Richard Patterson - Conviction

Gardner Bond turned to Terri, fingers steepled in front of him. "What's so compelling now, Ms. Paget, that the Court should be constrained to keep Payton Price alive?"

"The fact that he will die," Terri said flatly. "Either in four days or whenever his brother's second habeas corpus petition is resolved." Swiftly, she glanced at Rubin. "As Mr. Rubin can tell you, Payton Price has directed him not to pursue any further avenues to avoid execution—"

"As if his confession hadn't foreclosed them," Bond interjected.

"Then it's hardly a 'convenience,' is it?" Terri angled her head toward Pell. "Even from the State's point of view, what interest is greater—executing Payton Price as swiftly as possible, or ensuring that it doesn't execute an innocent man? Mr. Pell's argument comes perilously close to asking this Court to bury Payton Price so that the State of California can bury its mistake."

" 'As swiftly as possible'?" Pell echoed in an incredulous tone. "Fifteen years—during which Payton Price could have spoken out any time he wished? What of the State of California's interest in justice? What of Thuy Sen's family—awaiting justice? We'll be happy to let Ms. Paget depose Payton Price before he dies. It should be enough for her purposes to let his words live after him."

Pell's argument, Terri thought, was more raw than normal. "Words aren't enough," she answered. "It's important for a court to judge Payton's demeanor—the conviction of his testimony, the persuasiveness with which he answers the State's questions. That can only be captured by seeing and hearing a living witness."

Bond pressed his steepled fingers to his lips, a gesture of contemplation which Terri thought both stagy and overfastidious. "Would you consider a videotaped deposition, Mr. Pell?"

"We're opposed to that," Pell answered crisply. "A transcript will preserve what is said. A videotape serves only the kind of media public relations campaign which all too often pervades these cases—the desperate attempt to influence the legal process by extralegal means."

Fatigue frayed Terri's temper. "I want a living witness for this Court, not for the media. What's desperate is for the State to execute both Payton and Rennell Price in a way that keeps us from ever knowing that they'd executed an innocent man. After all, we wouldn't want the citizens of California to lose faith in our system of justice—"

"That's uncalled for," Pell said swiftly.

"Then so is your indecent haste to execute the only witness to my client's innocence." As Bond held up a hand in warning, Terri paused, her next words clear and calm. "My point, Your Honor, is that Payton confessed six days ago. Our inquiry is just beginning—including into Eddie Fleet, the potential second murderer, upon whose very dubious testimony the State's case depends. This Court should see Payton, Fleet, and any other witness for itself before determining Rennell's guilt or innocence."

"This is not a trial," Pell rejoined. "Five courts have, effectively, found Rennell Price guilty: the trial court, the California Supreme Court, this Court, the Federal Court of Appeals, and the U.S. Supreme Court. He had his trial fifteen years ago."

The reporter's fingers tapped swiftly now.

"He should have another," Terri shot back, "if new evidence suggests that verdict was wrong. In the meanwhile, this Court can allow Payton Price to take a polygraph—"

"They're not admissible as evidence," the judge remonstrated. "You're well aware of that."

The opacity of Bond's expression made Terri more anxious yet. "True, Your Honor. But it may be indicative of Payton's veracity and, therefore, whether his life should be preserved until his brother's petition is resolved."

Bond raised a dubious eyebrow in Pell's direction, inviting a response. With the serenity of a man who sensed himself winning, Pell replied, "Any sociopath can pass a polygraph. That's why they're not admissible in court. Payton Price should not be permitted to use this discredited tool as a 'life preserver'—"

"He's going to die," Paul Rubin burst out in anger. "Do you understand that, Larry? Do you really think they'll abolish the death penalty before you can kill him off?"

"That's enough," Bond snapped. "Next time you would care to be heard, Mr. Rubin, ask first. You might also stop to consider what you wish to say, and to whom you wish to say it. This is a court of law, not a school yard."

Of course, Terri thought to herself. At whatever cost, the decorum of death must be preserved. But Rubin's outburst had not helped her position. "Your Honor," she tried again, "the State of California wishes to execute Rennell Price. His guilt or innocence is what's important here—not 'sanitizing' the process by eliminating such unseemly spectacles as polygraphs and videotapes. Let alone, Lord help us, a living witness to his innocence. The State's priorities are skewed."

Bond sat back, surveying the lawyers, his expression closed to further argument. "The interests of the parties," he admonished Terri, "are for this Court to balance. Including those of the victim's parents, who have no voice but Mr. Pell, and who would only suffer more from needless publicity and unwarranted delay. And your argument, Ms. Paget, prematurely assumes that your client's next petition will, under the AEDPA statute, prove meritorious enough to be heard at all. Let alone granted.

"Mr. Pell is not attempting to suppress Payton Price's testimony. By order of this Court, you'll have his deposition—two days from now." He turned to Pell. "And four days from now, by order of its Supreme Court, the State of California may carry out his sentence."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Pell said swiftly, the rote obeisance of an advocate. Terri could not bring herself to emulate the courtesy.

* * *

Afterward, Terri, Rubin, and Pell left Bond's chambers together, silent until they reached the long tiled corridor outside his courtroom. For a moment the only sounds were the click of Terri's heels and the deeper echoes of the two men's hard-soled shoes. "Tell me," she asked Pell, "have you ever witnessed an execution?"

He looked at her sideways, curious. "Why should it matter?"

"It just seems funny to me," Terri said. "Like a football coach skipping the postgame celebration."

Pell's slight smile was defensive. "I don't have to see it to believe in it. Have you ever watched a client die?"

"No."

"Then isn't that like a doctor abandoning her patient because the operation failed?"

"No," Terri answered. "It's like a lawyer who's still trying to stop the process you've chosen not to see. I guess it helps your side 'believe' if death remains invisible. So why not put yourself to the test?"

TWENTY-THREE

LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER, TERRI AND CHARLES MONK SAT IN a windowless interrogation room at the Robbery and Homicide Division. "I flunked retirement," he told her matter-of-factly. "Back here part-time, doing special investigations. Chumps who gave me the golf clubs at my farewell party are wanting a refund."

Terri gave him a perfunctory smile. "Got time to excavate the past?"

"Whose past?"

"Eddie Fleet. The guy who asphyxiated Thuy Sen while Rennell Price was fast asleep."

Monk dealt with surprise, Terri realized, by summoning a total absence of expression. But his eyes betrayed his swiftness of thought. "If Rennell was sleeping, and Fleet still says he wasn't there, that makes Payton your witness."

"Think about it," Terri urged. "You had no witnesses to the murder. So Flora Lewis could mistake Fleet for Rennell, and Fleet could lie to you about him."

"That'd be a pretty nasty coincidence, counselor. I never told Fleet about Lewis. Their stories jibed without any help from me."

Terri felt a surge of desperation. "I have a witness," she retorted. "One of the men who killed her. You can't ignore what Payton says."