Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  “No offense taken, Mr. Reilly. I understand your position perfectly. I think perhaps you do not understand mine. First of all, the terms ‘spur of the moment’ and ‘immediate family’ are relative terms. The courts in this country have never been so inflexible as not to allow words to be given new meaning when new circumstances warrant.

  “This country is facing an unprecedented crisis. I refer not to the economic meltdown confronting this great nation today, but rather to the combination of that meltdown and an overwhelming grassroots loss of confidence and trust in our governmental leaders. At least so long as the woeful conduct of our so-called leaders is ongoing.

  “In my opinion, under the present circumstances there is room to interpret ‘spur of the moment’ and ‘immediate family’ to respectively encompass the economic condition today facing our entire nation. Not just Mr. Norman’s savaged blood family. As for ‘heat of passion’ and ‘immediate and grave danger,’ I find it quite plausible that a jury might conclude that this defendant acted in the heat of passion. Even if not immediately. And that the danger that confronted him—and still confronts him—was and is quite grave. I do not find the requirement of immediacy to be inconsistent with taking some time to gather one’s thoughts. How much time should be a matter for the jury to decide.

  “Under these circumstances, I therefore believe it would be inappropriate for me to preempt the jury from considering the applicability of a defense of justifiable homicide. I don’t mean to suggest that such a defense is available here per se. I simply am not willing to prevent the jury as a matter of law from finding such a defense to apply in this instance. It will be up to the jury to decide this defense. And perhaps the Court of Appeals as well if you wish to pursue a writ, Mr. Reilly. My tentative ruling on this subject will be my final ruling. Defendant will be permitted to put on a defense of justifiable homicide if he so wishes.

  “We will take a fifteen-minute break to allow the court reporter to rest her hands. We will then begin selecting a jury.” With that, Brooks stood down from the bench and retreated to his chambers. Leaving most of those in the courtroom wondering what had just happened. And why.

  * * *

  THE BAILIFF HAD REMOVED Norman from the courtroom. Klein sat glued to her chair, reflecting on the turn of events. Brooks had reprimanded her, said to back off and she might learn something. She wasn’t sure what she had learned, other than discovering that she had caught a lucky break. She intended to make the most of it.

  Speaking of lucky breaks, this was actually her second of late. Against her better judgment, Lotello had persuaded her to issue trial subpoenas to Hollister and Thomas. On what was nothing more than Lotello’s hunch. As yet unsubstantiated by any evidence.

  Predictably, Hollister’s attorneys had moved to quash his subpoena. At a minimum, they wanted to know—and were customarily entitled to know—what Klein had on Hollister. So they could prepare.

  Thomas was not represented by counsel. He was a strange man. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t smart. He was at least street smart. He and Hollister had no outward affinity for one another. However, that had not prevented Thomas from realizing that he could easily parrot Hollister’s motion. Ride his coattails, as it were. Basically saying, “Me too.”

  Reilly had of course joined in the two motions to quash. He, too, wanted to know what Klein had on Hollister and Thomas. And how likely she would be able to present whatever it was she had to generate doubt in the jury’s mind about Norman’s guilt.

  In desperation, Klein had asked Brooks to grant her an in camera hearing in chambers. Just her and Brooks. Such in camera hearings were rare, but not unprecedented. Hollister’s attorneys and Reilly immediately objected. “Me too,” Thomas said.

  To Klein’s surprise, the ever surprising Brooks had said he would allow Klein a short in camera session to justify her extraordinary request. In Brooks’s chambers, Klein had been long on guile and short on facts: “Your Honor, Hollister and Thomas are up to their eyeballs in misconduct. If I have to show my cards, they’ll be able to cover things up. To run and hide.”

  “And me, Ms. Klein? Do you expect not to tell me what you have? Here in my chambers?”

  She had played the only possible card she had. “That would require me to reveal my privileged work product, Your Honor. What I have been doing with my investigators. I should not be required to reveal that. Not even to you.”

  The in camera hearing had ended abruptly. “Please return to the courtroom, Ms. Klein.”

  Brooks followed minutes later and resumed the bench. “The motions to quash are submitted. I’m not prepared to rule on them today. I’ll do so before Ms. Klein is permitted to call either Mr. Hollister or Mr. Thomas to the stand. Until then, Messrs. Hollister and Thomas will remain under subpoena. Once we begin hearing testimony, like all other nonexpert fact witnesses, they will be required to remain in the hallway outside the courtroom.

  “We’ll take our morning recess. Fifteen minutes, ladies and gentlemen.” Brooks stepped down from the bench and hurried to the privacy of his chambers.

  * * *

  KLEIN HAD BEEN EVERY bit as astonished as those who had moved to quash the Hollister and Thomas subpoenas. Brooks had bailed her out. Something about Hollister and Thomas was possibly under Brooks’s skin. He hadn’t even extended to them the customary courtesy of not having to be present at the courthouse until receiving notice from Klein the day before she intended to call them.

  Klein had no idea why Brooks had ruled as he did. Nevertheless, she put on her best “Oh, I know why” face. Hollister and Thomas did not.

