Gundown (20 page)

“Whatever it is.”

“And you’re good with that?”

He nodded. Now it was her turn to study Noah. He meant it, didn’t he? She reached for the folder. “Okay.”

Back in her office after meeting with Benson about job details, Jewel decided to avoid the folder’s contents as long as she could. She opened the book instead. It started with “America’s system of justice has taken it far. But that system has become emasculated by technicalities and crippled by its adversarial nature, and justice is too often not its result or even its goal. What do Americans do when a system fails? We replace it with a better one.”

One author of
Justice Through Truth and Advocacy
was Noah Stone in collaboration with some Supreme Court justice. She read on.

Two hours later, what she had read made sense, but the conclusions shook her; they seemed to violate everything she knew about the way American justice worked.

Or, as the book pointed out, didn’t work.

Jaw clenched, she tackled the folder. After she read the reports and learned about the death of Soldado’s family, she felt a touch of sympathy for the man, but she was a long way from empathy. The rest of his background made it clear that he was a dangerous man. The idea of spending hours with him in meetings and courtrooms unnerved her.

But she found the book’s notions on how to make justice really take place fascinating. Could they work? If her job as Hank Soldado’s advocate was to go for the truth, she could do that. In this case, it sure as hell needed to be heard.

And if there was justice here, you could stick a fork in the son of a bitch, ’cause he was done.

Judgment Day

At ten o’clock on a Monday morning, three days after the shooting of Earl Emerson, Hank sat at a table in a courtroom. Benson Spencer flanked him. Beside Benson sat a woman he recognized and sure as hell hadn’t expected to see on his side, the attorney general of the United States. On the other side of Marion Smith-Taylor, Jewel Washington studied notes. So far she had avoided looking at him. He didn’t blame her.

It wasn’t a good omen that Noah Stone sat with the state’s advocate—the prosecutor.

Hank scanned the room for the security he would have to deal with if this went south on him. He was not going back to that cell, not for doing nothing wrong. He’d been on the side of the law his whole life, but he could make an exception if he was railroaded.

Only a guard at the door wore a stopper. Hank saw no stoppers on the citizens and reporters who thronged the room. That made sense; even though the state promoted them, they wouldn’t allow weapons in a courtroom.

Except there was another gun in the room. His Colt sat on a table in the center of the room. It could come in handy.

A man entered from a door at the rear of the room and said, “All rise.”

• • •

At the state’s table, the people’s advocate, Jenny Sochanski, sat next to Noah. He smiled when the honorable judge Edith Crabtree entered the courtroom with her usual chin-up dignity. As she eased her heavy body into the chair behind the tall judicial desk, Noah scanned the most crowded courtroom he’d seen in thirty years. “Be seated,” the judge said.

Every seat was taken. He recognized half a dozen prominent citizens, a reporter from the local press, and famous faces from the networks, including Bruce Ball. A network-pool TV camera stood in a corner.

The jury of six was in place in its box. He knew Tim, who owned the paint store, and there was the young woman who jogged with her dog on his street. The rest looked reasonably alert.

In the center of the room, Don Wyngate, the court’s chief investigator, stood ready in front of the evidence table. Noah thought maybe he’d trimmed his beard, probably on account of the TV cameras. The table held an ugly-looking pistol and a laptop computer.

A railing separated visitors from the court area and the long table for the accused and the advocates. Hank Soldado sat with Benson and Jewel, her navy blue suit and serious expression quite lawyerly. She didn’t look happy, but she did look determined. He liked her toughness.

Most of Hank’s Alliance advocate team was as expected; far from usual, though, was the presence of Attorney General Marion Smith-Taylor. Noah was struck by the weariness he saw in her face. Dark bags swelled under her eyes, and a deep frown creased her brow.

Opposite the jury box sat the witness chair and, in front of it, a table with a computer monitor and the verifier’s headgear, a headband with sensors mounted on a front-to-back strap across the top. From it wires trailed out the back and led to the verifier computer. Other monitors displayed output from the computer to the judge, the jury, and the advocates.

Even though Noah had seen the verifier’s brain fingerprinting technology in action for a year now, he still marveled at how it revealed the truth of testimony. It didn’t exactly detect lies, but it sure let you know if the truth was being said.

He’d tried it, just to test it, and testified that he’d skipped lunch when he hadn’t. The question had triggered his memory in his brain of lunch at The Breadboard, and the verifier had instantly detected the knowledge, which let his lie be known. And it had lost him a twenty-dollar wager. He wouldn’t bet against it again.

Judge Edith rapped her gavel and turned to the court clerk. “What’s first on our docket, Mr. Ferris?”

The clerk intoned, “The people of Oregon inquire into the shooting death of Earl James Emerson, said to be caused by Henry Steven Soldado, and into the possession of a lethal firearm by the accused.”

The judge said, “Are the advocates ready?”

Jenny answered affirmatively for the people. Benson stood and said, “Yes, Your Honor. And I would like to introduce my new associate advocate, Jewel Washington.”

Jewel stood and nodded. “Your Honor.”

Edith smiled. “Welcome, Ms. Washington.” She nodded toward the advocates’ table. “I see we have guests. Ms. Smith-Taylor, Mr. Stone.”

Noah and Marion stood. Marion smiled at the judge. “If it pleases Your Honor, I’m here as a friend to the court.”

Noah said, “The same goes for me, Edith.”

Judge Edith leveled a judicial gaze at him.

He hastened to add “Your Honor.”

“We are privileged to have such weighty friends. Welcome.”

They took their seats.

She turned to the chief investigator. “Mr. Wyngate, the evidence?”

“Ready, Judge.” He indicated a laptop computer on his table. “I’d like to start with a video of the shooting.”

