Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  “But he waited outside,” Cecilia said. “He didn’t know what happened inside. But you will. By the end of this trial, you’ll know what happened inside. And then you’ll know why the defendant is guilty of murder.”

  Another pause, then she launched into it. “When the tellers at the Cash-Town U.S.A. realized they were being robbed, one of them immediately called 911. Tacoma Police dispatch put out a priority one callout, which means all hands on deck. Anyone close drops whatever they’re doing and gets to that Cash-Town U.S.A. as fast as they can. The two closest officers were Officer Todd Dickerson and Officer Christopher McCarthy. They arrived separately, but entered the Cash-Town together, guns drawn, ready to stop the robbery in progress.”

  Cecilia pointed a finger at the jury again. “Now, how do we know what happened inside, if the defendant was outside? Well, you’re going to hear from Officer Dickerson. He’s going to tell you exactly what happened when he and Officer McCarthy went inside. But you’re not going to hear from Officer McCarthy.”

  Cecilia stopped and looked back at Luke again, the disdain clear on her face—intentionally so, Talon knew.

  “You’re not going to hear from Officer McCarthy,” she finally turned back to the jury, “because he’s dead. He died in the shootout that happened when the police responded to the robbery the defendant was the getaway driver for.”

  Cecilia hardened her expression. “In fact, Officer McCarthy isn’t the only person who died inside that Cash-Town U.S.A. that day. Miguel, the defendant’s friend, died too. Also from gunshots. It was a crazy, volatile, violent situation. Exactly the sort of thing you would expect if you try to rob a store. You know the police are going to respond. You know they’re going to try to stop you. And you know they have guns.

  “When the defendant drove his friend to the Cash-Town U.S.A. that afternoon, he knew what could happen. He didn’t want it to happen. He wanted Miguel to get away with it. He wanted Miguel to be faster than the cops. That’s why he was there, waiting outside, engine running. So Miguel could run out and they could drive away before the police arrived. That was the plan. That was the defendant’s plan.”

  Cecilia shook her head. “But you don’t get to decide what part of the plan you own and what part you don’t. The police did their job. They responded to a robbery and they stopped the bad guys. But the bad guys stopped one of them. Forever.”

  Cecilia clasped her hands again in front of her, that gesture of sincerity, then she raised those clasped hands to her chest to emphasize her concluding remarks—part argument, part entreaty.

  “If you plan to rob a bank and your buddy goes inside and gets himself killed, that’s not murder,” she said, “because he signed up for it too. But if someone who was not a participant in the crime dies, then that death is a murder. And if that someone is a police officer, doing his duty, putting his life on the line to protect all of us, then that’s also an aggravating circumstance.

  “And so, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Cecilia concluded, “when this trial is over, and after you’ve heard all of the evidence, I am going to stand before you again and ask you to return a verdict of guilty to the crime of murder in the first degree with aggravating circumstances. Thank you.”

  With that, Cecilia unclasped her hands and walked briskly back to her seat at the prosecution table.

  It was finally the cop-killing getaway driver’s turn to talk. Well, his lawyer’s turn.

  “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Kirshner said, even as Talon stood up, “please give your attention to Ms. Winter, who will give the opening statement on behalf of the defendant.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Talon stepped out from behind the defense table. She didn’t bother with the whole ‘May it please the Court’ routine. That was formality. Formality and propriety and polite deference to the powers that be—those were the things that would get her client convicted. The law said her client was guilty. She needed the jury to say ‘Not Guilty’ anyway.

  She walked directly up to the jury box, right where Cecilia had started her remarks. Then she took one step closer.

  “Getaway driver,” Talon boomed, her voice a little too loud for her proximity to her listeners. Then she said it again, but quieter. “Getaway driver.”

  She took that step back and nodded. “That’s kind of all you need to know, isn’t it? I mean, if he was the getaway driver, he was in on the robbery. And I mean, really in on it. Getaway driver, that’s not just a small part. That’s central. Vital, even. Not just anybody gets to be the getaway driver. I mean, anybody can go inside and hold a gun and stand behind the main robber like some kind of super villain henchman. But the getaway driver? Oh, no, that person needs to be one of your top people. Dependable. Ready to go. Know every possible escape route. Somebody the inside robbers can really trust.”