  Now she had to hope Lotello would not cause her to regret issuing those subpoenas.

  * * *

  THOMAS WAS STARTING TO come unglued. He was already obsessing over having failed in his mission. And now he was forced to be in the courtroom every day throughout the trial. And perhaps also to answer questions under oath. He wondered what questions Klein could possibly want to ask him. And if that son of a bitch Lotello was somehow behind this subpoena business.

  * * *

  HOLLISTER WASN’T YET PANICKING. But he was definitely annoyed. He was used to telling people what they had to do. Not the other way around. And now he was forced to be in the courtroom every day throughout the trial. And perhaps also to answer questions under oath. He wondered what questions Klein could possibly want to ask him. And if that son of a bitch Lotello was somehow behind this subpoena business.

  * * *

  AS THE DESIGNATED PROSECUTION investigator, Jeremy Barnet was the one fact witness permitted to attend court each day, to assist Reilly in putting on the prosecution’s case. Reilly had chosen Barnet over Lotello because he and Lotello weren’t getting along and Reilly was not sure that Lotello would make a good prosecution witness. He knew Barnet would. While Lotello was on the prosecution’s witness list just in case, he could not be present in the courtroom during testimony.

  On the recess break, Barnet called Lotello to fill him in. They didn’t see eye to eye about Norman, but they were still partners. “Klein seems to be doing a great job for Norman. At least so far, she’s getting better results with the judge than Reilly.” He told Lotello about the judge’s justified homicide and Hollister and Thomas subpoena rulings. “Gotta run. Our recess is over. Reilly expects me at his beck and call.”

  “Thanks, J. Enjoy the show.”

  Lotello thought he understood this morning’s rulings. I’m not a lawyer, Beth. I don’t know about all this legal gibberish. Brooks plays his cards close to the vest. I think he’s giving me as much time as he can. And counting on me to find out what really happened here. Not just to Wells, DiMarco, and Johnson, but to Abrams as well. Brooks was obviously close to Abrams. I think he wants to use the Norman trial to find out what really happened to his friend. Klein also relied on my instincts in issuing those trial subpoenas to Thomas and Hollister. I’ve sure stirred up a hornet’s nest. Guess I’d better get cracking. Sort it all out. Not just for Norman. B
ut for Brooks and Klein, too. And maybe the kids and me as well. No pressure, Beth!

  * * *

  BROOKS WAS OF COURSE the only one who actually knew why he had issued his two rulings this morning. This was the least I could do to make things up to you, Bernie. Not having heard you when you called. Lotello sure better deliver! For his sake. And mine.

  CHAPTER 84

  Monday, August 3, 10:45 a.m.

  BROOKS RESUMED THE BENCH at 10:45 a.m. sharp. He confirmed that Norman and all counsel were present and seated. He then instructed his clerk to usher into the courtroom the pool of thirty-six potential jurors. Again sensitive to the terminology so obvious to him, Brooks spent a little over an hour explaining to the pool—or panel—the trial process and the duties of each potential juror.

  Like a fifth-grade civics teacher lecturing to a classroom full of young students, Brooks covered all of the steps in the trial process in chronological order. He explained the burden of proof in a criminal case—guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. He admonished the potential jurors that they would not be allowed to discuss what they heard during the trial with their family or friends. Or any news reporters. Or even among themselves prior to commencement of jury deliberations at the end of the trial. He emphasized for the benefit of all concerned that each juror must always be prompt in reporting to each trial session. Analogizing that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

  Noting the approaching noon hour, Brooks thanked the jury panel for their attention, told them to have a nice lunch recess, and adjourned the proceedings until one thirty p.m. He would then begin the voir dire questioning process to pare down the thirty-six-member jury pool to twelve actual jurors. Two alternate jurors would also be selected as backups in the event that any actual juror could not complete his or her service.

  CHAPTER 85

  Monday, August 3, 12:00 p.m.

  LOTELLO WAS BACK TO square one. He felt like he was missing something, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. Out of nowhere, his mind drifted back to that first day at Wells’s townhouse when he had asked her driver, Robert Grant, if he knew anything about Wells’s plans the night she was killed. Grant had said he didn’t, but Lotello remembered thinking the man’s body language might have been signaling something else. Lotello harbored no impression that Grant was involved in any of the murders. Or was in any way knowingly protecting the killer. However, what if Grant was trying to protect someone—or something—else? Such as Wells’s reputation?

  * * *

  LOTELLO APPROACHED THE DISPATCHER and flashed his credentials. “I’m looking for Robert Grant. Is he around?”

  “Try the drivers’ lounge around back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lotello found a room with some tables and chairs and a television on one wall. Six guys were there. Including Grant. “Hey, Grant, remember me, Frank Lotello? How are things?”

  “No complaints, Detective. No one listens anyway. It’s been a long time. What brings you around now? Wheels out of commission? Need a lift somewhere?”

  “Wheels are fine. I’m not. We need to chat. Let’s take a walk.”

  “Where to?”

  “Nowhere in particular. I’m just after somewhere a bit more private.”

