Alan Jacobson - False accusations

“Whoa, hold it a second. I’m not asking for any favors whatsoever. It’s your lab that’s going to be raked through the coals in the media. And the lab’s never had a better manager than Lou Palucci. You know that as well as I do. But you have to ask yourself if one error in judgment is worth not only destroying a man’s career but also causing a tremendous upheaval in the lab at a time when it’s enjoying one of the most impeccable reputations in the entire country.”

“Jeffrey-”

“Wait a minute, I’m not finished. If you don’t care about the greater good, look at it selfishly. Every time you introduce a piece of evidence gathered at a crime scene, think about what every defense attorney who’s worth his weight in gold will say about it. It came from a corrupt lab. Who knows what’s tainted and what’s not? Who’s doing who favors? Who’s been paid off? Hell, some congressman vying for votes could push for a full-scale investigation. Maybe a few other skeletons will fall out of the closet. Not just at the lab, but at the DA’s office too. And then where will you be?”

“That’s a distortion of the situation-”

“Is it? It’s an edge for the defense. I’d use it, I’m telling you right now. And I have a bunch of friends who I’m sure would use it, too.”

There was a long silence. Hellman knew that sometimes saying nothing elicited more of a response from his adversary than continuing to argue.

“I’ll give it some more thought. Talk to Jennings.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Tim. Let me know what happens.”

Hellman hung up and walked out into the cold air with his head spinning. His mind was sifting through several emotions, the most primal of which were frustration and anger aimed at Chandler. He found his car and headed over to his health club for a dose of weights and a visit to the steam room. He needed to work off some stress before it tied him in a knot from which even Houdini would not be able to escape.

Saperstein poked his glasses up his nose. “I’m not asking you to overlook your duty as a homicide detective, Bill. I’m just telling you that you shouldn’t let what happened fifteen years ago affect your good judgment now.”

“And why not?” Jennings asked.

“Because you have to look at the big picture. What are you going to accomplish and who are you going to hurt along the way?”

“I can’t look the other way for personal reasons.”

“But you’re obsessed with this because of personal reasons. You can’t deny that. At least, if you’re honest with yourself, you can’t deny it.”

Jennings sat there in Saperstein’s cramped office, a six-by-eight cubbyhole with a desk shoved against the wall. There was barely enough room for Saperstein to squeeze past the desk en route to his chair.

“It’s not worth it,” Saperstein said. “I know what happened between you and Chandler fifteen years ago. It’s time to let go of it. Don’t let it destroy you all over again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you pursue this, it’s going to cause a shake-up in the lab. We’ll be dragged through the muck, mired in scandal for months, if not years. Lou Palucci will come under fire from the chief, and then he’ll be canned. Guaranteed. That won’t go over well here. We’re a tight family. We look out for each other. And I’m going to get the cold shoulder because you and I are friends; all of us are going to be looked at by outsiders with contempt.

“And it’ll damage our credibility for years to come. Every defense lawyer will harp on it: They’re corrupt. Taking evidence in through the back door. Using taxpayers’ money for personal favors for someone with connections. Preferential treatment. And then my favorite: Who knows what else they’re doing over there? Manufacturing results? Slanting reports toward the prosecution? The list of accusations will be limited only by the defense attorney’s imagination. Reporters’ll run investigative exposes for tabloid TV. Internal investigations. Shit, remember what went down at the LA crime lab after the Simpson trial? Not to mention what’s happened to the FBI lab-and their rep was impeccable.”

Saperstein paused, took a breath. Jennings was staring at the floor. “Lou has worked awfully hard to get us positive publicity. Anyone willing to listen to him gets an earful of all the good we do in this lab. He’s been a one-man public relations firm for us. We’ve got a solid rep nationwide. You’d be doing damage we may never recover from.”

Jennings continued to stare at the floor. Saperstein was not sure he was listening.

“If that’s not enough,” he said, “look at it this way. None of us is going to look after your ass.”

Jennings looked up at Saperstein with narrowed eyes.

“Is that a threat? From you?”

“A statement of fact. Look at it objectively. Do you think anyone here would be willing to do favors for you? Do you think anyone would want to work on any of your cases? And God forbid you needed something done right away. No prosecutor would want to have you on his case. You’d become a liability.”

“He’s done it to me again,” Jennings said with matter-of-fact levelness.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Chandler. Hasn’t worked here in years, he’s living on the other side of the country, and he still has more pull than me. Fucking little prick-”

“Bill,” interrupted Saperstein. “He hasn’t done anything to you. You’re in the right here. Chandler acted inappropriately. You brought it to everyone’s attention, and I guarantee you, it’ll never happen again. You’ve accomplished what any good detective would hope to accomplish. If that’s all you’re after, you’ve done the right thing and served everyone well. If you’re after revenge, then we’re done. I’ve got no sympathy for you.”

Jennings slammed the door on his way out. Saperstein sat there, not sure if he had gotten his message across. But he knew he had at least given it his best shot.

Hellman stood on the courthouse steps, black wool overcoat covering his dark gray double-breasted suit and red tie. The air was cold with a slight wind that ruffled through his black hair. Microphones were crowding his face.

“…and the DNA that was found on the beer cans did not match Dr. Madison’s.”

Questions were shouted from a couple of reporters simultaneously. Hellman picked the one he heard most clearly: something about what the district attorney is going to do now. “In my opinion, this evidence means that the DA and his investigator have to reopen their investigation.”

Then: “Is the DA going to dismiss the charges against Dr. Madison?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Denton. But I’m confident that within the next few weeks, the DA will drop the charges against my client.”

“Why not right away?” another reporter asked.

“Again, it’s not my place to answer for the district attorney.”

“You said recently that you knew who the driver of the vehicle was. Who was it?”

“My job is to defend my client, not to accuse or charge someone with a crime. Suffice it to say that I’m confident the police will make an arrest very shortly. Right now, my client is anxious to resume the practice of medicine so he can get back to helping people and serving the public as he has done in such a distinguished manner for the past eighteen years.”

“How does your client feel right now?”

Hellman smiled. “How would you feel?”

The press conference was carried on the evening news and made the front page on several high profile websites: MSNBC, CNN, The New York Times — even the Wall Street Journal sent out a “News Alert” email to its subscribers. Legal analysts stressed the same point: that the charges were not yet officially dropped, but it looked good for Phillip Madison. Aside from issuing a statement that said they were reopening their investigation, the DA’s office had no comment.