Robert Sawyer - Illegal Alien

Frank raised his eyebrows. “Open-and-shut!”

“Certainly. The jury was asked a single question: was there a reasonable doubt about O.J. Simpson’s guilt? And the answer was simple: of course there was. You and most of white America wanted the question to be: did Simpson do it? But no jury is ever asked to decide that. Instead, they’re asked, is there a reasonable doubt? And there absolutely was, on a dozen different grounds. The clear proof that Mark Fuhrman had perjured himself on the witness stand, the suggestion that he might have planted evidence, the EDTA preservative in the Simpson blood specimens, the possibility of DNA contamination, the gloves that didn’t fit, et cetera, et cetera, et c etera . That’s reasonable doubt.”

Frank said nothing.

“Since there was reasonable doubt, he was entitled to go free. Slick lawyering had nothing to do with it.”

Frank sounded dubious. “Oh.”

“Johnnie, Lee, and the others, they didn’t pull off a miracle for Simpson. All they did was point out the reasonable doubt about his guilt. Any competent lawyer could have done the same thing—in that particular case. But you, Dr. Nobilio, are you shopping for a miracle worker?”

“Pardon?”

“Is there any reasonable doubt about whether your alien did it?”

Dale could see the surprise on Frank’s face. “Of course there is. Hask wouldn’t have committed murder.”

“How do you know that?”

“I— well, I mean, he’s an alien, and…”

“I saw you on Nightline a couple of weeks ago,” said Dale. “You said something about since the Tosoks are obviously technologically superior to us, they must also be morally superior. They’d faced all the demons of technological adolescence and come through it.”

“I did say that, yes. And nothing has changed my opinion.”

“Monty Ajax wouldn’t have laid charges unless he thought he had an exceptional case,” said Dale.

“I— I suppose,” said Frank. It was clear from his expression that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Hask might be guilty.

“If your alien is guilty, he will likely be found guilty,” said Dale. “This isn’t Perry Mason’s Los Angeles. The DA in this town wins ninety percent of the time.”

Surprise moved across Nobilio’s face. “I— I thought it would be more like half the time.”

“We elect our district attorneys, Doctor. You think the voters would keep voting in someone if he didn’t usually win? If I take this case, you must have realistic expectations. If your alien did it, and if he premeditated the crime, then he will quite likely be found guilty of murder one.”

“No. We need for him to go free.”

“I can’t guarantee that. And if he’s guilty, and if the police did not violate his rights—hardly a given, I grant you—there is no reason he should go free.”

“There’s more at stake here than the simple issue of who killed Cletus Calhoun. This is our first contact with aliens, for God’s sake. The repercussions of this going bad are beyond imagination. Look, you caught me off guard a moment ago. I did not come to you just because you’re black. I came here because of the career you’ve had. You take cases in which larger issues are involved all the time—civil-rights cases, test cases against unjust laws. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I want you.”

Dale considered. He kept his face impassive; the only sound in the room was the soft wheeze of his breathing. “My race, of course, shouldn’t be a factor—and I accept that it is not. But a reality that faces people of every race is the march of time. You’re still a reasonably young man, Dr. Nobilio, but I’m just a few years shy of my allotted threescore and ten. I’ve got a cabin in Georgia that I’ve been planning to retire to. This could be an extremely complex and drawn-out case.”

“I can’t deny that,” said Frank. “And I can’t say that you need this case as a capstone; you will be remembered for a dozen major cases.”

Dale’s voice was dry. “Only a dozen?” He was quiet for a time, then: “I require a retainer of fifty thousand dollars. My fee is five hundred dollars an hour for my time, plus two hundred dollars an hour for my associate’s time, plus expenses.”

“Now, ah, that’s a problem.”

“You were expecting me to work pro bono ?”

“No, no—you deserve to be paid; I understand that. But the Tosoks don’t have any money, and of course my office can’t be seen as getting involved.”

“What do you propose?”

“Tosok technology will, of course, be introduced into Earth society; Captain Kelkad has agreed to patent the technology aboard his starship, and to pay you for your services a fee equal to one-quarter of one percent of all income generated from licensing that technology.”

“In perpetuity?” said Rice. “And not contingent on the outcome of the case?”

“In perpetuity,” agreed Frank. “And you get it whether you win or lose.” He smiled. “Before you know it, you may be richer than Bill Gates.”

“I don’t crave money, Dr. Nobilio, but…”

“But think of all the good you could do with it.”

Dale nodded. “Very well.”

“You’ll take the case?”

“I will.”

“Thank you. Thank you. When can you see Hask?”

“Where is he? Parker Center?”

Frank nodded.

“I’ll have Karen clear my afternoon.” He rose again, slowly, ponderously. “Let’s go.”

Frank got up. “We’ll want to go over his alibi, of course.”

Dale had moved out from behind his wide oak desk. He placed a giant hand on Frank’s forearm. “There is no ‘we,’ son.”

Frank blinked. “Pardon?”

“You’re not an attorney. You can’t be with Hask when I speak to him.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because conversations between him and me are privileged—but only if they’re in private. If they’re not, then any of the participants—yourself, but also him or me—are subject to subpoena.”

“But I want to be in on this. Hell, the president wants me to be in on this.”

“I understand—but you cannot.”

“Can’t you—I don’t know—deputize me? Something like that?”

“Make you an agent, you mean. No, I can’t do that—after all, there’s a reasonable likelihood that you’ll be called as a witness by one side or the other.” Dale began to move toward the mahogany doors to his office. “Sorry, son, but you’ve hired me, and now you’ve got to trust me.”

Hask had been placed in a special cell at Parker Center, separate from the other prisoners. But that was the only concession to his unique status. The cell was filthy, with graffiti scrawled on its walls. There was a toilet and a sink, both in plain view. There was also a chair, but it wasn’t suitable for a Tosok, so Hask had been standing for hours, his back hand grasping one of the bars for support.

Frank Nobilio and Dale Rice approached the cage, and the guard let them inside.

“Frank!” said Hask, his tuft moving excitedly. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Hask, I apologize for all this,” said Frank. “These people—the police—they’ve obviously made a terrible mistake. We’ll get this all straightened out.” A beat. “Let me introduce you to your lawyer. Dale Rice, meet Hask.”

“The name again?” said Hask.

“Rice,” said Frank. “R-I-C-E. Dale. D-A-L-E.” He looked at the other human. “The Tosoks sometimes have trouble parsing human names.”

“Greetings, Mr. Rice,” said Hask. “You are the person who can get me out of here?”

“You may call me Dale. And I’ll do everything I can.”