I introduce as evidence a police report and newspaper article, both confirming Tarpley’s comment that Thurmond was killed.
“Mr. Tarpley, did I ask you if Denise Atkins had been to see Mr. Thurmond?”
“Yes, and I told you she had. I checked, and it was on October twenty-eighth.”
“Two days before she died,” I say, only to remind the jury. “Thank you, no further questions.”
Trell has no questions for him on cross, and Tarpley has to leave the spotlight. For a second, I think he’s going to take a bow, but he just walks off.
Next I call Pete Stanton back to the stand. He wasn’t happy when I told him I was going to do it, but he knew I could force him, so he agreed.
“Captain Stanton, were you called to my office by a 911 call that I made two days ago?”
“Yes,” he says.
“What did you discover when you arrived there?”
“Two people deceased; cause of death, gunshot wounds.”
“Did you identify the people, and can you tell us who they were?”
“Yes. One was Steven Thurmond. The other was Richard Phalen.”
“Were you familiar with Mr. Phalen prior to that day?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“In what context?”
“He was a known associate of Dominic Petrone and Joseph Russo. He reported directly to Russo.”
“Thank you. Did you also answer a 911 call at my house last night?”
“Yes, because there was another shooting death.”
“Who was it this time?”
“Joseph Russo.”
There is chattering in the court gallery; the Russo killing was on the news this morning, but apparently not everyone had seen it. Hatchet gavels for quiet.
“Was the killer arrested?” I ask.
“No, he is at large.”
“And Mr. Russo was an associate of Dominic Petrone?”
Pete nods. “For many years.”
“Just to recap,” I say, “all of these murders happened within the last few days?”
“That’s correct.”
“Is Brian Atkins a suspect in any of them?”
“No.”
“Because he has been in jail throughout this trial, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Next I tell Hatchet that I have an FBI-prepared document that I want to introduce as evidence. I need a witness to read it for the jury, and I ask that Pete be allowed to do so. Failing that, I say that I could have an FBI agent in to read it, but I’m suggesting Pete in the interest of saving time.
Trell doesn’t object; I’m sure he’d just as soon the jury not see the FBI weighing in on our side.
I tell the jury that the document is a transcript of the text messages between Brian and Denise, in the days leading up to her death. Pete reads it, and when he is done, I throw in a couple of questions, just so I can be sure that the jury hasn’t missed the key facts.
“So, Captain, based on what you have just read, is it fair to say that Denise Atkins was concerned about what was happening at Starlight, and afraid of Dominic Petrone?”
He nods. “That’s what it says.”
“And she was aware that Brian was planning to escape on that day?”
“Yes.”
“And is it fair to assume that Mr. Atkins at least expressed guilt about his wife being in this position, and that he said he was coming to help?”
“That’s what it says.”
Trell finally objects that Pete only knows what he’s read, and shouldn’t be giving an opinion on it. Hatchet sustains, but the objection has come three questions too late.
I continue. “Are you aware that there was previous testimony from Mr. Mathers that Denise Atkins’s computer was compromised, and that whoever was behind it could have seen these messages?”
“I am now.”
“Thank you.”
Trell has only perfunctory questions for Pete; he hasn’t said anything controversial enough to challenge. He simply recited facts.
The next words out of my mouth are always very difficult for me to say, because they are momentous, and can’t be taken back.
“Your Honor, the defense rests.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve gotten to hear quite a story,” says Trell. “I won’t even say it’s all fiction, because it isn’t. Some of what the defense told you is true. Some other things they told you might be true; at this point there’s no way to know. And some of what they told you is nonsense, pulled out of thin air.
“But there’s one thing that I can say for sure about all of it. It is not relevant.
“Starlight Systems was a hot company; they were right near the front of the tech industry almost from the day they were founded. They made products that were unique, and that companies needed.
“But Starlight was not a company where you’d want your son or daughter to intern. Because there was a pervasive corruption and lawlessness there, and it started at the top.
“Brian Atkins was convicted of embezzling a fortune from his own company. His huge salary and equity interest were not enough for him; he had to have more.
“And as you’ve heard, as Mr. Carpenter himself said, Gerald Wright continued that illegality. He went into a partnership of sorts with criminals, using his technical capabilities to spread drugs, and to commit blackmail, and who knows what else.
“Yes, you’ve heard it all, and I haven’t even gotten into the child pornography, or gambling, or affairs among the company executives.
“Well, Brian Atkins heard that all this was happening. He heard it from his wife, who was betraying him. He discovered that his ex-partner, who testified against him and helped to put him behind bars, was growing rich beyond imagination. He knew what was going on—for all we know he may have instigated it before he went to jail—and he snapped.
“He told his wife he was coming to help, probably so she wouldn’t suspect what he had in mind, so she wouldn’t be on the alert. And then he killed them, the wife and partner who betrayed him.
“There are a lot of bad actors in the stories you’ve heard; in a murder trial there always are. Gerald Wright may have been a bad guy, and Denise Atkins not much better. But they did not deserve to die, and Brian Atkins did not have the right to kill them.
