Witness for the Defense (34 page)

“Oh yes, you did,” I said. “If you only knew how much.”

Avery smiled and placed his hand on mine. “Tell her how you feel and see where it takes you.”

“But I’m afraid. I mean she deserves a whole lot better.”

“Let her decide. What happened to you and your parents was horrible, but maybe Sarah can help you lick it.”

The conversation had become familiar somehow.

“This is the second time today my parents have come up in a conversation,” I told him.

He gave me a puzzled look.

“Reineer,” I said. “And for the life of me, I can’t figure out how he knows so much about me and my past.”

Avery inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry,” he said and placed his hand on my knee. “I’m to blame.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have mentioned a few things about your troubled past to Jared.”

“When would you have done anything like that and…why?”

He leaned toward Sarah and gently placed his hand on hers. “It was before it happened,” he said referring to Reineer’s arrest. “Jared and I would get awful bored hacking away at trees all day. So, we’d talk.”

“But why about me?” I asked. “And why about what happened to my family?”

“I’ve known about your mom and dad all along,” he admitted. “I recall when it happened. You were front-page news for days.”

“I sure was,” I said, remembering it only too well. “I was all over the TV, too. For weeks…But why was it brought up in front of Reineer?”

“Jared was in the field when Sarah told me you were on your way. He must have picked up on how excited Sarah was about you.”

“So.” I wanted him to keep going.

“That’s when I told him everything I knew.”

“But my whole life…? Good Lord, Avery, you two tree-trimmers did quite a bit of gossiping, wouldn’t you say?”

“I never imagined it would come to this. We were just two ex-army buddies shooting the bull.”

I looked at him with a crooked smile. “So Reineer is just a good listener and not some psychic evil wacko after all.”

“Evil wacko, yes. But psychic,” he said, sighing, “not hardly.”

But something still nagged at me.

“When Reineer was telling me about my mother and father, it wasn’t polite conversation. He was doing it for a reason.”

“What reason could he possibly have?”

“To scare me enough to make sure his threats against Sarah had some bite.”

Avery quickly sat up and gripped my forearm tightly. “What threats?”

“He told me if I ever did anything to jeopardize his acquittal, Sarah would be the one who’d suffer.”

“I see,” he said, musing over it.

“That’s why you’re going to let me borrow one of your handguns.”

“For what?”

“If what happened to Sarah wasn’t an accident, then who knows what he’ll try? Especially when he gets out.”

“You mean if.”

“No, I mean when. And so do you.”

“It had to be an accident,” he said, shaking his head. “We were right behind her when she ran off the road. It wasn’t like someone forced her off.”

Avery began to pace, the same way he had when Sarah was wheeled in from surgery. “Jared has you shaken. He’s got you overreacting.”

“What about the gun?” I pushed.

Avery offered me a smile. “I heard what happened the last time you tried to use one. Something about hitting a couple of crows when you were aiming at those gangbangers who were after you and that kid.”

“I wasn’t trying to hit anyone,” I said. “I just wanted to scare them.”

“Who? The gangbangers or the crows?” Then he turned serious. “I’ll give you one tomorrow.”

“Before court?”

“You’re not appearing tomorrow. You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll be fine. Plus, I’m no good here, ” I said. “I want to get it over with. The sooner that nut is out of our lives the better.”

“But that also means,” Avery said, then hesitated. “The sooner he’ll be free to hurt someone else.”

“No,” I said. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that never happens again.”

Chapter 38

The jury would begin their deliberations sometime in the afternoon. Bragg had nearly finished with McBean, his only rebuttal witness. Then we’d make our closing arguments and Priest would instruct the jury and send them off to deliberate. Their most difficult task would be selecting a foreman. The verdict could be phoned in—not guilty.

To Bragg’s credit, though, he never gave up. For more than an hour, he tried everything possible to rehabilitate his investigating officer. But with all his huffing and puffing, all he managed was to blow a little smoke—that somehow, some way, I’d convinced Danny to say the Gummy Bear package was torn. Otherwise, the boy would have mentioned it sooner.

