David Rosenfelt - One Dog Night

He pauses to smile, so the jurors will know he’s joking, and a few of them return the smile.

“And it wasn’t just long and sometimes dull; some of it was difficult to watch and hear. I know that, but there was no way around it. You are the triers of fact, and you needed to know the facts.

“Now you do.

“Every fact in the case points to Noah Galloway as the arsonist, as the mass murderer. He bought drugs from the dealers in that building. They cut him off, and he became furious. He knew how to mix the chemicals. His DNA was on the murder weapon. He confessed the crime, in detail.

“It couldn’t be clearer.

“And how does the defense respond? Not with evidence, because they have none. So they talk about other murders, which have nothing to do with this case. One of the murdered people called Danny Butler. That’s it, yet they try to create an entire defense around it.

“You’ll notice at no point did Mr. Carpenter offer a theory as to why these evil-doers framed Mr. Galloway, or why they planted all this evidence, but then waited six years to reveal. Or even who has been doing these killings, or what they have to do with this trial.

“So when I say that you’ve heard all the evidence, I mean that you’ve heard all that relates to this case, and a heck of a lot that doesn’t.

“I thank you for your patience, and I especially thank you for your service. All I ask is that you continue to exercise your best judgment, and keep your eyes on the true facts. And then follow those facts to justice.”

I stand even before Dylan sits down; I don’t want to let his words sink in too deeply. “There is much that I don’t know,” I say. “I wish I knew more, so that I could tell it to you, and everything would be clear.

“Unfortunately, life doesn’t usually work that way, and trials almost never do. So all we can do is go by what we know at the time, and what we think that could mean.

“The prosecution would have you believe that Noah Galloway, a man who never committed a violent act in his life, decided one day to ruthlessly burn twenty-six people to death. And why? Because he had a grudge against three people.

“They would have you believe that instead of killing those people, perhaps with a gun, Mr. Galloway somehow carried in a mixture of napalm, in so many cans that it would have been impossible for one person to hold. Then he went through the building, spreading out this mixture, risking detection at any point. And then he set fire to the building, in the process burning up all the drugs they say he was so desperate to have.

“And then what did he do with the cans? Leave them to be incinerated and destroyed in the fire? Not according to the prosecution’s case. No, they think he carried at least one out and left it a few blocks away, with his burned skin on it.

“But if that wasn’t a crazy enough thing for him to do, their theory is that he then confessed the crime in minute detail to a relative stranger, for no apparent reason. And that stranger, drug-addicted himself and not very bright in the first place, remembered every single detail, so as to be able to repeat it six years later.

“And now, six years later, people are continuing to die. Noah Galloway sits in a prison cell, as airtight an alibi as one could imagine, while people involved in this case continue to die.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it makes no sense. What does make sense is that Noah Galloway has been made a fall guy. I can’t tell you why right now; I expect that someday I’ll be able to. But your job, and even my job, is not to find all the answers. It’s to judge the guilt or innocence of one man.

“Noah Galloway is an exemplary citizen, who overcame a terrible problem and has helped countless others overcome theirs. His is a comeback and a story to be celebrated. He deserves our thanks, not our condemnation. And justice, true justice, demands that he be set free.

“Thank you.”

When I finish, Noah shakes my hand, and even Hike nods his approval. I hear Judge De Luca say that court is concluded early for the day, and that he will issue jury instructions tomorrow.

But I’m only half listening, and I’m out the door as soon as he finishes talking.

I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.

Laurie got the call about an hour after Andy left.

It was from Alex Bauer, and the fear in his voice was evident. He was standing in his den, pacing as he talked.

“They’re coming after me,” he said. “Somebody has stepped in to replace Loney.”

“Who is it?” she asked.

“His name is Brett Fowler. He’s an ex-marine who has a consultant business in Washington.”

“Did he say what they want?”

“They want me to sell the wind-turbine business,” he said. “I don’t know why; it might have to do with the land that it’s on. I would do that, to keep them off my back. But I don’t think that will be the end of it.”

“Why not?”

“Because Ricci is calling the shots. Fowler even admitted it.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. But once I do what he wants, Ricci is going to get rid of me. I’ll know too much.”

“You need to talk to the FBI, Alex,” Laurie said. “We can help you do that.”

“You only care about your client.”

“Ending this will help both you and Galloway. It’s the only move for you to make, and I think you know that without my telling you.”

“I’ve got to think about this,” he said, desperation in his voice. “If what they know about me ever comes out, I’ll be destroyed.”

“You’ll be alive.”

“I’ve got to think.”

Click.

Laurie got off the phone, called Andy, and relayed the conversation to him. “What do you think he’ll do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He’s scared, so it will be hard for him to think rationally.”

“Fowler was on the call list. Tell Sam to dig deep on him.”

“I will,” she said.

She and Andy were of course unaware that the person they just decided to dig deep into was at that moment at the door of Alex Bauer’s house.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Fowler asked.

“Come in.”

He offered Fowler a drink, which he declined. “The judge has ruled. The ruling was perfect,” Fowler said.

“I know. I issued a press release praising it.”

“I saw it. Nicely done. Have you taken the other actions?”

Bauer nodded. “I have.”

“Then do you know what time it is?” Fowler asked. He smiled, not waiting for an answer. “Time for you to die.”

I’m surprised to see where Judge Holland lives.

It’s strictly middle-class all the way, and has a real neighborhood feel. The houses are modest, and each is set on a piece of land that has to be less than a quarter of an acre. If someone here raises their voice in their living room, neighbors on both sides know what they’re saying.

For some reason, even though judges do not make that much money, I always picture them as living in stately mansions with big white columns and long circular driveways. So far I’ve been wrong one hundred percent of the time.

I get there at around eight P.M., well past dark. My plan, such as it is, is to ring the bell and confront him. It’s not that well thought-out, since for all I know he could be away on vacation. But I was never going to get through by calling, and I want to see his face when he hears what I have to say.

I pull up and am about to get out of the car when I see his front door open. Judge Holland is standing there, with his wife, Alice, and son, Benji. I’ve reread all of the background information on Holland that Sam had dug up, so I’m very familiar with his family situation. In fact, it’s the reason I’m here.