Corrupted (41 page)

The lunch break couldn't come soon enough.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Bennie met with Jason in the secure meeting room, huddled at the tiny table and wolfing down her cheese sandwich. She had to eat quickly because she had other plans for the rest of the lunch break. Lou was still outside, presumably spying on Karen and Doreen. He would be back any minute, if only for his roast beef special with extra Russian dressing.

“Jason, how you doing?” Bennie asked, between mouthfuls.

“How do you think I'm doing?” Jason had barely touched his sandwich, sipping Coke from a warm can.

“You should eat something. It's going to be a tough afternoon.”

“Who are they putting on the stand?”

“I don't know.”

“Then how do you know it'll be tough?”

“That's what's tough, that we don't know. So, eat.” Bennie felt like his mother all over again, between answering his questions, encouraging him to eat, and dealing with his moodiness in general.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Okay, so tell me what's going on with you.”

“I don't know.”

“Jason, you know.” Bennie wanted to stay patient, but it wasn't easy. “Tell me what's happening. Was there something in the testimony you have a question about? Or do you have a reaction to anything?”

“I don't want to get on the stand.”

“We're going to table that discussion for now. What else?” Bennie sensed his new mood was about the gory crime-scene photograph. “How did you feel when you saw that photograph of Richie in the alley?”

“What are you, my shrink?”

“No, your lawyer, trying to save your ass.” Bennie met his gaze hard, and Jason looked away.

“I felt funny, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Don't tell me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth. How do you feel?”

“Like I said, funny,” Jason shot back, setting his soda can on the table.

“What else? Pick more words.”

“Weird, strange.”

“How about sad?” Bennie wasn't coaching him, she wanted to know.

“I don't know.”

“Let's try another approach.” Bennie popped the tab of Diet Coke. “When you went to the police station after Richie was killed, you said you were glad he was dead. When you looked at the photograph today, did you still feel that way?”

“No.” Jason swallowed hard, finally meeting her eye, and the first word that came to Bennie's mind was, haunted.

“Okay, that's a start. You didn't feel glad. So you're not happy he's dead?”

“No.”

“Okay, how do you feel if you're not happy and you're not glad?” Bennie sensed that Jason was inching toward something important, but she didn't want to put words in his mouth.

“I feel bad.” Jason's thin lips turned down at the corner, twitching slightly. “I feel bad that it happened. I wish it were different. I wish…”

“Go ahead, Jason. Finish the sentence.”

“I don't know, I just wish it were all different. I wish it never happened. I felt bad when I heard his mom cry. I know she's wacky and all, but I felt bad when I heard her crying.” Jason's eyes filmed suddenly, and Bennie fought the impulse to comfort him because she didn't want the emotion to vanish.

“Good, I understand that feeling. I felt the same way you did.”

“It's sad that she'll never get him back. It's sad for his mom.” Jason's pale skin flushed, and he blinked his eyes clear.

“You know the way you feel now, sad for them all? Even for Richie? I want you to remember this feeling, because if I put you up on the witness stand and I think I'm going to have to, I want you to be able to say that.”

“No, Bennie—”

“Yes, if you get up there, I'm going to ask you to say it to her and I'm going to ask you to mean it, from the heart. And you do, I know you do. I knew you did in that courtroom, and I know it now.” Bennie spoke softly, but with conviction, feeling better about him again. “Hold on to that sadness. No matter what kind of a jerk Richie was, he was a human being and he didn't deserve to die in an alley like that. And if you're a human being, you
should
feel sad about that.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and they both turned as the sheriff opened it and let Lou inside. He closed the door only partway, agitated. “Bennie, you need to get out there.”

“What's going on?” Bennie grabbed her napkin, wiped her mouth, and stood up.

“Doreen got upset, and Karen took her into the ladies' room.”

“Oh boy.” Bennie gestured at Jason. “Please eat if you can, ask Lou any questions you have, and I'll see you back in the courtroom.”

