Twisted Justice, page 10
“But you’ve charged her with first-degree murder. You’ve asked for the death penalty.”
“True...”
“It’s not first-degree murder if she wasn’t present.”
Garfield was obviously fumbling. “It could be...conspiracy to commit a felony. Maybe felony murder.”
Judge Fitzgerald checked the pleadings. “You haven’t filed those charges.”
“We could dismiss and amend.”
“You could. But as of this time, you have not done so. Correct?”
Garfield pursed her lips. “That is...correct.”
“Well then,” the judge replied. “This motion isn’t completely frivolous, is it?”
Camila felt a tingling inside. She tried to suppress her excitement. She didn’t want to be disappointed. Was there a chance this might actually work?
The judge turned toward the defense table. “Mr. Davenport?”
He nodded. “I think your honor has already anticipated what I have to say. We have the time of death, given to us by the prosecution’s own expert. We have more than a dozen witnesses, plus a security camera, telling us that Camila Pérez could not have committed the murder at that time. That evidence has not been challenged and frankly, I believe it is unassailable. Let me add, the prosecution has not yet filed a conspiracy claim, and I don't think they will. Their prosecution is based upon an audio recording of two people talking, maybe saying things they shouldn’t have said, but never saying anything that would rise to the level of criminal conspiracy. That claim requires real evidence of an actual plan to commit a felony. At this time there is no concrete evidence whatsoever that Camila Pérez had anything to do with this murder.”
The judge seemed almost reluctant to agree, but forced to do so. “I can’t argue with that. Even if the DA filed such a claim, the court would be forced to dismiss it unless they can adduce more evidence.”
“And let me make one more observation,” Davenport continued. “This is not the first time my client has been victimized by false accusations. The previous charges were false, politically motivated lies brought by opponents to derail her career. Can we see this latest batch of trumped-up charges any differently? Look how much negative publicity she has already incurred. Look how much time she’s spent in jail while her opponents are on the campaign trial. Enormous damage has been done, and in service of what? More bogus charges that turn out to be unsupported by the slightest wisp of truth.”
The judge listened attentively, not speaking, but not disagreeing.
Davenport proceeded. “The proper role of the courts is to protect the citizenry, not to harm innocents, not to be a tool for those who would manipulate the system, who think political decisions should be made behind closed doors. Camila Pérez is a fine woman with an outstanding record of public service and it’s time we stopped letting her opponents use the judiciary to short-circuit an exemplary career.”
Davenport appeared to have the entire room in the palm of his hand, hanging on his every word. The reporters in the gallery were scribbling notes at the speed of sound.
“Your honor, I respectfully request that the defendant’s motion be granted and that these charges against my client be dismissed.”
“Any further discussion?” the judge asked. No one spoke. “The motion will be granted. The court apologizes to the defendant for what she has suffered. And hopes she will continue her work without any further interference.”
The judge slammed his gavel and the courtroom erupted. A near-deafening cacophony spread across the room. Reporters shouted questions at Camila. Some people applauded. A few even had tears in their eyes.
Davenport crouched beside her and spoke quietly. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
Camila looked at him, barely able to speak. “You are a miracle worker.”
He winked. “Remember that when you get my bill.”
Reporters shouted questions at her. “Mayor Pérez, will you continue your senatorial campaign?”
She turned toward them, beaming. “First I’d like to get out of these hideous orange coveralls.” Everyone laughed. “But as soon as I’m free, I will be back on the campaign trail. Count on it. And my opponents had better look out.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Because I’m coming for them.”
Chapter 19
Dan set down his phone and shouted loudly enough to be heard throughout the office.
“Camila got off! All charges dismissed!”
Barely a few moments later, Maria emerged from her private office and threaded a path through the housecleaners and carpenters working to restore the mansion to its pre-search-warrant glory. “You mean she’s out on bail?”
“I mean she’s out. Period. Charges dismissed. Full stop.”
Maria whipped out her phone and started tapping. “How can that be?”
“A lot of co-workers were prepared to testify that she couldn’t have possibly pulled the trigger at the time of death.”
“Where does that leave you?”
He plopped down on the sofa. He could barely describe all the cascading emotions rushing through his body. First and foremost—relief. When he last saw Camila, at the jailhouse, it almost tore his heart in two. He knew she desperately wanted—needed—to be somewhere else. Now perhaps he would witness a return of the Camila he knew and adored.
The second wave of emotion related to himself. How was this going to affect his case? Would this be perceived as another chink in the prosecution armor? Or, as seemed more likely, would this cause them to intensify their pursuit of him?
“Leaves me holding the bag, I fear. Except now I’m holding it alone. I’m all the cops have left to avoid looking like total fools.”
Maria shoved her phone into her tight jeans pocket. “It would be sweet if we could ride her gravy train. But you have no alibi witnesses.”
“Aww, you don’t want to cling to Davenport’s coattails. You’ll come up with your own brilliant success strategy.”
“You hope. Why are you still here? Aren’t you going to run off to see Camila?”
