David Baldacci - The Last Mile

Decker rose to pour another cup of coffee. It was growing lighter outside. He was oblivious to this. He sat back down and kept reading.

But what would be the motive for Mars to kill his parents?

After he was arrested and charged with the murders, the police announced their theory. With the NFL draft coming up and Mars expected to sign a huge contract, it had come down to money. His parents wanted more of it than Mars was willing to share. There had been arguments. Mars had felt jammed. He didn’t want negative publicity. He had carefully groomed his image in the hope of getting lucrative endorsement deals in addition to his football contract. He had his whole life mapped out. His parents potentially stood in the way of that, at least according to the prosecution.

So to get rid of this problem, Mars had planned and then executed their murders. He had visited the friend to establish an alibi, gone home, killed them, and then driven to the motel. However, like many killers, he had tripped over the small details. But it was really the timeline that had crashed everything for him. No matter how much you plan things out, if you were indeed in one place killing someone while you said you were in another place sleeping, the timeline can never be made foolproof. There will always be cracks, even if only small ones. But if the police focus on them and start digging, those cracks can grow large and bring the whole lie down.

And that apparently was what happened to Melvin Mars.

So the prosecution could show motive and they could show opportunity. And it was Mars’s own gun — constituting the necessary means — that had done the deed. Thus they had all three essential elements to prove guilt. And they set about to convincingly prove it all beyond a reasonable doubt.

Witness after witness was paraded before the jury and gave their testimony. The mosaic began to form. The prosecutor, a Tennessee grad and thus no fan of Texas football players, it seemed, did a bang-up job stitching the evidence together.

The defense tried to poke holes but didn’t do enough damage. And when Mars did not take the stand the defense rested.

The jury was out barely enough time for the jurors to use the bathroom before they came back with their guilty verdict.

Mars had been given a fair trial. The evidence met the burden of proof.

Roy and Lucinda Mars had been killed by their only child, Melvin.

The punishment of death had been imposed. Mars’s NFL career was over before it even started. And so was the rest of his life.

End of story.

He had been scheduled to be executed, when another man had come forward and confessed to the crime.

Charles Montgomery .

Decker studied the photo of the man on the computer screen.

White guy, in his seventies. Muscled, tough and mean-looking. Army vet with a lengthy criminal record. He’d gone from petty crap, to serious stuff, to very serious stuff. He was in a prison in Alabama awaiting his own execution on several other murders committed years ago.

So if Montgomery was telling the truth, how had the case against Melvin Mars gone so badly sideways?

Reports said he had details of the crime that the police had withheld all these years, just as a matter of standard procedure. Montgomery apparently knew some of them. But why come forward at all? Because he was already in prison? Because he felt remorse? Because he was going to die anyway? To Decker, who had lots of experience with hardened criminals, Montgomery simply didn’t look like the remorseful type. He just looked like the killer that he was.

Decker finished his coffee and sat back.

Someone knocked on his door. He looked at his watch. Seven-thirty.

He answered the door.

Special Agent Bogart looked back at him. He was carrying a large briefcase. He was well into his forties, tall and fit, with dark hair attractively mingled with silver. He possessed the air of quiet authority that one acquired by commanding people in difficult assignments. Childless, he was also separated from his wife and in the process of divorcing.

Behind him was Alex Jamison. She was tall and pretty, with brown hair, and her expressive eyes lit up when she saw Decker. She was holding a bag of food.

A jubilant Jamison said, “Surprise. Happy New Year!”

A beaming Bogart said, “I got word you had arrived early. Welcome to the FBI.”

Amos Decker said, “I have a case I want to investigate.”

Decker munched on his bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. Meanwhile, Jamison and Bogart were reading the articles on the laptop about Melvin Mars.

Bogart finally looked up and said, “Fascinating stuff, but that’s not really in our jurisdiction, Amos.”

Decker finished eating, took a final swallow of coffee, rolled up the wrapper, and made a three-pointer into the trash can next to the kitchen counter.

“What exactly is our jurisdiction , then?”

In answer Bogart opened up the briefcase and pulled out a large binder. He handed this to Decker. “I’ve already given Alex hers. These are the cases we’re considering. Read up on them. We’ll discuss them later at our meeting.”

“We’re here now. We’re meeting now.”

Bogart said, “There are two other members of the team.”

Jamison said, “I’ve met one of them, Amos, you’re going to like her.”

Decker kept his gaze on Bogart, who said, “So you knew this Melvin Mars?”

“I played against him in college. The only words I can remember saying to him were, ‘Sonofabitch, how’d you do that?’”

“He was that good?”

“He was the best I’d ever seen.”

Jamison said, “Well, he might be getting out of prison. That’s a good thing,”

“If he’s innocent,” amended Decker.

“Well, yes, of course.”

“I doubt they’ll release him unless they’re absolutely sure,” pointed out Bogart.

Decker gestured to the laptop. “Did you know that there are hundreds of people released each year from prison because they’ve been found to be innocent?”

“A small percentage considering the number of people incarcerated,” replied Bogart, who was looking a bit impatient.

Decker said, “It’s estimated that two and a half to five percent of all prisoners in the U.S. are innocent. That’s about twenty thousand people. DNA testing was first used in court cases in 1985. Since that time, three hundred and thirty prisoners have been exonerated by DNA. But DNA testing is possible in only about seven percent of all cases. And in twenty-five percent of the cases where it was used, the FBI was able to exclude the suspect, so the percentage of prisoners who are innocent might be higher. Maybe a lot higher.”

“I can see that you’ve done some research on this,” said Bogart dryly.

A long silence ensued.

“Decker,” said Bogart. “This is not really what we do. We investigate cold cases in order to try to find a killer.”

“What if Mars isn’t the killer?”

“Then this Montgomery guy is.”

“What if he’s not either?”

“Why would a man confess to a—” Bogart stopped and looked a bit embarrassed. “Okay, since that’s exactly what happened in your case, I can see your point. But still.”

“Can it at least be considered by the... team?” asked Decker.

Bogart mulled this for a few moments. “My plan was to let the team examine a number of possible cases and then vote on which ones to undertake. I have that flexibility.”

“And can we lobby on behalf of certain cases?” asked Jamison.

“I don’t see why not,” said Bogart. “I like democracy as much as the next person,” he added with a smile.

“I think we should take this case on,” said Decker stubbornly.