  They walked through the offices, past the dispatcher, out onto the street and down the block.

  “What’s up?”

  “Remember when we first spoke at Wells’s place?”

  “Not exactly something I would forget.”

  “I asked you if you had any idea what the senator’s plans were the night before you found her body. When you dropped her off. And last saw her alive. You told me you didn’t know. I took you at your word. I let it go. You were understandably down. I dropped my guard. I shouldn’t have.”

  “What’s your point? I told your partner the same thing the next day when he interviewed me at length. Wait a minute. Are you shitting me? Are you suggesting I had something to do with what happened to the senator? Damn! Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Take it easy, Grant. I’m not saying you had anything to do with the senator’s death. And I’m not thinking anything like that, either.”

  “Well, what are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is I think you weren’t exactly straight with me. I think you knew more than you told me.”

  “Why would I have done that? Are you claiming I’m protecting someone I know was with Wells that night?”

  “Not at all. I think your focus was on the senator.”

  “What the hell are you saying? You’re talking in riddles. How would I have been protecting the senator? What kind of protection did the senator need? She was a U.S. senator, for cripes’ sake.”

  “It wasn’t the senator you were trying to protect. It was her reputation that needed protecting. Big time. She was known as being pretty loose. You’re a gentleman, Grant, in spite of what they say about you. Just kidding about that. The senator was dead. You couldn’t bring her back. But I believe you were trying to protect her reputation by not telling me things you knew about her. Classy. But I still have to get past that wall I think you’ve put up.”

  “That’s crap. You’re grabbing at straws.”

  “Hey. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I made a mistake that day, going easy on you. I didn’t want to upset you any more than you already were. I figured I’d find what I needed elsewhere. But things have changed. A lot of innocent people stand to get hurt. I need to know what you know. I need to know it now. You can tell me right here and now. Privately. Or my investigation’s gonna become a lot more public and damaging to Wells’s reputation than it might need to be.”

  “You’re an asshole, Lotello. All I wanted was to let the senator check out with her dignity intact. I’ll tell you what I know. It really isn’t that much.”

  Lotello took out his tape recorder and turned it on. “I need to record what you’re going to tell me. It’s Monday, August third, twelve thirty p.m. This is Detective Frank Lotello and I am with Robert Grant. Mr. Grant, you’ve voluntarily agreed to talk with me, and said that I can record this conversation. Right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right … I guess.”

  “What do you mean ‘you guess’? Lady’s either pregnant or she’s not. You’re either agreeing of your own accord or not. Which is it?”

  “I’m agreeing. Let’s get on with it.”

  “You were Senator Wells’s driver at the time of her death. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You had been her driver then for some time. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You would drive her in connection with her responsibilities as a U.S. senator?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever drive her in connection with her personal activities?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “To your knowledge, was the senator socially active?”

  “What do you mean by ‘socially active’?”

  “I mean she was recently widowed. Did she date a lot?”

  “I don’t know if she dated a lot. I don’t know what ‘a lot’ means. My wife and I have been married forty-five years. I don’t date. I don’t know what’s a lot, Detective.”

  “Mr. Grant, please just tell me what you know about the senator’s dating habits.”

  “Well, she did some dating. On occasion, I would drive her to meet a date for dinner. Things like that.”

  “Did she entertain dates at her townhouse?”

  “I don’t have any personal knowledge about that. I was never present in her townhouse when she was … ‘entertaining,’ as you put it.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about any of her dates?”

  “Not really. Sometimes she would tell me she had a date coming up or she would tell me that a recent date was or was not that great.”

  “Did the senator ever tell you what she did on her dates?”

  “Detective, that’s out of line. Other than the fact that I did drive her to
meet some dates at restaurants, I have no idea what she did on her dates. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Grant, I have no choice. I have to find out what you’ve got. Do you know the names of any of the senator’s dates around the time of her death?”

  “She never mentioned the names of any of her dates to me. Hmm, wait a minute. What I said is correct. She never said the name of any of her dates to me, but I do think I know the name of one of her dates. Actually, I do know one of her dates, not just his name.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “His name’s Peter Foster. He’s the executive director of the NAIB. That’s the National Association of Investment Bankers. He’s a prominent lobbyist up on the Hill. He lives in the same townhouse complex the senator did. I know this because I used to drive him on occasion before I was working for the senator full time.”

  “How do you know Wells was dating Foster?”

  “Sometimes she would mention something to me about a date. But never any names. She was always very private about that. One day when I was driving her home, just a couple of days before she was murdered, the senator mentioned she was having dinner with someone that night. I asked her if she needed me to drive her. She said that wouldn’t be necessary because her date was someone who lived in her complex. A lobbyist with whom she worked up on the Hill. She just mentioned this in passing. I don’t think she had any idea that I might know who that was.

  “Somewhat on autopilot, without really thinking about her penchant for privacy, I asked her if she was referring to Pete Foster. She was startled to hear me refer to Foster. Kind of a mixture of embarrassed and angry. Angry at herself. She was definitely not happy that I had made the connection. She said this information was to go no further. And it never did. Until now. Thanks for nothing, Lotello.”