Phillip Margolin - Lost Lake

“Detective Walsh, when Mr. Rice was arrested in connection with the incident at the Little League game, did you take his fingerprints?”

“Yes.”

“Is that routine when a person is arrested?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with the fingerprints?”

“We ran them through AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System, to see if he had a criminal record.”

“Was AFIS able to match Mr. Rice’s prints?”

“No.”

“Mr. Kirkpatrick has entered records from Mr. Rice’s army file into evidence. Weren’t the fingerprints in the file?”

Walsh hesitated.

“Well, Detective?” Ami prodded.

“There appears to be some kind of clerical error, because his prints aren’t on record with the army.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

“No questions,” Kirkpatrick said.

“My final witness is Miss Kohler, Your Honor.”

This was the moment that Vanessa had been waiting for. It was her chance to tell the world that her father was pure evil. Yet the moment her name was called, doubts assailed her. Was everyone else right? Was the Unit a figment of Carl’s imagination? Did her father really love her?

“Miss Kohler,” Judge Velasco said. “Please come up here and be sworn.”

Vanessa steeled herself and willed herself to her feet. She was right. Her father was evil. She threw her shoulders back and walked to the witness box, convinced that justice would be done today.

Before Judge Velasco would allow Ami to examine her client, he reviewed the problems that Ami’s dual representation of her and Carl Rice created and gave her the same warning about incriminating herself that he had given Rice. When Vanessa told him that she wanted to testify, the judge told Ami to continue.

“Miss Kohler,” Ami asked after a few preliminary questions, “in 1985 in Washington, D.C., did Carl Rice tell you about his involvement in a secret military unit that your father was running out of the AIDC?”

“Yes.”

“After this conversation, did you try to find proof that the Unit existed?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“My father had a safe in his office in our house in California. He didn’t know that I knew the combination. Inside were the army records of ten men, including Carl’s records.”

“What did you do with the records?”

“I was working for Congressman Eric Glass, who was on the House committee that oversees the intelligence community. I knew that he was at his summer home at Lost Lake in Northern California. I took the records to him. I wanted him to look into what these men had been doing during and after Vietnam.”

“What happened to the records?”

“I gave them to Eric, and he agreed to have someone on his staff look into them. It was late. Eric let me use one of the guest rooms. A noise woke me up in the middle of the night. I went downstairs.”

Vanessa paused. Even after all these years and numerous retellings, the horror of what she had seen was still fresh.

“Do you want some water or a brief recess?” Ami asked.

“No. I’m okay.” Vanessa coughed, then took a deep breath. “Eric was tied to a chair. He…There was blood all over. Carl was standing over him with a knife. He’d killed the congressman, and he took the records.”

“Let’s move on to the events at the county hospital. Why did you rescue Mr. Rice from the security ward?”

“Objection,” Kirkpatrick said. “This was not a rescue. Miss Kohler aided and abetted an escape from custody.”

“That’s to be decided by Your Honor,” Ami responded. “Our position is that Miss Kohler’s bail should be lowered because Mr. Rice was in danger and she rescued him. We believe that Miss Kohler is not guilty of any crime if Mr. Rice’s life was in danger if he stayed in the hospital.”

“Objection overruled, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Mrs. Vergano is entitled to her theory. Whether I accept her theory is another matter entirely.”

“You may answer my question,” Ami said.

“My father thought that he’d gotten rid of the evidence that could prove that the Unit existed. With Carl alive, he faced the possibility that his criminal activities would be exposed. And even if there wasn’t enough proof for a criminal conviction, what Carl knows could derail his presidential bid. I knew my father would go to any lengths to get rid of Carl, so I broke him out of jail.”

“Why not just tell the authorities about the danger to Mr. Rice?”

Vanessa laughed. She pointed around the courtroom. “You can see how much credence the police give to what I have to say. My father had me committed to a mental hospital after Lost Lake in order to destroy my credibility. I knew no one would take me seriously, so I saved Carl before the General’s men could kill him. As it was, we just escaped in time. My father’s killers murdered Dr. French and his wife shortly after we escaped and they tried to kill you.”

“How do you know that Mr. Rice didn’t kill Dr. French and his wife?”

“I was with him from the time he left the hospital until I was kidnapped by my father’s men.”

“Did you know any of the men who kidnapped you?”

“Sam Cutler.”

“Who is Sam Cutler?”

“I can’t be certain that’s his real name. Carl knew him as Paul Molineaux. He works for my father, but I didn’t know that when I met him.”

“What was your relationship with Mr. Cutler before he kidnapped you?”

“He was my lover,” Vanessa answered bitterly. “When my father decided to run for the presidency, he instructed Sam to get close to me to make sure I wouldn’t cause his election campaign any trouble.” She paused. “I only learned this recently.”

“Was Mr. Cutler alone when he kidnapped you?”

“No. He had several members of my father’s security force with him. They tried to kill Carl, but he escaped.”

“Where were you taken by Mr. Cutler?”

“To my father’s home in California.”

“Is this the house in which you grew up?”

“Yes, but I don’t go there anymore.”

“Did Mr. Cutler use force to bring you to the mansion?”

“He used physical force and he drugged me.”

“So you did not go to the mansion of your own free will?”

“No.”

“Was Mr. Rice trying to kidnap you when he broke into the mansion?”

“No. He was rescuing me. My father was keeping me there against my will.”

“So Mr. Rice was trying to rescue you from kidnappers when he broke into the mansion, and you would have left with him voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

“If the judge lowers your bail or releases you on your own word, what will you do?”

“I’d follow the court’s instructions. If he lets me return to Washington until the trial, I’ll go back to work. Patrick Gorman, my employer, is keeping my position open. I have an apartment. I’ve been living there for close to fifteen years.”

Ami handed a document to Judge Velasco.

“This is a signed affidavit from Patrick Gorman attesting to the fact that Miss Kohler has been a valued employee for many years and that he will continue to employ her if she is released from custody. I’ve given a copy of the affidavit to Mr. Kirkpatrick, and he has agreed that it can be a substitute for Mr. Gorman’s testimony at this hearing.”

“Is that so, Mr. Kirkpatrick?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very well, any further questions of your witness?”

“No,” Ami said.

“You may examine, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”

When Brendan walked over to the witness box he looked subdued, as if he were sad to have to ask his questions.

“Were you and Carl Rice lovers in high school, Miss Kohler?”

“Yes.”

“And you broke up in high school?”