Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

Or lunch plans, Karp thought, surveying the defense lawyers. Someplace they could be seen by the media, like the Tribeca Grill. They’d protest that they weren’t supposed to comment, there’s a gag order you know, however, you are aware that…

Three days since the attack in New Mexico and Karp was still fuming. Marlene had gone to Taos to check on her daughter and Ned, and more tragically, to attend the memorial service for John Jojola. According to the Taos News, the police chief of the Taos Pueblo had been killed by suspected Islamic terrorists. Although there had been very little official information provided by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security’s man on the scene, assistant director Jon Ellis, the aggressive little weekly newspaper speculated that the assassination of Jojola had something to do with his having played a role in stopping a terrorist plot in New York City on New Year’s Eve. “It’s possible that this was a revenge thing,” the newspaper quoted a source close to the investigation.

Apparently, Jojola, a decorated Vietnam veteran, put up quite a fight as the entire gang of a dozen terrorists also died in the gun battle that took place at the old Josh Steers homesteader cabin, the newspaper stated.

According to Taos County Sheriff Chris Ferguson, Jojola is credited with saving the lives of Taos residents Ned Blanchet, who he said also fought bravely and was wounded in the fight, and Lucy Karp, a newcomer to Taos from New York City where her father is the district attorney. Jojola was apparently killed by one of the terrorists, who had been wounded in the fight…

God, you’d think I would be used to it by now, Karp steamed silently as the judge’s clerk entered the courtroom, an indication that the judge was on his way and it was time to amble over to the prosecution table. In fact, you’d think I’d have gotten past telling myself that I should be used to it by now.

He wondered what Marlene was up to and could only hope it didn’t involve more guns. She’d called after arriving in New Mexico and told him that Lucy was fine and that Ned, while grazed by a bullet and knocked around a bit, would heal completely, too.

However, she was mourning the loss of Jojola, who apparently died just when it appeared that the fight was over. One of the terrorists who’d survived had apparently hidden a weapon and killed Jojola.

The entire reservation is locked down; no one but tribal members are allowed on the property. However, there’s going to be a memorial service tomorrow for everyone else, Marlene had said. He had a lot of friends in this area and elsewhere, and the tribal council wanted to give them a chance to get back here for the memorial service.

Marlene’s voice caught. Karp thought she might be crying and kicked himself for not going with her. He’d liked Jojola a great deal from the moment they’d met-a man at peace with himself and his view of the world. I wish I could be there, Karp said. But this hearing-

John would understand, Marlene said. He’d tell you he’s not here anymore anyway, at least not physically. I’m here to pay my respects out of consideration to his people. Maybe if I’m lucky, his spirit will find me.

Karp hung up the telephone not sure what he thought of Marlene’s faith in Jojola’s spirit-filled world and Lucy’s Catholic mysticism. Then again, I suppose they’re no different than Judaism and the concepts his boys were studying for their bar mitzvah. Spirits. A God risen from the dead. Or a God who parts seas and hands down laws written in stone tablets. It all takes faith, he thought. You believe what you believe.

What he believed right now was that Kane was trying to make good on his threat to kill the people he loved, and it had shook him. Most of Karp’s adult life he’d been exposed to the most heinous side of human nature, of which the slaughter of the children and officers during Kane’s escape was as bad as it got. But there was still a big difference when the intended victims were your flesh and blood, and if Kane had walked into the courtroom at that moment, Karp would have gladly wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Karp was still indulging his homicidal fantasy of watching Kane’s face turn blue when the bailiff entered the court, followed by the judge, and cried out the traditional, “Oyez. Oyez. The Honorable Judge Paul Hans Lussman III.”

As they waited for the judge to be seated, Karp, who was standing next to Guma at the prosecution table, glanced back to where Jack Swanburg and Charlotte Gates were sitting, waiting to be called to the stand. Gates smiled at him and Swanburg added a nod; they looked relaxed and slightly bored. During witness preparation in Karp’s office the night before, Swanburg and Gates had assured him that their scientific expertise was convincingly persuasive.

Between us, we’ve done a couple thousand of these, Swanburg said when they met in his office before walking to the courtroom. We’ve found that keeping an even keel-simply testifying about the science without appearing to favor one side over the other-tends to go over well with juries and jurists.

After the body was exhumed, Bryce Anderson, Stavros’s lead lawyer, had filed a motion to controvert the search warrant and to prevent the prosecution from entering the remains found in the Stavros backyard as evidence. The defense’s main contention was not only deficient probable cause to justify the issuance of the warrant, but there was insufficient proof that the body was that of Teresa Stavros. So the judge had granted the defense request for an evidentiary hearing.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Anderson said. “I’ll leave alone the question of the district attorney’s motives for suddenly pursuing this case just five months before the general election. However, this case is awash in irregularities, including the DAO pursuing an indictment for murder when there was no proof that Mrs. Stavros is even deceased. Then they go all the way to Colorado to ‘find’ some group that claims to locate bodies with divining rods, or some such thing, and now claim that they ‘know’ whose bones are buried in the backyard at the Stavros residence. The defense contends that the state should have to at least prove that the remains are truly those of Teresa Aiello Stavros. If they are not prepared to do that, or simply cannot do that, then we are asking the court to suppress the bare bones, pun intended,” he said smirking while looking back at the press, “upon which this case rests. And I might add, Your Honor, to order the District Attorney’s Office to vacate the indictment and let Mr. Stavros go on with his life, which first and foremost will be to unseat the current district attorney of New York.”

The judge looked at the prosecution team. “Good morning, Mr. Karp and Mr. Guma,” he said. “Which of you will be speaking on behalf of the people?”

“Mr. Guma,” Karp replied quickly. “He is lead counsel in this case. I’m here as Sancho to his Don Quixote.”

The courtroom tittered and even the defense lawyers allowed themselves to smile. “I see you haven’t managed to keep him from tilting at windmills,” Anderson joked, half turning in his seat to see if the members of the media were taking notes that might state something about his commanding presence in the courtroom. He’d spent a lot of time at the gym to keep his body toned and more than a few bucks with a “cosmetic surgeon” to make sure the face remained taut and youthful, and he looked like he got dressed at the dry cleaner’s. He checked the effect by winking at a pretty blond television reporter and was rewarded with a blush. Have to buy her a drink later, he thought absently. Wonder what she’d do for “an exclusive.”