“Most of them are, but this meeting is off the record and won’t be recorded.”
“Well, then, you have a chance. You’ll still have to get past Manny Reyes, his chief of staff. He’ll be a lot tougher to sell than President Tuttle. Let me know how it goes. If you see any opening, I may be able to provide some help on that front as well.”
“Will do. Thanks for your help and counsel.”
“Always a pleasure, Madam Speaker. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 46
Monday, July 13, 7:30 p.m.
JAMES AYRES WAS TORN. Detective Lotello had been pressing him for Wells’s calendar. Ayres thought it made good sense for certain references in the calendar to see the light of day. However, several senators, and various senate lawyers and administrators as well, had made clear to him immediately following Wells’s death that he had a duty to preserve the inviolability of that calendar and to turn it over only to Senate legal counsel. He did as instructed. But not before making a copy of the calendar and tucking it away for possible future use.
Ayres was exploring the possibility of running for Wells’s vacated seat in the next election. Testing the waters for the degree of support he could expect. And who his competition might be. With the Norman trial soon to begin, Ayres’s thoughts again returned to the two or three entries in the Wells calendar that had originally jumped out at him. Given recent developments, his earlier sense that the calendar should see the light of day was rekindled.
For the past several days, Ayres had been pondering exactly what to do about this. While he was now convinced that the calendar had to reach the right person, the official Senate position made it clear that the source of the calendar could not be him. If he were found to have violated the Senate directive, it would spell the end of his political career. It was essential that the calendar surface in a way that could not be traced to him.
Another thought had occurred to Ayres because of his legal background. A copy of the calendar would not be useful in and of itself as independent legal evidence of anything. It was not the calendar itself that was going to count. It was what someone could do with the content of the calendar that would matter.
So, Ayres pondered, to whom should he surreptitiously deliver the calendar? Five candidates occurred to him: District Attorney Vincent Reilly, Public Defender Bernie Abrams, Deputy Public Defender Leah Klein, Detective Frank Lotello, and reporter Rachel Santana.
Ayres quickly eliminated Reilly and Abrams. Reilly was too much of a politician. He wanted higher office, perhaps even Wells’s Senate seat. He was now invested in convicting Norman. Even though Reilly originally was the one who sought to obtain the calendar, Ayres felt there was no longer any assurance that Reilly would do anything with it.
In contrast, Abrams was a good man. But too much of a straight shooter. He would not be a party to illicitly surfacing the calendar. Even though he might owe a duty of undivided loyalty to his office’s client, Norman, to do so.
Ayres also eliminated Klein. She would no doubt want to use it to her client’s advantage, but she reported to Abrams and she might defer to her boss in spite of her loyalty to Norman.
This left Santana and Lotello. Santana would expose the calendar, but in a way that would advance her own career. The calendar references of interest to Ayres might never receive any attention.
In contrast, if only by default, Lotello seemed like the perfect choice. An honest, self-effacing guy who seemed committed to the truth.
Ayres next focused on how and when to get his copy of the calendar to Lotello. And whether it might be enough to get Lotello the leads in the calendar that originally caught Ayres’s eye. For two reasons, Ayres rejected the idea of just getting Lotello the leads. Even though that would have been easier. And safer. First, Ayres did not want to hamper Lotello’s ability to find other leads in the calendar that Ayres might have missed and that might be helpful. Second, Lotello might be reluctant to pursue a blind, unaccredited lead. He would not, however, likely ignore the calendar itself if a copy of it somehow came into his possession. No matter how.
And just as quickly as Ayres realized that Lotello was the one to give the calendar to, he also realized how and when to do so.
CHAPTER 47
Monday, July 13, 11:45 p.m.
FIVE MONTHS LATER, STILL alone, with just his thoughts, and the pain. Everything was still proceeding just as he had planned. People were beginning to understand now why these politicians had to be punished, why he had to stop them. The trial was going to blow this town—and the country—wide open. They will pay, all of them. I must prevail. I will prevail.