  She took a step to the side and gestured toward the prosecution table. “The getaway driver. We all know what that means. And that’s why the prosecutor wants to stick that label on Luke. Because if it really does stick, then you don’t have to think anymore. Getaway driver equals robber. Robbery plus death equals murder. Murder plus police officer equals murder in the first degree with aggravating circumstances. All very easy, see? You won’t even need to think about the actual case. Just remember that label, vote guilty, and you’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  Talon knew when to pause too. She nodded her head to herself a few times, then raised a finger. “But if we’re going to label someone, if we’re going to label a criminal defendant who is supposed to be presumed innocent, if we’re going to label a real, living, breathing person, my client, eighteen-year-old Lucas James Zlotnik,” she pointed at him, “then let’s get the label right.”

  She centered herself again in front of the jurors and raised her hands, open palmed toward them. Another gesture of sincerity. “The label we should use isn’t ‘getaway driver’. The label we should use,” the slightest of pauses, “is ‘fall guy’.”

  Talon moved quickly to explain, lest the jurors dismiss it out of hand. “Luke is the fall guy because he didn’t kill anyone, and his friend, Miguel, didn’t kill anyone. The only person who killed anyone was Officer Todd Dickerson. The shots that killed Officer McCarthy were fired by the same gun that killed Miguel. The gun of Officer Todd Dickerson.”

  The jurors looked appropriately surprised. Cecilia had left that little detail out.

  “There was no shootout. Miguel didn’t have a gun. Officer Dickerson is the one who killed those two young men that day. But rather than hold a police officer responsible, or even just throw our hands up at the senseless tragedy of it all, they wanted a scapegoat. They wanted someone to blame. A police officer was dead. They needed someone to blame. But they weren’t going to blame the other police officer, and Miguel was dead. That left Luke. Poor stupid, naïve Luke, sitting in his car out in the parking lot, waiting for Miguel to cash a check so they could go hang out that afternoon, completely unaware of what his friend had planned.”

  Talon shook her head. “No, that’s not a getaway driver. That’s a scapegoat. That’s someone for the cops and the prosecutors to throw their rage at. And it’s someone they want you to throw your rage at too. ‘A police officer is dead,’ they say. ‘Someone has to pay for it,’ they say. ‘And that someone,’ they say, ‘is Luke Zlotnik’.”

  Talon took a moment to look again at her client. He was looking back at her—what else would he be doing? He looked young and pitiful in his overly large suit.

  “Luke is eighteen years old,” Talon said. “Technically, he’s an adult, but in a lot of ways he’s still just a kid. A kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong friend.”

  And that was really the thrust of her case. Fall guy. Scapegoat. Wrong place at the wrong time. Wrong friend.

  But there was one small problem with that case theory. And as much as Talon would have liked to ignore it, she knew she had to address it.

  “I mention Luke’s age,” Tal
on said, with another quick glance at her client, “not because it would ever excuse an actual murder.”

  ‘Actual murder’. See, what I did there, Cecilia?

  “But it does explain what happened after the killing,” Talon said. “After Officer Dickerson shot and killed both his friend, Miguel, and Officer McCarthy. It explains why Luke would misjudge just how deep of trouble he was in and say whatever he thought he needed to say to get out of it.”

  Talon took another moment and raised clasped fingers to her lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, take a moment and consider the situation Luke found himself in when the rest of those police cars pulled into that tiny parking lot at South Thirty-Eighth Street. Consider what it must have been like for him to see the parking lot fill up with lights and sirens, to see officers rush into the Cash-Town U.S.A., weapons drawn. Consider what it was like when he heard the gunshots—again, from Officer Dickerson’s gun—knowing his friend was inside. Then consider what must have been going through his mind when he was yanked from his car by uniformed police officers with their own guns drawn, pointed at his head. Consider all of that.”

