William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

“You think he fell in with a bad group?”

“Well, his former codefendant, Brett Mathers, sounds as if he was a real hard case. According to Johnny, he did most of the brutal beating.”

“Then Johnny should not be charged with murder.”

Christina shook her head. “Sorry, ma’am, but according to the DA, he participated in a felony that led to homicide. That’s felony murder.”

“But surely a lesser penalty-”

“Felony murder is still murder one. And Illinois has a hate crimes statute on the books-which has been upheld by the Illinois Supreme Court. Maximum penalty is death by lethal injection. And I can promise you, the DA plans to go for the maximum.”

“Do you think… Is there a chance…”

Christina was never one to pull punches. “If the jury thinks Johnny killed that kid out of pure malice against homosexuals? I’d call the death penalty a certainty.”

Mrs. Christensen pressed her hand against her forehead. “I just don’t understand it. Larry and I were very involved in Johnny’s education. We taught him to be tolerant, not prejudiced. We’re actually very liberal.”

“There’s no explaining these things, ma’am. They’re kids-not photocopies.”

Mrs. Christensen’s eyes started to water. What an ordeal this must be, Christina thought. The sole remaining parent, dealing with a crisis of this immensity. Facing these accusations against her oldest son. Facing the possibility of his death. Christina wondered how she could bear it.

“Is-is there anything you can do?”

“Yes,” Christina said, gazing around the table. “And we’re going to get started immediately. Paula?”

“Yes?”

“Hit the stacks. Get me background on the victim-Tony Barovick.”

“Okay… but if he was an essentially random target for a hate crime-”

“Make no assumptions,” Christina cautioned her. “If we accept all the DA’s assumptions, we’ll end up with the DA’s result. I want to learn something new.”

“Okay… I’ll look, but-”

“Jones? Get on the Internet and check out this fraternity, Beta Theta Whatever-It-Is. See what you can find out about it. See if anything like this has ever happened before.”

“You got it.”

“Then run a deep background check on this ANGER group. And its members. Especially the local leaders.”

“Okay… but why?”

“It may be nothing. But having a member pop up out of nowhere and take out one of the defendants? I don’t know. Something about it makes me suspicious.”

“I’ll check it out.”

“Loving?”

“Aw, hell. You’re gonna give me the bar, aren’t you?”

“You got it.”

“Ben always gives me the bars. I thought you’d be more enlightened.”

“Sorry to disappoint. But there’s a reason why we give you these assignments. You excel at them.”

“Flatterer.”

“I want you to become a regular at Remote Control. That’s the singles bar near campus where Tony Barovick worked. He was leaving there when he was attacked. It’s apparently a frequent hangout for the local college coeds, and kids slumming from the University of Chicago-like members of Johnny’s fraternity. Sniff around and see if you can learn anything useful.”

“For you, dear, anythin’.”

“Remember, Johnny says they left Tony-alive-in a vacant lot not far from the bar. That means someone else carried the body to the fraternity house.”

“But-wouldn’t the coroner-”

“If so, there’s a good chance there was a witness to the move. Find me that witness, Loving.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll handle the pretrial motions and trial prep, obviously.”

Mrs. Christensen looked up tentatively. “And Mr. Kincaid?”

“Will not be involved in this case.”

“I see.”

“But I can guarantee you we’ll do everything there is to do, ma’am.”

“Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to-” Polite to a fault, Christina thought. “I have great confidence in you.”

“We appreciate it. I’m afraid bail is an impossibility-Kevin already tried and lost-but I can arrange some visitation. If you want to see your son before the trial.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” She wiped her eyes dry. “May I say something more?”

“Of course.”

“I know what you all must be thinking. About my son. I know it looks bad. The reports in the newspapers have been gruesome. And even though you’ve agreed to represent Johnny, you must be thinking… well, it certainly looks as if he’s… a horrible person. A beast. But he isn’t .” She said the word with such emphasis it stung Christina’s tear ducts. “I’ve known him since he was little, and I know that he has a good heart.”

The four staffers at the table looked at one another, but remained silent.

“I don’t know what happened at college, but the little boy I knew could never have changed so much. He was insecure, and subject to peer pressure. I could conceive of him watching and maybe not helping-but murder? It’s not possible.” She clenched her fist tightly. “It is simply not possible.”

She fell back, emotionally exhausted. “Please help him.”

“We’ll do everything we can, ma’am. Everything possible. I guarantee it.”

And Christina meant every word she said. But she couldn’t help wondering if this wasn’t a case in which everything simply wouldn’t be enough.

“All right, Morelli, much as it pains you, it’s time for a spot of pleasure. Pull your head out.”

He didn’t.

Sergeant Baxter entered his cubicle and dropped a lightweight cardboard box on the edge of his desk, in one of the few uncluttered corners. “I’m serious, partner. You can’t avoid this. The time has come for a respite revered by law enforcement officers everywhere.”

His neck craned upward, if only slightly. “And that would be?…”

She beamed. “Doughnut break.”

His eyes returned to his desk. “That is so cliché…”

“I’ve got Krispy Kremes.”

Mike dropped his pencil. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“I got an assortment. Try the cherry cream.”

“Aww, Baxter. You know I don’t like the cream-filled stuff.”

“You do not like them, so you say, but try them, try them, and you may.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try them and you may, I say!”

The corner of his lip turned upward. “Been to the library, have we?”

Her eyes darkened. “I guess you thought that was pretty funny, huh? Suggesting that I might be able to handle the poetry of Theodore Geisel. Alias Dr. Seuss.”

Now Mike craned his neck. “It was… just the first thing that popped into my head.”

“Uh-huh. And you weren’t suggesting that I was… what’s the word I’m looking for? Stupid?”

“Not at all. I love Dr. Seuss.”

“So did I. When I was two.”

“It was just a joke.”

“At my expense.”

“Not at all. I was just-”

“You were saying I was an uneducated boor.”

“No, no…”

“Or maybe you were just sulking, because I told you to lay off with the romance.”

“Huh?”

“I know how barren your love life is. Small wonder you’re always making moony eyes at me and breathing hard whenever our toes accidentally touch.”

“What in-”

“I’m not saying you’re not a handsome-looking dude. Decent, anyway. But we can’t be partners if there’s even a whiff of romance in the air. It was no reason for you to run off at the mouth and insult me.”

Mike found himself breathing hard, but it wasn’t because of any whiffs of romance. “Baxter, I was not insulting you. I have a lot of respect for you. Promise.” He paused. “Especially when you bring me Krispy Kremes.”