William Bernhardt - Capitol Offense

“He refused to investigate. Wouldn’t even open a file. I asked him repeatedly. Every day from the moment she disappeared. He wouldn’t do it.”

“He must’ve had a reason.”

“He had lots of reasons. But he didn’t do it because he didn’t want to. He’s just occupying oxygen, waiting to put his twenty on. My wife wasn’t enough to get him off his butt.”

“So you blame your wife’s death-”

“She didn’t just die, Senator. She suffered. She was seriously wounded, trapped in a car for seven days, slowly dying. In excruciating pain. Can you imagine what that felt like, to experience that kind of agony, and dehydration, and starvation? For seven days? Eventually, I got someone else to authorize an investigation. Do you know how long it took them to find her? Three hours! She suffered for seven days because that dirty cop couldn’t spare three hours!”

“I can tell you’re upset, and I don’t blame you. But believe me, revenge is not the right course of action. File a civil suit if you must.”

“Civil suits against the police never succeed.”

Sadly, Ben knew he was largely correct. “I can’t condone crime. And I certainly can’t in any way support you in a crime that hasn’t even happened yet.”

Dennis drew himself up slowly, folded his hands, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You must’ve misunderstood me. What did you think I was proposing-murder? Gosh, I guess I didn’t explain myself clearly. The truth is, I’m writing a book.”

Ben looked at him levelly. “Go on.”

“That’s life in academia. Publish or perish. And I’m sure you know how important research is for a scholarly book. You’ve written books yourself, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Nonfiction.”

“Well, I’m planning a literary novel, something different from my usual critical analyses, and in my totally fictional story, a man commits murder, but then tries to get a pardon to get himself off. Or failing that, takes steps to establish a claim of temporary insanity.”

“Do tell.”

“So my point in coming here is to find out what would be the best steps to take to support a subsequent claim of temporary insanity. You can help me with that, can’t you? Since you are an author as well as a lawyer?”

“But I’m not a total idiot.”

“I understand that you-I mean, the lawyer in my book-would need to be able to show that I was unable to distinguish right from wrong at the time the murder was committed.”

“Yeeeeeesss…”

“What if I were on some kind of drug? Would that help? Or maybe if I forgot to put my clothes on? That would certainly show diminished capacity, wouldn’t it? If I were standing there starkers wearing nothing but a gun?”

Ben rose to his feet. “Look, I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with, but this has gone far enough. Despite what you’ve said, this sounds a whole lot like you’re planning a murder and trying to get advice on the best way to do it!”

“What about irresistible impulse? I’m thinking that might be the best way to go.”

Ben’s brows knitted together. “Exactly what kind of research have you been doing?”

“I think the jury would believe that I was unable to control myself, after all that’s happened to me. And that’s all you need, right? Just an excuse for jury nullification. Getting the jury to ignore the law and reach a verdict based on sympathy for the defendant.”

“Why temporary insanity? Why not just claim you’re absolutely totally stark raving insane?”

“Ah, but then I-I mean, my character-would be committed, right? If he succeeds on a claim of temporary insanity, however, he goes free. No jail because he wasn’t responsible for his actions, and no commitment because the insanity was only temporary.”

“You wouldn’t go free. Not after killing a cop, not even on a temporary insanity defense. You’d be committed for observation.”

“Yes, but for how long? Until the doctors think I’m well and won’t be a threat to society? That shouldn’t take long.”

“Look. I’m not going to have anything to do with what sounds to me like a very twisted little scheme.”

“I’m just doing research!”

“Yeah, and I’m just waiting for my Yankees tryout. I’m a member of the bar, Mr. Thomas-”

“Dr. Thomas, if you don’t mind. I’m a Ph.D.”

Ben drew in his breath. “-not to mention a U.S. senator. I’m an elected-well, appointed official. I can’t assist you in the commission of a crime. In fact, I have a duty to report any plans to commit a criminal act.”

“I said nothing about any plan to commit a crime. I told you, I’m just researching a book. Although…”

“Although you might just lose your head and take drugs and go commit a murder with your clothes off? I want you out of my office.”

Dennis picked up his briefcase. “Fine. If you say so.” He stood, then hesitated a moment. “You know, Mr. Kincaid, I have to say-I’m disappointed. I heard you were different. I heard you didn’t just take care of yourself. I heard you cared about other people.”

“Way too many people are talking about me these days. Look, I care about other people, but-”

“No, you’re covering your own butt, like everyone else. Playing by the rules. The same attitude that got my Joslyn killed in the first place.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s disappointing. I heard you weren’t afraid to bend the rules here and there in the name of justice.”

“Bend the rules? You’re talking about murder!”

“No. I’m talking about the man who killed my wife. Deliberately.” He hunched forward, leaning against Ben’s desk. “Did I tell you that my wife’s liver failed? Totally shut down. The buildup of toxins in her body was horrifying. Physicians have told me that’s the worst kind of pain it’s possible to experience. Constant. Inescapable. Imagine enduring that for seven days, helpless to do anything about it.”

“My heart goes out to you for your loss, but-”

“Her left leg was gangrenous. Even if she had lived it would’ve had to be amputated. She was so hungry she tried to eat the vinyl upholstery on the seat she was pinned down against.”

Ben felt a dryness in his throat. “You have my sympathy, but-”

“You’re a married man, senator. Do you love your wife?”

“Of course I do. More than-”

“Would you want to see her tortured for seven days?”

“Of course not.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I can see it in your eyes. If you were in my shoes, you would feel exactly the same way I do.”

“But I would never contemplate murder,” Ben replied, realizing how weak and unconvincing he sounded.

“Did I tell you I didn’t get to say goodbye?” He collapsed on the desk, his head falling onto his arms. “I saw her for only a moment, when they pulled her out of the car. Then the… the bastard cop had me arrested for hitting him. What self-respecting husband wouldn’t?”

Without even thinking about it, Ben placed his hand on Dennis’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was locked up late on a Friday. I couldn’t get an attorney, couldn’t get released before my arraignment. By the time I was out-” His voice cracked. “They had already cremated Joslyn. That was her wish-but it was implemented before I was released. She was gone. I never got to see her, Mr. Kincaid. I never even said goodbye!”

Ben pressed against his shoulder, hoping to somehow feed the man the comfort that eluded him. “I know how hard dealing with grief can be. But murder is not the answer. It won’t help anything. And you won’t get away with it. You’ll be convicted. Would your wife have wanted that? The best thing you can do is move forward, get on with your life. If you want to bring some action against the police department, I will help you. Sure, the odds are long, but I have personally experienced police misconduct like you wouldn’t believe. I know it happens-much more frequently than anyone wants to acknowledge. I will fight to the last to see that your wrong is righted. I promise you.”