James Patterson - The Beach House

"Acting as judge in this courtroom will be my grandfather, Macklin Reid Mullen," I said, setting off another round of outrage from Montrose. "The stenographer is Mary Stevenson, a court reporter in New York City municipal courts for thirty-seven years.

"Once again, I realize this is more than a little unusual. All I can say is, watch the trial. Give us a chance. Then make your own judgments. My grandfather came to this country from County Clare, Ireland. He has spent the past twenty-five years working as a paralegal, and he cares more about the law and justice than anyone I've ever come across, including my law professors.

"In any criminal trial, the judge is there not to determine guilt or innocence, but to rule on differences between the lawyers regarding evidence or procedure and to keep the process intact. In this case," I said, staring intently into the camera, "you will be the jury. Macklin is not here to issue a verdict, just to administer the proceedings. And he'll do a great job. That's all I have to say right now. Mr. Montrose will speak next,"

BILL MONTROSE WAS THE ONLY ONE of our guests not wearing handcuffs. He sat there, lost in thought. Then, like any good poker player, he turned to read my face.

I did everything I could to seem oblivious to the crucial importance of the next few seconds. If he was genuinely concerned about the welfare of his client, his course would be clear. But like many highly successful yet relatively anonymous attorneys, Montrose had reached a point in his life where he yearned for some fame and glory to stack beside his cash and real estate. I knew that much about him from my time at Nelson, Goodwin and Mickel. According to colleagues, he'd proclaimed himself a far better trial lawyer than Johnnie Cochran or Robert Shapiro. Bill Montrose had the largest ego of anyone I had ever met. I was counting on it.

I sucked in a breath as Montrose stood. He faced Molly's East Hampton Channel 70 camera. This was his big moment, too. He wasn't about to sit it out.

"Please don't misunderstand or misinterpret," he began. "Just because I'm standing in front of you for the moment doesn't mean that this proceeding has a shred of legitimacy. It doesn't.

"Make no mistake," he continued after a dramatic pause. "This is not a trial. This is not a courtroom. The elderly man behind me, no matter how spry and avuncular, is not a judge. This is a kangaroo court.

"You should know that justice has already been served in this case. Last summer an inquest was convened to look into the drowning of Peter Mullen. In a real courtroom presided over by a real judge – the Honorable Robert P. Lillian – my client was found to be blameless.

"During that inquest the court heard a witness who saw the deceased dive into a dangerous ocean at high tide, late at night.

"Not one but two medical examiners presented evidence to support their conviction that there had been no foul play. After weighing the testimony, Judge Lillian, in a decision available to anyone who wants to take the time to read it, concluded that Peter Mullen's death, however sad, was no one's fault but his own.

"Apparently, his family is unable to accept this. By taking this unfortunate action, Peter Mullen's brother and grandfather are turning an accident into a crime."

Once again, Montrose paused as if to gather his thoughts. I had to admit that the guy was very good. Maybe it was a mismatch. "Now they are asking you to watch. Please don't! Turn off the set, or turn the dial. Do it right now. Do it if you believe in justice. I trust that you do."

Montrose sat down, and I wondered if we would ever get him to speak again.

Macklin tapped his gavel on the plywood platform below his chair.

"This court," he said, "will recess for ninety minutes to allow the prosecution and defense to ready their cases. I suggest you both get busy."

FOURTEEN MINUTES INTO THE RECESS, ABC interrupted its coverage of the L.A. Open from Riviera Country Club and cut to Peter Jennings in the Lincoln Center studio of World News Tonight. A bold breaking news was superimposed over the screen.

"ABC News has just learned," said Jennings with the most discreet warble in his deep voice, "that media billionaire Barry Neubauer, his wife, and at least three guests were abducted last night following a Memorial Day party at their Amagansett, Long Island, summer home. According to a transmission just broadcast live on East Hampton Channel Seventy, the abductors plan to try Neubauer for the murder of a twenty-one-year-old resident of Montauk. The trial, at an undisclosed location, is set to begin in less than an hour."

As Jennings continued in his clipped Canadian accent, a red square appeared in the upper-right-hand corner of the screen. It showed a simple outline of the end of Long Island and in bold red type, crisis in the hamptons.

Within minutes, the anchors, or substitute anchors, for both CBS (the siege of long island) and NBC (hostages in the hamptons) had tightened their ties and joined the fray. Like Jennings, they would spend the next forty-five minutes authoritatively treading water as their reporters scrambled to catch up with the breaking story.

ABC's first remote was an interview with Sergeant Tommy Harrison in the parking lot behind the East Hampton police station. "Jack and Macklin Mullen," said Harrison, "are well-known, longtime residents of Montauk who seemed to have acted out of frustration about the outcome of an inquest into Peter Mullen's death last summer."

"Does either have a criminal record?" asked the reporter.

"You don't get it," said Harrison. "Except for one minor incident that Jack Mullen was involved in after his brother died, neither has ever been arrested. Not even a speeding ticket."

ABC then cut to the Justice Department in Washington for a live briefing that had just begun with a spokesman. "…of the hostages seized in Long Island last night. The five who have thus far been identified are Barry and Campion Neubauer, Tom and Stella Fitzharding, who own a home in Southampton, and William Montrose, a prominent New York attorney."

When the spokesman looked up from his notes, he was peppered with discordant queries: "Why were the hostages taken?" "Why can't you track the source of the broadcast?" "What do you know about the kidnappers?" He made just one more short statement, then brought the briefing to a close: "The abductors are employing a scrambling device that so far has prevented us from pinpointing the source of the broadcast. To say any more at this point would be counter to our efforts to resolve this situation as quickly as possible."

Then ABC cut away again to the offices of Channel 70 in Wainscott. The twenty-four-year-old station manager, J. J. Hart, stood beside the station's lawyer, Joshua Epstein. Hart stated that he had no intention of complying with the government's gag order. "Our reporter, Molly Ferrer, has pulled off one of the great scoops in television journalism. We have no intention of not sharing it with the public."

"The injunction is blatantly unconstitutional," said Epstein. "Monday I'm going to have it thrown out of court. Unless something happened last night that no one's told me about, we still live in a democracy."

"To summarize what we know so far," said Jennings, "we have five hostages, maybe more. The grandfather and grandson kidnappers were apparently unhinged by the controversial death of a family member. And a most unusual murder trial is about to begin. We will have more soon, but right now we're going to pick up the feed from Channel Seventy in East Hampton, where the live broadcast of the murder trial is about to start."