"It does to me, too," Johnson said. "Mr. Hardy, you're not going to imply, I hope, that some unknown serial killer might be guilty of the crimes for which your client is charged."
"Your honor, with respect, it's not a question of might. I was in the Hall of Justice last night with Deputy Chief Glitsky. He identified a defendant in a seventeen-year-old case with connections to Allan Boscacci as well as to all the so-called Executioner victims…"
"And you're saying the victims in this case…"
"I'm saying Mike Mooney and Laura Wright were killed by the Executioner, yes."
"Excuse me," Brandt said again. "Did I miss something? Have they caught him?"
"No."
"Has someone confessed?"
Hardy came back to Johnson. "That's not the point, your honor. Glitsky knows who he is, but hasn't been able to identify him yet by name."
Johnson barked a note of derision. "So he's known but unidentified, whatever that means. It seems we've gotten to quite a long throw from whether or not Mr. Bartlett is an adult."
"I'm getting there, your honor."
"You are? You know, Mr. Hardy, I don't believe you are. Is Mr. Bartlett somehow related to this known but unidentified Executioner?"
"No."
"May I ask how you can know that one way or the other if you don't know who the man is?" The judge gathered himself for a moment, then pointed an accusatory finger at Hardy. "This is exactly the type of alternative theory hocus-pocus that I warned you against at the outset, and warned you again before we came back here to chambers."
"But this isn't hocus-pocus, your honor. You can call Deputy Chief Glitsky and-"
Johnson finally raised his voice. "I don't have to call anyone! If there is strong enough evidence to warrant revisiting the charges against Mr. Bartlett, I'm sure Mr. Brandt will hear about it from the district attorney. Mr. Brandt, have you gotten any calls today on this topic?"
"No, your honor."
He turned to Hardy. "Then this court is going to assume, Mr. Hardy, that the current charges are still in effect. If Mr. Bartlett is demonstrably innocent of them, I'm sure that Mr. Jackman will drop them and let Mr. Brandt know as soon as he can. But in the meanwhile, until I hear otherwise, Mr. Bartlett is in the middle of an administrative process to determine where he gets tried. That's all that's happening here. Enough of this!"
Hardy, in a bit of a fury of his own, took a step forward, moving into the judge's personal space. "To the contrary, your honor, with all respect. There has not been enough of this. If it's your decision to refuse to hear what I've got to say, then when we get outside I'm going to open up by making a representation to the court and getting it on the record."
Johnson glared at him. "Talk all you want, Mr. Hardy. Sooner or later you'll have to stop and we'll get on with it."
"If it please the court." They were all back in the courtroom. Hardy didn't even sit down, but got back to his table, turned and spoke. "Last night, acting on information received from a classmate of Andrew Bartlett, I spoke to a woman named Catherine Bass, who was at one time the wife of Michael Mooney." Because proceedings in juvenile court were kept confidential, Hardy could bring up the bare fact of Mooney's sexuality here if he needed to and still keep it out of the public record. But now he realized with some relief that there was no reason even for that. "She informed me, and subsequently I have verified it as true, that in 1984, Michael Mooney served on a jury here in San Francisco in the case of People v. Lucas Welding, a murder case. The prosecutor in that case was Allan Boscacci. Other members of that jury included"- Hardy looked down and checked his notes-"Elizabeth Cary, born Elizabeth Reed, Edith Montrose, Philip Wong, and Morris Tollman. All of these people, the jurors I've mentioned and Allan Boscacci, have been murder victims in the past three weeks."
Next to him, he heard Andrew- his neck brace gone now- whisper to Wu, "Is that true?" Even within the bullpen, he saw the bailiffs exchange glances with each other and then the court recorder. Johnson picked up his gavel, then put it back down. It was the first time that he was hearing all of this in detail, and Hardy hoped that the recitation would make an impression.
"Upon receiving this information, I immediately called San Francisco's deputy chief of inspectors, Abe Glitsky, and subsequently met him at the Hall of Justice, where he discovered that Lucas Welding, who had been convicted and sentenced to life in prison for the murder of his wife, had recently won a reversal of his conviction based upon DNA evidence that had not been presented at the original trial. He had been ordered released from prison, but during the course of his appeal, he had developed cancer and ultimately died at the infirmary at the Corcoran Penitentiary before he could be released."
Hardy stopped, wondering if that was enough. It certainly had been plenty for him and Glitsky. He threw a look over to Brandt, but the prosecutor was sitting slumped in his chair, his head down, his hands clasped on his lap. Johnson himself appeared to be waiting for more, and if that door was open, Hardy thought he should walk through it.
"Deputy Chief Glitsky has assigned several inspectors first to find and protect the other jurors from the Welding case, and second to identify and locate anyone who might have had a relationship with Welding, and whose rage over Welding's seventeen years of incarceration for a crime he did not commit might have become a motive for the murders of Allan Boscacci and several members of the convicting jury." He paused to let his words reverberate for a moment, then added. "Including," he said, "the murder of Michael Mooney."
Brandt was sitting up straight now. Johnson was taking some notes at the podium. When he was finished, he looked up. His eyes went first to Brandt, then to the gallery, where Hal and Linda were whispering, then finally back to the defense table. "Thank you, Mr. Hardy. Your representation is noted for the record. Is that the substance of it?"
"Yes, your honor."
"All right, then, let's move on. Do you have another witness for this seven-oh-seven proceeding?"
"Wait a minute." Andrew's voice was still fairly hoarse, but carried in the courtroom. "If you know that somebody else killed Mooney…"
Behind him, Hardy heard the Norths and he turned. Hal was on his feet. "That ought to be the end of this," he was saying. Both bailiffs- Nelson and Cottrell- stood quickly and moved out from their positions on either wall.
"But this is nuts," Andrew was saying to Wu. "It proves what I've been saying from the beginning." He got to his feet and spoke up to the court in general, back to his mother. "It's what I've been telling you guys all along…"
Johnson gaveled him quiet. A sharp, loud crack. "I'll have order in this courtroom. Mr. North, sit down. Mr. Hardy, Ms. Wu, I'm warning you, get your client under control." Both bailiffs stopped in their tracks for a moment, then Cottrell, with a warning glare at Wu and Hardy, walked out through the bullpen gate and into the gallery.
Hardy turned and watched Cottrell as he continued back past the Norths and positioned himself by the back door.
Wu stood up. "But, your honor, surely the import of Mr. Hardy's-"
Johnson brought down his gavel again. "Ms. Wu. I said that's enough."
Shaking her head in frustation and anger, Wu shared a look with Hardy, put her hand on Andrew's arm to calm him, and sat back down. Hardy was still on his feet. "Your honor," he said, "it's obvious to everyone in this courtroom that Andrew Bartlett did not kill Mike Mooney."
Brandt was up across the room. "Your honor, if it please the court. It's not obvious to me. I've got an eyewitness and a great deal of evidence that says he did. And what about the other victim in this case, Laura Wright? Andrew Bartlett's girlfriend? Does defense counsel contend that she was on this Mr. Welding's bad luck jury, too?"