The Verdict, page 2
I desperately wanted to do everything she expected and more, but the facts of the situation tied my hands. The rules of professional responsibility and my sense of personal ethics did too. I might find some wiggle room in the knots, but I had to be careful if I wanted to have a life after this.
“I thought you’d help me escape without them knowing I was here.”
This was not the first time a client had asked me to cover up a crime, but this was undoubtedly the first time I carefully considered my response because of my personal entanglements.
I could tell from Barbara’s face that this was exactly why she’d called me.
This was probably a natural outgrowth of the media attention my cases had attracted over the years. I’d developed a reputation for getting innocent people out of jail and pointing the cops in the right direction.
In her mind, that’s probably what she thought she was asking me to do, even though it sounded a lot like something else.
Or at least that’s what I told myself.
While I could help Barbara within the confines of the law, there was no way I could do what she was suggesting.
She sobbed.
She was so close but also the furthest she’d ever been from me.
When I saw the anguish on her face, I wanted to make the situation better in any way I could.
The cameras, I thought. They’re recording right now, Mitch. The longer you take to call the police, the worse it’s going to look.
I had to convince her, and I had to convince her right now.
I wanted to believe Barbara’s story without looking at any of the evidence, but I forced myself to acknowledge Barbara could have done this. If she had, it wasn’t likely first degree murder because I doubted she could kill somebody in cold blood.
But her instinct was to reach out to a defense attorney, not call the police, I thought. I can’t ignore that.
I didn’t want to even consider the possibility and felt guilty the moment the thought occurred to me, but I couldn’t deny my rational side.
It was downright dangerous to discount it out of hand.
Even if she’d done this, the best thing she could do was take it straight on, praying the judge and jury would have mercy.
Barbara was a good woman.
The judge and jury might see that too, when it came down to it, assuming it got that far.
“Please, Mitch.”
Seeing the desperation in her eyes gave me pause.
At one point, I’d been convinced I wanted to marry her, but she’d already moved on by the time I’d finally arrived at a decision. Even though it had been hard, I’d chosen to accept it and move on as best I could.
While I was working the Candy Carlisle case, Barbara had called, concerned she had a stalker. I’d ultimately gotten Detective Stephanie Gray involved, an ex-girlfriend from law school, and we’d gotten Clyde Montague arrested.
All these thoughts went through my mind in a flash, and I knew what I had to do.
Could I risk my well-being and professional status to help Barbara out of a tight spot because of our past relationship? I’d never faced a question quite like this in my professional practice.
My instinct was to emphasize that our only choice was to call the cops, but I stopped.
This was Barbara.
She couldn’t have done this, my skeptical nature notwithstanding. I was pretty sure if I helped her escape by hiding what happened, I’d be helping an innocent woman stay free, but I’d forever negate the possibility of the actual murderer going to prison. We’d have to get rid of everything to hide Barbara’s presence.
Fool! I thought. You can’t hide this. The cameras. Somebody’s going to check the cameras, and what are they gonna find?
Mitch Turner sitting outside Thomas Guyton’s apartment.
No way would I come back from something like that, not with all the enemies I had on the other side of the aisle.
I’d started as a prosecutor, but it didn’t suit me.
It was too political.
Sometimes, the wrong people went to prison, and guilty parties went free because of politics.
Eventually, I’d figured out I could do more good from the other side, even though I wasn’t a typical defense attorney.
The people I’d left behind at the prosecutor’s office and in law enforcement didn’t see it that way.
Some even saw me as a traitor.
They couldn’t see I was working toward the same goal from the other side.
I believed somebody should do time if they committed a crime. But that didn’t stop me from zealously representing each of my clients to the best of my capabilities, doing everything I could while making the prosecutors prove their case.
It was my job to ensure the prosecution didn’t send innocent people to prison.
I rarely took a guilty person to trial because I could usually persuade them it was in their best interest to make a deal so they could serve as little time as possible.
That was just pragmatic.
I took another deep breath and held it, contemplating everything I’d just thought about and what Barbara was asking me to do.
I’d never been tempted any of the other times my clients had asked me to help cover up a crime. If I gave in to what Barbara wanted, it could make the situation infinitely worse when it might have otherwise been quickly resolved.
I’d never expected a situation where I’d be tempted to compromise my ethics in this way.
It was heartening to know I’d hold to them even in such a dire circumstance as this.
I felt like I’d just passed a test.
“Barbara—”
“Mitch, I need you to do this. You’re the only one who can help me.”
What happened to wanting me to go? I wondered.
“Barbara—”
“Just think about it.” Barbara looked at me. “They set me up. They’ve probably done such a good job we’ll never convince the cops.”
