime in one week. He has demonstrated a disturbing willingness to rush to judgment without the benefit of facts, and here he is doing it again.” I’m being extra tough on Dylan not only because this motion is a cheap, unprofessional shot but especially because the press will lap it up. I can see the smoke coming out of Dylan’s ears as I go on.

  “Additionally, I am no longer representing Oscar Garcia and I am unaware of any connection he continues to have to this case. Should this ever reach trial, and should he testify, my co-counsel, Kevin Randall, will cross-examine him.”

  Judge Timmerman thinks for a few moments, then says, “Since the Garcia matter was of such short duration, I see no clear conflict. Therefore, I am inclined to side with the defense and allow Mr. Carpenter to remain as counsel to Ms. Collins. Mr. Campbell, if you choose to, you can take up the matter again with the trial judge.”

  Dylan nods his resignation that he has lost this motion, at least for the time being. I can feel Laurie sigh with relief.

  That relief is short-lived, as Dylan reveals that the State of New Jersey is charging Laurie with murder in the first degree. When it comes to burns, first degree is not that big a deal. Among murder charges, it’s real bad. Simply put, if Laurie is convicted, she will never experience another day of freedom.

  It would shake up anyone, but when called upon to give her plea, Laurie says, “Absolutely not guilty, Your Honor.” She says it with conviction and power and confidence. It’s another reminder that she is one tough lady.

  The judge then brings up the matter of bail, which Dylan vigorously opposes. “The defendant is financially self-sufficient, and as a former police officer, is familiar with types and means of flight. Additionally, and even more significantly, the brutal nature of the crime is such that freeing the defendant would represent a serious risk to the community. Setting bail in this circumstance would be a substantial departure from precedent, and the facts simply do not support such a finding.”

  “Mr. Carpenter?”

  I stand. “Thank you, Your Honor. Laurie Collins was a decorated police officer who left the department voluntarily when she felt that it was not adhering to sufficiently high moral and ethical standards. She has since distinguished herself as a self-employed private investigator, and I can personally vouch for her continued impeccable ethics and actions.

  “Her entire life to this point has been dedicated to serving this community. She has never been charged with jaywalking, no less a major felony. Simply because she is the latest unwilling contestant in Mr. Campbell’s prosecutorial game show, Suspect for a Day, that is no reason to deprive her of her liberty.”

  Dylan is back on his feet. “I object to these personal attacks, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained. Let’s tone it down a bit, Mr. Carpenter,” the judge says.

  “Sorry, Your Honor. But to call Laurie Collins a flight risk is particularly absurd. People with her courage and character don’t run from unfounded charges such as these; they stay and fight them.”

  The judge does not look convinced. “Bail in these situations is very unusual, Mr. Carpenter.”

  I’m afraid I’m losing her. Kevin nods slightly in my direction; we have an alternative plan if things look like they’re going badly, which they do.

  “Your Honor,” I say, “we would propose a significant bail and house arrest. Ms. Collins could be electronically monitored if necessary. And if you feel that is insufficient, a police guard could be posted outside the house, which if you so ordered, the defense would pay for.”

  The judge seems intrigued by this, and I can see her tentatively pulling back from the brink of ruling against us. “Mr. Campbell,” she says, “what’s your response to that? It would seem to eliminate both the risk of flight and any danger to the community.”

  It is no surprise that Dylan disagrees completely. “Your Honor, we are talking about a vicious and premeditated crime against a police officer. House arrest is simply not a substitute for prison. This is what prisons are for.”

  I stand again. “Your Honor, I arrived in court a few minutes after Mr. Campbell today. Was there a trial and con
viction that I missed? Prisons are for criminals. Mr. Campbell still must prove Laurie Collins is a criminal, and he will not come close.”

  The judge nods and makes her ruling. “Bail will be set at five hundred thousand dollars. The accused will be subject to house arrest and electronically monitored. If the state wants to post a guard outside the house, it will be at their own expense.”

  I lean over to Laurie and whisper. “You okay if it’s my house?”

