Alan Jacobson - False accusations

“Personally, I’d rather you didn’t testify, Phil,” Leeza said. “Enough is enough. A minute ago we were talking about putting this episode behind us and moving on, and now you’re asking Phil to testify,” she said, throwing her napkin onto the table.

“What I’m hearing is that I really don’t have much of a choice.” He looked at Hellman.

“If you won’t agree to testify, Denton will subpoena you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Leeza said. “Haven’t they caused enough-”

“What’s your recommendation?” Madison asked Hellman.

“Agree to testify voluntarily. Let’s help them make the case and get this whole thing behind us. Permanently,” he said, looking over at Leeza, who was staring at him through narrowed eyes.

Madison looked at Leeza. “I don’t have a choice, honey. Better to do it voluntarily than to be antagonistic. You never know when you need them on your side. And maybe it’ll do me some good to tell my story.”

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “You’re nicer than I would be. A week ago, they were preparing to hang you in the town square.” She looked hard at Hellman. “I’d tell them to go to hell.”

His tie was loosened at the neckline, his thinning hair was windblown and uncombed, and he had a five o’clock shadow. Denton looked at Jeffrey Hellman sitting across the desk from him and raked a hand across the stubble on his chin. “No, I can’t do that.”

Hellman leaned forward in his chair. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t. I won’t give Phillip Madison immunity if he testifies. It’s as simple as that.”

“You need Madison to make your case. He’s a key witness.”

“If he’s innocent, as you’ve claimed so fervently, why would he want immunity?”

“He isn’t asking for it, I am. He doesn’t know anything about this conversation. I consider it part of my responsibility to my client-I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t ask for it.”

Denton took a sip of coffee that had been sitting on his desk for several hours. He knew that all good defense attorneys asked for immunity in cases such as this. Depending on the prosecutor and the witness, it was sometimes granted.

“Tim, look at it from my perspective: you were days away from placing him on trial for a double murder he didn’t commit. So being truly innocent isn’t worth jack shit in my book. I don’t have to tell you this wasn’t the first time an innocent person was charged with a crime.” He paused to size up Denton, who was reclining in his chair, expressionless, listening to Hellman’s argument. “Not only that, but my client’s going to take the stand and testify against a person who’s tried very hard to destroy him by ruining his reputation. The defense attorney’s going to try and tee off on him. He’ll bring in anything he can possibly get his hands on-true or not-to discredit him. And I won’t be there to protect him.”

“You have my word that I’ll do everything in my power. I don’t want to see him get beaten up on the stand. Remember, he’s my witness too. He’s crucial to my case.”

“That’s exactly my point. He’s crucial to your case. His wife doesn’t want him to testify, and he’s not exactly keen on the idea either. He’s had enough. It’s been a very rough six months for them. And it’s questionable whether or not he’s ever going to be able to put his professional career back together. You don’t want your relationship with one of your key witnesses to be adversarial.”

“So what’s your point?” Denton said, making no attempt to mask his impatience with the conversation.

“Give him immunity and I’ll make sure that you have the most cooperative witness you could ask for.” Hellman waited for a response; there was none. “Look, you yourself felt that with the new DNA evidence there wasn’t enough of a case against Madison. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dismissed the charges.”

“But who knows what the future holds? New evidence, a new witness for that matter, could come forward that implicates your client.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Not very often,” Denton conceded. “But it does happen.”

“Yeah, once in a million cases. The same could be said of huge asteroids striking the planet and wiping out all of humanity.”

Denton hesitated.

“Of all the cases you’ve handled, has it ever happened?”

“No,” he said, looking down at his desk.

Hellman leaned farther forward. “Phil Madison is bright and articulate and will make a good witness. He also understands when someone is working with him and when someone is out for his own interests.”

“Justice is my interest. That’s it.”

“And my interest is doing what’s best for, my client. Immunity.”

“I still don’t see why.”

“You know that I never have my clients testify. But now, he’s going to testify at Harding’s trial, and he could theoretically say things on the stand that you’ll then be privy to, on the record, that could be used against him later. And no, I have nothing specific in mind. I promise you that. But I don’t want to leave him naked up there when all he’s trying to do is help you out. What if you lose this trial against Harding and then turn around and recharge my client again to save face. It was only a week ago that you wanted his skin.” Hellman sat down, lowered his voice, softened his tone. “1 want immunity. Shit, he deserves immunity. He’s been through enough. Do, it for me, Tim. In all the years we’ve worked on opposite sides of the table, I’ve never deliberately done anything that’s harmed you. How many defense attorneys can you make that statement about?”

Denton sat up straight in his chair; he stared at Hellman for a moment, poker-faced.

“Okay,” Denton said, “I’ll do it. I hope to God the judge doesn’t press me too hard as to why. It’s probably got more to do with our relationship than with Phillip Madison.”

“Who’s the judge?”

Denton smiled. “Calvino.”

“You drew Calvino again?”

“Can you believe it? I take it as an omen.”

“Oh, it’s an omen all right. A bad omen when my client was the defendant.”

They laughed a bit, and talked about the order of immunity that Denton was going to draw up to bring before the judge. Hellman stood and extended his hand. “Thanks, Tim. I’ll do everything I can to help. If you need something, anything, let me know.”

Following a week of solid rainfall, many Sacramento area homes in low-lying areas sustained flood damage from overrun creeks and broken levees. The storms were hitting on a rotation basis: one came through and did its damage, while the next was approaching, much in the way an airplane departs the runway while several stacked planes behind it await their turn. With the sun fighting its way through the stratus clouds, the unexpected break in the weather gave homeowners and businesses time to clean up, sandbag, and prepare for the next deluge.

Bill Jennings chuckled as he and Angela Moreno drove toward Brittany Harding’s house, arrest warrant in hand. “This is truly the calm before the storm,” he quipped. “If this lady is as volatile as we’ve been hearing, she could bring the next storm on prematurely.”

“She seemed pretty meek when we were there for her DNA.”

“Shock of the situation. Plus, she wasn’t threatened with anything then, except the loss of a few skin cells and a vial of blood. Now we’re coming to take her to jail.”

They turned into her driveway and radioed their arrival to dispatch; behind them, a sheriff’s department cruiser pulled in front of the house and parked at the curb. They would transport Harding to the station with Moreno for booking while Jennings searched her home and confiscated evidence listed on the more expansive warrant than they’d served previously, to include all pairs of shoes and any materials, binders, or notes she kept during her employment at the Consortium.