Compelling Evidence (22 page)

have listened to all of the testimony presented here," she says,

"examined all physical and documentary evidence. I have considered it all very carefully before rendering this decision. "The standard of evidence confronting this court is not that of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, and no judgment of this court can determine guilt or,innocence.

"the standard of proof here is that of probable cause. It is merely for this court to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to establish a reasonable belief that a crime has been committed and whether that evidence points to this defendant as the perpetrator."

This is fodder for the tube, a vain effort to keep the story in perspective, to avoid the unavoidable, the mantle of ‐14 being laid on the accused before trial. A legion of jurors will later be asked if they've heard about this case, if they anything about the defendant. Too many will say that they or saw somewhere that Talia Potter was the woman who MVM,@ her husband. By tonight the nuances of evidence and ifttip747

of proof, the notion that Talia is entitled to a clear and ionmt=‐7, presumption of innocence, will die on the Bps of this judge, in an onslaught of headlines and thirty‐second spots. Now O'Shaunasy reserves her gaze for Talia. "It is the judgment of this court that there is ample albeit circumstantial, that probable cause exists to believe Or'

Benjamin G. Potter died as a result of some criminal agency ii,_; that the defendant had ample opportunity and motive to 6100,610,C that crime.

"On the charge of violation of penal code section 187 in the first degree, there is sufficient evidence to believe that charged offense has been committed and that the defendant V,' Pearson Potter conartitted said offense. "Further, I find that special circumstances exist as OTI.M., by the district attorney with regard to the commission of @

crime and that she shall therefore be bound over for trial in.* superior court on a charge of murder in the first degree special circumstances.

"The filing of a formal criminal information is ordered ‐4o fifteen days. Arraignment is ordered at that time. The IMM7.0 is ordered into the custody of the sheriff, pending a mrr7q"", modification of bail."

It appears that Talia is no longer considered a minimal 1@ risk. Cheetam is on his feet. "Your Honor, we can conceive 0", possible reason why bail should be increased in this *tiww defendant has appeared at every hearing, cooperated in wi;@Wk, with these proceedings."

"That's true," O'Shaunasy concedes. "But your client is bound over for trial on a capital charge of murder. The of bail is one for the superior court. My order will stand. court stands adjourned."

Talia looks over at me, two tears cutting a furrow down each cheek.

"We'll get you out." Cheetam's making promises as the matron moves in behind Talia to escort her to the steel door that leads to the holding cells below. I lean over and speak into her ear. "I'll see you first thing in the morning," I say. "Yes, first thing," she says in a daze. I don't think she's heard me. I can't tell if she comprehends any of this.

She is taken by one arm, assisted at the elbow from behind, and led from the courtroom. My last view is of her descending the steps to the lower bowels of the building, to the cold holding cells and the van that will transport her to the night of noises and horror that is the Capitol County Jail.

CHAPTER 15.

AND so we meet in the lockup the next morning,

through glass‐encased tiny wire mesh, talking on a telephone, reading each other's minds. We are alone now, Talia and 1, that is, if you believe the official policy of the sheriff's department, which says they don't tap in on lawyers and their clients. Cheetain is now history, off to Houston or Dallas or some other damn place. His commitment to spring Talia from a cold cell was forgotten before he skipped down the courthouse steps. It died like every other hot flash of enthusiasm the man had, the victim of a more pressing agenda. "I have a bail hearing set for this afternoon. I'll try to hold the bail at $200,000," 1 tell her. She nods. "What if they won't go along?"

"Then I'll keep it as low as I can."

"I can't raise much more on the house," she says. "That house is worth at least a million and a half," I tell her. "But we owe on it. Our equity isn't much." She uses the plural pronoun as if Ben is waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces of her broken life. There is the first mortgage, and Ben took a second out on it last year."

"Did he need the money?"

"Things weren't going too well at the firm," she says. This is the first I'm hearing of this. "Ben was busy politicking for most of last year.

His draw from the firm was way down. We needed some of the money to live on. The rest he said he needed to cover some . business 11 This is like Talia, little details that seemed to slip through I cracks. She is filling me in now. "What debts?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Business," she says, as if this qsw@'. the universe. "Does your accountant have a current financial statement, thing he can fax me fast, for the hearing this afternoon?"

