The Girl From Home (36 page)

Jonathan wishes that Alex hadn't said this last part. He doesn't want Jackie to know that any effort was made to put the blame on her. He thinks about what Mark Gershien will say when he argues for Jackie to get bail.
The evidence points to Mr. Caine—a man who defrauded his former employer and investors out of billions. By contrast, there is absolutely no evidence that Mrs. Williams
—a loving wife for twenty years, who has two children with Mr. Williams—would even want her husband dead, much less hire a hit man to do the deed. If she didn't want to be married to Mr. Williams, she would have just gotten a divorce.
No, only Mr. Caine benefits from Rick Williams's murder.

The prosecutor attempts to rebut Alex's argument, but Judge Turner tells her to stop with a wave of his hand. “Ms. Rodriguez, let me ask you this: What's your position going to be when the wife—I should say, widow—comes up before me on bail?”

“The same, Your Honor. We'll be seeking that she also be held without bail.”

“And is it the case that, at this point at least, you view both defendants as equally culpable? In other words, you don't think one of them orchestrated this and the other is an accessory after the fact, or something of that nature?”

“That is correct. Our evidence points to both Mr. Caine and Mrs. Williams as equally responsible,” Rodriguez says.

Silence takes over the courtroom. Judge Turner's chin rests on his fist, the very picture of contemplative justice.

“I'm going to hold Mr. Caine without bail,” Judge Turner finally says. “I'm frankly concerned about Mr. Caine's lack of ties. He's the poster boy for defendants who could flee without consequence.”

“Your Honor—” Alex says, but he's stopped by the same judicial wave that stymied the prosecutor.

“No need, Mr. Miller,” Judge Turner says. “You've said all there is that can be said. You're not going to persuade me. Can the bailiff spin the wheel? Let's pick a judge.”

The wheel is actually a cage with Ping-Pong balls inside, each with writing. The clerk spins the wheel and then reaches inside to pull out one of the balls.

“Judge Paul Gottlieb,” the bailiff calls out, reading the name off the ball.

Judge Turner then says, “I'm going to set this down for a preliminary conference before Judge Gottlieb on Friday of this week. Mr. Miller, you can remake your bail argument to him at that time.”

With that, Judge Turner bangs his gavel and the screen goes black.

“I'm sorry, Jonathan,” Alex says. “I'll come see you right after Jackie's hearing, and I'll tell you how that turns out.”

The guard quickly comes into view, roughly grabbing Jonathan by the elbow. “Hands behind your back,” he commands.

Jonathan does as directed. As he's being cuffed, his mind flashes on the movie referenced by Detective McGeorge. A young Kathleen Turner sipping a cocktail on the beach while William Hurt rots in jail.

T
he light is much brighter in the courtroom than in the holding cell. So much so that it takes Jackie a few blinks to adjust. Then she scans the room for Jonathan, but to no avail.

She does see Mark Gershien, however. He's standing behind the podium.

Her police escort deposits her beside him, and then unlocks her handcuffs. Even before the cop leaves, Mark asks, “How are you holding up, Jackie?”

“I've been better. Did you see Jonathan?”

“I did. He was arraigned about an hour ago.”

“Is he out now?”

“No, I'm sorry. The judge didn't allow any bail.”

“Damn.”

“Don't worry, I don't think that's going to be our result,” Mark says. “Jonathan had no ties to East Carlisle. You have two children who need their mother. I can pull a lot of heartstrings with that.”

He's missed the point entirely. Jackie isn't worried about what Jonathan's incarceration portends for her bail application. She doesn't want him in jail. She not only fears for his safety, but can't deny that she has selfish motives, too. She's most worried that life behind bars will make Jonathan desperate to say what he can to get out.

“So what happens to him?”

“He'll be held at the New Carlisle jail until Alex can make a bail application before the trial judge. Unfortunately, that won't be until Friday.”

“What if I don't make bail? What happens to my kids?”

“I think you will, but just in case, I called your mother. She's on her way. I also spoke with your son and daughter and told them what's going on. They were worried, of course, but I promised them that you'd be home tonight. That put them at ease. They wanted to be here, but I told them that wasn't a good idea and the best thing that they could do for you was to go home right after school and you'd see them later tonight.”

