“Easy,” Hellman said, motioning with both hands and keeping an eye on Mather over Chandler’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna call him back in an hour. I just want to make sure he ran the lip print comparison.”
“Fine,” Hellman said, “we’ll worry about it later. About this interview. We keep it short, to the point, and we don’t divulge any specifics. We only tell them enough to whet their curiosity. But we can’t say anything that’s not factual and we can’t make claims we can’t substantiate.”
“C’mon, Jeffrey. That doesn’t leave us a whole lot of leeway.”
“No, you’re missing the point. We can discuss the new evidence we have, without saying what it is specifically, and we can discuss its significance without outlining exactly how it’s going to have an impact on the case.”
Chandler appeared uneasy. “We’re not magicians. This is gonna be difficult.”
“You don’t have any experience as a politician.”
“I’ve dedicated my life to catching criminals, not acting like them.”
Hellman smiled. “That remark could be considered blasphemy being that we’re so close to the state capitol building.”
Mather approached from behind. “We’ll be ready to shoot in two minutes, gentlemen.”
Hellman nodded and turned back to Chandler, “Comb your hair, will you? There’s a mirror over there on the wall behind the cameraman.”
“What, no makeup?”
Hellman snorted. “No offense, but you’re nobody important. So, no, you’re not getting any makeup.”
Chandler knew that appearing professional and confident would play an important role in achieving their goal. He straightened his hair and tie, then took a few deep breaths to wipe the lines of stress from his face.
Mather was waiting for Chandler and Hellman to take their seats. Cables snaked across the floor from three cameras that stood like sentries guarding the set.
The floor director helped them clip on their lapel mikes, then positioned them for the camera setup. Mather sat to the right of Hellman and Chandler, who sat beside each other. Large spotlights shone down upon them, bathing the small area in bright white light.
The director checked with the producer and sound techs who were seated off to the side. After getting a thumbs-up in response, he held up three fingers and counted down.
Mather began speaking, introducing the viewers to the setting, and stating the purpose of their interview.
“Mr. Hellman,” Mather said, “I believe it’s safe to say that you feel your client is not guilty.”
“He isn’t just ‘not guilty,’ he’s innocent.”
“I didn’t realize there was a difference,” Mather said, a broad smile creasing his face.
Hellman maintained a serious, almost clinical expression. “‘Not guilty,’ in my opinion, carries a negative connotation. Simply stated, Dr. Madison is completely innocent of this crime and is being wrongly charged. In fact, we are in the process of amassing evidence which demonstrates that he was framed.”
“Framed?” Mather asked. He straightened in his seat.
“That’s what we’re working on right now. Ryan Chandler is our investigator,” Hellman said, nodding toward his associate.
“Are the police working with you on this?” Mather asked, turning toward Chandler.
“The police are not involved in our investigation at this time.”
“And why is that?”
Chandler leaned forward a bit. “We’re still putting together all the details. We felt it would be better that we have all our cards in order first. We don’t want them to think we’re making a baseless accusation. Then we wouldn’t have their confidence, or even their cooperation, when we complete our work and have more solid objective evidence to turn over to them.”
“Are you saying that the police were delinquent in their investigation of this case?”
Hellman glanced over at Chandler. Being that Chandler was “one of them,” it was preferable that he address such an issue.
“Not at all,” Chandler said. “The police, I’m sure, have been as diligent in their investigation as possible. They brought in a suspect, and they did it within a reasonable period of time following the murders.”
“What would you consider to be a reasonable period of time?”
“Three, four days. Longer than that, and your chances of catching the suspect decline significantly. Evidence is destroyed, suspects and witnesses disappear, people forget what they saw.”
“Do you think the police feel they have the right man?”
“I’m sure they feel confident in the evidence they’ve amassed, and I have to admit that it does point to Phillip Madison. However, Dr. Madison was not the driver of that vehicle. He’s been falsely accused.”
“Understanding that you’ve been hired by the defense, Mr. Chandler, what gives you the objectivity to make such a statement?”
“Seven years with the Sacramento Police Department, two years as a special investigator with the Sacramento County District Attorney. I’m currently a forensic investigator with the New York Police Department. I’ve seen the evidence, and I’m awaiting results on tests that I strongly believe will show that Dr. Madison was not the driver of that vehicle.”
“These tests you mentioned. Are these tests on physical evidence that you’re conducting?”
“Yes,” Chandler said.
“If Dr. Madison was not driving, do you have any theories on who was?”
Hellman stepped in. “Yes, we do.”
“Who then?”
Hellman raised an eyebrow. “We’re not prepared to say just yet.”
“And why is that?”
“As Mr. Chandler said a few moments ago, we’re not going to release the name until we’ve gotten we’ve spoken with the police and district attorney. Our goal is to work with them, not against them.”
