The Accused (19 page)

“Did Colonel Marlowe at any time tell you that he was privy to matters of national security regarding this information?”

“Sir, well…this is what the colonel said—I asked whether we were chasing four bad guys—and he said yes, but then added, ‘four plus.' And I asked the colonel what the ‘plus' was—and he just shook his head and said he couldn't share anything more—it was a need-to-know basis—and these were matters of national security.”

Stickton snapped to his feet and fired off an objection.

“Sir, the use of a national-security defense is inappropriate—there are no facts to support this attempt by Master Sergeant Rockwell to defend his commanding officer. That issue is not before this hearing—the defense is trying to sanitize Colonel Marlowe's reckless intent under the guise of his being in possession of national-security information.”

Colonel Rogers looked down from the bench at Will. He was not happy. After a few seconds of thought he addressed the defense table.

“Gentlemen, you are making reference to a matter of possible national security. Are you trying to persuade me that a commanding officer of a Marine Expeditionary Unit ordered fire into a little house at the edge of Chacmool, Mexico, because of some matter of national security—is that what you're really asking me to accept?”

Will looked over at Colonel Marlowe. Their gazes met, and he knew only his client had the remaining information. He had been kept in the dark by his own client regarding the most important elements of the case—what Marlowe knew, and why he had acted as he did—why he had made a reference to ‘collateral damage'—and why he was willing to assume the risk of injury or even death to civilians in the house.

But the attorney also knew what he had
not
been told. Marlowe had been abrupt and absolute in his refusal to talk about the configuration of his unit. DOD had stood fast on the order that there was to be no reference to the military identity of the team that the colonel had led.

To Will, then, that left only one conclusion. And to the extent that he could draw a logical deduction, he was about to try to explain it to Colonel Rogers, the presiding investigating officer.

“What I am asking Colonel Rogers to note and accept is the fact that
no one
has identified the actual mission unit that Colonel Marlowe was commanding. There is no proof that it was a part of a Marine Expeditionary Unit.
No one
has testified to that. And, in fact, I
don't
believe it was an MEU detachment that Colonel Marlowe was leading that day.

“Mr. Investigating Officer, the record in this case will reflect that DOD has placed restrictions on certain evidence, including any reference to the military configuration of Colonel Marlowe's unit. It is classified information. That fact alone is a corroboration of what Master Sergeant Rockwell recalls being discussed in that helicopter before it reached the drop zone. The DOD directive instructing all of us to refrain from speaking openly about the type of unit being led by Colonel Marlowe is supportive proof that there were national-security interests involved that night—and that the colonel was the only one on the ground who actually knew it.”

Colonel Rogers leaned back in his chair, but did not take long to deliberate.

“Here is my ruling on this matter—I am
not
going to admonish Master Sergeant Rockwell and am going to leave his answer on the record—for whatever value it has. On the other hand, I'm instructing you, defense counsel, not to pursue any further questions on this matter. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Will responded. “With that, the defense rests.”

As Will sat back at the counsel table, neither he or Major Hanover, nor trial counsel Stickton or his associate, knew exactly how to assess what had just happened.

But Stickton was experienced enough to know a field laden with land mines when he saw it. He would not venture into this area with redirect examination. And pursuant to Colonel Rogers' directive, Will Chambers was forbidden from going any further.

“Is the case now submitted?”

Counsel from both tables rose and agreed.

“I declare testimony closed. I will issue findings and recommendations based on this Article 32 hearing. Until that time, this matter is adjourned.”

As Colonel Rogers retired through the door behind the bench, Will turned to his client. But there was something in Marlowe's look, in his manner, that told the attorney that his mind was in another place. That his client had not viewed this crucial hearing in a potential capital murder case as the most important thing—that, in fact, to Caleb Marlowe, there was something much more important. The colonel's mind was somewhere else—and wherever it was, Will Chambers was not invited.

29

T
HE KITCHEN TABLE WAS LITTERED
with files, calendars, and Palm Pilots. Will and Fiona were working out the final details of scheduling Fiona's three-week concert tour.

She was sipping a cup of tea and scratching down a few notes. Her eyes were dancing, and her face was radiant with a big, dimpled smile.

Will, sitting next to her, finished his cup of coffee, put the mug down, and then, with a smile, nudged her.

“So what do you think?” he asked. “Don't you think we can work it out? If we rendezvous at these points, I can be with you most of the three weeks.”

Fiona laughed, and grabbed his hand and kissed it. “I am so looking forward to our time together. You know, it gets lonely on the road. Now, are you sure this is going to work out with your practice? What about Colonel Marlowe's case? What happens with that?”

“Well, first of all, your tour is scheduled far enough in advance so we can work around that. Secondly, who knows what's going to happen? If the case should get dismissed, then that's probably the end of it. If it goes to a general court-martial, I'll just make sure that we get it on the docket either before or after those three weeks.”

“Well, on the other hand,” Fiona said, her face suddenly growing more serious, “if you're going to be in a court-martial and it looks like it's going to drag on for some time, then maybe…you'll actually want to schedule the trial—if it works out that way—while I'm on the road. That way, you can dive into the case with your full attention—I know how you get when you go into trial. And I'll be lonely for you, of course…but at least I'll be busy. Anyway, think about it.”

Will put his hand on the side of his wife's face and smiled.