“So beyond the stories, beyond the guesswork and supposing and theorizing, let’s look at the facts. Brian Atkins had a motive for murder. He escaped from jail, stole a car, and went directly to the house where he found the two people he was looking for. A neighbor saw him leaving the house shortly after they died. And he ran.
“Those are the facts.
“These two people were brutally murdered, slashed multiple times by someone obviously in a rage. That is not how organized crime operates. To hired killers, murder is a business, and their preferred method is a bullet in the back of the head. That is not what happened here.
“What happened here is that Brian Atkins took two lives, and for that he should be punished. It’s a large responsibility, but you are the only ones who can do it. Thank you.”
My turn.
“Brian Atkins should not have escaped from jail,” I say. “He knows that now, but it’s too late. What’s done is done. But he did it because he thought his wife was in danger, and he felt partly responsible for putting her in that danger. So we know why he escaped; we read it in the texts.
“Mr. Trell is correct that there were bad things going on among certain employees in Starlight. Huge money was at stake, and they were teaming up with people who were dangerous and lawless. Something had to explode, and it did.
“Repeatedly.
“Think of the things you heard about here, and Mr. Trell talked about many of them. Drugs, gambling, blackmail, child pornography, and murders. Five murders … Denise Atkins, Gerald Wright, Joseph Russo, Steven Thurmond, and Richard Phalen.
“Except for the deaths of Denise Atkins and Gerald Wright, all of it happened while Brian Atkins was behind bars.
Think about that. The drugs, and gambling, and murders, and all the rest … Brian Atkins could not have done any of it.
“With all of that, how could anyone possibly conclude, beyond a reasonable doubt, that someone else did not commit these murders? How can anyone say with certainty that Brian Atkins committed these horrible acts, without getting blood on himself in the process? It just doesn’t make sense.
“Mr. Atkins escaped from jail, so he pleaded guilty. He did not kill these people, so he pleaded not guilty. I hope and believe you’ll agree with him on both counts.”
I head back to the defense table, and Brian greets me with his hand outstretched. “Thank you, Andy. No matter how it turns out, thank you for all you’ve done, and for convincing me to fight.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say.
Hatchet announces that the jury will be sequestered during their deliberations. He says that he’s doing it because of the unusual amount of publicity that the proceedings are getting. I suspect he also thinks that the verdict will come quickly, but I have no idea which way he thinks it will go.
The bailiff is walking toward us to take Brian away, but Brian has enough to time to ask one question. “Andy, who killed Denise?”
I have time to give him an answer. “I don’t know.”
I am pretty much impossible to live with while I’m waiting for a verdict. I get irritable, and obnoxious, and disagreeable. I know that I’m doing it, and I don’t want to be like that, but I just can’t seem to help myself.
Of course, none of that matters right now, since there is no one here living with me. Laurie and Ricky are a thousand miles away, stuck there because some assholes are threatening him.
That fact makes me even more irritable, obnoxious, disagreeable, and impossible to live with. Which still doesn’t matter, since there is no one here to live with me.
Waiting for a verdict turns me into a circular nutcase.
I try not to anticipate what the jury is going to do, but most of the time I can’t help myself. And when I do, I become a complete contradiction. For one thing, my logical mind can’t imagine how rational human beings might not understand and appreciate the arguments I’ve presented. They have to agree with my point of view, because that point of view is obviously correct.
On the other hand, my pessimistic nature is positive that those idiots will vote guilty.
One of me is going to be wrong.
So basically I’m sitting at home and waiting by the phone. I wish the damn thing would ring, because I want to get this over with. I also wish it wouldn’t ring, not for a long while, because I instinctively feel that a quick verdict would not be good news.
So far it hasn’t rung, which pleases and displeases me.
I may have mentioned this, but waiting for a verdict turns me into a nutcase.
It’s bugging me that Joseph Russo didn’t know who killed Denise Atkins and Gerry Wright. He had nothing to gain by lying when he said it, which makes me believe him.
It’s possible that Petrone had gone around Russo to order the killings; certainly recent events demonstrated that their relationship was deteriorating. But I believe that the murders preceded that deterioration, and I would have thought Russo would at least have known, and would likely have been involved.
When I’m stuck in a situation like this, a technique I use is to break things down to winners and losers. A lot of bad things have happened in the development of this case. People have died, and money has been lost.
Denise Atkins, Gerry Wright, Daniel Bowie, Steven Thurmond, Joseph Russo, Joseph Westman, and others have lost their lives. Jason Mathers has lost his job. Brian Atkins has lost his wife, his chance at parole, and maybe much more. So who won?
Ted Yates.
Ted Yates has seen the two men above him at Starlight, Brian Atkins and Gerry Wright, get pushed well out of the picture. He’s been appointed by the company’s board to move into the CEO spot, and his main rival, Mathers, has left the company. He’s even packed up his things and moved upstairs, to Brian’s old office.