“Mr. Hellman, some would say that this is just a ploy on the part of a clever defense attorney to create reasonable doubt for his client. You produce another possible suspect, and then the jury is confused and can’t return a verdict beyond a reasonable doubt. You’ve done that several times in the past—”
“I’m not here to discuss my past cases,” Hellman said. He paused for a moment, then continued. “And this is not defense ploy. I believe that not only is Dr. Madison is innocent, but that once we have all our tests completed, this case will not be going to trial. So there’ll be no jury to ‘confuse,’ as you put it. The prosecutor, Mr. Denton, will drop the charges.”
“You’re that sure of your evidence.”
“I’m that sure.”
“How can the People be sure that your test results will be accurate?”
Hellman looked over at Chandler.
Chandler leaned forward. “The facility running the tests is reputable, I assure you.” He suddenly realized he had not told Hellman where he’d taken the samples. “And the DA would of course be free to conduct his own tests.”
“This brings me to another topic I wanted to touch on. What’s the story behind those rape charges?”
“First of all,” Hellman said, “there never have been any rape charges. Second of all, rape has nothing to do with this case—”
“But it goes Dr. Madison’s credibility, doesn’t it, Mr. Hellman?”
“Dr. Madison has never been charged with anything except the charges he is currently facing,” he said.
“But he was the subject of a rape case.”
Chandler realized that Hellman was cornered. However, the trump card was their ability to edit out anything they did not find acceptable.
Hellman shifted a bit in his seat. “There was an investigation the police conducted involving a complaint on the part of a woman, but the police later closed the case and she withdrew her complaint. There was no truth to any of it.”
“Was the woman paid off, Mr. Hellman?”
“I believe you’ve heard the saying ‘crime doesn’t pay,’” Hellman said, �
��and since the complaint was filled with lies, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.”
The reporter leaned forward. “By that do you mean that this woman did not receive a payoff to keep quiet and drop the charges?”
“She did not benefit one red cent,” Hellman said.
Chandler looked over at Hellman and saw a thin trail of perspiration rolling down the side of his face. If a copy of the Harding-Ehrhardt contract Hellman had drawn up had made it into Mather’s hands, it would be an uncomfortable revelation—regardless of whether or not it was later edited out of the final cut. The existence of the document would still make it onto the eleven o’clock news. And if Mather had a copy of it, others in the press could get their hands on it as well—and then the task of preserving and restoring Madison’s reputation would require something bordering on divine intervention.
The rest of the interview consisted of a few mundane questions about facts already known by the press; Mather requested more depth and information where none existed. Although this appeared to frustrate the reporter, it allowed Hellman to conclude the interview without incident.
Afterward, Chandler, Madison, and Hellman accompanied Mather into an edit bay, a small six-by-six room with large digitized video machines. They watched as the seven-minute interview was edited down to three, and concluded that the final product served their purpose. They looked confident and cool, and did not give away any valuable information; however, it provided enough for Mather to bill it as an exclusive interview with new information on “The Madison Murders.”
As they began to walk out of the studio, Chandler pulled out his cell phone—which had plenty of juice left—and called Kurt Gray while Hellman detoured to the restroom. It had been a little over an hour since he had last called, and this was when Gray was—hopefully—going to be able to talk.
“Yeah, I remember when you called last,” came the less-than-enthusiastic reply from the receptionist. “Hold please,” she said.
Chandler tapped his foot while he waited, then turned to Madison. “This guy better not be playing games—”
“Mr. Gray says he’ll have to talk to you tomorrow,” the receptionist said.
“Tomorrow?” Chandler took a breath. “Please tell him I need to talk to him now.”
“Hold please.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Tomorrow. That lying son-of—
She came back on. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you please tell Mr. Gray that I spoke with Lou Palucci today up at his cabin in Tahoe, and he told me that if Gray didn’t cooperate, he’d come back early from his vacation and set him straight personally.”
“If you know where the guy was, why don’t you just have him call?” Madison asked.
Chandler cupped the phone and motioned for him to be quiet.
The next voice he heard was Kurt Gray’s. “I got a match on the lip prints. Now, will you leave me alone?”
“How much of a match?”
“Ninety-five percent,” Gray said without enthusiasm.
“I like that better than seventy.”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re happy with the results. Can I go now? I’m busy.”
“The DNA. Are you running the DNA on that cigarette?”
“Don’t push your luck. It’ll get done when I have to get it done. You’re not my boss, and I’m giving the receptionist specific instructions not to put through any more of your calls.” Without further comment, he hung up.
“Yes!” Chandler said. He turned to Madison and Hellman, who had returned from the restroom, and motioned them outside.
They walked out of the building and stood at the mouth of the parking lot.
“The lip print from Harding’s cigarette is a ninety-five percent match to the lip print taken off the can of beer that was found in the back of the car.”
Hellman’s face was spread into a broad smile.
“What does that mean?” Madison asked.
“It means, Phil,” Hellman said, “that we’re one step closer to getting this case dismissed.”