“I really am blessed—you know that? You're beautiful, tender, and you're so very tuned in to my life. I know I'm not easy to live with sometimes…”

“Oh, Will,” she said, beaming, “even at your hardest, you're easy to live with! You're easy to love—you really are. I do think you have to get off your own back. I know you're still dealing with a lot…with Audra…some things simply take time. But just look at what's happened. When we first met, think about where you were: alcohol problems—despair—your career was teetering on the brink. But God reached down to where you were. He found you because he loved you. And now just think about everything that's changed for the better since then.”

Will nodded. He was about to reply, but the telephone rang.

After hurriedly pushing aside some files, he located the portable phone. It was Hilda on the line.

“Sorry to bother you at home, Will. I know you said you were going to come in late today. But Major Hanover just called, and he said it was very important. He has received a decision on the Article 32 hearing, and he wanted to tell you about it right away.”

Will thanked her, and then immediately dialed the major at Quantico.

Hanover was in his office. Will could tell by the sound of his voice that it was serious.

“First of all, the IO has filed his recommendations and findings as a result of the Article 32 hearing. That's the bad news,” Hanover said.

“Bad—you mean he's recommending that it be referred to a general court-martial?”

“Right. But bear with me. This is just his recommendation. And I'll get to the decision by the commanding general in a minute.”

“You mean the general has already reviewed the IO's report?”

“Exactly,” Hanover replied. “But in terms of the IO's recommendation—Colonel Rogers is recommending a general court-martial on all the charges. His findings are really interesting—and somewhat contradictory. He makes the standard observation that command judgments made during combat can be flawed, or mistaken, without being criminal. And all of that sounds very good and would seem to dictate a decision to dismiss the charges. But then, at the end he does an about-face and says, because the defense raised the national-security
issue, he feels that a decision by a superior officer—namely the commanding general—is advisable.”

“In other words—this may be a matter of passing the buck?” Will asked.

“Speaking unofficially, you're probably correct,” Hanover replied.

But then his voice changed and rose in restrained excitement.

“But here's the good news—Brigadier General Landon has already reviewed the recommendations and findings, and he indicated to me—in very strong language—that it is his decision that this matter is not going to be referred to a court-martial. He is going to stop this case in its tracks.”

“That's terrific news,” Will exclaimed. “So what happens now?”

“Now—the standard drill is this. In order to keep this matter from raising its ugly head again—or any of the other brass overruling this decision—Marlowe needs to resign his commission immediately, and the marines will retire him honorably. I've already talked to the colonel—and the matter is already in the works. We think we can get this done by the end of business today. If that happens, he is no longer under the jurisdiction of the United States Marine Corps—or the American military—and the decision becomes res adjudicata. It should prevent him from being collaterally prosecuted by any jurisdiction within the United States.”

“It sounds like you've been moving fast on this,” Will noted. “And Marlowe was okay with leaving the Marine Corps? I mean, that surprises me.”

“I think he probably knew this was coming all along. Win or lose, he knew this was the end of his Marine Corps career.”

“So is there anything else you need me to do?”

“Not a thing—we're taking care of all of it at our end.”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Will asked.

“Sure—anything.”

“Have Colonel Marlowe give me a call. I'd just like to wish him well personally.”

“Sure, I will certainly pass that on to him. And Will?”

“Yes?”

“Fine job on this case. It was great working with you.”

Even after clicking off the phone Will was still trying to process the information Major Hanover had given him. They had won, despite
Lieutenant Colonel Rogers' reluctance to dismiss the case at the Article 32 stage. General Landon's decision would be full and final, particularly because Marlowe would be released from the marines administratively within twenty-four hours. For all practical purposes, that would deprive the military of any further jurisdiction over him—including the ability to bring further criminal charges.

Will turned to Fiona and smiled and kissed her.

“Good news?” she asked expectantly.

“We won. It looks like that's the end of the charges against Colonel Caleb Marlowe. So let's celebrate! Where do you want to go to dinner tonight?”

“Churchill's,” she replied. But then she shook her head. “No—even better—let's go up to Baltimore to Luigi's.”

Will chuckled. That was the restaurant where the two of them had had their first dinner together.

“Luigi's—that's perfect.”

But the trial lawyer in Will still needed some resolution on Marlowe's case. He wanted to talk to his client and hear everything directly from the soon-to-be-retired marine colonel.

He also wondered, though, why he had the lingering feeling that the incident at Chacmool was not finished…the distinct impression that what happened there had long, choking tendrils—like a jungle vine growing and strangling everything in its path with unnatural strength. And with hideous purpose.

30

S
ENATOR
W
AYNE
O'B
RIEN'S WIFE
was standing in the front door of their Bethesda, Maryland, townhouse while she spoke to the two men in suits.

“We're sorry to bother you, Mrs. O'Brien. We're wondering if the senator is available.”

Mrs. O'Brien nodded and beckoned to her husband, who was helping the maid carry the dishes to the kitchen after dinner.

The senator greeted the two plainclothes detectives.

“We're sorry to disturb you, Senator. But we have some information that we have to check out. It concerns some allegations about conduct in your home. We're wondering if we might be able to come in and do a very limited search of the premises. We don't have a warrant, so you're entitled to deny our request, of course. And, if you wish us to come at another time…when your attorney can be present, we'll be glad to accommodate you.”