"Yes," she says. "I think so." She gives me his name T; can't remember his number. I'll have to get it from 111 4 11@_, tion.. "Bail's always relative," I tell her. "It turns on what the thinks is necessary to compel your. appearance. If you're i rr the magic figure may be lower."

She looks around her at the dreary gray walls and the ‐Toplìz countertop where she rests one elbow, the arm holding receiver. On Talia's side of the glass, the gray metal is *it, with the initials of some former occupant. One must 1.1111,o' where that soul obtained the sharp tool for this task, and boldness to wield it as a guard looked on.

"I don't know if I can stand another night in here."

She sweeps the hair back from her eyes. Talia without ii is still a striking woman. But her hair in twelve hours has 4 surrendered its luster to a single shampoo with a stringent W" fecting soap. This along with other indescribable indignities V, cost of admission to this place.

"I'll get you out " I say. But I almost choke on my 6wn vj*@, I'm beginning to sound like Cheetam. "If Ben were here he'd ..." She stopped, killing this OMW mid‐sentence, a victim of its own lack of logic. "If Ben were 7 r none of this would be happening." She laughs.

"I'm not 4rs.; " very well, am IT' "Can't imagine why," I say. This draws a little smile' "Are you in a single cell, alonet' I ask. "For most of the night. They put somebody in the other'," early this morning.

The noise in this place, how does sleept' "It's not billed as a five‐star hotel."

"Tell me about it."

"Listen, I don't have much time and we have a lot to qt, I'm going to get you out, but until I do, a few rules." I She looks at me, bright‐eyed, eager to cooperate. ‐41 5 4 : "First, don't talk to anybody. The police, the district attorneyone. Do you hear? If the cops want totalk, you ask for me. ey can't question you after that unless I'm present. That should b their curiosity." he nods. "Rule number two. This is more important than rule number ," I tell her. "Don't trust anybody in this place, no matter how e, no matter how helpful. Don't get involved in conversations h any of the occupants. Don't discuss your case. Don't tell m why you're here. If they watch TV or read, they know.

U're a hot item." he looks at me, a little naive. Then it settles on her. The curse very jailhouse, the informant, it's not just a confession you have to worry about. It's the little ils of your life. Tell some of these people where you were ‐or your mother's maiden name‐and in twenty minutes '11 craft your confession, sewing in these little facts for color. y'll tell the DA that you told them in the night, in the depth epression, between sobs in a crying jag, that you bared your I to them because you trusted them' Believe me," I tell her, y will package and sell you for an hour off their time in this e. I can believe it," she says. I'll get you out of here. That much I promise." It was a blood .

If for no other reason, my debt for complicity in.Cheetarn's acle. take a deep breath before tackling the next topic. It's ticklish. Cheetam's gone. Maybe you already know?" he nods. "Tony told me he couldn't go beyond the preliminary ng, something about a conflict. He said he would try to get somebody else." Her eyes are pleading with me. "Why can't take it?" she says. fou and Tony talked about that?" k little. He thinks you'd do a good job." Phis from the man who gave us the gold‐plated reference for ert Cheetam." didn't know Cheetam. I know you."' t doesn't lookgood," I tell her, "your case." 7ell me something I don't already know." m thinking I will have to deal with Nikki, her wrath, if I take I's case, and obtain her signature if I'm to get the money ) it. "You said you'd stay with me." Talia now calls this in h a chit. "I did, didn't L"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, then I guess if you want me, I'm yours."

"I want you," she says. There is a little giddiness here on her part.

Her mood, 4 wwwl expansive. She throws a mental party on the other side of ' glass. I sense that she was less than confident that I would r" the case.‐ I can tell that I have made her day. "I know it's not the time, but we have to talk about MMTVI@ "Pick a lawyer and the first thing he wants to talk io7o7t, money," she says.

ir

"Besides my fees there will be costs," I say, "expert lab tests. All the things that Cheetam. either didn't do or wrong. "Tony's handling all of that," she says. "He's handling money."

"I met with Tony at his

office the other night. He called Seem's he's getting nervous about the costs of defense."

"What's his problem? He knows I'm .10 going to sell him share in the firm when this is over."

W "Yeah, well, I hesitate to break the bad news, but I think. looking for a discount."

