William Bernhardt - Capitol Offense

“So you’re saying you were justified in violating a judicial order?”

“All I’m saying is, if you want to remain in office, you’d better snap on your political weather vane. Because the wind is blowing against you on this one and the elections are not far away. You’ll never be able to raise funds if you cling to this case. And it takes a lot of money-”

“To run for reelection these days. Yes, I remember.” Ben wasn’t finished. “Thanks to you, I’ve got a call from the bar association.”

“What did you expect? Sometimes I think they spend more time going after lawyers than they do promoting them these days, apparently never noticing how much damage they do to the profession in the process.” He took a breath. “Of course, that was off the record. Don’t want them to find an excuse to come after me.”

“I want you to make a public apology.”

“Ben, I can’t do that. For starters, it might violate the judge’s gag order. Furthermore-”

“At least admit that you yourself have no evidence of any premeditation or conspiracy.”

“With a capital trial pending? I’m sorry, Ben, but you’re dreaming. I can’t do it. And honestly, it wouldn’t do you a bit of good if I did. Those evening news shows love it when you’re being accused. But me calling a press conference to say something good about you?” He made a dismissive snort. “They probably wouldn’t even show up.”

“It’s a matter of principle.”

“No, Ben, it’s not. It’s about winning and losing. Why do prosecutors brag about their win/loss records? Why do athletes take steroids? Why do politicians claim we won wars when we won nothing? Americans love winners.” He paused. “Until they get too successful. Then we love to watch them fall. It’s the American way.”

Ben stepped out of his path. “You’re a cynical so-and-so, you know it?”

Guillerman passed on down the hallway. “Maybe. But I got elected to my office, unlike you, and I plan to retain mine, probably also unlike you. And I’m going to win this case.” He stopped and gave Ben a parting look. “If you thought what’s happened so far was bad, stay tuned.”

Ben sat at the defendant’s table waiting for the judge to enter the courtroom. No one was talking. Dennis was absorbed in his own thoughts. Ben wasn’t sure if he was pleased or displeased that the judge turned down the mistrial motion. Probably a little of both. But it left him exactly where he had been before-hanging on to this case with only the most tenuous of tethers.

Christina was keeping herself busy, as usual. With the defense case about to begin, there were a million things to manage. Making sure the witnesses were on tap and prepared. Making sure all the exhibits were copied and ready to be admitted. Making sure the legal research was available when Guillerman made his inevitable objections. Making sure the extra-large bottle of Maalox was close at hand.

“Where do you think the jurors’ heads are right now?” he whispered to Christina.

She didn’t stop organizing whatever it was she was organizing. “They’re confused. They’re wondering if Dennis really is the type to make a death threat, much less to act on it. They’re wondering what Conway was getting at when he dragged you into his testimony. Except for the ones who watched the news report on television and lied about it. They know what the accusation was about and are wondering if it’s true. In any case, they will be watching very closely. Both Dennis and you.”

“How do we convince them we’re not a scum-sucking murder squad?”

She smiled a little. “Just stick to the plan. Put on your case. Be the straight arrow you usually are.” She winked. “At least in public.”

“And you think that will be enough?”

She plopped his first witness outline on the table in front of him. “I never said that.”

The first defense witness was a professor, Gordon Taylor, who worked at TU in the English department with Dennis. He had known Dennis-and Joslyn-for many years. His testimony had two important aspects. First, he established that Dennis and Joslyn had been a loving couple, deeply devoted to each other. Despite the busyness of their schedules and the disparity in their incomes, he testified, the two were deeply in love and appeared to have a healthy relationship.

Taylor was also able to testify about the change that had come over Dennis after his wife disappeared. Although Dennis had stopped coming to work, Taylor saw him twice and on one occasion accompanied him when he searched for his wife. He described Dennis as worried, obsessed, and deeply distressed. He said that physically, Dennis had been tired, haggard. He’d begun to stutter when he talked and often drifted off in the middle of his sentences, never completing his thoughts. Since he wasn’t a medical expert, Ben couldn’t quite have him say that Dennis’s mental stability was affected, but the implication was obvious.

Taylor was a useful witness, but Ben didn’t kid himself that he was a case winner. Guillerman didn’t even bother to cross-examine.

The next witness was another personal friend, a woman who lived next door to Dennis and Joslyn. Not the woman sitting behind him masquerading as his mother, but another woman named Joanne Sultan. She was also able to confirm that Dennis and Joslyn had been a loving couple. She had heard some arguing from time to time while she was out working in her garden, especially when Joslyn came home in the wee hours of the morning, but she never thought anything of it. She had been watching people all her life and she could tell Dennis was still as in love with her as he had been on the day they married. She also personally admired Dennis-his sunny personality, his eager willingness to help a neighbor.

The portrait she painted of her neighbor after his wife died could not have been more dramatically different had she said he’d been imbibing Dr. Jekyll’s potion. He’d stopped going to work. He’d stopped shaving in the morning or changing his clothes. He’d muttered to himself, mostly unintelligibly. Sultan had gone over to his house on several occasions during this period; she’d been worried about him and felt he probably should not be alone. But he’d refused all assistance and virtually barricaded himself in his home. Sultan admitted that on one occasion, after Joslyn was dead, she had peered through the kitchen window, just to check on Dennis. She’d seen him poring over a photo album with tears in his eyes.

Their wedding photos.

The last time she’d seen him, she’d been encouraged. She’d thought he might be getting over it, because she could see that he had dressed and groomed himself. In fact, he’d been wearing a suit and looked quite attractive. This was the day of the murder.

Ben realized that she must have seen him on his way to Ben’s office.

“Did you ever observe him doing anything violent?”

“No,” she assured Ben readily. “Never. Not before or after he lost his dear wife. Never.”

“Did you ever hear him talk about doing anything violent?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Ever see anything that suggested he might be planning something violent?”

“No.”

“How would you describe his demeanor on the last occasion you spoke to him?”

She thought several moments before answering. “I would say he was a changed man. Dramatically altered. I’m sure there was a glimmer of the old Dennis in there somewhere, but I couldn’t spot it. He was not himself.”

“Thank you. I have no more questions.”

Guillerman, however, had several.

“You’ve testified that you never saw any indications that the defendant was planning anything violent.”

“That’s so.”