“No. Her attorney thinks it’s a bad idea. She doesn’t need a lot of paparazzi pics showing the two of us together. She needs to return to the office and show people her focus is on politics. She’s got a campaign to run and a lot of lost time to make up for.”
“That might not be as difficult as you imagine. If my Twitter feed is any indication, Camila’s a rock star.”
He scooted closer so he could peer at her iPhone screen. “What do you mean?”
“People see her as a martyr to the progressive cause. She’s been charged twice now, and both times the charges proved to be groundless. Memes are reminding the world that Dr. King was also thrown into jail by the forces that opposed progress. As was Gandhi. According to the internet, the powers-that-be perceive Camila as a major threat to their privileged lifestyle.”
“A poster child for the underprivileged.”
Maria kept scrolling. “Look at this. It says she beat the attacks that come to anyone who tries to bring down the hegemony. She did more than persist—she survived.” She looked up from the screen. “Her handlers could turn this sow’s ear into a silk purse.”
“And to think, I knew her when she was just a sweet little co-defendant.”
“Look at her approval ratings! Her numbers are going through the roof. She’s barely out of jail and she’s already the frontrunner.” Maria put the phone away. “I think your girl is going somewhere, Dan.”
He tried to maintain his poker face. “Of course, if I don’t beat the charges, she’ll be going without me.”
“Even if we can’t use her success in the courtroom, I think we can use her success on the internet. Try to alter public opinion. I told you about the social media consultant—”
“Judge Hembeck won’t like it if she thinks I’m campaigning for acquittal.”
“You won’t have anything to do with it. You can’t control what internet trolls do, right?”
“I can’t even control what my lawyer does.”
She gave him a sharp eye. “Coincidentally, I can’t control what my client does.”
He grinned a little. “No wonder this relationship works so well. We’re basically two control freaks, each completely unable to control the other.”
“That does sum it up rather nicely.” She stared at him for a moment. “But seriously. We need to go full-out on this. Webpage, Facebook, Twitter, the whole nine yards. Prepare to be anointed in the InstaCommunity. Jimmy’s already laid the groundwork.”
“Wonderful. Where is Jimmy, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Said he had some kind of meeting.”
“With whom?”
“He was kind of mysterious. Not forthcoming on the details. Told Hank he might be out late. Should we be worried?”
“Nah. He’s probably buying new action figures on the black market.”
“By the way, I think we should not push the motion in limine. Jimmy says our judge hates evidentiary hearings in advance of trial.”
“Well, isn’t that too bad. We need to kill that recording.”
“Do we, though? Time to face reality, Cragheart.”
Uh-oh. Anytime she hauled out his Gloomhaven name, he knew she was preparing to say something he didn’t want to hear. “Meaning?”
“Everyone has already heard that tape. It’s all over the internet.”
“We can weed out jurors who have already heard the recording and formed an opinion about it.”
“We can weed out the jurors who will admit they’ve already heard the recording. Which is not the same thing. What do we accomplish by trying to suppress it? We irritate the judge and probably gain nothing.”
“This sounds like a risky strategy.”
“Strategy is my forte. When the prosecution attempts to use the recording at trial, I’ll object. The prosecutors still don’t know who sent the recording to them. They can’t put it into evidence without a sponsoring witness. Who exactly will that be?”
“They’ll use the cop who first saw the email.”
“And that lucky devil will not be able to explain where it came from or how it was recorded. Won’t be able to testify as to authenticity.”
He thought long and hard about it. He didn’t like the idea. His approach had always been to constantly be on the attack. If someone hits you, you hit them back harder, immediately. But he wasn’t running this case. And if he wanted Maria to be at her best, he should stay out of her way. Let her run her own show.
“I will yield to your strategic analysis, Maria. I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought. Which I very much appreciate.”
“But you’re not convinced.”
“I’m never convinced of anything. Trial practice is mostly preparation, but there’s a lot of shooting from the hip too. You’re the one who’s going to be standing up there yakking. You need to do what you think is right.” He took another breath, then added, “I trust you.”
She inched slightly closer. “Really?”
He peered back at her. Something was going on behind those lovely brown eyes, but he couldn’t quite read it. “Yes. In fact, there’s no one on earth I would trust more. I know you can do this.”
A strange expression crossed her face. “Stop. I’m going to get choked up.”
“Nah. Just get out there and fight.”
Chapter 20
Despite the fact that he was entering a busy location that was basically an indoor amusement park, Jimmy couldn’t resist the temptation to tread carefully, to practically tiptoe. He knew someone, somewhere, was watching him.
Why would his mysterious correspondent pick Play Date for a rendezvous? He’d never been before, but he knew the general concept. Sort of a Hey Dey, Trade Mark, Urban Adventures on steroids. Higher, faster, scarier. Thrills for people seeking something with a little more edge—though still not edgy enough to actually be life-threatening. Supposedly.
He stepped up to the young woman behind the front counter. “Mmm....can I come in?”
