Robert Tanenbaum - Enemy within

"I learned it all from you. You're an accessory."

Still waggling his head and chuckling, Fulton left.

"Well, that went well," said Guma after a significant pause. "Do you think he'll rat us out?"

"It's not ratting out. Clay is Nash's rabbi in the cops, he's supposed to look out for him. Now we told him we know where Canman is, he'll tell Nash that Cooley may be going down, and why, and try to find some way to cover him. Nash is Cooley's partner, so he'll tell Cooley, although I'm sure that Clay will tell him not to. That's the cops, that's the Blue Wall, only it's not a wall. It's a bunch of little castles, defended against the outside, but also from each other, the bosses jockeying for power and the little guys all working their own game with their rabbis, and IAD working against all of them, except where they're not, and the whole thing dipped in enough chickenshit regulations so that the bosses can burn anyone they want to, almost arbitrarily. And the secrets: Clay Fulton is practically my best friend, but when I deal with Inspector Fulton, I can't be out-front, and frank. It wouldn't be fair to him, it would rip him up, so we have to go around the barn, like I just did." Karp looked disconsolate as he sucked on a beer.

"But, meanwhile, you think this will draw Cooley out?" Guma asked. "You think he'll follow Dugan into the tunnels?"

"He'll have to. And we'll be there, too. But not you, Murrow, even though you're small and could wriggle through any narrow ratlike passages. How have you been doing with Paradisio?"

"He's still laughing in my face on the Cooley theory."

"And?"

"I reasoned with him. He's fixated on Canman, and I told him we had evidence that Canman was linked to Firmo, and maybe he was acting as a hit man, and that the victims were stolen-goods couriers who'd dipped some items. He said he'd check it out. The other thing he said was the cops are planning a big drive through the homeless areas underground. Three, four hundred troops. They intend to roust everyone down there and flush him out."

"When is this?"

"He said next Wednesday."

"Shit! Then we better get moving. Meanwhile, he already leaked our interest to Cooley, which was the point. Cooley came after me once already. The pressure's building on him, too. Goom, on the Mr. Ralphie, the lying-douche-bag front, you're okay with that? What you have to do?"

"Yeah, I'm cool. But it seems like the weakest part of this whole business. It sounds like something your bride dreamed up."

"It was a mutual effort, thank you. It's the product of two highly trained criminal-justice minds, one of which is only loosely connected to reality. But you're wrong about that."

"About what?"

"The weakest part," said Karp. "The weakest part is, we have no fucking idea where Canman is."

The Grand Jury rooms of the New York County Courthouse are furnished like movie theaters, with comfortable theater-type seats upholstered in fuzzy beige and arranged in three concentric, concave rows. No drinks or popcorn, and the show is usually duller even than the typical Hollywood epic, but it is still a show, and the spectators, twenty-three citizens chosen at random from the electoral rolls, are usually good-natured about paying attention. Aside from the seats, the furnishings are sparse: a table for the witness, who faces the twenty-three as a lecturer administering to his class. There is no judge and no defense attorney, for the grand jury is the prosecutor's show-producer, director, and star.

Karp stood in back of his audience but facing the witness and ran through his questions more or less on autopilot, eliciting from a bored police officer that he had on a certain date and time at a certain place, within the borders of the present county, found the body of a human he had later identified as Desmondo Ramsey. Karp had the man describe the scene in the garage, then thanked the cop and dismissed him. The next witness was a medical examiner, a former citizen of Pakistan, and this person was made to say that Mr. Ramsey, otherwise in the pink of health, had met his end through the medium of a bullet that had pierced his heart. Thank you, Doctor. Then came a police ballistics technician who said that he had identified that same bullet as having come from a nine-millimeter Colt pistol registered to a Ms. Sybil Marshak. The pistol itself was produced, in its plastic sack, and duly identified.

These witnesses established the essential facts of the crime. A person had been killed in the present jurisdiction, by Ms. Marshak's pistol. It remained to be shown that Ms. Marshak had wielded the pistol, and for this purpose Karp called the next witness, Ralph T. Paxton. The grand jury foreman swore him in. Karp moved from the rear of the grand jury room and stood before him, slightly to his right so as not to obscure him from the jury. A thin man, Paxton, about thirty, mustard-colored with oiled hair swept back. He had a wary expression, eyes darting, his tongue over his lips, shoulders hunched. He was wearing a brown jacket, a tieless, clean white shirt, tan slacks, and Nikes, new ones.

Karp gave him a friendly smile and took him through the events surrounding the death of his pal Desmondo Ramsey. As he told the story, he became more confident; his voice, which had been low and hesitant, became louder. Karp gave him his head, only occasionally prompting him to be more definite, and the story emerged: He had been in an alcove of the garage, with Ramsey, who had been doing wine and pills. He had been talking about a score, a big score. They had been baling up scavenged magazines, and Ramsey was cutting twine with his knife, a six-inch hunter. They heard footsteps, high heels, a woman came into view, she couldn't see them, but they saw her go toward a black Lexus. Ramsey said he was going to take off that white bitch. Those were his words? Yes, those were his words. Do you know the name of this woman? No, not then, but later he had identified her from a photo array: Sybil Marshak. Ramsey had proceeded toward the woman, still holding his knife. Karp held up a plastic bag with a knife in it, and Paxton identified it as the one in Ramsey's possession on that day. Then what did Mr. Ramsey do? He went up to her. He brandished the knife. He brandished it? Yeah, like he showed it to her, waved it in her face. He told her to give him her bag, her watch. And what did Ms. Marshak do then? She took a gun out of her handbag and shot him. Just like that? Yeah, just like that. It was all over so fast.

In all, a good witness, and well-rehearsed, although not by Karp. That brandished, for example, had appeared in the original Q amp;A, and so did long stretches of descriptive prose. Karp thanked Paxton, and Paxton walked out of the room. Karp noticed Paxton had more spring in his step than he had had when he entered. Now a final police witness, a detective and a forensic expert. Karp elicited from him that two sets of fingerprints had been found on the hilt of the knife in question, Paxton's and Ramsey's, and dismissed him.

Turning to the grand jury, Karp informed them that this concluded the presentation of the people's case against Sybil Marshak. He explained again about probable cause, that they were not deciding whether Ms. Marshak was guilty of the crime of manslaughter in the first degree, but only whether there was sufficient evidence to bind her over for trial on that charge. Then he recited to them the statutory definition of the crime: with intent to cause serious injury, causes the death of another person. Ms. Marshak, he said, had intended to cause Mr. Ramsey serious injury by shooting him and had caused his death. He then explained the self-defense justification for a homicide. If they believed that Ms. Marshak was correct and reasonable in supposing that she was in immediate danger of death or grievous bodily harm from Mr. Ramsey, and that Mr. Ramsey was unlawfully attacking her, and if they believed that the use of deadly force was reasonable and necessary to avoid this danger, and that she could not in her circumstances resort to the law, then they could bring in a finding of justifiable homicide rather than sustain the indictment for manslaughter.