Steve Martini - Prime Witness

This risk, of course, is a death sentence, something that Roland proposes to deal away. It is the only basis for a deal, and his only bargaining chit.

He’s talking around me, trying to convince Ingel and Esterhauss of the wisdom of this move. He talks about the evidence, conversant, as if perhaps he’s been rifling our files at night. To listen to Roland, the case for the state is at best a toss-up, a possible loser on the circumstantial evidence.

I cut him off before he can get deeply into details.

“If our case is so weak,” I say, “why would you want to cop a plea?” I put this to Chambers.

“Maybe you should discuss that privately with your own deputy.” He’s talking about Overroy and his assessment of our case.

“Why would I want to question the monkey, when I can talk to the organ grinder?” I say.

Mean slits from Roland, though Esterhauss laughs, unable to keep it in.

Overroy tries to ignore this, rolls with the punch and keeps going.

“Mr. Iganovich has consented, generally, to the terms discussed,” he says.

“Is this true?” Ingel asks Chambers.

“More or less,” says Adrian.

“In return for what?” I say. This forces Roland back to me.

Here he sucks a little air, how to couch it without appearing to give away the store.

“A guarantee that the man will be put away forever,” he says, “that society will be protected.”

“You mean that he will not be executed?” I say.

“Yes.”

Roland sits up a little, sticks out his chest.

“What we propose is an L-WOP,” he says. This is lawyer slang, shorthand for a term of “life without possibility of parole.”

Before I can say a word, Overroy anticipates. “We tell the community, the families of the victims that the defendant will spend his entire life behind bars, never to be released. In some ways, this is more punitive than death.”

I would like to see him sell this to Kim Park.

He minimizes the political fallout, tortures the truth, a good day’s work for Roland.

Life without possibility of parole is a euphemism in this state. As long as there are courts and judges to administer them, parole is always possible. The people sitting in this room know there is only one irrevocable sentence in the law.

“Forget the assurances of public safety,” I say, “what’s the legal basis for such a plea?”

Overroy looks at me doe-eyed.

“The codes,” he says, “it’s in the codes.” He means that such a sentence is mentioned in the statutes, which of course we all know. No doubt if I handed him the books he would look in the index under “L-WOP,” such is Roland’s depth of legal research.

I continue to look at him, like try again.

“Life without possibility of parole,” he says, “is a recognized sentence. I’m sure of it,” though his voice is now quivering with questions. He still does not get it.

“He means,” says Chambers, “how do you justify the sentence under the statutes.” Unlike Overroy, Adrian comprehends where I am going.

Under the law of this state in a capital case, a life term without possibility of parole is permissible only where mitigating circumstances outweigh other aggravating factors. It is a balancing test on the scales of justice.

I do not see much cause for compassion here. Four kids staked to the ground and brutally murdered is not exactly a prescription for clemency. I tell them this.

“Aggravation and mitigation are only factors to be considered by the jury in the penalty phase of a trial,” says Chambers. He means that this would be a plea bargain without trial.

“The court,” he says, “has broader latitude. The parties can effect a settlement for tactical reasons, irrespective of the evidence.” He cites case law, People v. West . Adrian has clearly come prepared to this meeting.

I turn to Ingel. Time to put his toes in the flames.

“Are you prepared to condone this?” I say. “To sanction a settlement on these terms?” In a felony, the court must approve any plea.

He dances around it, makes a few faces. He would prefer that I commit myself first, then ride on my coattails. After all I will be long gone by the next election, when he would be free to blame any fallout on me, like this deal was driven by an imprudent prosecutor who is now gone.

Before Ingel can speak, Chambers saves him.

“There are ample mitigating circumstances in this case, your honor, of which you should be aware. In the defendant’s past.” He calls Iganovich’s childhood a life of deprivation and abuse which he says he can document.

Ingel smiles. The hook he needs to hang his hat.

“I think I can live with it,” says Ingel.

Of course all of these things, the Russian’s childhood, his early history, are matters which we cannot corroborate, not in the time available to us and in the chaos that is the Russian’s homeland.

“Your honor, for the state it’s a particularly good deal,” says Roland. “The defendant has agreed,” he says, “to enter a similar plea, guilty to murder in the first degree on the two other charges.”

Frosting on the cake. Overroy’s talking about the Scofield murders, wiping the slate clean.

I cast a quick glance at Esterhauss and catch the glint in his eye. The prospect of a quick plea bargain that will bury everything in a single fell swoop, no trial, and an end to the perpetual publicity. To Esterhauss and the other doyens of this county, this scenario must be a political wet dream.

I remind them all that the Scofield cases aren’t even charged.

“So we get an indictment,” says Overroy. “How difficult can it be?”

“We have multiple murders,” I say. “Life without possibility,” I tell him, “is ridiculous. Even if I wanted to, I could not in good conscience.”

“And the Scofield thing.” I turn to Chambers. “Your client is ready to enter a plea, to factually acknowledge that he committed these crimes, in open court?”

“He will enter a West plea,” he says, “for tactical reasons.”

What he means is that Iganovich will not state in open court that he has committed these murders, but instead enter a plea for purposes of legal strategy. Decisional law, cases laid down by the courts of this state permit this, though I for one think it is bad public policy.

“Why is this so necessary?” I say. “To join Scofield in a plea at all?”

I am concerned that to charge these crimes to the Russian may result in the closure of a serious case without finding the real perpetrator.

Chambers explains that unless we wash the Scofield cases through this deal, he cannot go forward. It seems he has thought this through.

“Without a trial, Kellett would no longer apply,” he says. He’s referring to the case which he cited in court to Fisher.

“Unless we include Scofield, what are we gaining?” he says. “We enter a plea on the four college students and the state is still free to charge Mr. Iganovich with Scofield. With pleas then entered to four counts of first-degree murder, a conviction in Scofield brings the death penalty,” he says. “Not a scenario I find helpful.”

As a tactical matter, Chambers is right. To eliminate any possibility that his client would face death, he must include a plea on the Scofield killings as part of the bargain. The Rubik’s Cube of the law.

Overroy, ever helpful, suggests that we could confer immunity on the Russian for the Scofield murders.

The specter of this causes even Ingel to wince.

“No,” I say. “I can’t do it.”

“OK,” says Roland, “no immunity. We charge him instead.”

Overroy it seems is still operating on another wavelength from the rest of us in this room.