CHAPTER 48
Tuesday, July 14, 2:45 p.m.
TUTTLE AND REYES WERE again convened in the privacy of the White House Oval Office. “Welcome back, Mr. President. How’d your lunch go with Speaker Jamison?”
“It was … strange. The meeting was fine in terms of what we were supposed to be discussing, but that pushy woman had the gall to say to me that she and Pete Foster, over at NAIB, think I should personally get hold of Bernie Abrams, our D.C. public defender, and attempt to curb the defense his office will be providing to Norman in the upcoming trial.”
“Say what? I guess you wouldn’t expect less of the speaker. Or Foster, for that matter. He’s more of a lowlife than Jamison. How did you respond?”
“Told her she was totally off base. That I didn’t want to hear another word about it.”
“Even for Jamison, that was a new low.”
“I’m not so sure, Manny. My feelings are mixed. Of course it was out of line for Jamison to raise something like that to me. However, I’ve independently been considering the very same thing on my own.”
“Mr. President, how—”
“Hold on, Manny. I’ve been thinking about the Norman trial. How the defense is likely going to approach matters. I expect a straightforward insanity defense should get Norman off. Nevertheless, I’m concerned the PD’s office is also going to put the government on trial. Either to strengthen an insanity plea or to pursue an outright not guilty verdict. This could strategically be the right play at the right time. For them.
“I couldn’t care less about Norman. But, as you and I have already discussed, we could end up with a real grassroots revolution on our hands at a time when we can ill afford any further loss of public support for our overall agenda.”
“I fully understand, Mr. President. But Abrams is the consummate straight arrow. I don’t think even you could influence him. He might even go public with it if you tried.”
“I don’t think Abrams would do that. He might reject my outreach, but I think it would stay between the two of us. It would be his word against mine. He’d never be able to prove I suggested it. My ratings are just too high for any charges like that to be believed. He’d be stepping on his own dick to no good end. Also, he’s too loyal to the government. He might turn me down, but I think that would be the end of it.”
“Even if you’re right, how could you possibly convince Abrams not to defend Norman with everything his office can muster?”
“I’ve been giving that some thought, too. How about an approach based on national interest? My telling him the country is just too fragile right now to handle an open attack on our government?”
“Sir, Abrams is a devoted public servant. He would likely wrestle with such an outreach coming from you. However, I think Abrams would ultimately determine his obligations run first and foremost, if not solely, to those being defended by his office.”
“Which is precisely why I’ve concluded we need to go a different way. We need to get one of our loyal party foot soldiers to figure out where Abrams is vulnerable. Where he won’t be able to ignore our wishes. I want you to make this happen, Manny, quickly and quietly. We don’t need to talk about this any further. But you need to get this done.”
Reyes was visibly upset. “Mr. President, I …”
“Manny?”
It didn’t take Reyes very long to recover. To
remember where he was and with whom he was dealing. “Very well, Mr. President, I’ll get on it.”
“Thank you, Manny. I think we’re done for now.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
CHAPTER 49
Tuesday, July 14, 4:30 p.m.
“DETECTIVE LOTELLO HERE. How can I help you?”
“I’m calling about the Norman case. This is a recording. It’s short. It’ll only play once. Don’t interrupt or you may miss something important. I don’t think Norman killed anyone. I have the Wells’s calendar you’re after. I’ve marked several entries that may lead you to the real killer. The calendar’s in a package with your name on it in the trash bin in the northwest corner of the fourth floor of the Congressional Mall parking structure. The bin will be emptied by janitorial staff at five ten this evening. You’ve got forty minutes to get there before it’s gone. Get moving. There won’t be any second chances.”
The line went dead.