But I had the advantage. There were other witnesses to support my position, while all the D.A. had was McBean: McBean to deny he planted the wrapper; McBean to deny that after he interviewed Danny, he handled the wrapper with a tweezers; and McBean to deny that Danny ever mentioned the wrapper was torn. My job for McBean’s cross was to make sure the jury understood that Bragg’s smoke screen had a major flaw.

“Lieutenant,” I asked as soon as Bragg took his seat, “you testified that when you met with Danny Barton, you asked him to inspect a package of Gummy Bears?”

“That’s correct,” he said, then added, “it was the same package I’d obtained from Ms. Sealy. I wanted to see if it was similar to the candy he’d purchased the night he was attacked.”

“But why did you feel it was important if you hadn’t found the package in my client’s car yet?”

“The boy had already told me he’d lost it during his abduction. I wanted to make sure I knew what to look for.”

My head bowed as if I couldn’t grasp what McBean was trying to get everyone to swallow. “When you gave him that package, what exactly did you say?” I asked.

“I’m not sure what my exact words were.”

“Then why do you feel Danny should have told you it wasn’t the candy he’d lost because the package didn’t have a tear in it?”

“I sure would have. Wouldn’t you?”

“But neither of us is ten years old, are we?”

McBean sighed deeply, like he was dealing with an idiot. I didn’t care. I’d made my point and he knew it.

“Tell me why a ten-year-old, or even a thirty-year-old, for that matter, would have any inkling that a tear in the package he’d lost was important?”

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

“But when you interviewed Danny you hadn’t searched my client’s car yet, correct?”

McBean hesitated. He’d testified too many times not to realize where I was headed. “Well—” he started to say and I cut him off.

“You had no reason to ask Danny whether or not it was the candy he’d lost because you hadn’t searched my client’s car yet,” I said, my voice rising with each word. “Am I correct?”

McBean shrugged.

“You asked Danny if the package was similar to the one he purchased and that’s all you asked him, isn’t that correct, Lieutenant?”

“I already told you I don’t recall my exact words.”

“So you did,” I said, and stepped to within inches of his face. “But correct me if I’m wrong, there would have been only one reason you would have asked Danny Barton whether or not the package you obtained from Ms. Sealy was the exact one he’d lost that night. That would be if you already planned on it being the same package you’d find in my client’s car the next day.”

McBean jumped to his feet. “I keep telling you I didn’t plant that package.” He turned to the jury. “There’s just no proof that I did anything like that.”

I gazed up at McBean, looking annoyed as I folded my arms across my chest, readying myself for one last parting shot. “Lieutenant,” I said in a strong but controlled voice, “do you have any proof that you didn’t?”

Bragg and I completed our closing argument in less than two hours. A record, I was sure, for such a notorious case. But we both knew the outcome was certain, and a quick summary of our positions was all that was required. I emphasized whenever possible that without the package of Gummy Bears, the prosecution had nothing. It did take me longer than I’d anticipated, but only because I had to pause now and then to compose myself. I ached for the opportunity to stand in front of Reineer, point my finger directly in his face, and tell the jury they couldn’t let him go free because he’d kill again.

Then, with painstaking slowness, Priest read the lengthy boilerplate jury instructions. It was a little past four when court was adjourned and the six-man and six-woman jury retired to begin their deliberations.

“You surprised me, Counselor,” Reineer said.

Ignoring him, I closed my briefcase and snapped it shut.

“Thanks to you, I should be out of here real soon.”

“Thanks to me,” I scoffed. “If it were up to me, you’d be burning in hell at this very moment.”

“Now, now, now,” he said glibly. “If you get this pissed when you’re staring victory in the face, what are you like when you’re losing?”

“You’ll find out if I ever get the opportunity to represent you for murdering any of the dozen children you’ve killed.”

