- Margolin - The Last Innocent Man

Judge Rosenthal looked over at David. He, too, was waiting for an objection. When David said nothing, the judge toyed with the idea of calling the lawyers to the bench to discuss the direction the testimony was taking, but Nash was an experienced attorney, and he had conducted an excellent trial so far. The judge decided to let David try his case his way.

“We was usin’ a motel on the strip then, so I knew right where they was goin’. I parked in the lot near the room and waited. About ten minutes later I heard a scream, so I went up to the room.

“Mordessa is naked and scramblin’ across the bed, and this dude,” Johnson said, pointing at Stafford, “is right on top of her, beatin’ her good. She got blood comin’ out of her mouth and her eye looked real bad.

“I was carryin’ a piece which I pulled and told him to freeze. He does. Then I asked what happened. Mordessa says Stafford wanted her to do some real kinky stuff, like tyin’ her up and whipping her. She tells him it’s extra and he says that’s cool. Then somethin’ about him scared her and she changed her mind. And that’s when he starts beatin’ on her.”

“What happened then?”

“The cops, uh, police arrived. I guess someone heard Mordessa screamin’ and called ’em. Anyway, this white cop asks Stafford what happened and he don’t even speak to me. Stafford says we tried to roll him and the next thing I know, we’re down the station house charged with prostitution and attempted robbery.”

“Did you tell the police your story?”

“Sure, but they wasn’t too interested in our version.”

“What finally happened to the charges against you?”

“Nothin’. They was dropped.”

“And why was that?”

T.V. smiled and pointed at Stafford. “He wouldn’t prosecute. Said he never said no such thing to the police.”

“Is there any question in your mind that the man who beat up Mordessa is the defendant, Lawrence Dean Stafford?”

Johnson stared at Stafford and shook his head.

“No, ma’am.”

Monica paused for effect, then said, “Your witness, counselor.”

The courtroom was hushed and all eyes turned toward David. Stafford’s head was bent and he stared at the blank legal pad that lay before him. He had not moved during Johnson’s testimony.

David also sat motionless. As Johnson had testified, the lawyer in him had seen the numerous objections and legal motions he could have made to keep Johnson’s testimony out, but he had made none of them, because there was another, more human, part that would not let him.

Each time he thought about objecting, he thought about Tony Seals and Ashmore. He was tired of letting the animals out of their cages and tired of justifying his actions by the use of philosophical arguments he no longer believed in. Stafford was guilty. He had murdered Darlene Hersch. There was no longer any doubt in David’s mind. David had to protect future victims from a man like Stafford, not use his skills to endanger others. Stafford had taken a life and he would pay for it.

The judge was calling his name for a second time. The jurors were staring at him. A low rumble of voices was beginning to build among the spectators. David shook his head slowly from side to side.

“No questions,” he said.

And Stafford never said a word in protest.

The visitor’s room at the state penitentiary was a large, open space filled with couches and chairs upholstered in red vinyl and outfitted with chrome armrests. Three vending machines stood against one wall. There was an occasional low wooden table with an ashtray on it.

Jenny had never been in a place like this before, and the visits depressed her. The other prisoners seemed strange and threatening and not like anyone she had ever met. Whenever she entered the prison, she felt like a visitor to a foreign country.

Larry did not understand her reluctance to touch him. All around them wives, lovers, and relatives embraced the other prisoners. She tried to explain how she felt to Larry, but he saw her reticence as another betrayal.

“I talked to Mr. Bloch,” Jenny said. “He says he’ll have your brief filed at the court of appeals this week. He sounded hopeful, Larry.”

Stafford shook his head. He had fired David as soon as Judge Rosenthal had imposed the mandatory life sentence on him. Jerry Bloch, an experienced appellate attorney, was representing him now. They had talked about the appeal last week.

“I’m not going to get out. That bastard Nash saw to that when he railroaded me at the trial.”

“But Mr. Bloch-”

“I talked to Bloch. Don’t forget, I’m a lawyer. There aren’t any errors Bloch can work with, because Nash never objected when they put that pimp on the stand. That son of a bitch socked me in here but good.”

Jenny said nothing. She had been through this before. Once Larry got started, he would stay in a rage during the entire visit.

“If he’d cross-examined Johnson or kept him off…Jenny, there were a thousand ways he could have kept that pimp off the stand.”

He could also have told the judge that you and I lied, she thought to herself, but he didn’t. He didn’t do anything. An image of the last day of Larry’s trial slipped unbidden into her consciousness. Once again she saw T.V. Johnson walk from the hushed courtroom. The jury filing out. The judge and prosecutor following. But David and Larry had not moved. And when the guard finally led Larry away, David still remained seated. She had waited for him in the back of the room, wanting to talk to him, to hold him.

When everyone else had left, David got to his feet slowly, as if he were climbing the last section of a steep mountain grade. When he turned, he looked exhausted and his eyes had lost their focus. He packed his papers away and walked toward the door, up the aisle in Jenny’s direction. When he reached her, he paused for barely a moment and looked down at her. Where she had expected hate, she saw only despair. The look of a man who had given up everything without a fight.

That evening, after short deliberation, the jury returned a verdict of guilty. She had not seen David since. He never answered her calls and never seemed to be at home. After a while she stopped trying.

“Bloch says if we lose the appeal in the supreme court, I can go into federal court and allege incompetence of counsel. But I have to wait and exhaust my state appeals first.”

“We can do that, if you want to.”

“You bet I want to.”

“Won’t it come out that…about my not being with you that night?”

“I don’t care, Jenny. That’s only perjury. I’m in here for life for a murder I didn’t commit.”

And what about me? she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. If she had to be punished in order for Larry to get out, she would be getting what she deserved. If she hadn’t betrayed David, he would never have collapsed the way he had. Larry was in prison because she had destroyed David with her lies.

David. How she loved him. More so now that he was lost to her forever. She remembered the night they had first met. It had taken all her control to refrain from calling him. And why hadn’t she? Guilt. It was always the same answer. Guilt had prevented her from asking Larry for a divorce long before Darlene Hersch was murdered. Guilt prevented her from telling David the truth. And guilt was keeping her shackled to a man who would probably spend the rest of his life in prison.

THE UPTURNED COLLARof Thomas Gault’s jacket blocked the icy wind and sent it skittering through the drunken sailors and carousing longshoremen who crowded the sidewalk. Gault pushed open the door of The Dutchman, a noisy workingmen’s bar that took its trade from the docks. A gust of wind chilled two men who were sitting at the bar, and they looked Gault’s way when he entered. The bar lined the wall to Gault’s right, and a row of booths occupied the wall on the left. Most of the room was filled with Formica-topped tables. Two pool tables stood in a cleared space near the gents’ room.