William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

Ben paused. The reporters were furiously scribbling down his every word.

Well, Guillerman was playing to the media. He would have to play the same game.

Ben turned to face the gallery, though still technically addressing the judge. "Here's a fact they can't deny-this man's wife died because the police did nothing. We can argue about whether they woulda coulda shoulda, but that's the bottom line. They could have saved her and they didn't. How long did it take them to find her once they finally sprang into action? About three hours. But instead of being rescued in three hours, she suffered for seven days. Suffered in the most excruciating way possible, her bones broken, her leg pierced, her very life force slowly ebbing away. In constant pain."

Ben paused, and he was gratified to notice that no one interrupted to fill the gap. He had their attention. "Now imagine being that woman's husband. The man who loves her more than anything else in the world. The man who worships her. The man she doesn't come home to. You search everywhere, with no luck. You ask the police for help, but they can't be budged. You try everything you know-and none of it works. Finally, after seven days, you find her. And it's too late. She dies, right before your eyes. After enduring the most hideous torture imaginable."

Ben paused again, letting the words sink in. "Do you think that might possibly have an effect on a man's mental stability? His rationality? His ability to distinguish right from wrong?" He turned around to face the bench. "This is not a frivolous plea, your honor, and we will prove that at trial. But the point I make now is that, regardless of the outcome of the trial, this man deserves our sympathy. Perhaps even our pity. He does not deserve to be locked away for weeks until this case comes to trial. In the name of humanity, your honor, I beg you to set bail for this defendant!"

Ben sat down. The courtroom remained silent for a long time. Guillerman did not attempt a rebuttal.

"Very well," Judge McPartland said, clearing his throat. "I can see that this is going to be a very interesting case. You are correct, Mr. Guillerman, in your statement that the court does not normally award bail in capital cases. But I think we can all agree that this is far from a typical case. I see no likelihood whatsoever that the defendant will flee, nor do I think it likely that he will cause harm to other persons. And I must say that I think it altogether appropriate that the court give some consideration to the ordeal this man has already suffered. I have been married to the same woman for thirty-seven years now, and… well, there but for the grace of God go I. No one should have to endure such an experience, and I will not make it worse."

Guillerman rose but spoke quietly. "The State opposes the setting of any bail in this case."

"Understood," the judge continued. "Objection noted. And I will set bail quite high-a million dollars. But I will make it available. Not intending to set any new precedent, but simply acknowledging that these are most unusual circumstances."

Ben liked the result the judge was rambling toward, but was concerned by McPartland's lack of focus. He seemed to be shuffling about, not really making his point. Ben began to wonder if he was up to a trial of this magnitude.

The judge slammed his gavel. "Bail is set in the amount of one million dollars. When you have your bond together, make the proper arrangements with the officer on the second floor. Now about the trial-"

"As soon as possible," Ben said, rising. "We're ready. There are few facts in question." And not much evidence that could help them, since they were planning a defense based upon Dennis's mental state, not on the evidence. A long wait till trial would only give the prosecution more time to turn up evidence that might be used against them.

Guillerman looked at Ben, obviously surprised. He shrugged. "If the defense is ready, so are we."

"Very well. I'll plug this into the first available slot. Thank you, gentlemen. This hearing is dismissed."

The tumult rose with such suddenness it was as if a door had suddenly been opened onto an elementary school playground. It was almost deafening. Many people-not all of them reporters-hurled questions at Ben, which he pointedly ignored.

Guillerman pulled Ben to one side. "I'm only saying this because I really am a fan. You'll never win on temporary insanity."

"I guess we'll see."

"I don't blame you for trying. But I know more about the facts of this case than you do, and I'm telling you-you cannot make that stick."

"I appreciate your concern." Sort of. "But I'm not thinking on my feet. I would never advance a theory I didn't believe was viable."

"And if you're contemplating jury nullification, put that out of your head right now. Judge McPartland won't let it happen. No matter how you dress it up. He'll shoot it down."

"Well, you never know. I'm full of surprises."

"I know that. But I think this time you've gone one surprise too far."

"Time will tell, right?"

Guillerman shook his head, then smiled. "Fine. Play it your way. Can't say I didn't warn you."

Ben returned to his own table.

"Nice job," Christina said, but Ben could see she was not altogether pleased.

"Excellent," Dennis said, grabbing his hand and shaking it. "You had me a little worried back in the jail cell. But that was fantastic. You can really pour on the fire when you get worked up, huh?"

"I was doing my job."

"And doing it darn well. The most important thing is that you seemed like you really believed it. That's what sells a jury."

"That, plus evidence. And truth."

"It's important for the jury to believe that the lawyer likes his client. Gives credibility to the claims of innocence."

"We don't have to prove innocence," Ben said. "Only not proven guilty." And he added to himself: Thank goodness.

"Well, anyway, I'm pleased, Ben. I guess everything I heard about you was true. But I don't have a million dollars. I do have a trust fund I could use toward bail, but it's not enough."

Ben nodded. "We'll get a bond. It still won't be cheap, but we'll find a way. You may have to take out a loan. It'll be worth it. You don't need to spend more time in jail."

"You need to spend it in our office," Christina said, packing her materials away. "Now that Ben has so brilliantly put this case on the fast track, we're going to have to work night and day to get ready."

"That's fine," Dennis said. "I'm willing. Whatever you want." He rubbed his hands together. "This is very encouraging."

Ben saw Christina's eyes narrow.

"I've read that people who don't get bail are found guilty nine times out of ten. And the judge's reaction suggests that we've done a decent job of spinning public opinion. I think we need another press conference, Ben. Soon, on the courthouse steps. If the psychiatrist is available, maybe he should come, too. Those potential jurors will be watching."

He moved toward the door, where a dozen reporters eagerly waited to get their hands on him.

Christina gave her husband a fierce look. "Ben…"

"I know, Christina. I know."

Ben stood shoulder to shoulder with his newly sprung and spruced-up client, staring at the vast array of microphones and minicams assembled on the plaza outside the Tulsa County courthouse. It was important that Dennis be present and that they all see him as he was, a good, intelligent, clean-cut professional who had recently lost his wife. Not a monster, not a violent man.

Just the same, Ben planned to do all the talking.

"We applaud Judge McPartland's actions. It would have been much easier to take the usual path and avoid controversy. But instead of jumping on the media bandwagon, he saw the facts and circumstances clearly and realized that Dennis Thomas is no threat to anyone. He does not deserve to be incarcerated, not now or at any time in the future.