William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

"And then?"

Dennis clenched his fists. "And that's all I can remember. I know there was more. I just can't bring it back."

"What would cause you to black out?"

"I don't know."

"Did he hit you?"

"No."

"Has this ever happened to you before?"

"No."

"When did you come around?"

"More than two hours later. The police had me in custody. And I remembered nothing since just before I passed out."

"Isn't that convenient?"

Dennis swore under his breath. "Pretty damned inconvenient, if you ask me."

"Well, sorry, but I can't help you. I should be going."

"Please don't." Dennis took Ben's wrist, holding him back. "I don't know what happened to me, but surely this only strengthens our case for temporary insanity."

"Funny how that works out."

"I know there are cases in which blackouts have been used as evidence of mental disorder."

"You know, despite whatever impression you may have gotten from TV shows or the local tabloid news, insanity defenses are rarely successful, and when they are, ninety percent of the time the defendants had been previously diagnosed with mental illnesses."

"I've seen a therapist."

"Was that before or after you came to see me?"

"My capability to function was obviously diminished. I couldn't distinguish right from wrong."

Ben could feel his irritation rising. It was impossible not to be suspicious of a defendant who knew as much about the law as he did. "Diminished capacity is not a defense. It's a mitigating factor. It might get you a reduced sentence, but it won't get you off."

"I know. We have to say I was insane. Didn't comprehend the nature and quality of my actions. Succumbed to an irresistible impulse." He paused. "And we have to say it was temporary. And now it's gone."

Ben looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You're really weirding me out, you know it?"

"Is it a crime to be smart? Well-read? Do you only take stupid defendants?"

"Well, no, but-"

"I want you to take my case."

"That's not going to happen."

"There's more to this than you know!"

Ben stopped, one hand already on the cell door. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know exactly. That what I wanted to talk to Sentz about. To find out what was going on. I think…" He waved his hands in the air, as though trying to straighten out his muddled thoughts. "I think there's… some kind of conspiracy going on."

Ben sighed. As if he didn't get enough conspiracy theories from Loving. "If this is supposed to convince me that you're paranoid and delusional, forget it."

"I mean it! There's something strange about the whole situation."

Ben turned back around. "Okay, I know I shouldn't do this, but I'll give you five more minutes. What are you babbling about?"

"Sentz. His refusal to open a file. Why? I mean, I know they have their rules and regulations, but so what? He could see I was desperate, and he could equally see that my wife wasn't the type to run off without saying anything. There was a moment where I was almost certain Sentz was going to give in and at least issue an APB. And then he looked at someone else in the station house-and that was it. He refused to do anything."

"You're saying someone else forced him to enforce the rules. I don't think we can castigate them much for that."

"You're not listening to me." Dennis stood up, his jaw set. "I'm saying that someone, for some reason, did not want my wife to be found alive."

"What reason could anyone possibly-"

"I don't know! That's what I need you for!"

"You're barking up the wrong tree."

"I'd investigate if I could. But I'm trapped behind bars."

"And unlikely to get bail, on a cop-killing charge."

"Exactly. I need you."

"So you keep saying." He paused, peering at Dennis intently. "Did you think if you got a senator on your side that might get you the publicity you want? Stir up some sympathy and public unrest? Put pressure on the judge, the jury? That's why you keep trying to get me to represent you, isn't it?"

"I'm doing it because I thought you would understand!" Dennis shouted.

His words reverberated through the metal cell long after his mouth had closed, a jarring clamor in Ben's ears.

"I've read about you, Mr. Kincaid."

"Google is a wonderful thing."

"And about your wife."

Ben's chin rose.

"I know she was wrongly accused of murder once. Framed. And probably would've been executed, except that one very determined individual fought for her, fought the system, the courts, the cops, and everyone else who stood in his way." Dennis smiled slightly. "And then he married her."

Ben shuffled his feet. "Well… a lot happened in between…"

"I want that man to fight for me, Mr. Kincaid. I want him to believe in me enough to stick his neck out and go the extra mile. Or even if he doesn't, I want him to do it for my Joslyn, because she was a good person, an extraordinary person, who did not deserve the gruesome, hideous death she received." He took a small step in Ben's direction. "I–I just want to know that someone still cares about justice. Not winning or losing. Not money. Not reputations. Justice."

He stretched out his hand, his eyes pleading. "Will you be that person, Mr. Kincaid? Will you do it for me? And Joslyn?"

"You cannot do this, Ben. Do you hear me? You cannot!"

Ben looked down at the floor and fidgeted with his fingers. "I'm sorry to hear that, Christina. Because I've already done it."

"Without even consulting me? I'm your partner."

"I never consult you before I accept a client. And neither do you."

"This is different."

"How so?"

"There's an unspoken commandment. Thou shalt consult thy partner and helpmeet before representing cop killers."

Ben pressed his fingers against the top of his desk. He could see this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "We have never shied away from taking controversial clients."

"This is way beyond controversial. The whole city is ready to have him drawn and quartered."

"And I've also never shied away from clients everyone believed guilty. Starting with you."

Christina did not back down. "Don't go throwing that in my face. I was framed. That's totally different from some guy who stalked his victim, carried a gun to his hotel room, and blew him away."

"He says he didn't do it."

"I thought he said he blacked out."

Ben hesitated. "Well… yes."

"If he blacked out and can't remember anything, how can he know whether he did it or not?"

"I think a murder would probably stick in his mind."

"No, Ben, that's exactly the sort of thing that wouldn't stick in his mind. The human psyche has great built-in defense mechanisms. When a memory becomes too unpleasant, the brain shuts it out. That could be the whole cause for this alleged blackout and memory loss. Selective amnesia."

This was a possibility that had not yet occurred to him. A very disturbing possibility. "You need to meet him, Christina. He's very sincere."

"I don't doubt it. He's probably a wonderful guy, when he's not shooting people."

"Christina…"

"But the traumatic death of his wife has caused some sort of personality break. And unfortunately, that's not insanity, temporary or otherwise. That's just a sad case of the right buttons being pushed to turn someone into a murderer."

"In any case, he needs representation."

"Right. And since you couldn't come up with a pardon-"

"Christina…"

She flung her arms over her head. "Ben, can you not see how this man is manipulating you? First he wants a pardon. Then he wants to trump up some temporary insanity defense, so he can get away with murder and not even have to do time in the asylum. Then, what do you know, he kills someone and provides a blackout and other circumstances to support a claim of temporary insanity. You're not his lawyer. You're his get-out-of-jail-free card!"