She beamed a Disney smile at him. “Of course. Do you want the All-Admission Pass, the three-day pass, the Super-Saver...” She paused for a moment. “Or the senior discount?”
His jaw lowered. He was forty-six. “I don’t think I qualify.” He tried not to be offended. The woman looked seventeen at best. Probably everyone over thirty looked senior to her.
Or maybe Maria was right. Maybe it was time to ditch the cardigans.
“Okay. Regular admission then? Or do you want to go à la carte?”
He had no idea what that meant. He scanned the list of activities on the marquis behind the counter. Laser tag. Paintball. Arcade. Go-carts. The list went on and on. How did they fit it all in one location? Bowling. Trampolines.
All that bouncing around sounded dreadful. His eyes traveled down the list. Road rally. Rock wall. Ropes course.
Ropes course? As in, strap me up in a harness and haul me into the air?
He remembered what the note said, after the address. NO MICS FORTY FEET UP.
Of course. It was always the thing you dreaded most.
“One ticket for the ropes course.”
The young woman arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”
He was starting to get angry. “Is there an age restriction?”
“No.” She licked her lips. “But there’s a weight restriction.”
Okay, he had maybe twenty pounds he didn’t need, but this was even more irritating than the remark about his age. “I’ll be fine. You need to get out of your skinny Gen Z ripped-jeans world and show some respect.”
She held up her hands. “Ok, Boomer. Chill.”
He handed her a credit card. “Don’t you mean, chillax?”
“Whatever.” She ran the card and handed him a ticket. “Enjoy your aerial experience.”
“I will. Afterwards, I think I’ll try skydiving.”
* * *
To Jimmy’s relief, the attendant running the ropes attraction didn’t have any problem with him. The kid wrapped the nylon netting between his legs and around and beneath his shoulders, gently tugging to make sure it was secure. He hooked the carabiner to thick sturdy wire overhead, then made sure Jimmy’s helmet was secure.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
Jimmy wished he didn’t need to speak. He was afraid his voice would flutter. “Of course.” He started up the steps that would take him to the first station.
What kind of crazy person thought this was fun? Hauling yourself into the air? Why? It looked like this course went quite high, as high as the ceiling would permit. You were supposed to maintain balance as you crossed narrow blocks, loose zigzagging steps, plank bridges, even single-wire paths.
He supposed there was no real risk or the place wouldn’t be allowing it. No matter how uncoordinated you were, or how poor your sense of balance, the harness would prevent you from tumbling to your death. In fact, given how tight the line was, it would prevent you from doing much of anything. He could probably deliberately step off the track or take a big jump, but even then, he wouldn’t go far. The helmet seemed irrelevant. Probably more for appearances than anything else, or maybe something an insurance company required in case someone tripped coming down the stairs.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He needed to get out more, not just to the courthouse and back. Maybe his life had become too sedentary—writing briefs, talking on the phone, gaming. And perhaps he did eat a bit more than he should. But he loved food. Was it his fault he was surrounded by great cooks, Dan at work and Hank at home? He was really the victim here...
He plunged across a path that required him to hopscotch between alternating blocks, all while moving steadily upward. People were buzzing in the arcade beneath him, but there were only a few up on the ropes. He supposed that must be why this meeting place was chosen. No bugs, no one to overhear or record a conversation on a cellphone.
He found a resting place in a corner between paths and looked around. On the plank bridge he spotted a teenager with long hair and an Eminem T-shirt who was having a much harder time than he getting from one side to the other. Ha! Youth wasn’t everything. Experience counted...even if his experience with athletic endeavors was scant at best. He saw a man in his thirties skittering across the swinging steps with a certainty that suggested he had done this many times before.
But who was his mysterious correspondent?
Before he had a chance to give it more thought, he heard a voice speaking quietly behind him. “Scared of heights?”
He jerked to attention. “Of course not. This is perfectly safe.”
“Safe from prying ears.” It was a woman’s voice. He did not recognize it. But he couldn’t turn enough to see her face. “You’re Jimmy Armstrong, right? You work with Daniel Pike.”
“I certainly do. You know something about the Belasco murder?”
“Maybe. I...knew George.”
He remembered what Maria told him about her meeting with Belasco’s widow. “You were his...girlfriend?”
“In a...vague sort of way.”
“Lover?”
Her voice elevated a bit. “Dominatrix.”
Chapter 21
Jimmy twisted around enough to see his mysterious informant. She was tall, and her face was partly obscured by the helmet. Her dark hair had a blue streak.
She pointed to a small alcove on the other end of a long double-wire path. “Think you can make it over there? It’s the closest thing to a chat spot up here.”
“Sure.” Jimmy soon realized that this next stretch of the course was the most difficult. He supposed that was why the alcove was on the other side. After all that exertion, you need a breather. There were no steps to rest your feet on this path. One strong but skinny wire below, and another overhead to grip.
Could he make it across? Yes. Was it easy? No. He suspected you were supposed to glide across using your sense of balance, but he found himself almost hauling himself across, clutching the upper wire for dear life.