  A brief pause, then, “And now consider all that, and Luke really didn’t know what Miguel was going to do. Consider all that, and Luke really thought his friend was just going to cash a check so they could hang out and party a little bit that afternoon. Consider all that, and Luke had no idea what was going on other than his friend went into the Cash-Town store, shots were fired, and he was suddenly under arrest for murder.”

  Talon took a moment to scan the jurors, meeting each of their gazes. “Consider what that must have been like for eighteen-year-old Luke Zlotnik. And then you’ll understand why he told the cops whatever they wanted to hear. And they definitely had something they wanted to hear. They wanted answers. They wanted someone to blame. They wanted a fall guy.”

  She stepped back and threw her hands up. “But don’t take my word for it. I’m just his lawyer. What I say isn’t actually evidence. Oh, and by the way, what she says,” Talon pointed at Cecilia, “that isn’t evidence either. Evidence is what the witnesses say. And the defense is going to call an expert witness who is going to talk to you about false confessions.”

  Talon scanned the jury again for any sign of eye-rolling or suppressed groans. But there were none. They were listening. She couldn’t ask for anything more at that point.

  “You’re going to hear from Dr. Natalie Ross,” Talon continued, “one of the foremost experts on false confessions. She’s going to explain to you why a person might confess to something they didn’t do. And specifically, she’s going to explain to you why Luke confessed to something he didn’t do.

  “She’ll do a better job of explaining it than I will right now,” Talon went on, “but it basically comes down to power, and saying whatever you think you need to in order to get out of a bad situation. You’re going to hear Luke’s confession. I’m sure Ms. Thompson is going to play it for you—the part the cops bothered to record anyway. And when you do hear it, listen for one thing in particular: does Luke ever confess to murder? Or does he confess to something less, in order to get out of trouble? Well, he thought he was going to get out of trouble.”

  Talon opened those hands again to the jury. “When Ms. Thompson plays that taped statement for you, remember what I’m telling you now, and keep an open mind until you hear from Dr. Ross later in the trial.”

  Not a ‘confession’ anymore. Just a taped statement. A subtle change, but a very intentional one.

  “Also keep in mind what this was like for Luke,” she entreated the jurors. “Luke is only eighteen years old. He’s just driving his friend, Miguel, to the nearest Cash-Town U.S.A. so Miguel can get some cash. Miguel goes inside and Luke is just sitting in the car, waiting, listening to the radio. All of a sudden, a bunch of cop cars show up. Cops rush into the store where his friend is, guns at the ready. Shots are fired. More cops show up and drag him out of his car. They drive him downtown and tell him he’s under arrest for murder. Unless…”

  A pause, a raised finger, a knowing sideways glance.

  “Unless he cooperates. Unless maybe he helps them figure it all out. And won’t he be more believable if he admits to knowing something about what was going on? Not the murder. Oh no, no, no. But the robbery? Yeah, maybe the robbery. After all, who knew you could get charged with murder if you admitted to a robbery?”

  Talon stopped again and pointed at the jurors. “You all didn’t know that until a few minutes ago when Ms. Thompson stood up and told you. And Luke sure as heck didn’t know it either. But the cops did.

  “So, when you hear that taped statement, when you hear what Luke did say, also listen for what he didn’t say. And remember that you’re going to hear from an expert witness who’s going to tell you the confession is false, and you shouldn’t rely on it.”

  Talon paused again. She took a moment to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. Make sure she’d said everything she wanted to say. She had. There was just one more thing to address. But she needed to be careful. If she put it all the way out, Cecilia would cut it off, root and stem—or Judge Kirshner would, on Cecilia’s motion. So instead of a root or a stem, she planted a seed.

  “The other evidence the State is going to put forward is the testimony of Officer Todd Dickerson,” she said. “He is the only witness to what actually happened inside that Cash-Town U.S.A. The prosecutor didn’t mention it in her opening statement, but there’s no video. The security cameras were pointed down at the teller stations to catch employee theft, not toward the lobby to record police officers shooting and killing people.”

  Several of the jurors frowned at that, but Talon couldn’t know if they were frowning at the thought of a police officer killing people, or at Talon’s repeatedly referencing it.