My ears perked up at the certainty of her tone. It almost seemed like this hadn’t caught her entirely off guard.
Was that just my imagination?
Had she suspected Thomas Guyton was about to be murdered?
“Do you know who they are?” I asked slowly.
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure.” Barbara shook her head, and it was clear she wouldn’t say anything more. She had that look that told me she was digging in and that it would be difficult to get anything else out of her.
“Are you going to help me or not?” she demanded.
“Yes, I’m absolutely going to help,” I said. “The question is how.” I paused. “You can’t run from this, Barbara. The best thing for us to do is to call—”
“I almost didn’t call because I was afraid that’s what you’d want to do.” There was scorn in her voice, but that wasn’t all. There was fear too. “Can’t you do this one thing for me?”
I shook my head.
“Barbara, I am going to help. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“Can’t you think of a way to get me out—”
“I’m sure it’s not as simple as they make it look on TV,” I whispered, hoping the camera down the hall wasn’t picking up our conversation.
Barbara would undoubtedly go to prison if the prosecution ever played our conversation to a jury. I hoped the camera was far enough away to not record it, but what were the chances there was another recording device nearby?
I wanted to check if somebody’s door was cracked open or if there was a nearby doorbell camera, but I didn’t because I knew how that would look on tape.
I kept my face directly on Barbara while glancing down at my watch.
What time had I arrived?
Wasn’t it just after 3:30 PM?
Maybe 3:45? The time was now 4:02 PM.
It seemed like I’d been here longer than that, so we needed to hurry. I had to get her past this as fast as possible.
It was time to call the police.
I’d initially represent her so that an attorney-client relationship formed just in case somebody somewhere was recording our conversation. The attorney who took this to trial could then claim that attorney-client confidentiality had attached to try to get it excluded.
“Please, Mitch. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
The more she continued to ask, the warier I became, but I ignored my skepticism.
“No.”
“But—”
“There’s only one way.” I looked her in the eye. “First things first. Do you want me to represent you as an attorney?”
I held up a finger, figuring I should qualify what I was suggesting. I also didn’t want to explain my concerns about a recording device. It would be easier for a prosecutor to convince a judge to allow the conversation in as evidence if they heard me say that.
“I’m not saying I’ll take it to trial. All I’m saying is—”
“Sheesh!” Barbara said, cutting me off. “I thought I’d be the exception. I thought you cared about me! That time I saw you outside of the restaurant, I could tell you still had feelings for me. I thought—”
“Now, look here!”
I’d spoken too loudly and immediately lowered my voice. “I do care. It wrenched my heart to see you with him, but I wanted you to be happy. You looked happy, so I was determined not to get in the way.”
I held her eyes before she looked away and swore under her breath.
“I should have just—” She stopped and gave me a disdainful look. “Why won’t you just leave?”
“There’s no way you can hide this. Cameras, remember? Your text to me will undoubtedly come out in court. I’ll be called to testify. I’ll be forced to tell the truth about everything I’ve seen.”
I waited for her to look at me. I was hoping to avoid saying this out loud, but I couldn’t see a way around it. She had to understand what I was getting at, and she wasn’t picking up my subtle hints.
“That’s if I am only an ex-boyfriend. That could change if I’m your attorney and we handle this the right way. After you retain my services, I’ll walk you through this situation, doing everything in my power to help you come out the other side.”
“I don’t need your help. I’ll figure this out.”
It was time to take off the gloves. We were running out of time. “If you shut the door, my first call will be to the police. I’ll tell them everything that’s happened and everything I suspect has happened. Is that what you want?”
“You wouldn’t.”
I felt bad putting it to her this way, but I didn’t see another option. I knew she’d misinterpret this as a threat, even though I didn’t intend it that way.
“However, if you retain my services, it gives me more flexibility and you a smoother way to handle the situation. I can tell them I have a client who’s found herself in a sticky situation. She wants to do the right thing but doesn’t want it to look bad. I’ll call in a favor to a friend in the department and have them come out.”
“Isn’t there another way?”
I shook my head.
She wiped her eyes with her hands.
I noticed she had blood on them.
It’s probably from trying to save his life, I tried to tell myself.
“I’m scared, Mitch.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable. Anybody would be in your situation. I’ll do my best to help you walk away with your life intact. We have to do this right. Any other way we go is wrong and will hurt you in the end. The best thing is to start by telling the truth.”
Or at least as much as we have to, I thought.
“But the gun’s here! They’re going to think it was me.”
“What’s your motive?”
Barbara hesitated. “I was about to break up with him.”
“Really?” I frowned. “Didn’t you guys just get done playing tennis? Why not break up with him beforehand so you don’t have to be with him if you’d already decided?”