Lotello looked at his watch. It was already 4:38. Allowing a few minutes to rummage through the trash, he had all of thirty minutes to get there. Through rush-hour traffic. What the hell do I do here, Beth? Is this for real? A crackpot? No way to tell who the caller was with that electronic garble. Am I being set up? Do I ignore the call? Do I take J with me? No time to think. If I do this, I’m totally off the reservation. Can’t put J at risk by taking him with me. Has to be me alone.
Lotello was up and out of his office as inconspicuously as possible. No time to get to his car. He hit the street running. He was not in great shape. But it was only a half mile. He thought he could make it. 4:45. Twenty minutes left.
4:55. Just fifteen minutes before the janitors would supposedly empty the dumpster. Sweating like a pig. Damn! Harder than I thought. Four flights of stairs. Heart beating fast. Too fast. Shit! There’s the dumpster! 5:05. No time left. No package with my name on it, either. What kind of a sick prank was this? Ugh! Fucker better hope I don’t figure out who he is!
CHAPTER 50
Tuesday, July 14, 7:30 p.m.
AT 7:30, LOTELLO AND his kids were done with dinner and the dishes. The kids were finishing their homework. Lotello’s cell phone rang. “Lotello.”
“Another recording, Lotello. Listen up. Sorry I had to do that to you. Had to see how you would react before I actually put the calendar in play. Glad to see you passed the test. Even if you are out of shape. The calendar really is there now. And the bin isn’t emptied until ten o’clock. It was fun watching you hoof it, but you don’t have to run quite so fast this time. But don’t be late.”
Bastard played me like a fiddle! He better hope I don’t figure out who he is. Hmm. If it is a he. With that encryption, who knows? The kids! What if this freak is gunning for me? Could have done it this afternoon, but can’t take a chance. Can’t take them with me. “Hey, guys. I have a quick chore to run. Need to leave you next door. How about we go for some ice cream when I get back?”
As usual, Maddie was the first to answer, stifling a yawn. “Kind of late, isn’t it, Daddy?”
“It is. But it can’t be helped. Get your jackets. We gotta go.”
Getting to the fourth floor was a lot easier by car than by foot. At 8:30, Lotello found a parking spot close to the dumpster. Twenty minutes later he had the package with his name on it safely in tow and was on his way out of the parking lot.
An hour later, one strawberry-cheesecake ice cream cone, one vanilla-bean ice cream cone, and one coconut gelato cone packed away, they were back safely at home. The kids were tucked in. And Lotello had a package in hand to sort through.
He didn’t think there would be any prints. Still, he donned a pair of paraffin gloves just in case. He carefully removed the paper wrapping. There it was: a duplicate of that little black book copied on 8½ x 11 pages. With Post-it notes on several pages. There were a lot of pages. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 51
Wednesday, July 15, 10:30 a.m.
IT HAD BEEN A fairly typical court morning when there was no trial in progress. Beginning punctually at eight thirty, Judge Cyrus Brooks had finished his morning court call calendar in under ninety minutes. The calendar consisted of a cluster of perfunctory law and motion hearings in some fifteen different cases. It took a little bit longer than he had expected: an average of six minutes for each hearing.
He was feeling the pressure—and guilt—in the pit of his stomach. He stared at the memo his research clerk, Candace Jones, had prepared for him summarizing all the pretrial motions of each side in the Norman case. He had given her only five pages to summarize more than one hundred pages of motions. She had delivered.
He now had barely ten minutes to skim her memo before they were scheduled to meet. He was frustrated. The D.C. judicial system didn’t have the money to hire enough superior court judges to keep the workloads down to realistically manageable levels. He understood, but it was still annoying, trying to do right by all of those seeking their day in court. He did the best he could. The operative word was skim. Experience would have to count for something. To fill in the gaps.
“Okay, Candace, what’ve we got?”
