William Bernhardt - Capitol Offense

Dennis was lying on the cot. The cell had a small table, an open toilet, and a sink, partially obscured by a small wall. It was not the Ritz. It was not even the basement at the Ritz.

Dennis opened his eyes. “Thanks for coming.”

“It’s a miracle I got here as soon as I did. They were deliberately giving me the runaround.”

“I would’ve thought a senator would have some sway at the jailhouse.”

“When it comes to cop killing, no one has sway. And the police won’t make anything easy. The reporters are already gathering outside. I managed to come in through a side door, but I won’t get that courtesy again.” Ben put down his briefcase and sat on the end of the cot. “So what did you want?”

“I want you to get me off, obviously.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t suborn perjury.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means I can’t knowingly put someone on the stand and help him lie.”

“Who said anything about lying?”

Ben gave him a long look. “You must think I have the memory of a mayfly. I know perfectly well you were planning to kill Detective Sentz. And then you went out and did it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, good luck convincing the jury.”

“I think I should plead not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”

“I thought you didn’t do it.”

“That’s correct. But I think my chances of success will be greater with a temporary insanity plea.”

“You’ll have to do it with a different attorney. Don’t worry-there are lots of lawyers out there. You won’t have any trouble finding someone.”

“I don’t want just anyone. I want you. I hear you’re the best in town.”

“There are lots of capable attorneys in town. Call my office manager. He can make some recommendations.”

Dennis sat up and looked at him with the same pleading eyes that had almost started him crying when they last met. “I need your help.”

“That’s what you said before. But you didn’t listen to me.” Ben frowned. “What happened?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I blacked out.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Was that induced by the drugs or the nakedness?”

“I’m serious. I’m not making this up.” He took Ben’s arm and kept him from rising. “I will admit I hated that man. My wife suffered and died because of him. I will admit I thought about killing him, or making him suffer some semblance of what my wife suffered. But that wasn’t why I went to see him. I wanted to confront him. Wanted to find out what was going on.”

“I’m amazed he agreed to see you.”

“I was, too. When I got to his hotel room, he almost seemed…” Dennis stared at the ceiling, searching for the right word. “He almost seemed guilt-ridden. Maybe he regretted what he did, after he saw what happened to Joslyn. I don’t know. Something was on his mind. We talked, but at that point my memory gets pretty shaky. I don’t know what happened except I remember having the distinct feeling he was going to tell me something, something important…”

“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.”