CHAPTER 48
THE INTERVIEW WAS aired as part of a four-minute segment on the noon news. It caught the attention of the rest of the media, and Hellman suddenly had a list of calls to be returned to reporters from the Herald, the Bee, the other four television news stations, and a few out-of-town papers. Bloggers were beginning to take notice and write pieces likening the case to other perceived instances of prosecutorial incompetence.
There was also a call from Judge Calvino: Hellman was to report to his chambers in an hour.
When Hellman arrived, Denton was sitting on the stiff leather couch adjacent to the wall of law books, a magazine opened across his lap. Calvino’s mood was etched in the deep furrows of his brow. It was evident that he and Denton had not been conversing.
Calvino was in no mood for a discussion. His orders were clear: no more trying this case in the media. Denton attempted to argue, no doubt about to say that he had not contacted nor spoken to the press. But Calvino did not give him the opportunity to speak.
“The next person who gives an interview, leaks information to the press, or comes within five feet of a reporter will be held in contempt. I’m doing it as much for the ability to empanel an impartial jury as to preserve Phillip Madison’s reputation should he be found not guilty.”
Hellman knew that Calvino could not give a damn about Madison, but he figured the judge was at least trying to give his decision an air of impartiality and fairness.
“The fewer juicy tidbits the media can get their hands on,” Calvino said, “the less publicity there’ll be. And the less publicity, the greater the chance that everyone will forget the case shortly after its resolution. There are a few emotionally invested groups interested in this case, and the last thing I want is another O. J. Simpson fiasco.”
Hellman and Denton thanked the judge, then left his chambers like dogs that had been properly disciplined. They walked down the hall toward the elevator bank, silent at first.
“Sorry,” Hellman said.
Denton waved him off. “Shit, I would’ve done the same thing. You saw an opportunity for your client.”
“Mather pissed me off with that bullshit report from Sacramento General. I felt I had to get some positive press to neutralize it.”
“I can take some heat from Calvino. It’s not a big deal.”
“Look, Tim...” started Hellman, unsure if he should go any further. “I have a thought on who may be the real murderer. You interested?”
Denton stifled a laugh, and then realized that Hellman was serious. He pushed the down button again. “Damn elevators.”
“I’m not kidding. And I’m not just saying this as a defense ploy. I’ve known my client for thirty years. I really believe that Phil Madison is innocent. I know he is.”
“Jeffrey, need I tell you how many times I’ve heard that from defense counsel?”
“Tim, you and I also go back a long time. We’ve had our fights over the years, some tough cases. But I’ve always been aboveboard with you. How many times have I told you I don’t like your wardrobe?” he asked, smiling. This drew a smirk from Denton. “Point is, I’ve always considered you a straight shooter, and you know I am too.”
“So what do you want me to do, drop the charges? It isn’t going to happen, Jeffrey, even if I do believe you—which I don’t.”
“All I ask is that you look at things with an open mind. Don’t sell my client down the river. Don’t use him as a political stepping-stone—”
“Stop right there, Jeffrey,” he said, his face getting red. Wrong button to push. “I don’t have to listen to this. Political stepping-stone,” he repeated. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Suggesting that I would prosecute someone just because they’re high-profile, all for my personal gain?”
Hellman stared him down.
The elevator came, and they entered together. “Just tell me that if I turn something over to you and it m
akes sense, that you’ll give it unbiased consideration. Because when I get everything together, I’m confident that you’ll have enough to at least reopen your investigation and dig until this other lead proves either sweet or sour.”
Denton, who did not say a word, just stared at the control panel, still apparently seething at the suggestion of impropriety.
“Tim, one of the basic tenets of our criminal justice system is to protect the rights of an innocent man to the extent that if there’s any reasonable doubt that he committed a crime, he’s supposed to be set free. It’s better to let a guilty man go free than to put an innocent man in prison.” He paused, knowing that Denton was well aware of the legal rhetoric. “All I’m asking for is an open mind. Will you at least do that?”
Hellman detected a barely perceptible nod. He gave an affectionate nudge to Denton’s shoulder as the doors opened. “Sorry I hurt your feelings,” Hellman said.
He walked out and down the hall toward the parking lot, hoping the seed he’d planted would take root just enough to pry open Denton’s notoriously closed mind.
CHAPTER 49
SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH, Chandler drove to Mark Stanton’s office for a follow-up interview. First on his list of questions was how he’d handled Harding’s sexual harassment payoff a couple of years ago. It was a matter that could be handled over the phone, but Chandler’s method of doing business was always face-to-face whenever possible, and it appeared that that was the way Stanton preferred it as well.
There were two people dressed in business attire sitting in the lobby of Stanton’s plush suite, patiently awaiting appointments with him. Chandler walked in and announced his arrival to the secretary, an attractive thirty-year-old with a headset affixed to her ear. She nodded to him, asked him to have a seat, and alerted Stanton that Chandler had arrived.
A moment later, she led him back. Stanton was on the phone and motioned to Chandler to have a seat.
“I’m faxing it right now.” He punched a couple of keys on his computer, then said, “Sure, drop me an email once you’ve had a chance to review it. Or we can Skype, yes.”
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