William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

He leaned back and stretched, careful not to dislodge Giselle from his lap. He had not covered nearly as much material as he had hoped to get through before the trial resumed tomorrow. This case was moving too fast, much faster than he had anticipated. The speed of light, compared to the glacial pace of the usual pretrial and trial process. The prosecution had already rested its case, and now the burden was on him to come up with something to salvage the mess.

Whether he cared to admit it or not, the last day of the trial had been a disaster. The prosecution had set him up and he'd fallen for it. They'd dealt with the defendant and his alleged defense perfectly. Ben would have a very difficult time trying to undo all the damage that had been done. And Dennis's life hung in the balance. Whatever might or might not have happened, he shouldn't be executed. Unfortunately, the burden of making sure that didn't happen rested squarely on Ben's shoulders.

And Christina wondered why he didn't sleep well…

No one had actually seen Dennis pull the trigger, but he knew he couldn't rely on that, not when the prosecution could put him in Sentz's room and his prints and DNA were all over the weapon. All their hopes were riding on the plea of temporary insanity. And what did they have to support that? Some medical testimony. Dennis had passed out, but Ben knew that could be spun in a number of different directions, including some that were not helpful. Their psychiatric witness was strong, but juries were wary of paid experts who purported to tell them what had really happened. In the final analysis, it was going to depend upon whether they liked Dennis, whether they felt sorry for him. If they did, they had a mechanism for allowing him to escape punishment. And if not…

Ben checked his watch. Christina had suggested a movie earlier, but he had insisted on working. He knew the film would be wasted; he would never stop thinking about the case long enough to enjoy himself. For that matter, he would've liked to call Mike, see if he wanted to go get a bite, catch up on the latest with his nonromance with Lieutenant Baxter. But it wouldn't be fair to Mike. He would end up talking about the case, which would put Mike in an uncomfortable position since he was a member of the police force. No, better to stay home. If he was going to be obsessed, he might as well be obsessed in a semiproductive way.

He heard Christina shout from the kitchen. "Haven't you worked enough? Take a break."

"I've still got tons to do."

"You work too much!"

"We're in the middle of a trial, remember? This is how we support ourselves. We work long hours in the courtroom so we can goof off… well…"

"Yes? The woman who still hasn't had a honeymoon is waiting for you to complete the sentence."

"You know what I mean."

The swinging doors separating the living room from the kitchen swung open. "All right, F. Lee Bailey. It's dinnertime."

He pushed away from the table. "Perfect timing." He glanced at the plate she slid under his nose. "And the perfect meal, too." An egg sandwich, just the way he liked it. None of that fancy-schmancy egg salad stuff. Just scrambled eggs on mayonnaise between two slices of toasted bread. Heaven!

Ben took a huge bite out of the corner. "Mmm. So good."

"I thought you were probably ready for some quality nourishment," Christina replied, with only a hint of sarcasm. "I initially thought grilled cheese, that other great favorite of yours and others with a ten-year-old's taste buds. But that would sit too heavy."

"I owe you one," he managed as he chugged down another bite. In normal practice, Ben and Christina shared the cooking duties. But when a trial was on, that changed, even when Christina was second-chairing. He knew her contributions to the trial were absolutely as important as his, maybe more so. But her obsession level was considerably less, and that was a positive thing. They made a good team. He could obsess, and she could scramble the eggs.

"Maybe some coffee to go with it?" he mumbled, his mouth full.

"You know what coffee does to you."

"I need the caffeine. I have to stay up late. There's much more I want to do."

"Yes, and then you won't be able to sleep because you've had so much coffee, and then you'll be whining because you can't sleep, and then your stomach will hurt because you're allergic to coffee, et cetera, et cetera."

He wiped his face with a napkin, grinning. "You think you know me pretty well, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Much better than you know yourself. How about a Sprite?"

"I guess that will have to do. And if it's not too much trouble…"

She rolled her eyes. "Chocolate milk?"

"If you don't mind."

"I suppose I can't deny a man his comfort food in the middle of a murder trial." She pulled a face. "Eggs and chocolate milk. Pardon me while I vomit!" She started toward the kitchen, then stopped at the television. "The evening news is about to start. Mind if I turn it on?"

"Is there any point? It's just going to be more of the same."

"More of the same I can deal with. I'm concerned about that last cheap shot Conway took on the witness stand."

"Oh, police officers hate defense attorneys. They'll take any shot they can get."

"True. But Guillerman doesn't do anything without a reason. I think he had that witness prepared to deliver his fatal harpoon. I don't believe anything there happened spontaneously. And how did he know you saw Dennis before he went to see Sentz?" She clicked on the console television.

"… the News on Seven. This is Annie Rhodes." The young woman holding the microphone was attractive, but she downplayed it with a stern expression. "Startling new developments in the murder of one of Tulsa County's most trusted and honored police officers…"

Ben frowned. "How do they know it was murder?"

"Shhh!"

"… took an unexpected turn Friday when one of the prosecution's chief witnesses testified that Dennis Thomas planned the murder of Detective Christopher Sentz in advance and, furthermore, that he did so in conspiracy with his defense attorney and current U.S. senator, Benjamin Kincaid."

Ben frowned. "Didn't she forget to say allegedly?"

Christina waved him down. "Shhh!"

"… but Channel Seven has learned that Dennis Thomas actually spoke to Senator Kincaid in his office on the day of the shooting, before the murder was committed. Evidence of conspiracy? Some Tulsans believe so."

Ben watched as the image cut to a video of someone Ben didn't recognize. Her name appeared at the bottom of the screen.

"I just happened to be at Two Warren Place that day when I was approached by a twenty-four-year-old man who said that he worked in Kincaid's office…"

"Huh?" Ben screeched. "Who?"

Christina scowled. "No one that age works for us. I mean, I may still look twenty-four, but I'm not." She pondered. "Maybe that kid who delivers sandwiches saw him."

"… and said that he wanted to consult with a leading defense attorney about how he might get away with murder. Apparently he and Kincaid talked for some time. That's probably when the topic of temporary insanity was raised first."

"That's not true!" Ben yelled at the glass box. "I mean, it is, but-but not the way they're making it sound!"

The television image reverted to the female reporter. "There you have it, John. An alleged eyewitness to the premeditated murder that robbed Tulsa of a fine officer and a family of its father."

"Eyewitness? It was hearsay!" Ben said, outraged. "Speculation. All she did was repeat what someone else supposedly told her. Can you get away with saying anything on the news if you get someone else to say it for you?"

"This evidence-and I use the term lightly-wouldn't be admissible in the most informal court hearing," Christina noted. "But apparently hearsay is good enough for the evening news."