After entering the video into evidence, the investigator said, “Call Lea Shoop to the stand.” A guard opened a side door and a plump teenage girl entered, her steps quick and stiff-legged. Her wide eyes looked scared.

Wyngate escorted her to the witness chair and placed the verifier headband on her head. On computer screens around the room, an ever-changing graph of her brain activity appeared. At the screen’s bottom was a dull green circle. If the witness said something that triggered a memory in his mind, the green light glowed. If there was no memory, then it did not come on.

Judge Edith turned to the jury. “I remind the jury that you may ask questions, but you must be recognized by me before you do so.” She nodded to the investigator. “Go ahead, Mr. Wyngate.”

“Miss Shoop, did you shoot video with your phone at the Alliance newcomers meeting on the night of the sixth?”

She nodded.

The monitor screen showed a spike in one brain activity graph line. The green circle glowed brightly below it and then dimmed. Her answer had been confirmed by activity in her brain, a memory that coincided with her affirmation.

Judge Edith’s voice was kindly. “You’ll have to speak up a little, Lea.”

Lea’s cheeks flushed red. “Sorry, ma’am. Yes, I did. Shoot a video. I did.”

Wyngate turned the laptop so that she could see the screen and tapped a key. The screen showed the audience in front of the Lithia Park band shell. Noah Stone stood on the stage. Other computer monitors in the courtroom showed the same image. “Is this from your video?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what you got off my phone.”

The green light glowed.

Marion raised her hand. “Your Honor?”

Edith nodded and Marion rose. “Ah, aren’t witnesses usually sworn in?”

“We don’t require that anymore, not since the verifier became part of our process. And, as you well know, if a person intends to lie, the swearing-in has no meaning anyway.”

“That may be true, Your Honor, but lie detectors have no legal standing in court. The oath is the only defense against perjury.”

With the calm patience of a parent explaining something to a child, Judge Edith said, “We do not use a lie detector, Ms. Smith-Taylor.” She aimed a hand at the witness stand. “This is brain fingerprinting. I’m sure you’re aware of the technology.”

At least Smith-Taylor had the grace to blush. “Yes, ma’am, but we have not accepted it in federal courts.”

The judge’s voice sharpened. “We accept it here, as have other state courts in the United States, Ms. Smith-Taylor. The machine has proven accurate time and again. The science is valid. The machine detects an uncontrollable recognition response in the brain when a fact that a person holds in memory is mentioned.” She took a deep breath. “It works. Is that clear?”

Smith-Taylor dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “Thank you, Your Honor.” She sat.

Wyngate said to the witness, “Please tell us how you came to have this video, Miss Shoop.”

“Uh, I was recording Mr. Stone’s speech when this guy stood up in front of me and then pulled out a gun.” She swallowed. “Then his head kind of blew up and I swung around to where I’d heard the shot come from.” She pointed at Soldado. “And that man was . . . he was . . .”

Wyngate said, “That’s fine, Miss Shoop. We’ll let the video tell the rest of the story.” He tapped a key and the video started. “The action begins just before the shooting.”

The courtroom grew hushed. The footage was jerky, but clear. At the moment Earl Emerson aimed his gun, his face twisted, his hand tightening his finger on the trigger, Noah heard a gasp from Jewel. He glanced at her; she covered her mouth with a hand, her expression one of horror.

Then the monitor showed Earl’s head explode. The image blurred as the camera phone swung. It stopped at Hank Soldado aiming his gun at the victim. Other people in the scene held stoppers, but no one else had a lethal firearm. Heads in the audience turned toward Soldado. Wyngate stopped the playback and turned to his witness. “Miss Shoop, is that the video you shot in the park?”

Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks. She nodded, glanced at Judge Crabtree, and said, “Yessir. It was horrible.”

“That’s all, Miss Shoop, thank you.” The girl slipped off the headgear before Wyngate could help her and scuttled out. He turned to Hank. “Mr. Soldado, please take a seat on the witness stand.”

Soldado went to the chair; his face could have been chiseled from granite. Wyngate put the verifier headgear on him. Noah hated to see this happening to a man he’d liked and trusted.

The tension was almost tangible. The investigator began. “Mr. Soldado, did you shoot a man named Earl Emerson on the evening of the sixth?”

Marion stood. “Objection, Your Honor. He cannot be compelled to testify against himself.”

Judge Edith said, “In our state, Ms. Smith-Taylor, every citizen is required by law to help determine the truth regarding a matter under inquiry. He will answer the question.”

Marion lifted her chin. “I respectfully submit, Your Honor, that to force him to testify violates his rights under the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which specifically states that ‘No person shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.’”

Irritation soured the judge’s voice. “Partially true, Ms. Smith-Taylor. If you wish to quote the Constitution, please quote the entire relevant clause. In this case, it says, ‘No person shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.’

“Because Oregon has a compelling state interest in securing justice for its citizens, the state interprets this clause to mean that, just as we deprive persons of life, liberty, and property with due process of law, so can we compel someone to testify if there is due process, even if to do so is contrary to his desire to be declared innocent. In this state, we have established that due process, and you’re holding it up.”

Marion thought for a moment, then said, “I must reiterate my objection. The American adversarial system was created to reach the truth, and protections for the accused have been built into the law.”

Noah raised his hand. “If I may, Your Honor?”

“Please, Mr. Stone. Perhaps you can help the court head off further interruptions.”

Noah rose and addressed Marion. “In principle, the adversarial system seeks the truth. I think you’ll agree, however, that in practice each side seeks victory and truth often has little to do with the cases presented by the defense and the prosecution.”

The attorney general’s jaws clenched. “We have a due process of law.”