David Kessler - Mercy

“Alex Sedaka’s office,” Juanita answered.

“Oh hi, Juanita. I’ve found something else that could be of interest.”

“What?”

“Well after I found the receipt, I decided to check the hard disk on the computer doing a word search for London and one of the things I found was a deleted PDF of a brochure from something called the Finchley Road Medical Centre.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a private medical center in London, catering to wealthy clients — mostly women.”

“What do they do?”

“Anything from cosmetic surgery, liposuction and gastric bands for weight loss to abortions.”

“Okay, we’ve got less than nine hours left and the name of the game is saving our client from death by lethal injection, even if he’s less than enthusiastic about saving himself.”

They were sitting round the conference table. Alex had finally made it back to the office and things had taken on a new urgency.

“Surely we’ve got enough for a stay already?” Juanita ventured.

Alex was shaking his head.

“I wish we could be sure. But the fact is, the way things are, we don’t even know if she made that flight.”

“What about the medical center?” Juanita reminded him.

“A bit of information on her computer?”

“It shows that she had some interest in the medical center.”

“Yes but what interest? For herself? For a friend?”

“She didn’t have friends.”

“That’s a pretty slim argument Juanita.”

“If you take the ticket and the brochure together it shows intent to get to London.”

Nat chipped in his two bits.

“The prosecution will argue that the intention was thwarted by Burrow’s action in murdering her.”

Juanita felt like she was in a minority of one.

“So are we just gonna sit on our asses till evidence drops from the sky like manna from heaven?”

Alex looked at her sympathetically.

“I didn’t say that. But we shouldn’t get our hopes up either. We need to keep digging. In the meantime, I’m going over to the District Court to file for an ex parte temporary restraining order based on the proof of ticket purchase and downloaded brochure on her computer.”

Nat nodded.

“You could also try and make something from the fact that the information was deleted from her computer.”

“Technically she reformatted the entire hard disk, Nat. But I take your point. We can argue new evidence.”

“And what am I going to do?” asked the intern.

“Actually, we’re going together, Nat. I need you there.”

“Isn’t that kind of.. like… duplication of resources?”

Alex shook his head.

“If we get the TRO ex-parte, I’ll need you to serve it on the warden while I wait for the State to show up. They’ll try and get it overturned ASAP, so we’ll need to be there for a full hearing.”

“What do you want me to prepare?” asked Juanita.

“I’ll need copies of the airline receipt and a statement from David. If he can get it notarized by someone at Berkeley that’ll help, but it isn’t vital. Also get him to email over the brochure.”

Juanita looked edgy.

“Do you think they’ll grant it — the TRO?”

Last minute temporary restraining orders on executions were common in capital cases. Sometimes lawyers even waited till the eleventh hour to apply so as to give the court no choice. Of course strictly speaking the court always had a choice. But judges were reluctant to refuse such a request when they didn’t know what might come out of it. And to rule against a defense petition ex parte — when the State wasn’t even present — meant they couldn’t even share the blame with anyone else if hindsight proved the decision wrong.

“I reckon they’ll grant the TRO. But the State won’t wait till tomorrow to argue the matter. They want to fry Burrow tonight.”

“Then maybe we should wait till the last minute,” said Nat. “That way we might get more evidence.”

“Let’s not start playing games. If we cut it too fine, the District Court will assume we’re empty-handed and that’ll make them more likely to brush us off.”

Nat was shaking his head.

“But if we get the TRO ex parte, they’ll just show up at the full hearing and argue res judicata.”

Res judicata meant “already judged” — a standard prosecution response to last-minute defense petitions based on alleged new evidence.

“That’s why I need Juanita to keep digging. Hopefully we’ll be able to hit ‘em with even stronger.”

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?” asked Juanita.

“There’s the question of whether or not she made the flight. While we’re at the District Court we’ll file a discovery motion to get the information from Sabre, the parent company of EasySabre.”

Nat looked dubious.

“If we file for discovery before the same court, won’t it alert the judge to the possibility that maybe she didn’t make the flight?”

“That’s a risk we have to take. We haven’t got the time to go shopping between courts.”

Nat nodded. Juanita spoke up again.

“Do you think we should try and get a British law firm to file a request to UK immigration and border control to see if she entered?”

Alex looked at his watch.

“There’s no time. London’s eight hours ahead of us. And in any case they probably won’t appreciate that time is of the essence in a capital case.”

“A judge would, surely.”

“Yes but before you get to a judge you’ll find yourself talking to some two-bit clerk. Aside from that, it’s unlikely that UK immigration will be able to respond fast enough to our request.”

Juanita shrugged and pouted.

“There is something you can do right away Juanita.”

She felt another jolt of adrenaline.

“Shoot.”

“Contact the Finchley Road Medical Centre by phone and ask them if Dorothy Olsen had treatment there and if so for what.”

“Isn’t that privileged information?”

“Not in England. Only lawyers have privilege in England: doctors and priests don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. But it is confidential — which means that they might refuse to disclose it unless ordered to so by a court.”

“But you just said we can’t get a court order in England at such short notice! And how do we even contact them out of hours?”

Alex thought a moment.

“Okay, let’s play it like this: you call them and talk to one of the night staff. Make it clear to them that an innocent man’s life is on the line. At minimum we just need basic confirmation that she was there, when she arrived and when she left. We’re not asking them for confidential details about the treatment.”

Juanita was looking at her watch.

“I’m thinking, it might be kind of difficult.”

“Why?”

“Well the night staff wouldn’t have the power to greenlight anything.”

“That’s why I want you to do it. Talk to the nursing staff on the graveyard shift. They’re probably not very busy, so they might be in a talkative mood. If they come up with anything useful, we’ll get ‘em to wake up the head-honcho.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Any other business?”

Alex looked round. They all exchanged glances and shrugged. It was like a football huddle, complete with the adrenaline rush, but sans the testosterone. Juanita suddenly remembered something.

“There was one thing. This business about Jonathan and Dorothy only being half siblings.”

“Yes,” said Alex. “I tried to get Jonathan to open up about that, but he clammed up like a shell.”