  She smiles slightly. “Only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

  I fight the urge to return the smile, then ask the judge to allow her house arrest to take place at my house, explaining that it will considerably increase her ability to aid in her own defense, and that as a law enforcement officer and investigator, that help is particularly valuable. The judge agrees, and Dylan doesn’t bother to fight it.

  “You can arrange bail with the court clerk,” the judge says, and then adjourns the hearing.

  I immediately walk toward the clerk, passing right by Dylan as I do. “Dylan,” I say, “you’re an expert on this stuff. You think they want cash or a check?”

  He doesn’t answer, so I guess I’ll just have to ask the clerk.

  LAURIE ISN’T RELEASED FROM THE JAIL UNTIL three hours after the hearing. They blame processing delays, and I’m just about ready to burn the place down when I finally see her. A guard is assigned to drive her to my house so he can make sure that she is within the house when he fastens her electronic ankle bracelet.

  Kevin wants to come over with the discovery material he got from Dylan’s office, but I tell him that we’ll start in the morning. Today was a very intense day for all of us, and we could use a breather before jumping into this. Once it starts, there won’t be anything else going on in our world.

  I ask Kevin to start the process of transferring the office to the house; I want the phones switched over and all the files moved. Even Edna should be alerted to change her late morning destination, mainly because if we didn’t tell her, she might continue in the other office for months before noticing we were gone.

  Laurie and I have a quiet, early dinner. She’s a tough woman, but I can tell that she’s shaken by the experience. I can see her gathering her strength, girding for the ordeal that is to follow.

  We are in bed by ten, and I hold her until she falls asleep. I confess that I would be willing to do more than hold her, but my sense is that it is a sign of insensitivity to attempt to make love to somebody on the same night they have been charged with a decapitation-murder. I fall asleep moments after Laurie does; today was an exhausting day for both of us.

  We’re still sleeping at eight o’clock the next morning when the doorbell rings and I stagger down to answer it. It is then that I see one of those sights that make you rub your eyes and wonder if you’re seeing a mirage, or perhaps still dreaming.

  Edna.

  Up and awake and raring to go to work, at eight o’clock in the morning. Edna! The mind boggles.

  “We’ve got work to do, Andy,” she says, then brushes past me and enters the house. I can see that out on the street the press has already started to assemble; I would be surprised if they’re not a constant presence, which is fine with me. Laurie will be inside anyway, and in a case like this manipulation of the press is a necessary part of a defense attorney’s job. Having them on hand will make it more convenient.

  Edna immediately starts to set up a makeshift office in my den. She pauses only to go to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Edna making coffee! With my camera upstairs, I’m missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime shot.

  Edna tries to explain to me her level of outrage that Laurie has been placed in this situation. She makes me swear that we will all do whatever is necessary to exonerate her, an easy promise for me to make. Laurie comes downstairs, wearing pants to cover her ankle bracelet. Edna rushes to hug her, offering kind words and renewing her vow to do everything she can. I am actually touched by Edna’s response to this crisis, and I can tell that Laurie is as well.

  Kevin shows up a few minutes later and informs us that the movers will have the office files and equipment here by eleven o’clock. He has the discovery files with him, and we set up in the den to start going through them.

  Laurie volunteers to make breakfast for us, and when I mention that there’s really nothing in the house to make it out of, she casually says she’ll go to the market. Before I can respond, she realizes that she misspoke, that she must remain in the house at all times. It’s a small thing, but a sobering reminder of her situation.

  Edna goes to the market, and I can hear her loudly berating the media “leeches” as she leaves. I make a note to explain to her the importance of maintaining good press relations, but it is pretty far down on my list of notes.

  Based on my skimming the morning paper and watching some TV news coverage, the press is giving us the upper hand in yesterday’s hearing. There is substantial mention of the ridicule I subjected Dylan to, and while I would ordinarily not view this as a positive, in this case I feel otherwise. Dylan will not willingly give an inch anyway, and I think that getting him angry might cause him to make a mistake. I also think it might make him come across as overly aggressive, never a good thing for a prosecutor.