She says a single word of profanity, to herself, uirmimunt‐71 She is holding her head in her hands now, tilting it to one '. and cradling the phone with her shoulder, elbows propped cif countertop. I can no longer see her eyes. They are lost 11‐Aslf shower of stringy ringlets cascading over her face. I've knocked the wind out of her, killed the 4iijj= her celebration‐my news and this place, which breeds depression. "What does he want?" She speaks from this Pit. "He's offering cash in advance for a buy‐out of your ‐v;,@ interest in the firm,"

"How much?"

"I got him up to three hundred thousand. I think 174k higher. She shakes her head, hair tangled in her eyes, looking now, almost accusing. I can hear the little voice in her ;1 "You got him up to three hundred thousand for full ‐t=M@ interest in a firm worth ten million. Wonderful!

Were _=1 to do me any other little favors while you were at it?"

"It's absurd," I tell her. "I told him I'd communicate the offer, but that I wouldn't recommend it‐that I was confident that you would not take it."

These words are brave, considering that Talia now sits in jail, perhaps lacking the financial wherewithal to post her own bail, "Skarpelles."

She shakes her head in despair. "Ben always said he had a gift for business."

"The man knows when to make an offer," I say. "The man's a world‐class shit," she says., It's the first harsh word I've heard from her during the months.of her travail. The fitst time she has blamed another living soul for any part of her plight. Talia is many things, but never a complainer. I take it as a sign of the stress she is under. "What else can I do?"

She's says this matter‐offactly. As if she has made a mercurial decision to take the Greek's offer. "You can keep your cool. Don't panic. For now I have him believing that money is no problem. Seems I've broken his lever," This thought gives me happy eyes, which she reads from beyond the glass. "How?"

"Told him I might take a piece of your action for myself. That I might finance the defense out of my pocket, take a note from you, secured on Ben's interest in the firm. You should have seen the look," I tell her.

"I can imagine." There is a brief moment of satisfaction. A light, airy smile. Then she turns serious. "Still," she says, "Skarpellos is nobody to toy with. He can hurt you in a hundred ways, all of them legal.

Besides, where would you get the money?"

"Not to worry," I say. "I can get it."

If she has to sleep in this place for another night, I may have at least removed one cause for insomnia. "I have to go now. To prepare for the bail hearing. Harry will be by later to talk to you. While you're in here, either he or I will be by twice a day. A friendly face," I tell her. "it will keep you from talking to su=gers."

"Tod will be by later too."

I'm a bit surprised by this. %ile he was there for at least part of each day of the preliminary hearing, discreet in the back of the cowuoom, I would have thought that by now, with all of her troubles, Tod Hamilton would view Talia as a sure career‐stopper. "Don't discuss the case with him," I tell her. "It's a little late for that. He knows what there is to know.'i" The way she says this, with my recollection of their jj@.) conversation the night we talked at her house about the ‐sofm@! , handgun, I wonder whether Tod knows more than I do. "Don't discuss the case with him. Whatever you've told ‐.04 before may be privileged. He's part of the firm. As long as I @.,i associated with P&S, I could argue that his lips were sealed the lawyer‐client privilege. That may all change now."

She nods. I think she understands. "I'll see you in court this afternoon." We put down the receivers, and before I leave, I watch she is ushered through a heavy steel door at the side of visiting room.

Nelson is pressing for the sky. He says he's prepared to ask three million in bail on Talia. I'm incredulous. I rain fury on as we talk over the phone. "It's outrageous," I say. "No court will permit it."

"Not at all," he says. "Whatever it takes to secure the@ old' dant's appearance at trial. This is a lady with big bucks. 4 hundred thousand‐hell, that's travelin' money."

"Her assets are tied up. She's cash‐starved. Three say, "you may as well move that she be denied bail i

"It's an idea," he says. "You're

overreaching," I tell him. "On what grounds? "IT., " lady's a serial killer‐‐that she's been out beating up ‐atmt‐r‐, She doesn't even have a passport," I tell him. It was true. was so busy doing business that he hadn't taken a vacation than three days since he'd married her. And Talia, while hadn't yet hit on the idea of separate vacations. She found outlets for her energies, diversions closer to home. "We'll see," he says. "Listen, ask for some reasonable amount of bail and vmili what we can to raise it." I'm trying a little sugar now. anybody. I'm straight.