Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"I thought so." Peter smiled stiffly, for effect. "Of course, there were a few problems. For one thing, John could never carry this off.

Not on his own. He didn't have the nerve left 'to walk down the street by himself, let alone bullshit the FBI."

"So you volunteered?"

"Yes."

"You became his representative."

"Right."

"His defense lawyer," said Stern.

Peter did not answer; it was clear, however, that he had never thought of it this way.

"Is that truly, Peter, how you imagine this business is conducted?"

"Oh, spare me," he said. "I sat at your dinner table too long. How many people have you gotten immunity for who were lying their asses off and blaming whoever the government wanted to hear about?"

"Far fewer than you apparently imagine, Peter. And in any event, whatever fictions were spoken I had not created,"

"No? Were they 'fictions' you really believed? I know.

You're just the lawyer. If the client has the baltsor the brains-not to tell you he's lying, you pass him along without comment. And how many of.those little fairy tales have you helped shapeT'

Peter was the son. He knew his father:s life well. "There are distinctions, Peter. I think as little of your presumption in this matter as you would, were I to perform open-heart surgery."

"Look," said Peter. "It was my sister." He resumed once more his aspect of inspired anger. The challenge was there: my sister. Your child. They stared again at each other. "So you called the FBI," said Stern.

Peter met Kyle Horn in the lobby of a downtown hotel. They adjourned to the men's room and searched one another for electronic devices. Then Peter made his proposal. He was uninvolved himself, but he knew a man.

The man had a boss who was one of the biggest names at the KCFE. There was a seam. The man was involved-at the bottom, not the top-and he was scared. He would tell allZ--but only for immunity and a promise that Peter's part in arranging this would never be revealed. Take it or leave it, Peter told him…

"And the government agreed?"

"Not at first. I had to meet Sennett. They made me go over the whole thing about four times. Finally, I let them interview John in person.

All hush-hush, since they wanted John to be able to stay undercover. But I could see they would go for it from the day I gave them Dixon's name.

They actually made jokes about RICO'ing the place and calling it Maison Stan."

Maison Stan, thought Stern.

"Did they know you were my son?"

"I told them."

"They must have been very amused."

"I suppose. Mostly, they were concerned. None of us knew for sure who Dixon would use as his lawyer, but once you Showed up I got all kinds of bulletins and memos and guidelines and crap about never discussing the case with you. Which I've followed. For the last three weeks they've been telling me I've got to stay away from Marta, too, and I have.

"We all sort of panicked when what's-her-name, Margy, sent out that memo saying you were going to talk to the people on the order desk." But Sennett had figured for a while that they were going to have to subpoena John to keep his cover, so they did it then and told you that you couldn't represent him. Pretty cute, huh?" Peter smiled faintly.

Stern did as well. All deserved. They had rnn rings around him.

"I take it that Mr. Tooley was another player in your farce?"

"More or less. I suggested him and Sennett thought that was great. I think at one point Stan told Mel not to ask too many questions, which was fine with him. He's not your biggest fan."

"Indeed not," said Stern. Peter had located all'his father's foremost antagonists and joined league with them.

In the midst of everything else, Stern was stung by the thought, and he stood, walking across the tiny kitchen to the counter. For some reason he found himself recalling the early years, when the children were piled with pillows and blankets into the back of the current sedan and the entire family went to the drive-in for a movie: Only Peter of the three children remained awake. Even at the age of six or seven, he would watch the entire show, entertaining his parents with his curiosity about the world of adults, while the girls pressed their tiny hands to their faces and slept.

"You know you have inflicted terrible misery on your uncle.

' '

Peter's eyes lighted on him briefly, holding the'same hard gleam.

"I told you I wasn't sorry."

"You believe Dixon deserved this? For what-his treatment of John?" ',,,

"For lots of things. He's lived a piggish life." ',

"I see," said Stern. "For what other grave sins of Dixon's were you attempting to deliver retribution?"

Peter was silent. Eventually, he looked away.

"Help me with the chronology, Peter. When, exactly, did Nate Cawley tell you about your mother's condition?

Clearly, it was near the time of these events."

Peter, using his thumb, peeled the paper wrapper off his soda bottle. He was worrying his head somewhat, disappointed about something.

"Nate told me last week he talked to you about Mom. He swore he kept me out of it."

"He did not mention your name," said Stern. "As I said when I arrived, I have been mulling over the circumstances."

Peter shrugged ind'ffferenfiy. He was not certain he believed his father, but that was beside the point.

"He felt someone in the family had to know, because of the state she was in. He figured I was another doctor, you know. He wanted me to keep an eye out and my mouth shut.

Needless to mention," said Peter, glancing fieetingly at his father, "he thudcs he made a rather serious error."

"Nate has been hardest on himself, Peter. He even believed that I might sue him. Did you know that?"

"I knew." Peter nodded. "I thought it was possible, frankly. If you got the whole story. I figured you'd regard it as the height of irresponsihirlty thato the drive-in for a movie: Only Peter of the three children remained awake. Even at the age of six or seven, he would watch the entire show, entertaining his parents with his curiosity about the world of adults, while the girls pressed their tiny hands to their faces and slept.

"You know you have inflicted terrible misery on your uncle.

' '

Peter's eyes lighted on him briefly, holding the'same hard gleam.

"I told you I wasn't sorry."

"You believe Dixon deserved this? For what-his treatment of John?" ',,,

"For lots of things. He's lived a piggish life." ',

"I see," said Stern. "For what other grave sins of Dixon's were you attempting to deliver retribution?"

Peter was silent. Eventually, he looked away.

"Help me with the chronology, Peter. When, exactly, did Nate Cawley tell you about your mother's condition?

Clearly, it was near the time of these events."

Peter, using his thumb, peeled the paper wrapper off his soda bottle. He was worrying his head somewhat, disappointed about something.

"Nate told me last week he talked to you about Mom. He swore he kept me out of it."

"He did not mention your name," said Stern. "As I said when I arrived, I have been mulling over the circumstances."

Peter shrugged ind'ffferenfiy. He was not certain he believed his father, but that was beside the point.

"He felt someone in the family had to know, because of the state she was in. He figured I was another doctor, you know. He wanted me to keep an eye out and my mouth shut.

Needless to mention," said Peter, glancing fieetingly at his father, "he thudcs he made a rather serious error."

"Nate has been hardest on himself, Peter. He even believed that I might sue him. Did you know that?"

"I knew." Peter nodded. "I thought it was possible, frankly. If you got the whole story. I figured you'd regard it as the height of irresponsihirlty that he involved me rather than you."