William Bernhardt - Capitol Offense

“… 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.”

The reporter continued. “We consulted the district attorney for his reaction to this startling development in the case that has already shocked and horrified Tulsans.”

This time the on-screen image shifted to David Guillerman, apparently sitting at his desk. He spoke hesitantly, as if he hated to comment at all, which would probably be useful when he had to explain to the judge why he’d violated the gag order.

“Of course I’m shocked and appalled by the new information Channel Seven has brought to light in this case. I had no idea.”

“Is it my imagination, or is his nose getting longer?” Ben asked.

“Shhh!”

Guillerman continued. “I prefer to try cases in the courtroom, not the media, but this is unacceptable behavior, made all the worse because the attorney is also our elected-well, our appointed representative in the U.S. Senate. The peddling of influence has already turned many people off government and caused enormous cynicism in this country. To have someone actually collaborating with criminals, just to make legal fees, is truly shocking. I hope the state bar association is paying attention. I understand that Kincaid’s colleague in the Senate, Senator Hardwick, is preparing a formal motion to censure him as soon as Congress reconvenes.”

“Hardwick’s a Republican! He hates me!”

“Which pretty much guarantees his participation in this lynching.” Christina shut the television off. “This changes the trial landscape.”

“No joke. This is horrible! Those TV people totally trashed me.”

“What do you expect from tabloid news channels? You’re famous. You’re a target. That’s how they pay their bills.”

“They said I conspired with Dennis!”

“Honestly, how long did you think you could stay in politics before someone flung some mud your way? This is probably overdue.”

“But he said I helped plan a murder!”

“Which was probably a mistake. Guillerman took it too far. If he had simply said you had some idea of Dennis’s mind-set, he could’ve done almost as much damage, with a lot more credibility.” She cleared her throat. “Since that’s more or less true. But helped plan a murder? You? With your record? I don’t think there are many people gullible enough to buy that. Even if it does come from an attractive news reader.”

“But I have no opportunity to defend myself.”

“You will. As soon as the judge clears it, you can make a statement. Explain that at no time did Dennis say he planned or even wanted to kill anyone. This will blow over. In the end, all anyone’s going to remember from this mess is who won the trial.”

“I hope you’re right.” He clenched his fists together. “It just makes me so mad! They intentionally misled their viewers. They melodramatized the facts. And everyone in the city was watching.”

“Exactly.” Christina looked straight into his eyes. “Do you not see? That’s what you can use to your advantage. It may look grim now, but this could actually turn out to be the biggest break you’ve had in this entire impossible trial.”

Loving was not excited about the prospect of a return visit to Scene of the Crime. He’d come to this bar almost every night this week. Wasn’t all he had done, of course. He’d been surreptitiously following some of the officers who were at the hotel the night Sentz died. He’d run deep background checks on Sentz, Conway, and Shaw, as well as Dennis Thomas and his late wife. He’d bugged the police locker room, which was probably illegal and almost certainly would be fatal if they found out. He’d talked to everyone present when Joslyn Thomas was found and everyone at the hotel on the fateful day.

But all of that had produced nothing. So here he was, back at Scene of the Crime, hoping to hit a home run when no one was even pitching. He knew Ben had been cross-examining the police witnesses, and he would have loved to have brought Ben something useful, but so far it hadn’t happened. He had to come up with something before this trial was over and done.

His first visit here had been mildly productive, in a macho confrontational sort of way. But the follow-ups had not fulfilled the promise of the original. Officer Shaw had obviously put the word out. No one was to talk to Loving, or anyone else associated with Ben Kincaid. And so far the other cops had toed the line. Loving had sat in silence for several nights running. Not stirring up any trouble, but not stirring up anything else, either.

A more sensible person would probably give up, but sensible had never been Loving’s strong suit. Ben needed help. That was good enough for him. Loving frankly couldn’t care less about this Thomas guy. He didn’t hold much with killers, crazy or not. But Ben he cared about. Ben had reached out to him when he really needed help, when the rest of the world was heaping scorn and abuse. He would do anything for the Skipper. And if that meant one more miserable night at Scene of the Crime, so be it.

“Psst!”

Loving looked both ways. He didn’t see anything. But he supposed if the person hissing at him wanted to be seen, he wouldn’t be hissing at him.

“Psst!”

Loving followed the general sound to a grove of trees a little ways off the road, still a good distance from the bar. He could hear the hooting and the music and the blare of the big-screen television, but there was no chance that anyone hanging out there could have heard the hisser.