“Where are you going?”

Lou sat down, reaching for his wrapped sandwich. “She has to powder her nose.”

“Nobody says that anymore, Lou.” Bennie slipped out of the door, hurried down the tile hallway, where she knocked until the sheriff let her into the courtroom. It was partly empty, with the staff eating lunch at their desks, and Bennie left the courtroom and let herself out into the wide corridor, which was emptying for lunch.

She passed through the elevator bank, entered the vast lobby, and made a beeline for the ladies' room. She opened the door to find Karen next to the sink with Doreen, who had stopped crying, but was holding a paper towel underneath her mascaraed eyelashes. Both women looked up, surprised at Bennie's appearance, and Doreen's mouth dropped open in outrage as she took the towel from her eyes.

“Get out of here!” Doreen spat out, her eyes burning in a way that took Bennie back over a decade.

“I'm here to speak to Karen.” Bennie turned to the reporter. “Karen, I have half an hour right now, if you want to meet.”

“Fine, great. Doreen, we'll continue this later.” Karen gave Doreen's shoulder a final squeeze, then followed Bennie out of the ladies' room.

“Karen, I'm so glad we could grab a minute to talk,” Bennie said, heading back toward the courtroom.

“Good, I'm glad, too.” Karen fell into step beside her, toting a massively oversized messenger bag, standard issue for every reporter.

“Let's go to the attorneys' conference room, this way. It'll be more private.”

“Great.” Karen looked up at Bennie, hurrying along. “I've been trying to get ahold of you, but I know how you are with the press.”

“That was then, this is now.” Bennie walked her back toward the courtroom and entered the attorneys' conference room, another white windowless box with orange-padded chairs and a small Formica table. “Please, sit down.”

“You don't mind if I record this, do you?” Karen dug in her bag, pulled out a small bronze-toned tape recorder, switched it on, and set it on the table.

“Not at all.” Bennie sat down, easing into her mission. She wanted to plant their side of the story and block Karen from spending more alone time with Doreen.

“Okay, so.” Karen tucked a strand of dark, straight hair into a practical ponytail at the nape of her neck. “Why are you being so forthcoming? God knows, it's not like you.”

“I'm not going to bullshit you, Karen. I've been watching you all morning, sitting with Doreen Grusini. I don't like that you're getting only one side of the story.”

“Wow, okay.” Karen's dark brown eyes lit up, and she flashed a smile that wasn't especially warm. She had on a plain brownish cotton sweater, jeans, and flats, a practical girl after Bennie's own heart.

“So ask me anything. I'm yours. Here, I can give you the background and information that I could never get into evidence in there.”

“Are you gonna put Lefkavick on the stand?”

“Ask me anything except that.” Bennie smiled. “You know I can't discuss the particulars of this case with you, not while it's ongoing.”

“If you're not going to put him on the stand, who are your witnesses?”

“I'll get you a copy of my witness list, if you haven't seen it already.”

“I got a copy of the witness list, but all you do is list their witnesses.”

“It's an old habit of mine. I used to do it all the time in civil cases, and most civil lawyers do. You never know who you're going to need to call from their side and you don't want to be caught without a name on the list.” Bennie shifted gears. “Now, let's get to what I wanted to talk to you about, because this case is not just a simple murder case, though it looks that way.”

“You're trying to spin this?” Karen's eyes narrowed.

“No, I'm trying to make sure you understand that the story has a much larger dimension than you think, because you don't have all the facts. Do you want to write a big story or small story?” Bennie didn't
Pulitzer
, because she didn't have to. It was the first thing on any reporter's mind, especially with all the changes in the newspaper business. Winning a big prize was the only way to keep your job these days.

“Obviously, I'd rather write a big story.”

