Despite his sour mood, Quinn found irony in Marc's statement. "That's what I've been saying all along."
60
On Friday morning, Quinn showed up at all the local Las Vegas network affiliates and played cat and mouse with national hosts interviewing him via live satellite feeds. At 5:45 a.m. Pacific time, Quinn was sitting in the CBS studios, staring down yet another camera for his fourth and last interview of the morning. The national host of The Early Show was Thomas Kirkland, young and energetic with a full head of blond anchorman hair and a beaming white smile. He sat on a brown leather couch with his cohost and fired questions at Quinn, zeroing in on the latest evidence in Catherine O'Rourke's case.
"You and Mr. Boland have previously denied that your client committed these crimes," stated Kirkland. "Has this new evidence changed that strategy? Some have speculated that Mr. Boland might have brought you in to quarterback an insanity defense."
Quinn focused on the red light and gave the camera a serious look. "First of all, Mr. Boland is a highly capable defense lawyer and wouldn't need my help to put on an insanity defense. But sometimes a second set of eyes will see things the lead lawyer would have missed. With regard to an insanity defense, let's put it this way: the Catherine O'Rourke that I know would never have committed these heinous crimes."
He paused, reminding himself to tread lightly. The problem with live television, as Quinn knew all too well, was that once you uttered a phrase, you could never take it back.
Looking directly into the camera, Quinn continued, "Does that mean some other manifestation of Catherine O'Rourke-a second independent personality that she doesn't even know exists-couldn't possibly have committed this crime? I'm not willing to say one way or the other at this point, Tom. I do know that Catherine has suffered the kind of trauma in her life that can sometimes give rise to multiple personalities. Until we have a solid diagnosis, I just can't say."
Kirkland slid forward a little. "So you haven't actually ruled out an insanity defense?"
"We haven't ruled it in. We haven't ruled it out."
"What specific incidents in Ms. O'Rourke's past are you referencing?"
"I'm not prepared to say at this point."
Thomas Kirkland frowned. He was a host for a national news show. He obviously considered it his birthright to know everything. "When will you make the call on whether to plead insanity?"
"As soon as the psychiatric evaluation is complete."
"Is that in a few days? a few weeks?"
Quinn saw the cameraman flash a card. Three minutes left in the segment. Quinn would wait until the last possible moment to make a strong argument for Catherine's innocence. That way, Kirkland wouldn't have time to follow up before the break.
"A week. Maybe two," Quinn said.
"Let me shift gears for a second," Kirkland said.
Though the anchorman's tone was casual, Quinn's red flags went up.
"I want to ask a couple of questions about your sister's case."
Quinn became more rigid. Annie's case hadn't been mentioned in the interview request. "Okay."
"A few days ago, we reported that you were discussing a potential plea bargain with the state of Nevada, a deal where your client would plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter and serve three years. Care to comment on that?"
"Not at this time," Quinn said. "I will say that I'm always willing to talk with the government. No trial is without risk, especially this one."
"Okay," Kirkland said tentatively, twisting his brow as if Quinn's answer didn't make much sense.
Arrogant jerk.
"Then let me ask you this, and I hesitate to even bring this up, but we have confirmed sources, and we believe this to be an important part of a story that has attracted national interest…"
Quinn saw it coming, like a train wreck he couldn't avoid. His throat constricted, and he felt the blood rushing to his face.
"Is it true that your client's daughter was admitted to the hospital after an attempt to take her own life? And if so, will that enter into your decision about whether to take any proffered plea bargain?"
Unbelievable! Quinn wanted to jump through the camera and strangle the man. Humiliating Sierra on national TV!
"I can't believe you would ask that question," Quinn said in a low voice, staring at the camera. "I just cannot believe you would violate this young girl's privacy like this." He felt his voice rising, veins bulging in his neck. "How is that relevant? How can you live with yourself, humiliating a thirteen-year-old?"
"Mr. Newberg, we know this is an emotional issue for your-"
But Quinn wasn't listening. He pulled the earpiece out and jerked the wire loose from his collar. In one motion, he stood and pulled the battery pack from his waist, dropping it to the floor. Without another word, he walked past the camera, grabbed his briefcase, and stormed out of the room before he said something he might really regret.
He fumed all the way to his car in the parking garage, his rage literally blurring his vision. He couldn't believe they would do this. Aren't there any boundaries anymore?
He started his car and dialed Carla Duncan's office number. When voice mail kicked in, he remembered how early it was. "I just finished an interview on CBS's Early Show," he said, his voice edged with tension. "They asked about Sierra's suicide attempt. I swear, Carla, if anybody from your office leaked that information, they're going to regret the day they were born." He hesitated; the message seemed so inadequate for how he felt. He pushed the End button.
It didn't have to be Carla's office, he knew. The leak could have come from someone at the hospital or someone at the clerk's office or just someone who knew Annie and wanted to make a quick buck. He might never find out who it was.
In the meantime, he had to think about damage control.
He dialed Annie's number, and she answered on the first ring. "I know," she said. "I was watching."
61
After the Friday morning incident, Quinn swore off media interviews. He would try his case in court, the old-fashioned way. He refused to watch TV or pick up a newspaper. He gave terse "no comments" when the media hounds stuck microphones in his face.
The hospital released Sierra late Friday morning, and both Sierra and Annie came to stay with Quinn. He gave them the single bedroom and relegated himself to the couch. Technically it was a violation of the court's order concerning Annie's bail, but Quinn didn't care. Things had changed. Sierra needed her mom. The media had embarrassed Sierra in front of the entire world. Quinn was going to protect his family.
He talked to Marc Boland on four separate occasions Friday evening. "CBS overstepped their bounds," Marc told him. "You did the right thing by walking out."
Both lawyers agreed they should waive Catherine's preliminary hearing. Marc said he would petition the court for an early trial date, and Quinn gave Marc his available dates. Quinn still felt like Benedict Arnold for not telling his co-counsel that he planned to withdraw.
The phone number from the Virginia Beach jail showed up on Quinn's cell a couple of times over the weekend, no doubt Catherine O'Rourke calling collect, but Quinn ignored it. He felt guilty enough about withdrawing; there was no sense aggravating those feelings by talking to Catherine.
Being around Sierra and Annie throughout the weekend was a painful experience. They all felt like captives in Quinn's two-million-dollar condo. A small pack of reporters waited just outside the gates of the complex for a glimpse of Las Vegas's current celebrities. Annie and Sierra refused to leave the condo, and to Quinn it felt like everyone was walking on eggshells. Sierra retreated inside herself, slumping her thin shoulders even more than usual and mumbling soft answers when Quinn or Annie asked her questions. The three of them watched a lot of movies.