Things have worked out for Ted Yates.
Of course, none of this makes him a criminal. He could just have been really lucky, in the right place at the right time, with the competence and savvy to capitalize on it.
I’m not going to find out the source of that luck by sitting and waiting for the phone to ring, so I call Yates. His assistant tells me that he’s really busy, and my response is to say that it’s really important. That gets him to the phone.
“I’d like to come down and talk to you,” I say.
“Join the club.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every federal agent in America is here.”
“Why?”
“They’re not saying, but they’re going over our entire operation. And none of them are smiling.”
“So talking to me will be a pleasant change.”
“Or not,” he says. “Come on over; I’ll try and give you a few minutes.”
I thank him, take Tara and Sebastian for a quick walk, and then get ready to head down to Starlight. But I don’t make it out the door, because something happens.
The phone rings.
It takes me twenty minutes to get to the courthouse. I would have made it in eighteen minutes, but on two occasions I waved in drivers who wanted to get in front of me. Just in case there is a Verdict God, I want him or her to see that I’m a good guy.
Hike is already at the defense table when I get there. He’s got a downbeat expression on his face, which doesn’t exactly qualify as breaking news. “Way too quick,” he says, shaking his head and referring to the jury’s verdict. “Way too quick.”
“We’ll see,” I say.
“You did the best you could,” Hike says, making a compliment sound like a postmortem.
Norman Trell comes into the courtroom, sees me, and walks over to shake my hand. “We fought the good fight,” he says.
I nod and ask, “Who do you think is going to win that good fight?”
“I think you are,” he says, and then nods toward Brian, being led toward us by the bailiff. “But I think he killed them.”
Trell heads back to the prosecution table, and I shake hands with Brian. I can see the tension in his face; I feel like my head is going to explode from the pressure, and I’m just the lawyer. I’m going home after this no matter what. I cannot even imagine what he feels.
I will never get used to this.
The courtroom is packed as Hatchet enters and takes his seat behind the bench. He asks that the jury be brought in, and the bailiff goes to get them. They must be in Connecticut, because it feels like forever until they finally enter and take their seats.
Hatchet gavels to quiet down the noisy gallery, admonishes everyone about the need for decorum after the verdict is read, and then asks the foreman if they have reached that verdict.
“We have, Your Honor.”
“Bailiff, please retrieve the verdict and give it to the court clerk to be read.”
I’m not sure why the bailiff chooses to do all of that in slow motion, but it finally arrives on the clerk’s desk. She looks at it, and then starts to read.
“In the matter of the state of New Jersey versus Brian Atkins, count one, the first-degree murder of Denise Atkins, the jury hereby finds the defendant, Brian Atkins, not guilty.”
She reads the second count, but it’s hard to hear, since the gallery has erupted in noise, and Brian is hugging me. It doesn’t matter, since I know what she must be saying. There is no way to find Brian not guilty of one murder and guilty of the other.
“I can’t believe you pulled it off,” Brian says.
I smile. “Piece of cake.”
“It’s weird, we won, but I’ve got to go back to prison. How long do you think it will be before I get out?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll do my best.”
Hatchet adjourns, and they take Brian away. I leave the court, stopping in front of the assembled press to
give my obligatory “Justice has been served” speech.
As soon as I get in my car and pull away, my phone rings, and I see on the caller ID that it’s Cindy Spodek. “Congratulations,” she says.
“You heard already?” I ask.
“Heard what?”
“That we got an acquittal.”
“No, but congratulations for that, too.”
“Then what were you talking about?” I ask.
“You haven’t heard?”
“Cindy, we’ve now been talking for twenty minutes, and I still don’t know what the hell we’re talking about.”
“We executed a raid on Petrone and his operations about an hour ago. He’s been arrested; it’s all over the news.”
“Can you make it stick?”
“He couldn’t get out of this even if you were his lawyer. Costa testifying opened the floodgates, and now others are coming out of the woodwork to nail the bastard. We’ve shut down his computer operation; he’s history, Andy.”
This is spectacular news, and I want to hear more about it, but I get off the call, because I have to make one of my own.
As soon as Laurie answers, I say, “Time for you and Ricky to come home.”
Ted Yates hasn’t even unpacked the boxes in his new office. When I comment on that, he says, “Thanks to you I doubt that I will.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would hope and assume that Brian will be back. Although that will be up to the board; he’s still got the felony embezzlement issue to deal with.”
“That was a bullshit charge,” I say.
He smiles. “Is that the legal name for it?”
I’m not sure what I’m doing here. I have no evidence that Yates is guilty of anything, just a suspicion based on how well it all worked out for him. So I guess I’m just here to talk and learn, hoping something will lead me to understand who killed Denise Atkins and Gerry Wright.
“How big a hit is Starlight going to take in this?” I ask.
“No way to tell, but it’s not pretty. The publicity has been horrible, but we have three things going for us.”
“What might that be?”
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