Stephen Penner - Presumption of Innocence

Kat laughed. "You know, I actually do pick brains. Real ones. Part of the job."

Brunelle smiled. Medical examiners were weird. They had to be. Who else could do that job? He just hadn't met one so beautiful before. So, ironically, alive.

"Ha. Yeah. Medical examiner humor," said Brunelle. "I'll have to come by and observe sometime."

Kat tipped her head. "You'd do that?"

Brunelle shrugged. "For the right case. I've been to a few over the years."

Kat stuck out her lip and nodded. "That's impressive, David Brunelle. So what can I do for you on the Montgomery homicide?"

"Murder," Brunelle insisted.

"Murder is a legal term," Kat answered. "That's your job. Mine is medical. It was a homicide. You get to prove it was murder."

"Then help me do that," Brunelle replied.

Kat crossed her arms. "Not really my job, David. But what do you need to know?"

"Did you confirm she bled out?" Brunelle started.

"Oh yes. No doubt about that. The typical body usually has about five or six liters of blood. She lost at least two liters. Maybe two and a half. There was no other trauma, so that's definitely the cause of death."

"She did have that incision on her neck," Brunelle pointed out.

"Right," Kat smiled and pointed a finger at him. "I said 'other trauma.' Don't try to trick me, lawyer-man. That laceration was the only pathology on the body. It was the exit for the blood, and the lack of blood caused her heart to stop."

"Did it hurt?" Brunelle asked.

Kat nodded. "I imagine it did. A cut to your neck is going to hurt."

Brunelle shook his head. "No, not the cut. The bleeding out. Would that have hurt?"

Kat considered. "Not really, I wouldn’t think. The cut was to the carotid artery. Clean, exact cut. I mean, really, whoever did this had an excellent grasp of anatomy. I couldn't have picked a better place for the incision."

"Wow, that's great, Dr. Anderson," said Brunelle. "Maybe tone the professional admiration down a bit for the jury when you testify though, okay?"

Kat frowned. "It's not admiration. I'm simply explaining that whoever made this cut knew exactly where to cut to cause the most amount of blood to be ejected from the body until her heart stopped beating. And even then, it would have dripped and drained a bit."

Brunelle was used to having to bring witnesses back around to the answer he needed. "And so that sensation, of your blood pumping out of your neck with each heart beat-would that have been painful? Or better yet, excruciating?"

Kat let out a surprised laugh. "Excruciating is better?"

Brunelle shrugged. "Lawyer thing."

"I guess so," Kat raised an eyebrow and looked away. "Well, no. Definitely not excruciating. And probably not terribly painful either. Terrifying, but not painful."

Brunelle frowned and tapped absently on the doorframe. "Well, that's too bad."

"Too bad that the girl didn’t endure excruciating pain?" Kat asked.

Brunelle shrugged again. "Like I said, lawyer thing.

"I knew I didn't like lawyers," Kat joked.

Brunelle raised an eyebrow. "We're not all bad. And besides I'm not really a lawyer, I'm a prosecutor."

"Is there a difference?"

"I think there is."

Kat nodded. "You keep telling yourself that, David. Maybe you'll convince yourself."

Brunelle laughed, but more out of politeness. His mind was already considering the possibilities.

"Can I come pick your brain again" he asked. "If I think of any other questions."

Kat smiled and crossed her shapely legs. "You can pick my brain anytime, David Brunelle. But next time, let's do it over coffee."

Brunelle's eyebrows shot up. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"A speechless lawyer," she laughed. "That's a rare sight."

Brunelle smiled. "I always get quiet when I'm happy. Thanks, Dr. Anderson."

"Call me Kat."

"I will," Brunelle stepped back in to the hallway. "I promise."

The arraignment was scheduled for nine o'clock. The camera crews were already lined up outside the courtroom. Brunelle was looking over the charging documents in his office when there came a knock on his door.

It was Duncan. "You all set?" he asked.

Brunelle nodded. "I think so."

"No vampires, right?"

Brunelle laughed. "Right. No vampires. Burglary and torture."

"Think you can make those stick?"

Brunelle recalled the dead girl's face hanging upside down in front of him as he entered the home that night. "Yeah. Pretty sure I can."

Duncan grinned. "Good. Now let's just hope he gets a shitty lawyer."

Brunelle smiled again. "Sure. But not too shitty. I don't want it come back on ineffective assistance of counsel."

"Good point," said Duncan. Then, tapping his chin, he added. "When you finish with the arraignment, stop by and we can talk about a second chair."

"Second chair?" Brunelle repeated. "I figured I'd try it alone. I don't need co-counsel."

Duncan shrugged slightly. "Oh, it might be a good idea. Chance for somebody to learn from you. Besides, it's always good to have another set of eyes look at something."

Brunelle nodded, but he wasn't excited about having to take time to teach a junior attorney how to try a death case. But he could worry about that after the arraignment.

"Okay, I'll stop by. Maybe we'll even know who his lawyer is by then."

***

"William Harrison Welles," said the dapper man with the expensive suit and graying ponytail. He was addressing the semi-circle of reporters who had pinned him against the wall, their camera lights beaming and microphone extended. "And I am proud to be representing Mr. Karpati."

Brunelle stopped in his tracks when he saw Welles. Damn it , he thought. Not only was Welles not a shitty attorney, he was a really damn good attorney. Worse, he was a media-loving publicity hound of an attorney who had reached semi-celebrity status in Seattle for defending some of the higher profile cases in the last few years.

But he was expensive. Brunelle wondered whether Karpati could really afford him, or Welles was just using this as more free publicity.

"Mr. Karpati is an innocent man," Welles went on. "He has been unjustly accused based on the unreliable word of a fifteen year-old juvenile delinquent, whom the State knows cannot be believed."

Brunelle clenched his fists. Welles could say whatever he wanted, and there would be no repercussions. He was a defense attorney, sworn to use every available trick in the trade to defeat the State's allegations. But if Brunelle said anything more than confirming the charges and a general, 'We believe the evidence supports the charge,' then he was looking at a bar complaint or worse. Because then he would be trying to prejudice the defendant's right to a fair trial.

Welles wasn't saying Karpati was innocent because he was. He was saying that psychopathic murderer was innocent because the twelve people who would eventually be sitting on the jury, months from now, whoever they might end up being-at least some of them would be watching the news tonight. And in the back of their mind, one or two might remember thinking at the time they heard the first news reports about it, 'Didn't somebody say he was innocent? Accused by some fifteen year old liar?'

Brunelle squeezed his file and began walking again toward the arraignment courtroom. A couple of the reporters saw him and broke off to get a comment from him.

"We believe the evidence supports the charge," Brunelle said into the blinding glare of the camera.

"Is it true your case is based on the word of a fifteen year old juvenile delinquent?"

Brunelle managed a tight smile. "I'll have copies of the charging documents after the arraignment." And he pushed through them into the courtroom.