The Rose Conspiracy (48 page)

“That's what your partner, Julia, has been talking with me about,” Vinnie said.

“Right.”

“She seems very sharp. Very capable.”

“She is,” Blackstone said with a smile.

Then he thought of something.

“Julia has gone over your personal background information with you, I know. But one thing needs to be nailed down.”

“Yes?”

“Your name change,” Blackstone asked. “What was the reason for that?”

“Well,” Vinnie said reluctantly, “I know that on my legal petition for change of my name that I filed with court, I had said it was for ‘artistic, professional' purposes. But that wasn't really, totally correct.”

“Oh?” Blackstone asked.

“No,” she continued. “The fact is…shortly before my parents were killed in that train accident, I had found out I had been adopted. They finally got around to telling me. So after they died, I did some checking
and discovered that my biological mother's name was ‘Archmont,' so I decided to make that my legal name. Does that help you?”

“Immensely, and it's pretty much what I had thought you'd tell me,” Blackstone said. Then he pulled together his notes, stuffed them into his briefcase, and got up from the chair.

Vinnie gave him one more hug.

Then Blackstone gave her a reassuring smile, and called for the jailer to let him out of the locked room.

Just before the jailer unlocked the door, Blackstone turned around to share one more thought with his client. “I am going to make your case all about truth and justice tomorrow,” Blackstone said. “So that means you should have nothing to worry about.”

Regardless of the effect Blackstone might have wanted to create in his client with that last statement, as her criminal-defense attorney stepped out of the jail interview room, Vinnie's face was betraying a look of dread.

CHAPTER 59

T
he next day, early in the morning, Blackstone, Julia, and Jason were in the federal courthouse elevator. Crowded around them were several suitcase-sized briefcases and half a dozen banker's boxes of documents. Blackstone and Julia were each carrying the laptops they would use during trial to retrieve detailed information out of the morass of facts, evidence, and records in the case of
United States of America v. Vinnie Archmont.

They watched the numbers appear consecutively on the elevator screen as they climbed their way to the floor where Judge Templeton's courtroom was located. No one was talking. Finally Julia broke the silence.

“J.D., promise me just one thing,” she said.

“What's that?” Blackstone replied.

“Please don't let this case get to the death-penalty phase. Do that for me, will you?”

“That's the plan, my dear friend,” he replied, with only a mere trace of a smile on his face.

When the elevator door opened, the small defense team could see that the hallway outside of the courtroom was jammed with reporters. Judge Templeton had already issued a decision barring cameras from the trial. But that didn't prevent print journalists from several dozen newspapers and magazines from showing up. There were also reporters from television stations milling about. They would sit through the case and then do stand-up summaries in front of the camera on the courthouse lawn at the end of each day's proceedings.

Blackstone, Julia, and Jason carted their boxes and briefcases through
the crowd and into the courtroom. When the reporters began firing questions at Blackstone in the hall, the law professor simply smiled, kept walking, and said only one thing: “Ladies and gentlemen, hang on tight to your notepads. This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

Henry Hartz was already at the prosecution counsel's table, flanked on either side by two other Assistant U.S. Attorneys. Sitting behind him were FBI Special Agent Ralph Johnson and DC detective Victor Cheski. Behind them was a row full of law-enforcement agents and officials.

On the other side of the courtroom, several dozen potential jurors had been seated in the benches by the bailiff.

Blackstone and Julia took their seats at the defense counsel table. Jason was sitting in the bench right behind them. A few minutes later, Tully Tullinger scooted into the courtroom with a leather case, took off his straw panama hat, and sat down next to Jason.

In the far corner of the courtroom, Blackstone's defense expert, Dr. Cutsworth, was seated there with his briefcase in his lap.

Finally, Vinnie was led into the courtroom. She was not manacled, and she was wearing a smart blue pin-striped suit with a bright red silk blouse—probably the most conservative outfit Blackstone had ever seen her wear.

Vinnie took her seat between Blackstone and Julia.

A few tense minutes passed slowly.

Then the clerk called out, “All rise!”

The courtroom thundered with more than a hundred feet as the occupants quickly rose to a stand.

Judge Templeton, without emotion, entered the courtroom in his black robe, nodded to the audience, and sat down at the bench. The courtroom full of people sat down.

The clerk called the case, and Henry Hartz and J.D. Blackstone, each in turn, rose to their feet, entered their appearance, and indicated they were ready to proceed.

“The first order of business is a preliminary matter,” Judge Templeton said. “Bailiff, please escort the jury panel to the waiting room until I call for them.”

When the group of potential jury members had all filed out of the courtroom, the judge continued.

