David Kessler - No Way Out

“I can handle Sarah Jensen. I’ve been doing public speaking for half my life. I know how to put a good case.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. You say you can ‘handle’ her. But what does that mean? If you get the better of her, all the jury’s gonna see is a strong man getting the better of a weak woman. Well that’s exactly what rape is .”

“And if she gets the better of me…”

He let it hang in the air. Andi picked it up.

“Then you end up looking like a liar who’s been trapped by some one smarter than himself.”

“But if I don’t take the stand it’ll look like I’m running scarred.”

“The judge will direct the jury that they’re not allowed to infer guilt from your silence. He has to.”

“And the jury’ll ignore it as soon as they start deliberating — if not before that.”

Andi spoke up.

“For what it’s worth, my opinion is that you must testify.”

Alex gave Andi a hard stare. This wasn’t part of the script.

“Wait, let’s not get carried away here Andi. We do have other options.”

“Like what?” asked Claymore.

“Like attacking the prosecution case.”

“I thought you said it was strong.”

“But it does have weaknesses.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that Beth’s account was implausible.”

“That’s not the way I saw it. I looked at the jury, man — they sympathized with her.”

“Sympathized, yes, But that doesn’t mean they bought it.”

“What, they don’t think she was raped.”

“Raped, yes — because she’s got medical evidence to back that up.But the way she changed her story about the attackers age is something they still can’t quite swallow.”

“But what about the DNA?”

Alex and Andi looked at each other: Andi to inquire, Alex to warn her off. Now was not the time to get Claymore’s hopes up about a possible line of attack against the DNA. Besides it might all come to nothing.

“We’re working on it,” said Alex diplomatically. “We’ve already established that it’s not as strong as they tried to make out. Y-chromosomal DNA is good for narrowing down the investigation, but it’s useful for identifying a single guilty person.”

Claymore was looking at Andi.

“Do you think I’m guilty?”

She squirmed with embarrassment. Alex looked like he wanted to intervene on her behalf, but held back. It was obvious that Claymore wanted an answer and wouldn’t accept any evasion.

“I’m a lawyer Mr Claymore… and lawyers don’t act on their personal feelings. They act on their professional skills. You were accused of a serious crime and it’s my duty to help Alex give you the best defense. I can’t say if you’re innocent or guilty. But sometimes the greatest test of courage is standing up to the enemy within. My duty is to put aside any feelings I might have and fight this case to the best of my ability.”

“Then let me ask you another question,” Miss Phoenix. “You said she’s too young to remember the seventies or eighties. Do you remember me from then?”

There was a hesitant silence.

“Why do you ask?”

“I want to know how much prejudice there is against me in that jury of thirtysomethings that Alex empanelled — with your help.”

“I was only fourteen when you were arrested for the rapes in 1984. I remember reading about the case. But I was more into parties and dating at that age. I wasn’t exactly civic-minded or politically precocious. But even if they didn’t read about it then, they would almost certainly have read about it now, when this case broke.”

“I… I want you to know something Miss Phoenix… I’m not proud of what I did. But remember that I came back to the United States to serve out my sentence when I saw that all those middle-eastern countries weren’t exactly heaven on Earth for the black man.”

“That may be. But there are some people who think that you should have been sentenced to life for the what you did. Raping six women isn’t something that middle-America forgives easily — even if you did become a born-again Christian afterwards.”

“Eight,” Claymore’s choked-off voice came back at him.

When Alex met Claymore’s eyes he noticed a couple of tears forming in the corners.

“What?

Claymore took a deep breath and the tears start to roll down his cheeks as he spoke.

“I raped a total of eight women. Six of them came forward and testified against me.”

Alex stared at his client in stony silence for a few seconds and said: “I stand corrected.”

The tears were flowing more freely from Claymore now.

Look…” Claymore began, in a tone that seemed to be almost pleading. “I can’t expect forgiveness for my past. I know that I caused pain to other people — and the pain and suffering that my brothers and sisters went through was no excuse for what I did to others. But I’ve paid the price for it in more ways than one. Since I came back to America to serve out my sentence I haven’t been able to touch a woman. In a way I’m still in prison.”

A cynical smile graced Alex’s face as he watched Claymore dry his eyes with the back of his hand.

“If you can do that again in court, we’re home and dry.”

“Why don’t you just come clean and tell us the truth. You know we’re going to get you when the DNA results come through?”

Detective Bridget Riley had already had quite a tiring morning. Starting early, she had driven to LAX from Ventura then flown to San Francisco International and finally driven to Oakland in a rented car, getting caught up in the morning logjam on the Bay Bridge.

Now she and Detective Nadis of the Special Victims Unit at the police station in the Frank H Ogawa Plaza were questioning Louis Manning in his hospital bed at the Alta Bates Medical Center. They would have preferred to haul him in, but his leg was still in traction and would be for several weeks. He was, however, under arrest and able to talk. So they read him his Miranda rights and started questioning him. The only trouble was, he wasn’t talking. He had waived his right to an attorney, but that was just about all he waived.

“If you’re so sure of that, why do you need me to confess? Besides, I could be lying if I do confess.”

Manning smiled smugly. Nadis leaned over him and spoke quietly.

“Maybe, but DNA doesn’t lie.”

“You haven’t got the DNA results yet.”

“But we will,” said Nadis, leaning over Manning aggressively. Bridget put a hand on the detective’s shoulder and eased him back. She didn’t want him doing anything that might undermine their case, if the DNA did prove positive.

A part of her felt sorry for Manning. He never had a chance. He didn’t even know who his parents were. To him a parent was an indifferent social worker who changed every few months. But other people get over that sort of thing. Not everyone who goes through social services comes out a criminal at the other end.

“What if I confess and then the DNA shows I’m innocent. Then folks’ll go ‘round sayin’ you beat a confession outta me.”

“I somehow don’t think that’s going to happen,” said Bridget.

“Then I don’t see why you want me to confess.”

“The judge might go easier on you if you confess.”

Manning smiled again, taunting them with his good spirits.

“Do you want the judge to go easy on me?

Nadis leaned over the table practically shoving his face into Manning’s.

“You know what I want you piece of shit? I want the judge to throw the book at you!”