  “No one wants to believe cops do the wrong thing,” Talon said, “whether intentionally or accidentally. No one wants to live in a country where cops sometimes shoot and kill unarmed civilians. But they do. We do. It’s easier to believe the bad guys deserve it. But they don’t. At least, Miguel Maldonado didn’t. He didn’t deserve to die. Christopher McCarthy didn’t deserve to die. And Luke Zlotnik doesn’t deserve to be punished for it all. He’s not a murderer. He’s just a fall guy.”

  Talon took a deep breath and stepped back over to the defense table. She put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and concluded her remarks.

  “At the end of this trial, I’m also going to stand before you. I’m not going to ask you whether Officer McCarthy or Miguel Maldonado deserved to die. Of course they didn’t. And I’m not going to ask you whether Officer Dickerson should be held responsible for it. That’s not for you to decide. I’m just going to ask you one question: Should Luke Zlotnik be convicted of murder for something he didn’t know about and didn’t do? And based on the evidence, there is only going to be one answer. The answer will be ‘No’ and I will ask you to return a verdict of ‘Not Guilty.’ Thank you.”

  Talon stepped over and took her seat next to Luke.

  “Thanks,” he whispered. “That was pretty good.”

  Talon had to suppress a frown, lest the jurors see it. Only ‘pretty good’?

  “What happens next?” Luke asked.

  Talon looked over at Cecilia, standing up, ready to start her case-in-chief. “Now they try to convict you.”

  “The State may call its first witness,” Judge Kirshner told Cecilia.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Cecilia replied. “The State calls Emily McCarthy.”

  CHAPTER 41

  It was pretty standard in a murder case to start with the widow. It packed an emotional punch and let the prosecutor talk about what a great guy the victim was. But it didn’t really do much to advance the case. It wasn’t like Talon was arguing that Officer McCarthy wasn’t dead. So, Cecilia put the grieving Emily McCarthy on the stand. Mrs. McCarthy talked about her fallen hero of a husband. They put up a nice photo of him on the projector screen. And when the direct examination was don
e, Talon stood up and said, “No questions, Your Honor.”

  You don’t cross examine the widow.

  Talon was expecting a similar situation with the State’s second witness, Janice Henderschott, the teller Miguel tried to rob. Again, Talon wasn’t contesting that Miguel intended to rob the Cash-Town U.S.A. She was just arguing that Luke didn’t know about it. She anticipated standing up again to announce she had no questions. But Janice Henderschott was not a good witness. And a shark can’t just ignore it when a drop of blood hits the water.

  “Could you please state your name for the record?” Cecilia started, once Judge Kirshner had sworn in the witness.

  “Janice Henderschott,” she answered. She was just an average looking woman, average height and weight, with average length brown hair, and dressed in a forgettable outfit. The only thing that was remarkable was the look of wide-eyed fear in her eyes.

  Talon and Cecilia were used to being in court. The cops and medical examiners were regularly in court testifying. Even Emily McCarthy lived her life adjacent to her husband’s career in the criminal justice system. But Janice Henderschott was just a teller at a check cashing store. She’d probably gotten the job for no more reason than they were hiring when she was looking. And now everyone was looking at her.

  “And how are you employed, ma’am?” Cecilia continued.

  But Henderschott just stared at her.

  “Where do you work?” Cecilia tried.

  “Oh,” Henderschott said. “Um. At Cash-Town U.S.A.”

  Cecilia waited for a bit more explanation from her witness. Maybe a branch location, or a description of the services she offered. But no. Janice Henderschott just stared at her, hands shaking, waiting for the next question like it was a school exam.

  “Is that one of those places where people can get payday loans?” Cecilia prompted.

  Henderschott nodded. “Yes,” she almost whispered.

  And so it went. Cecilia pulling teeth, and Talon actually finding herself drawn in by the awkwardness of it. By the time Cecilia finally got to Miguel approaching her teller window, everyone in the courtroom was torn between curiosity to hear what happened next and an overwhelming desire to hear it from anyone but Janice Henderschott.