William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

Vicki leaned forward timidly. “If you’d like… I’d be happy to give you French lessons. When there’s time.”

Christina extended her hand. “Girl, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Stop raving and just tell me what happened,” Christina said, trying to calm him. “You say you got a letter bomb?”

“I wish,” Jones replied, pacing in front of Christina’s desk. “That would’ve been better. I said the package exploded when I opened it. Right in my face. Tons of excelsior.”

“And you’re bringing this to my attention because…”

“Because it’s a threat, Christina. It’s got a brochure from ANGER. ‘Stop hate now,’ it says.”

“Doesn’t seem like that big a deal to me.”

“It would if you’d seen the doll.”

“The… doll?”

“Right. Mutilated. Cut up. Smeared with red paint.”

Christina drummed her fingernails. “I suppose we have to acknowledge that Johnny is likely to become a target of-”

“Would you just listen for a moment?”

Christina couldn’t think when she’d ever seen him so upset. “This wasn’t a Ken doll they mutilated. It was short and female. With long flowing red hair.”

Christina’s lips drew together wordlessly.

“They’ve moved way beyond making Johnny a target. He’s under lock and key. They can’t get to him.” Jones looked at her grimly. “But they can sure get to you.”

Even though it was contrary to her nature, not to mention the established practice of many years, Christina actually knocked before entering Ben’s apartment.

Only a few seconds later, Ben opened his door. “Christina! But-I thought you were in Chicago!” His face was a mix of unreadable emotions. Christina preferred to think he was happy to see her.

“Caught the red-eye. Had to make a few visits, collect a few things before the trial starts Monday morning.”

“Collect a few things? Such as?…”

“May I come in?” She looked as if she’d come straight from Tulsa International; she was carrying luggage. “I brought cookies. Chocolate milk. Travel Scrabble.”

“Of course.” Ben preceded her into the living room. She’d been here so many times she could find it blindfolded. Same threadbare sofa, same coffee table. Same enormous cat curled up in his chair. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Well, surprises are the spice of life, right?” she said casually, as she sat in an overstuffed armchair.

“I’m surprised you’re not working tonight.”

“I needed a break. I’ve been pulling down twenty-hour days. And that pretrial hearing…”

“Yeah, how did that go?”

“Not well.”

Ben crossed his legs and clasped his hands around his knee; as body language went, he was a million miles away. “You didn’t expect that judge to give you a continuance, did you? With half the world waiting for this trial?”

“It was a long shot. But I had a fresh angle. I made a public policy argument.”

“Really,” Ben said, barely reacting. “Brilliant.”

“Yeah. Found an obscure local precedent. Didn’t fly. I had him going-he thought about it for a few seconds before turning me down. Rejected all the motions to suppress, too.”

“It might’ve been different if you’d been the first attorney on the case. You can’t expect him to turn back time and make evidentiary rulings after a jury has been selected.”

“Yeah.” They fell silent. Christina looked around the room, gazed at the pictures on the wall-there were two-scrutinized her shoelaces-until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Ben… I really need your help.”

“Christina-”

“I think there’s a lot more to this murder than people think, but I can’t possibly track it all down in time.”

“Nonetheless-”

“If you won’t do it for me, do it for Johnny Christensen.”

“That’s-” Ben stood, then turned away. “That’s exactly what I can’t-won’t do.”

“Why?”

He walked to the window and stared out at the back alleyway. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“I… didn’t know that we had… secrets…”

“It’s not a secret. It’s just too complicated to explain.”

“Ben, do you have any idea how much attention this murder case is getting?”

“Well, I saw pictures of the redecorations in your Chicago office lobby on CNN.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. We’re getting threatening calls by the hour. The Chicago papers and talk radio hosts have been running op-ed pieces condemning us for taking the case. You know the rant-’some lawyers will do anything for money.’ That kind of crap.”

He continued staring out the window. “We’ve seen all that before.”

“Yes, we have, and that’s why I find your refusal so unfathomable. You’ve always said the unpopular cases are the most important ones to take. Anyone can represent a sympathetic client. But the dirty, unpleasant, unpopular ones-that’s when you prove that a lawyer’s oath isn’t just words, that everyone- everyone -is entitled to a fair trial.”

“All true.”

“Then where the hell are you?” Her voice rose much louder than she had intended. “Where’s your oath now that I need it?”

Ben turned, his arms spread, his head shaking, as if he were groping for words that would not come. “I… can’t do it, Christina.”

Christina felt so many emotions coursing through her-anger, confusion, disillusionment-she couldn’t possibly give voice to all the thoughts raging in her head. And she didn’t want to be here any longer.

She gathered all her belongings. “I’m leaving.”

Ben stretched out a hand. “Don’t.”

“What’s the point?”

“We could… play a game of Scrabble. I’ve been studying up on the three-letter words.”

“I’m not in the mood to play with someone who would…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “As long as I’ve known you, Ben, you’ve always done the right thing. That was what I’ve always admired about you most.”

She could see his body tensing. “There are some things… no one should be expected to do.”

She headed for the door. “We’ve been through some tough times together, you and me, Ben. We’ve had good cases and bad. Good clients and bad. Won some, lost some. But no matter how they came out-I was never disappointed in you.” She grabbed the doorknob and flung the front door open. “Until now.”

Christina’s eyes were flooding and her head was boiling and as a result she almost crashed into Ellen Christensen and knocked her down the stairs.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Christina said, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t-” She stopped for a moment, letting her brain come back into focus. What was Mrs. Christensen doing in Tulsa? At Ben’s house, no less? “I didn’t realize you knew Ben. I mean, outside the office.”

Ellen’s lips thinned. “Ben and I know each other very well.”

They did? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, not that’s it’s any of my business.”

Ellen smiled slightly, then passed her on the stairs.

Christina ran across the front yard to her car, feeling stupid and betrayed. She’d been suspicious before, but now it was all starting to make a twisted sort of sense. Small wonder their relationship was going nowhere. Small wonder he didn’t want to talk about it. What a fool she was. The combination of running, fresh air, and heartache was clearing the cobwebs out of her muddled brain.

Oh, my God, Christina realized. She’s the one. She’s the one!

She got into her car and checked her pocket calendar. She had to fly back to Chicago tomorrow morning, but there was still time for a road trip to Oklahoma City. She wouldn’t put it off this time. She was going to clear up this mystery, once and for all.