Joel Goldman - Chasing The Dead

“He’s a little guy, not more than five-seven, short gray hair, has to be in his early seventies at least, and he was wearing a military pin for having served in Vietnam.”

“And he’s white,” Grace said.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because white is the default race for white people. If he’d been black, you would have said so.”

Alex raised her eyebrows, blushing. “I. . I. .”

“Never thought about it. I know. Most white folks don’t. Well, that’s a start.” Grace glanced at her watch. “It’s go time.”

“Then let’s go,” Alex said, leading the way into the courtroom and taking her place at the defendant’s counsel table.

Kalena Greene was already seated at the prosecution’s counsel table. She and Alex exchanged good mornings as two deputies escorted Jared into the courtroom, shuffling, his wrists and ankles shackled. He gave her a shy smile. Alex smiled in return, pleased that she’d made a connection, putting her arm around his shoulder for a moment.

“Hi, Jared. Say hello to Grace Canfield. She’s an investigator in my office.”

“Hey,” he said to Grace.

“Hey, yourself,” Grace said. “Alex is the best. She’s gonna take real good care of you.”

“Hope so,” he said.

Alex was struck again by how soft and quiet Jared was, as if he was afraid to raise his voice. She had difficulty imagining him as a killer. Even though he may have killed while serving in combat, he didn’t strike her as the kind of civilian who had slid down that slope all the way to murder.

“How are they treating you, Jared?” Alex asked.

He shrugged. “Okay. Everyone’s pretty much leaving me alone.”

“I hear that. Like I told you yesterday, we won’t be here long. This hearing is mostly a formality.”

“Like the army, huh. Rules for everything.”

“Yeah. Like the army. A couple of quick things before the judge comes in. Have you been treated at the VA hospital here?”

“A few times, mostly when the PTSD got crazy. They gave me some meds and told me to go to group therapy.”

“How’d that work out?”

He looked at the floor. “I sold the meds and skipped the group.”

Alex saw no reason to chide him. He’d have plenty of time for treatment in prison if she didn’t get him out, and if she did win his freedom, that would be the time to talk about getting well.

“I need you to sign this release,” she said, sliding the form toward him and handing him a pen, “so we can get your medical records. We may need the doctor who saw you to testify about your PTSD.”

“Are you sayin’ I could get off because of that?” he asked after signing the release, his signature more of a scrawl because of the handcuffs he was wearing.

“One second,” Alex said, handing the form to Grace. “Hand deliver it and tell them we need the records right away.”

“Sure thing. You know how excited bureaucrats get when someone tells them that.”

Alex raised her eyebrows at Grace.

“I’m on my way,” she said. “I’m on my way.”

Alex turned back to Jared. “Sorry. We may be able to use your PTSD as a defense, but if we’re going to do that, I have to find out everything about you, including whatever happened in Afghanistan that caused your condition.”

He hung his head, closing his eyes as a tremor rippled through his torso, then opening them and shaking his head. He didn’t say anything and Alex didn’t push.

Everyone stood for the judge, sitting when he did. He was in his early forties, with blond hair, great cheekbones, and blazing white teeth, making him well suited for the televised courtroom he’d never see as an associate circuit court judge.

“The court calls case number F458-2013. Counsel, state your appearances.”

“Kalena Greene for the people.”

“Alex Stone for the defendant, Jared Bell, who is also present. We’ll waive reading of the charges.”

“Very well. Bail?”

“My client is indigent, Your Honor. Short of releasing him on his own recognizance, he can’t make any bail you’re likely to set. But, for the record, the defendant requests bail be set at ten thousand dollars.”

Kalena sprang to her feet. “For a vicious rape and murder by a homeless man with no ties to the community? I don’t think so, and I don’t care if he can’t make a ten-dollar bail. The court should send a message that people who commit violent crimes won’t be allowed back on the street before trial. Bail should be denied.”

“He’s also a decorated war veteran who’s been charged, not convicted,” Alex said.

“I agree with both of you,” Judge Upton said. “Mr. Bell is innocent until proven guilty, but given his current circumstances, notwithstanding his military service, for which we are all grateful, and the nature of the charges, bail is set at one million dollars. Anything else?” Both lawyers shook their heads. “Hearing nothing, we are adjourned.”

“Here,” Kalena said, handing a file to Alex after the judge and Jared left. “It’s the investigating officer’s report and the complaint.”

Alex had been waiting for this moment to find out whether someone in the prosecutor’s office had given an advance copy of the file to Robin Norris.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got a copy.”

Kalena squinted at her. “What do you mean you’ve already got a copy? From who?”

“You heard about Robin Norris, right?”

Kalena’s face fell as she let out a breath. “Yes, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t know her well, but I never heard a bad thing about her. What a blow.”

Alex was struck by her sincerity, reminded again of one of the things she cherished about the practice of law. She and many of the lawyers in the Prosecutor’s Office were friends, and no matter how hard they fought over a case, they could still kick back over a beer. She and Kalena hadn’t gotten to that point yet, but this felt like a first step.

“Robin had five kids, and I can’t stop thinking about them.”

“How are they doing?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with this case, I haven’t had a chance to get over there, but I’m going to stop by tonight.”

Kalena put her hand on Alex’s wrist. “Please give them my sympathies.”

“I’ll do that. Anyway, about the file. Robin’s interim replacement is a woman from the St. Louis PD’s office named Meg Adler. She found the file on Robin’s desk yesterday. My name was on a Post-it note stuck to the file, so Meg assumed Robin wanted me to handle the case. That’s all I know.”

“Hmm. That’s so odd.”

“Why? Is it that big of a deal?”

“Depends on how you look at it. Whether you got the file yesterday or today doesn’t impact the case. But how you got the file might be.”

“Why?”

“Because my boss’ policy is to wait until the initial appearance to produce this file, and because this is my case, I’m the one who would produce it. You know Tommy Bradshaw and what a stickler he is for stuff like this.”

“Yeah. He was like that when we were in law school together. Which means someone in your office didn’t follow your policy or someone outside your office sent the file to Robin Norris.”

“If it came from my office, whoever did it could lose their job. My boss has fired people for less. I have to tell him what happened, and when I do he’ll turn the office inside and out to find whoever leaked it.”

“Really? Why? You said my getting the file early won’t impact the case.”

“That’s not why he’ll turn it into an inquisition. The guy is paranoid about leaks, worse than the White House. And the only thing that will drive him crazier is if someone outside the office did it, because whoever did that is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. So, yeah, it’s a very big deal.”