William Bernhardt - Death Row

Ben nodded. “Then I have to tell you, before you say anything, that technically anyway, Ray Goldman’s appeal is still active and I’m representing him.”

“I know that.”

She looked good, Ben thought, with close-cropped dark hair and a tight-fitting sweater skirt. She had been a bit pudgy as a teenager, but judging by appearances, that baby fat was long gone. “So the prosecutors probably wouldn’t want me talking to you. At least not outside their presence.”

“Are we breaking any rules?”

“Christina?”

Christina edged forward. “Are you personally represented by counsel, Erin?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then we’re not breaking any rules. But the prosecutors still wouldn’t like it.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what the prosecutors like.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose. This was certainly a new attitude from the DA’s star witness. And the sole survivor of the tragedy. “Okay. How can I help you?”

“You got Goldman’s execution stayed, right? I know-I was there.”

Ben’s heart sank. Is that why she had come-to chew him out for stopping the wheels of justice? “True, but that’s only temporary. We applied for federal habeas corpus review, but due to an unusually busy docket, the court hadn’t set a hearing. That’s why we got an eleventh-hour stay. But that won’t happen again. And a hearing has been set, in about a week.”

“What are you planning to say at the hearing?”

Ben pondered whether to answer the question. He didn’t normally brief prosecution witnesses on his case strategy. But for some reason, he thought he should tell her the truth. “Frankly, we don’t know. Getting a prisoner released on habeas corpus is pitifully rare. One of the most common grounds-which isn’t at all common-is incompetence of counsel at trial. I can hardly argue that the trial counsel was incompetent, since I was the trial counsel. Someone else could make the argument, though. Which is why I was looking for a new lawyer to take the case.”

“I was at that trial every day,” Erin said, and Ben could see in her eyes that she was returning to that time, a place he suspected she did not like to go. “I don’t recall you being incompetent. In fact, I remember thinking if I was ever in trouble, you were the one I’d hire to get me out.”

“I appreciate that. But there’s no such thing as a perfect trial, and every trial attorney makes mistakes. If there’s an argument to be made, we need to get someone in who can make it.”

There was a long silence. Ben could tell Erin was thinking, running something through her head. Unless he missed his guess, there was something she wanted to tell him. She just hadn’t figured out how to say it yet.

“I-” She started, then stopped, then tried it again. “I-would like to help. If I could.”

Christina’s brow creased. “You want to help us-with Ray Goldman’s appeal?”

“Yes. If possible. I would.”

Ben stared at her, unsure what to say. “Forgive us if we seem taken aback, Erin, but-you were the principal prosecution witness at the trial. The only one who mattered, really. To be quite honest, I thought we were winning. Until you took the stand.”

“Everyone thought so,” Christina added. “ Erin, your testimony is what got Ray convicted. More than that. It’s why he got the death penalty.”

All at once, Erin crumbled forward. Her head fell into her hands. “I know,” she said, barely audibly. “I know that.”

Ben and Christina looked at one another. This was too strange, almost surreal. What was going on?

Christina inched forward and gently laid a hand on the woman’s back. “I’m sorry, Erin. I wasn’t trying to induce a guilt trip. I was just stating a fact. About your testimony, I mean.”

Her chest heaved. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t understand. You told the jury what you saw and heard. Why does that hurt?”

“Because it was all a lie.” She brushed the tears from her face and pressed against the arms of the chair, trying to steady herself. “Every word of it. A tremendous lie.”

Ben was so stunned he could barely speak. “You-didn’t really see him?”

“I wasn’t sure what I saw.” Her broken voice seemed part anger, part anguish. “I wasn’t sure about anything. The killer wore a ski mask, remember? I couldn’t tell what he looked like. I did hear his voice, and when I heard Goldman’s voice in the lineup, I thought maybe it was the killer’s voice. But I couldn’t be certain.”

“Then why-”

“The DA.” Her lips stiffened as the letters slipped out of her mouth. “He pushed me. Pressured me. He was desperate to win that case. There had been so much publicity, you remember. He couldn’t afford to lose. He was certain Goldman was guilty and he was willing to do almost anything to convict him. I was only fifteen years old and barely thinking straight. Easy for him to manipulate.”

Ben didn’t argue with her. He knew most district attorneys were honest lawyers who played it straight, but some of his subsequent experiences with Jack Bullock proved the man was willing to break rules to convict someone he believed guilty. “So he told you to lie?”

“Oh, he never said it like that. He just pushed. Pushed and pushed and never let up. Told me how important my testimony was. How the jury had to hear it from me. How I had to sound sure of what I was saying. That my whole family was counting on me. That I was the only one left, and it was up to me to make sure the man who committed this atrocity didn’t live to do it again. He-” She turned her head, fighting back the tears. “He showed me pictures. Of them, I mean. Of what the killer did to them. So I’d see how important this was.”

Ben felt as if someone had slipped a dull knife inside his heart. Small wonder Erin was traumatized-to be put through so much when she was only fifteen.

“So I did what he said,” Erin continued, her voice trembling. “I testified. I told them I was certain.” She paused. “But I wasn’t.”

Ben stared dumbly across the desk as Christina tried to comfort Erin. He had no illusions about what had happened at that trial. It was her testimony-the certainty of her testimony-that had convicted Ray Goldman. But for that, they would not have lost. And Ray would not have spent the last seven years on death row.

“You should talk to the DA,” Ben said finally. “Tell him what you’ve told us.”

“But-if I do that, won’t they charge me with perjury?”

“I think it’s unlikely. You were a crime victim, and a juvenile. And the prosecutors encouraged you. But I can’t rule it out.”

“I don’t want to go to prison. And I don’t want to see that district attorney. I can’t face that man again. He’ll try to shut me up.”

“Well, Bullock isn’t there anymore, but…” But other DAs were. And since her recantation meant they would have no legitimate conviction on one of the worst homicide sprees in Tulsa history, they had plenty of motivation to silence or discredit her.

If this mess was going to be fixed, it would have to be a defense attorney who did it.

“We’ll need you to swear out an affidavit,” Ben said quietly. “And the judge will want to hear from you in person. You’ll be examined-and cross-examined.”

“Whatever. Whatever it takes. Just stop this. Don’t let it go on any longer.” She drew herself up and tried to steady her voice. “I’ve been tearing myself apart. I’ve talked to everyone-my preacher, my friends, my boyfriend, my coworkers-everyone I know. But no one can help. When I thought Goldman was going to be executed, I almost died myself. That’s when I made up my mind. That I had to talk to you.”

Christina wrapped her arms around the young woman. A fresh wave of tears cascaded forth, but Erin continued to speak in the same voice tinged with despair. “I can’t bear it any longer. I don’t want that man’s death on my conscience forever, damning my soul. I want it to be over.” She looked up at Ben, her eyes wide and watery. “Please help me, Mr. Kincaid. Please.”