“Professor Blackstone, your motion is before me,” the judge said. “It is a motion to dismiss.” Then he turned to Henry Hartz.

“Has the government had a chance to review this motion?” the judge asked.

“We have,” Hartz replied. “Honestly, we are astounded at the blatant audacity of Mr. Blackstone, Your Honor.”

“Well, you had better get used to that,” the judge said, shaking his head. “Apparently, defense counsel Blackstone specializes in audacity.” A handful of reporters snickered at that, but Templeton leaned forward and barked out a warning for the press to maintain “total and complete silence—I mean, the only thing I want to hear from the media during this trial is the occasional scratch of a pen on a notepad. Am I making myself clear?”

A small tide of press faces were smiling and nodding.

“What is your response to the motion?” Judge Templeton said to Henry Hartz.

“Defense counsel,” Hartz answered, “is seeking total dismissal of this case on the grounds that the government, allegedly, had
failed
to produce missing evidence—namely, the same drinking glass from the scene of the crime that Your Honor has heard about previously. But this isn't a proper basis for dismissal. If Mr. Blackstone wants to introduce evidence relating to the drinking glass during the defense case in this trial, he can certainly try to do that. But not a dismissal
before
trial.”

“Professor Blackstone,” the judge asked, “why should I entertain this motion at this stage? Why shouldn't I follow the government's suggestion?”

“Because I have a right,” Blackstone shot back, “to make an offer of proof, by witness testimony, that the evidence in possession of the government supports my client's innocence. And secondly, that it was concealed by the government.”

“This is really outrageous,” Hartz said, raising his voice and leaning on his cane at his table. “What evidence could you possibly have for these kinds of irresponsible accusations against the prosecution?”

“The fact that the drinking glass has now been found,” Blackstone said.

With eyebrows raised, the judge turned to Henry Hartz.

“Is that true?” the judge asked.

“Well, yes, Judge,” Hartz replied. “In fact, after a diligent search, we located it and then promptly advised defense counsel of that fact. We are hiding nothing.”

“Henry, you buried the District of Columbia evidence inventory record in a six-inch pile of paperwork,” Blackstone countered.

“I don't want any frivolous bickering,” the judge barked out. “Professor Blackstone, it is true that the government has given you written notice of the fact they located the drinking glass?”

“Yes, Judge, they did,” Blackstone said.

“So then, what is it you want here?”

“A dismissal of these criminal charges.”

“But on what factual basis?” the judge asked.

“I have some unimpeachable witnesses,” Blackstone replied, “whom I believe will substantiate my request for dismissal.”

“Witnesses here, today?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Blackstone replied.

“You are prepared to call them?”

“I am,” Blackstone answered.

“May I address another procedural point?” Henry Hartz called out to the Court, but the judge waved him back to his seat.

After considering the matter for a few moments, Templeton turned to J.D. Blackstone. “I will allow you a
limited
opportunity to make an evidentiary offer of proof in support of your motion.”

Then the judge asked, “Professor Blackstone, who do you propose to call as your first witness?”

Blackstone smiled, paused, and then turned to Henry Hartz, who was seated at the government's counsel table with a scowl on his face.

“Your Honor,” Blackstone announced calmly. “I call the prosecutor, Henry Hartz, Assistant U.S. Attorney, as my first witness.”

CHAPTER 60

T
he jammed courtroom erupted with simultaneous outbursts from reporters, bystanders, lawyers, and law-enforcement officials.

In the middle of the tumult, Henry Hartz was objecting wildly.

“This is ridiculous!” he exclaimed, climbing to his feet again with the aid of his cane. “I object. It is procedurally improper for defense counsel to cross-examine the prosecutor. And I object further because the defense is trying to obstruct this jury trial from taking place. They know we have overwhelming evidence of the defendant's guilt. They know the jury is going to agree with me. There is a death penalty waiting for the defendant's cold-blooded cooperation with a conspiracy to murder the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution and to steal invaluable historical documents. The defense knows all of that—I've seen this all before, Your Honor. The same old defense tricks—obstruction, obfuscation, avoidance, misrepresentation.”

J.D. Blackstone was in control and quiet in his delivery.

“I am afraid,” Blackstone countered, “that Mr. Hartz uses much to say little. Boiled down to their essence, his objections are twofold. First, he says that it is, as a point of procedure, wrong for the defense to force a prosecutor to testify in a pending case. But I disagree. If you would like, Your Honor, I would be glad to cite the cases where that very process was permitted. Second, he says we are trying to avoid a jury trial. Well, frankly, that is
exactly
what I am trying to do. We are attempting to show that a trial against Vinnie Archmont, under these circumstances, would be a miscarriage of justice.”