“Then you need to talk to me, because I was there when this all began, over a decade ago in Luzerne County. It was right after 9/11 and the very beginning of the war in Afghanistan. I represented Jason Lefkavick in his juvenile action.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you're representing him now? I admit, I was surprised to see you in a run-of-the-mill murder case.”

“Yes, and now you know.” Bennie prepared herself to eat crow, if it helped Jason's case. “The truth is, I have history with this defendant, and that's why this case is about a lot more than a run-of-the-mill murder case.”

“What do you mean?” Karen reached into her bag, extracted her skinny reporter's notebook, and flipped it open. She'd stored a ballpoint pen in its spiral coil, and slid it out neatly.

“Well, you heard me talk in there about Kids-for-Cash, and how both my client and Mr. Grusini were victims of that scandal. I can give you details, right now, and I'd be happy to, exclusively.”

“Great.”

“To me, the real story here is about justice, and whether it can be attained in the wake of a judicial corruption scandal like that. It's a scandal that sent two judges to jail for decades, but when you see what's happening in that courtroom, you really have to wonder what justice means.” Bennie warmed to her topic, which she believed in, even though she felt like a fisherman baiting a hook. “I can give you the transcripts and even the pleadings of the juvenile case. I have my client's waiver of his attorney-client privilege with respect to that action. You couldn't ordinarily get those papers because they're sealed and now the records have even been expunged, since the scandal came to light.”

“I would really appreciate that.” Karen smiled, scribbling away.

“You might also be interested to know that my client, and presumably Mr. Grusini, received compensation for their wrongful incarceration, to the tune of about $5000. But you really have to ask yourself how you can compensate somebody for a childhood. You really have to wonder how you can do justice, even now. Or ever.”

Karen kept taking notes, and Bennie didn't need encouragement to continue. It was what she wished she could say in court but was restrained not to, and it never hurt to have public opinion on Jason's side. If she won an acquittal, it could even make Martinez think twice before filing an appeal.

Bennie continued, “You really need to ask in this story, isn't it true that when there is no justice, there is no peace? Is there a better illustration than in this case? Because in my opinion, I do not think we would be in this courtroom today, if it were not for the judicial corruption scandal that took place in Luzerne County.”

“Really.” Karen looked up from her notes, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Are you prepared to say that on the record?”

“I just did.”

“Okay, I have a few specific questions about that.”

“Take your time,” Bennie said, with another smile.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The trial resumed after the lunch break, and both Judge Patterson and the jury seemed fresher to Bennie, as well as more comfortable, having settled into the courtroom. She was also happy to see that the Commonwealth's next witness, an expert named Dr. Liam Pettis, was one she had faced before and even liked. Dr. Pettis came off like everybody's favorite uncle: bright blue eyes behind tiny gold glasses, an egg-shaped bald head with bright white tufts of hair above each furry ear, and jowls that had grown even softer with age. He had on a seersucker suit that she would have sworn he wore the last time she saw him, and it fit tightly on his small, pudgy frame.

Martinez took Dr. Pettis through his expert qualifications, which only made the witness flush with a modesty that Bennie knew was completely genuine, and she marveled again that such a sweet old man could be an expert in one of the most gruesome areas of forensic science, blood spatter analysis.

Martinez faced the witness box. “Dr. Pettis, we have established that you are a licensed physician, as well as a lecturer at police academies across the country on blood spatter analysis. Would you please explain to the jury, in layman's term, what is blood spatter analysis?”

“As I always say, blood spatter analysis is simply an analysis of the pattern of bloodstains.” Dr. Pettis spoke directly to the jury, his voice creaky and soft, so they listened harder. “All it means is that when blood is acted upon by physical forces, it will deposit itself on items at a crime scene or the clothing of a perpetrator in a distinct pattern. We re-create and study these patterns in a lab, using the blood of pigs and other animals. By understanding these patterns, we can surmise much about the way in which the crime occurred.”

“And Dr. Pettis, is this true whether the murder was committed with a gun, knife, or even a fist?”