David Kessler - No Way Out

“But what?”

“I don’t know. But the judge did say causal evidence or statistical evidence. This is clear statistical evidence!”

“I don’t think we have enough to take it before the judge.”

“Why not?”

“Because if she rejected it once then she’ll reject it again.”

“But it’s different now! Then it was just one panel . Now it’s across the state for the last five years.”

“That’s going to make it even harder.”

Andi was surprised at this.

“Why?”

“Because if you tell her this, then any decision she makes will have implications for thousands of other cases, not just this one. And I don’t think she’s going to want that sort of responsibility. She’d rather leave it to the Court of Appeal instead of taking it on her own head.”

“So what are we going to do? Just drop it and walk away like we haven’t discovered anything?”

“No but we’re going to need to bolster our arguments.”

“How?”

“By finding some causal explanation for these stats.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”

Andi thought about this for a moment.

“Maybe if we could find some glitch in the software.”

“Do you have the skill for that?”

“Probably not. I mean I actually tried to learn programming in C++, but I kind of… dropped out of the course.”

Alex pursed his lips.

“If it is a software glitch, I think I may know some one who can help.”

“Who?”

“My son, David. He’s a physicist at Berkeley. Get his number from Juanita and call him. Tell him you’re working for me.”

“ For you?”

“ With me.”

She rose, resignedly but didn’t leave the room. She just stood there saying nothing.

“Was there anything else?” he asked.

Now was the time to tell him about “Lannosea”, to ask him if he had told anyone about their private conversation when he and Sherman had pressured her into sitting at the defense table. It should be simple enough to tell him about the messages and ask him if he had any idea who could be sending them. But something made her hold back and she wasn’t sure what.

“No, nothing,” she said, realizing that now was not the time. When she opened the door, Juanita was standing there with a sheet of paper in her hand, poised to knock. Alex looked up as Juanita and Andi slipped past one another.

“We just had an eMail from Leary,” said Juanita.

Leary was the private investigator they’d hired to dig up some dirt on Bethel Newton.

“What does it say?”

She approached the desk and put it down in front of Alex.

“He’s found some dirt on the Newton girl. This isn’t the first time she’s made a rape accusation.”

“The prosecution will show that Elias Claymore is not the respectable man that he poses as,” Sarah Jensen was saying. The sea of faces in the spectator’s section of the courtroom on Tuesday reflected the interest in this case that had lingered beneath the surface for the last two months.

They had been told all about Elias Claymore’s background by the newspapers and broadcast media when the case first broke. Some of them were old enough to remember Claymore from his revolutionary days. But much of what they had been told by the media had faded from their memories. A spate of political crises, tornadoes in the mid-west, violence in the Middle East and stories about wife-beating among the Hollywood glitterati had driven the tales of Elias Claymore from their minds.

Sarah Jensen knew that she was not allowed to bring up Claymore’s priors unless he took the witness stand in his own defense. But her reference to him not being as respectable as he seemed, was a cunningly camouflaged reminder to the jury of Caucasians, five Hispanics and three Asians of what they all already knew.

“You will hear testimony to this effect from the victim herself — the girl whom he raped, who will identify the defendant as the man who raped her. You will hear medical evidence of her internal and external injuries proving that this was rape and not consensual sex. You will see photographs showing the girl’s external injuries, so that you will be able to judge with your own eyes whether the girl was a willing participant or an innocent victim. You will hear eye witness testimony of a man who saw the accused running from the scene of the crime towards his car in which he made a quick getaway. Finally, most irrefutable of all, you will hear scientific DNA evidence showing that the man who raped Bethel Newton was none other than the accused, Elias Claymore.”

Sarah Jensen sat down, keeping her face completely neutral. Alex knew that she had ended her opening statement too close to one o’clock for the judge to let the defense respond now. This ensured that the prosecution’s summary of its case would stick firmly in the minds of the jurors over lunch. It was the oldest trick in the book, and Alex had expected it. But there was very little he could do about it. He just had to pace himself right too, making sure that his own bombshells coincided with the appropriate adjournments.

Four hundred miles away, Eugenia Vance sat before a television set watching the proceedings on Court TV.

After lunch, Sarah Jensen began presenting her case. Andi had been curious as to the order in which she would call her witnesses. In the event, she adopted a fairly conventional approach and called Bethel Newton first. Her approach was gentle, putting Bethel at ease by leading her through the non-contentious events leading up to her encounter with the rapist: the car breaking down, the Mercedes stopping and the man giving her a ride. At all times, Bethel testified in a voice that was quiet but not weak.

“Then he dragged me out of the car, behind the bushes, and clamped his hand over my mouth. I managed to bite him but then he slapped me across the face. I felt a sharp blow and then I could feel blood in my mouth and I realized it was futile to struggle.”

“And then what happened?”

While she paused to compose herself before answering, Andi quickly scribbled a note to Alex saying: “we need to ask her if she knows my eMail address.” Alex looked at her blankly. Andi still hadn’t told him about “Lannosea”. But she knew that she could hardly expect him to probe this area, and risk the judge’s disapproval, without offering him at least some explanation. So she added to the note, the words: “I’ve been getting abusive anon E-mails.” He seemed to take it in very quickly and did not look altogether surprised. He nodded his head gently, as if understanding.

“He started tearing away at my clothes, not so much tearing them off me, more pulling them out of the way. Then he unzipped his pants and pushed them down slightly and then…”

She started to cry. Everyone in the courtroom sat in absolute silence while she pulled out her handkerchief and sobbed into it.

“Take your time Miss Newton.”

“And then he raped me.”

“How did he penetrate you?”

“Vaginally,” she said, in a little girl voice, trying to keep the words barely audible. “From the front,”

“And do you see the man who did this in this courtroom.”

The words seemed to have a toughening effect on her, as if she sensed the opportunity to regain control for the first time in her life. She puts her handkerchief away, no longer crying. Then she leaned forward and looked over at Claymore.

“Yes I do,” she said pointing at Claymore. “That man over there.”

“Let the record show that the witness identified the accused Elias Claymore,” said Sarah Jensen.