Jackie feels like she's drowning. The sensation of not being able to breathe and being pulled under.

“Can I have some water?” she asks.

Mark leans over to fill a paper cup out of a small plastic pitcher sitting on the counsel table behind the podium. As he's handing the cup to Jackie, the monitor comes alive.

“Appearances,” the bald-headed man in the screen barks.

“Assistant County Prosecutor Lydia Rodriguez, for the State of New Jersey,” replies the woman standing at the other podium.

“Mark Gershien, Your Honor, of Gershien and Kennedy in Princeton.”

“Good to see you in my courtroom again, Mr. Gershien,” the judge says with a smile. “Does your client care to enter a plea?”

Mark nods at Jackie. “Go ahead,” he whispers.

“Not guilty,” Jackie says, her voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

“Very well. Ms. Rodriguez, this is the companion case, correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“What is the people's position on bail?”

The prosecutor smooths over her jacket. “As I stated in connection with Mr. Caine's application, we request that Mrs. Williams also be held without bail. This crime is very serious—murder-for-hire. As I stated in the application involving Mr. Caine, the state's evidence is very strong. Accordingly, we request that the court reach the same determination regarding Mrs. Williams that it did in connection with her co-conspirator, Mr. Caine, and deny bail.”

“What say you, Mr. Gershien?” the judge asks.

“I say that Mrs. Williams is a lifelong resident of this community, Your Honor. She also has two children who presently attend East Carlisle High School. Now, I don't know how much you know about teenagers these days, Judge, but I've got one and I can tell you from hard-earned knowledge that it's difficult enough to convince them to go with you to the movies, and there's no way they're going to give up their lives in East Carlisle and live on the lam in . . . I don't know where Ms. Rodriguez thinks Mrs. Williams is going to flee to. And there's also no way Mrs. Williams is going anywhere without her children. As any parent knows, being separated from your kids, that's far worse than jail. So, we ask that the court impose a reasonable bail for someone of Mrs. Williams's modest means—a woman who has just lost her husband, who was the only wage earner in the family.”

“Mr. Gershien, that sounds a little like that old joke of the defense lawyer who asks for leniency for a child convicted of murdering his parents because the boy is now an orphan.”

“Your Honor, it's not a joke, it's the reality of this situation. Mrs. Williams has not been convicted of anything, and she finds herself a single mother with two children who need their mother more than ever, now that their father has been taken from them. Imposition of a high bail is tantamount to denying bail. Bail should be set at an amount that is sufficient to ensure the defendant appears at trial. That can be accomplished here with a reasonable bail. In fact, that can be accomplished without any bail at all.”

The prosecutor begins to speak, but Judge Turner talks over her. “I'm afraid it's your turn to lose one, Ms. Rodriguez,” he says. “But don't worry, I haven't gone completely senile yet. I'm not letting a murder suspect go without bail.” He smiles for a moment and then rules. “Bail is set for Mrs. Williams at one million dollars. Bond or cash equivalent.”

Judge Turner strikes his gavel, and the television screen goes dark again.

“Is that it?” Jackie says.

“That's it,” Mark answers. “Between your house and your mother's, we'll be able to post the million dollars. I'll get the paperwork together and you'll be out in a few hours.”

*  *  *

Jackie is released three hours later. Alex and Mark are standing side by side, waiting for her to exit the prison.

Mark gives her the good news first. “Your mother's already arrived, and she picked up Robert and Emma from school.”

“Thank you,” Jackie says. “So much.”

She turns to Alex, silently asking him to tell her about Jonathan. He apparently understands the prompt.

“Jonathan's good,” Alex says. “He's very concerned about you, so he'll be very happy that you made bail. I'm going to tell him as soon as I leave you. I just wanted to be able to report that I saw you get out with my own eyes.”

Jackie wonders whether Alex is playing her. Her ears ring with Mark's warning that Jonathan is the greatest threat to her freedom. Maybe Alex was only telling her what she wanted to hear so she'd be lulled into a false sense of security that Jonathan was standing with her, when in reality he'd already decided to give her up to save himself.