  Kevin and I start to plow through the discovery material, though in this case a plow would be substantial overkill. The file is very skimpy, confirming my belief that extracting material from an uncooperative Dylan is going to be a constant fight. Of course, to let anything slip by us is to invite a disaster in court.

  Basically, the case against Laurie as outlined in the material has two powerful linchpins. First is her presence at what has now been identified as the murder scene behind Hinchcliffe Stadium, and what the police see as her attempt to retrieve the evidence. Obviously, the most incriminating part of that evidence is her bloody clothing, and I have no doubt that DNA will reveal it to be Alex Dorsey’s blood on both that clothing and the knife.

  The second very damaging piece of evidence has been found as the result of a search warrant, executed on Laurie’s house. In her garage was an empty can with the residue of a fluid that appeared to be gasoline, and which when tested was the exact same mixture as that used to set Dorsey’s body on fire. Laurie is stunned when she hears this, and swears that she has never seen that can in her life.

  The remainder of the file consists of witness statements. It’s very early in the process, but the police are already making headway in this regard. Oscar and others in his neighborhood claim that Laurie was there frequently, apparently following Oscar. There is also a witness who puts Laurie in the area of the warehouse the day of the murder.

  A major piece missing from the discovery documents is any reference to the victim’s actions, record, and history. Dorsey must have a file the size of South Dakota, but despite our request, nothing has been included. Only by getting those records will we know why they don’t want us to have them.

  “Pancakes?” It’s Laurie, standing at the door, the smell of her prepared breakfast wafting into the room.

  A prime factor that the NFL uses for talent evaluation is the player’s speed in the forty-yard dash. If instead they measured the time from den to kitchen, Kevin would be All-Pro and a future Hall of Famer.

  Edna and I eat one pancake each, and Laurie has two, so including Kevin we eat a total of sixteen. When we’re done, we go back into the den, and we plot our initial moves. Kevin will work on getting access to Dorsey’s police records, initially by renewing our request for voluntary discovery. We expect Dylan to again reject it, so Kevin will simultaneously prepare a motion to convince the court to compel him to comply.

  The other assignment I give Kevin is to find an investigator to work with us on this case. I’m afraid that Laurie will feel as if she is being replaced, and might get frustrated and upset. I’m wrong again, and she jumps in with ideas for people that we might hire.

  When Kevin leaves, Laurie leads me into the bedroom, out of earshot of Edna. Onc
e we’re there, she says, “Andy, we need to talk about money.”

  “What about it?” I ask.

  “I’ve got twelve thousand dollars in the bank,” she says.

  “That’s all? I’ve got twenty-two million.”

  “Andy, I’ve always been self-sufficient. It’s how I’ve defined myself. But right now I can’t come close to paying for my own defense, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “There’s nothing for you to do. I’ll pay for it, but first I’ll negotiate with myself to cut my hourly rate.”

  “This case will cost a fortune.”

  “Then we’re really lucky, because I happen to have a fortune,” I say. “Look, we bring different things to our relationship, to our friendship. One of the things I bring is money. It’s never been that important to either of us, but right now we need it, and there it is. If we spend every penny of it, that’s fine.”

  “Andy—” she starts, but I cut her off.

  “I know how you feel, Laurie, but every minute we spend thinking about this is a minute we’re not thinking about what’s really important. And that is winning this case.”

  “So this is something I’m going to have to deal with?” she asks.

  I nod, and even though she still seems uncertain about her ability to do that, she hugs me. “I love you,” she says.

  “I love you too.” As I said, it’s not a response we consider automatic, and there’s no obligation to say it, but sometimes it feels right.

  I head back into the den, and by that time Edna has worked out phone arrangements. The phone company will be there within the hour to install our office line separate from my home line. Laurie wants to take personal calls on her cell phone, so as not to interfere with our activities. Edna is by now already on another project, though I have no idea what she could be working on. It’s possible that some body-snatching work-pod took over Edna’s body while she slept last night. Not wanting to disrupt whatever the Edna-pod is doing, and even though I’m still picking pieces of pancake out of my teeth, I go to lunch.