I shake my head. “Your Honor, my client was a conduit between the actual killer and the police. The police used him as such; they directed him in his dealings with the real killer. This all took place before he was a suspect. He was an integral part of their investigation, and as such we should be privy to all aspects of that investigation.”
Tucker objects again; he is on fairly solid legal ground, and it would take a surprise ruling by Calvin for us to prevail. My hope is that he will bend over backward to give us every chance, knowing that if we lose this death penalty case, appeals courts will be scrutinizing his rulings for years.
“I’m inclined to grant the defense motion,” Calvin says as Tucker does a double take. “If there are cases where the prosecution contends that innocent third parties will be injured by these documents being turned over to the defense, then I will review them in camera.”
I never expected to win this motion, so I might as well press my luck. “Thank you, Your Honor. We also request that we be provided with any prior police investigative reports concerning Ms. Linda Padilla, beyond those relating to her murder. We believe they may reveal others with a possible motive to have caused her death.”
This possible linkage of Linda Padilla to unsavory characters gets the press mumbling and Tucker jumping to his feet. His frustration is obvious. “Your Honor, there is no foundation for this. There is nothing in those reports relating to this case.”
Calvin nails him. “You’ve read those reports, have you?” He knows Tucker would have had no reason or occasion to read old, unrelated police investigative reports on Linda Padilla, yet Tucker has just said there’s nothing relevant in them.
“I’m sorry, I misspoke, Your Honor. I actually don’t even know if such reports exist. But unless they contain information about Mr. Cummings, they certainly could have nothing to do with this trial and therefore are not covered by discovery rules in this state.”
Calvin gives us another win, albeit a smaller one. He will look at those reports in camera but only give them to us if there is anything that could be beneficial to our defense.
I once again bring up the question of bail, though I’m aware it’s always a nonstarter in a capital case. “Are you trying to waste the court’s time, Mr. Carpenter?” Calvin asks.
“No, Your Honor, I am trying to prevent a man who has never previously been charged with a crime, who is not a flight risk, and who has always been a distinguished member of the community from sitting in a jail cell while we get around to finding him not guilty.”
Tucker stands. “Your Honor, the state-”
Calvin cuts him off. “Request for bail is denied. What’s next?”
I stand. “Your Honor, we have filed a motion for change of venue with the court. We feel strongly that the already strong public awareness and reaction, which has been further inflamed by Mr. Zachry’s self-serving press conferences, has made it impossible to empanel an impartial jury. We-”
He cuts me off. “I read the motion, as well as the prosecution’s response. It may take a little longer than usual, but we’ll get our jury. Motion denied. We finished here, gentlemen?”
We’re not quite finished, though my last issue is sure to be a loser. “Your Honor, Mr. Zachry has been telling the press that his case is airtight on all four murders, yet he’s held back charging my client for the first three. He’s obviously concerned that his airtight case might spring a leak, and he might need a second chance if he loses this one. I would therefore request that he not be allowed to use evidence from those other murders unless he includes them in the charges for this trial.”
Tucker states his position directly from the statute, which is that the other evidence is “proof of motive, opportunity, intent and preparation.” I know I’m not going to win; I’m simply creating an issue for appeal.
Calvin rules against us, and I head back to the office to brief Kevin and Laurie on my conversation with Randy Clemens. They’re more hopeful about it than I am, probably because they don’t understand Randy’s desperation to find something that will free him.
“So he said it was all about Linda Padilla?” Laurie asks.
“He didn’t mention her name; I think he was afraid we’d be overheard. But he referred to the ‘rich’ victim, and I don’t see how the others qualify.”
Marcus calls from Cleveland to fill us in on his progress, and we put him on the speakerphone. Talking to most people on the phone is not quite the same as talking in person; there are facial expressions and body language that can be almost as important as the spoken words. Marcus is a notable exception. The inanimate phone captures his expression and mannerisms quite well, is just as bald, and contains the same percentage of body fat.
Marcus has talked to the detective that was assigned to the murder of Margaret Cummings, Daniel’s wife. He tells us that the detective is shedding no tears for Daniel’s current plight, since he has always had a hunch that Daniel was behind Margaret’s death.
Daniel was widely considered a solid citizen in Cleveland, and support for him through his ordeal was almost unanimous, the detective being the notable exception.
“Does he think Daniel pulled the trigger?” Laurie asks.
“Unh-unh . . . farmed.” That is Marcus-speak for “No, the detective is of the opinion that our client employed a subcontractor to do the actual deed on his behalf.”
Marcus goes on to grunt that a young man had been arrested for the murder but that the case against him fell apart, and he was no longer a suspect.
Marcus has certainly not found any real evidence implicating Daniel, which is no surprise, since apparently the Cleveland police didn’t either. I ask him to stay in Cleveland and keep digging, though it makes me slightly uncomfortable to do so. The truth is that there is little chance he can uncover anything to help Daniel’s defense against the multiple-murder charges. If I were to be honest with myself, which I try to do as rarely as possible, I would admit that I’m hoping Marcus can help me learn more about who it really is we are defending.
The weekend starts tonight, and I am very much looking forward to it. Laurie is going to spend the entire time at my house, which at first glance seems like an increase in our normal scheduled time, but really isn’t. That’s because it’s a college and pro football weekend, which means that even though we’ll be in the same house, we’ll have almost no daytime interaction.
As we get close to the trial date, we’ll all be working seven-day weeks, but we’re still far enough away that we can have some relaxation. Tonight’s relaxation consists of sitting in my living room and watching Godfather I and II on DVD on my big-screen TV. It’s the one large purchase I’ve made since coming into my money, and it has been worth every penny.
Laurie and I sit on my couch and watch the movies, a bowl of popcorn and Tara between us. Tara positions herself there so she can be petted from both sides, and neither of us minds. It is literally stunning how right these times with Laurie feel, and for the first time it flashes through my mind that maybe we should get married.
The next flash is the realization that Laurie has never brought the subject up, not even once, not even in passing. I’ve always been pleased by that, relieved actually, but now I’m starting to wonder. Shouldn’t she be plotting to win me? Pressuring me to make an honest woman out of her? Telling me her goddamn clock is ticking?
I decide not to bring the subject up, but the next thing I know it’s dribbling out of my mouth. “You never bring up marriage,” I say.