Jones explained that both sides had pretty much focused on the same predictable issues, with only a few surprises between them. “The prosecution, headed by DA Vincent Reilly, intends to argue to the jury that Norman had the motive, means, and opportunity to commit—and did commit—each of the three murders,” Jones began. “Motive is beyond question here: Norman’s life was destroyed. Irrationally or not, he blamed it on the political system. He created the means and opportunity for himself, having quietly researched each of his targets, their schedules, their habits, and their environs.”
Brooks nodded, more to himself than to Jones.
“The defense, specifically Deputy PD Leah Klein, of course sees this quite differently,” Jones continued.
“First, they’re going to argue that Norman is outright innocent, or at least not guilty, that the prosecution has nothing more than circumstantial evidence and cannot possibly meet its burden of proof that Norman is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. The prosecution has no eyewitnesses. It has found no weapons. Two of the three murders involved deviant sexual behavior for which Norman has no demonstrable propensity or pattern in his life. Further, in the current climate, there is no lack of people who are over-the-top angry with our governmental leaders. Finally, as to Senator Wells, the defense will no doubt point to her reckless social life to suggest any number of candidates who may have killed her.
“Second, if the jury comes in with a guilty verdict, the defense will then pursue its alternative plea of NGI, not guilty by reason of insanity.
“Third, and clearly this is going to be most controversial, the defense is going to introduce an affirmative defense that these murders were justifiable or excusable.”
Brooks despairingly cupped his forehead between his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Candace. Slow down. What in the hell is this? If Norman committed these acts, then he obviously sought out and hunted these victims down in cold blood. They weren’t attacking or threatening to attack him or his family in the Norman home. The three victims weren’t doing anything to Norman, or to his family. There’s no possible justification or excuse here.” He raised his head and stared Jones down.
Brooks was intimidating when he wanted to be. Jones looked away, slightly bowed but not broken. She kept right on going. “That’s not how the defense sees it, Judge. The argument they are advancing in their papers is that the government officials had not been doing their job. Rather, they’d been turning the other cheek to repay bribes they had been receiving in the form of campaign contributions and the like. In essence, their argument is that the corrupt conduct of our governmental representatives is threatening the very fabric of our society and that it had to be stopped. A message had to be sent.”
It didn’t take long for the dam to burst. Brooks let fly. “That’s utter nonsense, Candace. Maybe okay for David Kelley and Boston Legal, bu
t not for my courtroom. Norman didn’t act—if he acted at all—out of the legally required imminent fear of physical harm to himself or his family. The notion that Norman acted out of concern for the public interest is … poppycock, rubbish. Way beyond anything permitted under the legal doctrine of justifiable or excusable homicide. At least as the law exists today. This is judicially absurd. I have no obligation to allow anything like that to reach the jury. And you can bet I’m not going to.” He came to an abrupt halt, satisfied that he had demonstrated that no such nonsense would be permitted in his courtroom.
“Judge, you’re preaching to the choir. I don’t disagree. Don’t shoot me. Please. I’m just the messenger here. However, that said, while you may be on sound judicial ground in what you’re saying, your social footing is another matter. When you come up for reelection, you’ll be accountable to the public. And public sentiment for this kind of thinking right now is running high. Very high.”
Brooks softened. To the extent he was ever soft. His next remarks were delivered a little more quietly. And a little more slowly. “I know, I know. I’ve been seeing it in the papers and on the television every day. More and more every day. But that doesn’t mean I like it. Or that I have to agree with it. I’m going to have to give this some real thought before I let any of this hogwash reach the jury.”
Brooks’s tirade was over. He was back in command. He wanted to talk briefly about the alternative not-guilty-by-reason-of-insanity defense. Pled at the outset of a case, as it was here, NGI would only be considered in a second phase of the trial if the defendant was found guilty in the first phase. “Let’s shift to NGI, Candace. We’ve just gone through an extensive hearing in which I ruled that Norman is competent to stand trial. Given that counsel submitted Norman was competent based on the medical examinations, it would have been irrational for me to rule otherwise. How can NGI be credibly pursued here if the jury finds Norman guilty?”
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