“Can I come with you to see him?” Jackie asks.

Alex shakes his head. “Not this time, Jackie. I need to talk to him about defense stuff, and if you're there I can't do that because the conversation won't be protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

Jackie is not willing to take that as the final word. “I can wait and see him after you're done, Alex.”

Alex looks to Mark to support his position. “You can see him very soon,” Mark says, “but Alex is right that now is not the time for that. Until we know more about the state's case, we don't want to concede anything about your relationship with Jonathan. I know the prosecutor said they have evidence of the affair, but she may have been bluffing, or the evidence is open to interpretation. If you run over to visit him, we're creating evidence that will later be used against both of you, and that's the last thing we want to do. On top of that, your conversations with Jonathan from inside the prison will definitely be recorded, and we need to all strategize about what can and cannot be said before that happens.”

Jackie is afraid of what Jonathan will think if she doesn't see him. Will he imagine she's abandoning him? What will he do if he thinks that?

“Please,” she says.

“I'll tell Jonathan how important it was to you to see him,” Alex says. “And I'll emphasize to him that it was my advice that you couldn't. So he'll know you wanted to come.”

“Jackie,” Mark says, “let me drive you home. Your kids are waiting.”

Jackie doesn't want to leave Jonathan in jail, but she knows the lawyers are right. Of course, that doesn't mean that she's not worried. For Jonathan, and for what he might do to her.

*  *  *

There's a gauntlet of press waiting outside the courthouse, but Mark escorts Jackie past them and shouts “no comment” in response to their pleas that she tell them whether she murdered her husband. Even standing beside her protector, Jackie finds the scene terrifying. Like she's defenseless against the mob.

“Will they be at my house, too?” she asks.

“Probably,” Mark says.

Mark drives a red Porsche convertible that seems out of character for him. Midlife crisis, Jackie assumes. At least he's keeping the top up.

“Where do you live?” he asks once they're behind the closed doors of his car.

“What?” she says, still listening to the reporters scream.

“Where am I taking you?”

“Oh. Redcoat Drive, off Bunker Hill, in the Revolution section of East Carlisle.”

“I think I know where that is,” he says as he puts the car in gear.

Not another word is said between them during the ten-minute drive from the police station until they pass the sign telling them that they've entered Revolution Oaks, at which time Mark breaks the silence.

“Jackie, have you ever heard of a game called the prisoner's dilemma?”

It sounds vaguely familiar, but because she doesn't know for sure what it is, she says, “No.”

“It's a logic game, part of game theory. It's used by social scientists and mathematicians to assess how people will react in a given situation. It goes something like this: Assume there are these two prisoners. Let's call them Blue and Red. The police offer each one the same deal—if they turn against the other one, the turncoat goes free, but the other one gets five years in jail. If they both take the deal—each turning against the other—then they each get two years. Oh, and this is important, both Red and Blue believe that if they both stay quiet, they'll both go free, because there's not enough evidence to convict either of them without one of them betraying the other. With me so far?”

“All except that they're called Blue and Red and not Jonathan and Jackie,” she says.

“Yeah, that's where I'm going here, obviously. Now, from a purely rational perspective, both prisoners know that if they both keep quiet, that's going to be the best outcome—neither goes to jail. But if Red believes that Blue won't turn, then Red gets the same outcome, whether or not she turns. That means that if Red acts purely in her own best interest, Red should turn on Blue. That way, Red gets no jail if Blue is quiet and only two years, not five, if Blue betrays her.”

“Can you get to the point, Mark, without the colors of the rainbow?”

“Certainly. What I'm saying is that you and Jonathan are in a prisoner's dilemma. If you are confident that he won't turn on you, I might say that it makes sense for you not to turn on him because that's the best outcome for both of you as a group. Understand, though, unlike in the prisoner's dilemma, there is no guarantee in your case that, if you both stay quiet, you both go free. Our reality is quite the opposite. You both could end up doing life in prison. That really ratchets up the stakes here. Let's put all that aside, though. My point is that even if the best result for you and Jonathan together is to keep quiet, he's still going to go through the calculation for himself, and he's going to conclude just what I told you—that it's in his individual best interest to turn on you.”