William Bernhardt - Death Row

“Yes, but the problem is that all of this comes from the defense attorney. I can’t make a ruling based on theories and investigations cooked up by lawyers.”

“Sir, the police department is also investigating.”

That caught his attention. “They are?”

“Yes. They have two homicide detectives working this case as we speak.”

Jerry Weintraub rose. “Excuse me, your honor, but the AG’s office has been in communication with the Tulsa PD. I believe those detectives are looking into the death of Erin Faulkner-not the slaughter of her family seven years ago.”

“And we don’t have any reason to believe the two are related, do we?” Judge Derek asked.

“It is certainly possible.”

Ben noted the tightening of the jaw that signaled all too clearly that Derek was losing his patience.

Weintraub jumped back into the fray. “Your honor, Erin Faulkner’s death appears to be a suicide, and although the police are required to investigate, nothing they’ve uncovered proves otherwise.”

Derek looked at Christina harshly. “Is this true, counsel?”

Christina swallowed. “Your honor, if it was a clear-cut case, there would be no investigation.”

“What’s more,” Weintraub added, “the death of Erin Faulkner was nothing like the hideous murders of the rest of her family seven years before. There was no torture, no mutilation, no sexual assault. No eye gouging. The weapon was a gun, not a knife.”

“MOs could change over seven years,” Christina said.

“The point,” Weintraub continued, “is that there is absolutely no reason to believe a connection exists between the crime for which Raymond Goldman was convicted and the recent unfortunate death of one of the witnesses who testified against him.”

“Your honor,” Christina pleaded, “if there is any possibility-”

Derek shook his head. “I’m sorry, counsel, but I’m afraid you just don’t have the goods.”

“But your honor-”

“I have no choice but to rule-”

“Your honor, please !” Christina stepped away from the podium. “We’re talking about a man’s life here!”

“I am aware of that, counsel. Nonetheless, we must show due respect to the rulings of the state courts.”

“Habeas corpus relief doesn’t exist to show respect to the state courts. Pretty much the exact opposite.”

“Counsel, you are not helping yourself. Or your client.”

“Furthermore, your honor, if you refuse to use the powers that have been granted to you, you show disrespect to the Constitution and the entire federal judiciary.”

Derek bobbed forward, as if bouncing up on his toes. “Counsel, you go too far.”

“I mean, what’s the point of having federal judges, totally independent and appointed for life, if they’re too cowardly to intervene to prevent injustice?”

“Counsel!” Derek rose to his feet, visibly trembling. “Maybe this is how your cocounsel has taught you to behave in the courtroom, but I can assure you that I will not tolerate it!” He pointed the gavel in her direction. “Consider yourself sanctioned. You may deposit a check for five hundred dollars with the clerk of the court on your way out of the building.”

Christina was unrepentant. “I’d pay five hundred thousand dollars if it would prevent the warden in McAlester from executing an innocent man.”

“Ms. McCall!” Derek’s voice boomed across the room. He swiveled his gavel around in Ben’s direction. “Why is it I only have these problems when that man is in the courtroom?”

“She’s just doing her job,” Ben said quietly.

Derek was seething, practically foaming at the mouth. “I’ve already fired you, Kincaid. Maybe I should finish the job and disbar you as well.”

Ben held his tongue. He knew the best thing he could do for Ray now was to keep as low a profile as possible.

“Your honor.” Christina’s voice was quieter, but no less insistent. “At the very least, give us more time. Let us-and the police-continue to investigate. That’s all we ask. Just stop Ray Goldman’s hourglass while it still has a few grains of sand left in it.”

“The man has been on death row, at the taxpayers’ expense, for seven years. I will not delay his execution date with no better cause than you have given me.” He slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “I will, however, continue this hearing to a later date.”

Christina’s lips parted. She and Ben exchanged a quick and amazed look.

“I should simply deny the petition and end this protracted case. But since the law enforcement community is still investigating a matter that might have some bearing on this case, however slight, against my better judgment I will continue this matter to next week. We will reconvene, and I will expect to be told what, if anything, you’ve learned. I will make my final ruling at the time. And I do mean final.”

Derek lifted his gavel and rapped it against his desk. “This hearing is adjourned. Now get the hell out of my courtroom. Both of you!”

Sheila Knight was stunning. Mike was not one much given to hyperbole, particularly when it came to women. His mother had been lovely, judging from the pictures he’d seen. His ex-wife, Julia, had been drop-dead gorgeous-when she wasn’t drowning her sorrows in potato chips. But the woman who stood before him now was absolutely stunning. Her dark hair was a mess, her face was streaked with red, her black dress was magnificently unflattering-and she was stunning, just the same.

“I loved Erin so much,” she said, her voice quavering. “I loved her like a sister. Like a mother almost.”

“You can’t be much older than she was,” Mike said gently.

“No, I’m not. But Erin was one of those people who need someone to take care of them. Even before the tragedy with her family. And I tried to be what she needed.”

“You knew her even before the deaths?”

Sheila nodded, wiping her nose. “We met in junior high school. Hit it off almost immediately. She was not an outgoing type and neither was I. We didn’t care who was hot and who was not. We didn’t go to football games and we couldn’t care less about the pep squad. We were a good pair.”

“So you were still her friend when…?”

“When it happened. Yes. God, I can’t tell you what that was like. Horrible. Horrible.”

“I’m sure.”

“I mean, I knew those people, every one of them. I’d played Monopoly with the whole family. I’d even sat for the baby.”

“You must’ve been a great comfort to Erin.”

“Not really.” She removed a Kleenex from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I wanted to be. I stayed with her when she was in the hospital. I came to physical therapy with her, when she was learning to walk again, with the cane. Something had happened to her. Something…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. But something had changed.”

“You continued to be her friend, though?”

“I tried. We became more distant, after we got out of high school. We both went to OU, but somehow, we never saw each other. Until we both came back to Tulsa.”

“And you resumed your friendship?”

“Pretty much so. We’d put down a lot of miles together, and that meant something. We got along well.”

“But not always?”

Her eyes darted downward. “No one gets along all the time.”

True enough. But Mike couldn’t let it go with that. “Were there problems?”

“Nothing serious. I thought at times she might be… jealous of me.”

“Why?”

“Well, I had a much more developed social life. I had a boyfriend. I wasn’t seeing a shrink. And didn’t need to be. She, on the other hand, was all but a hermit. Till she started working at the organ clinic.”