“The game was something we’d agreed to in advance with another couple, some mutual friends. I was planning to do it right afterward, but the match went longer than I intended. I needed to shower so I could get to an appointment downtown. It was quicker to clean up here so I could make my appointment. I was planning to tell him right before I left so I didn’t have to see him again. I can’t tell you how difficult it’s been, knowing we weren’t going to last.”
“You won’t have to testify. They won’t be able to prove—”
“I told Patricia. She knows everything.”
By the way Barbara said this, it appeared there was more to it than just Barbara’s plan to break up with Thomas Guyton.
There was something else.
What’s Barbara holding back? I wondered.
“You leave that to me.” I looked at Barbara. “Have you touched anything?”
“I was so freaked out I tried to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten covered in his blood that I realized he was already dead. After that, I didn’t know what to do.”
I nodded. “Have you cleaned up since?”
“Yes, of course! I washed off in the kitchen sink and dried my hands with paper towels.”
I grunted.
It probably would have been better had she not done that because the prosecution would represent that as her trying to hide what she’d done.
I glanced at my watch. It was now 4:08 PM. I could just imagine the prosecution playing the security tape to a jury, asking what we’d been talking about for so long before calling the cops.
“Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to sit there, right there, on the floor. Don’t touch anything. The cops will come. We’ll start from the beginning and tell them every single last thing that’s happened. Make sure to lead off with how you were planning to break up with him. Get that out there right at first so it doesn’t seem like you were trying to hide it. You’re going to explain you had to keep the tennis appointment. That’s why you didn’t break up with him beforehand. We must also explain why you were at his apartment instead of going to yours. Leave nothing out, got it?”
“Nothing?”
“You have nothing to hide, so you’ll tell the truth. We want them to think there was no way you could have done this because you fully disclosed everything from the beginning. You take away some of the bad fact’s power by disclosing it yourself. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
“You sure about this, Mitch?”
I nodded confidently, even though my insides were twisted into knots.
I was anything but sure.
But I didn’t see what other choice we had.
I put on a brave face.
This was going to be bad.
4
My watch read 4:13 PM.
The door to apartment 813 was closed. I started to pace before I stopped myself. I wanted to keep this conversation private. I didn’t really have a place to go for privacy, so I’d stay in front of the door and speak in low tones, hoping to keep my voice from going down the hall to the other doors.
The phone seemed to ring forever before Detective Stephanie Gray finally answered. I had a few second thoughts, and it wasn’t until Stephanie answered that I was sure I’d go through with my plan.
A bad plan is better than no plan, I thought. A bad plan is also better than the wrong plan.
The phone clicked, but it was still a moment before I heard Stephanie’s voice. “I’m a little busy, Mitch. Can I call you back?”
“I have a situation.”
“I heard you got Candy Carlisle off. Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” The way she said this left no doubt she still felt Candy was getting better than she deserved.
“Something came up. I need to call in a favor.”
Stephanie hesitated. “I believe you’ve already done that today. You now owe me.”
I snorted. “I just sent you Marc Guyton, no strings attached.”
That wasn’t technically true. That was how I’d gotten Candy Carlisle such a sweet deal.
“What do you want, Mitch?”
I took in a deep breath. “I have a situation that’s developed with Barbara.”
I frowned. I couldn’t think of a reason to be vague.
That was my instincts kicking in.
“Is that stalker bothering her again? Clyde Montague, wasn’t it? I thought your partner Veronica was doing a restraining order. Didn’t that go through?”
“This isn’t about the stalker, at least, not that I’m aware of. It would be best if you came and met me.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Is that necessary? Can’t you just tell me what this is about?”
“It’s best you come over.”
It now occurred to me why I was being cagey. My instincts were at it again. I wanted to put her off step by surprising her with the situation when she got here. If I told her everything about it right now over the phone, she’d be mentally prepared by the time she arrived, making it difficult for me to guide the situation.
“I can probably be there in half an hour—”
“You need to come sooner than that, and you should also bring uniforms.”
“What’s going on, Mitch? Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”
I looked around the apartment hallway, wondering if any of the doors or walls were conducting what I was saying to Thomas Guyton’s neighbors. I wanted to keep this quiet, but the news would get out one way or another.
I hesitated. I needed to give Stephanie something. I recognized that, but I still wanted to keep the upper hand for as long as I could.
“Barbara found a dead body.”
Stephanie now knew what was going on, but it was still vague enough that I could surprise her with some of the more damaging facts, hoping to somehow control the situation.
“We’ll be right there.”
5
I knocked on the door.
Barbara answered a moment later, sitting back on the floor and leaning against the wall. The chain was still in place.