“Nah,” he said and chuckled. “If they haven’t connected me to any of them by now, they never will. But you never know about number thirteen. I could screw up again.”

Before court Avery had given me the gun I’d asked for. At that moment I was thankful it was sitting in the trunk of my car.

“And when number thirteen does happen,” he added as he winked at me, “you’ll be the first person I call.”

Chapter 39

I knew there was no escaping them, so I didn’t even try. As soon as I opened the courtroom doors, I found reporters with notepads and pens ready, radio and television newscasters with microphones, cameramen with cameras and minicams, electricians pulling cable—each positioned in front of me, walking backward, shouting questions. I finally stopped at the top of the courthouse steps.

“Please,” I said as loudly as I could. But I failed to make a dent in the clamor.

“People, please,” I yelled several more times, waving my arms over my head to let them know I had something to say.

Slowly the din subsided.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be somewhere and I don’t have much time.” They exploded again, each shouting similar questions.

I decided to try a different approach. I stood with my hands folded across my chest like a pouting five-year-old. It worked.

“At this time I will not speculate as to how long the jury will deliberate or what I feel their verdict will be.”

A young freckle-faced man with pen poised was standing directly in front of me. “Is your client going to sue the county for false arrest?”

I wanted to tell him that I wished Reineer was dumb enough to do exactly that. Whoever the county hired to represent them would do a heck of a lot better job investigating Reineer’s background than McBean had.

“Isn’t that question a bit premature?” I said.

The crowd jostled forward, pushing me back to the edge of the steps. They were out of control, and I’d had enough aggravation for one day. I bulldozed my way down the steps, yelling the old standby, “No comment.”

As I neared my car, I could hear the footsteps of someone running faster behind me. I came to an immediate halt and spun around to confront whoever it was. The freckle-faced reporter didn’t stop in time, and we collided head-on.

On my butt with my briefcase and Reineer’s file spread all around me, I looked up at the kid, who hardly seemed affected by the collision. “Didn’t you hear me say I have no further comment?”

“I’m sorry,” he said and squatted to help me pick up the papers. “But they’re looking for you.” He nodded toward the courthouse. “They want you right away. The jury’s already back.”

News that the verdict was in spread like wildfire. By the time Reineer changed out of his jail-house blues back into his trial suit, the courtroom was already bursting at the seams. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that both Danny’s mother and Otto Cosgrove were sitting in their assigned seats. Behind me, where Avery normally was, a middle-aged man with buck teeth and dirty overalls sat smiling, seemingly excited that he was lucky enough to have a front-row seat.

The reading of the verdict was that part of a jury trial I’d always found the most troublesome. Days, weeks, sometimes even months of devoting myself to a certain position always came down to that one moment. A moment when a person’s freedom would be either taken or restored—or worse—a moment when a human being would be told whether he lives or dies.

I could sense Reineer to my right, staring at the jury, hoping to read something in their eyes, facial expressions, or shifting positions. I chuckled to myself, knowing full well he was wasting his time. After my first murder trial, which I’d felt I’d won easily, the jury had deliberated for more than a week. When they finally took their seats to announce the verdict, they were all smiles. I knew for sure Yd won. I was ecstatic. Then the clerk read the verdict: guilty as charged. In a state of shock, I sat expressionless as the jury filed out of the courtroom. Without exception, each one stopped to congratulate me for doing such a fine job. But my client, the newest addition to death row, sure didn’t think so.

“Mr. Carbajal?” Priest said as she buttoned her robe. “I understand the jury has reached a verdict.”

“We have, Your Honor,” the elderly gas station owner and elected foreman said.

There was dead silence as the foreman handed the verdict forms to the bailiff, who in turn handed them to the judge.

Priest studied each form, glanced at Reineer, and then handed them to Billy Danks to read. “Would the clerk please read the verdict?” she announced as if her clerk were across the room rather than standing only a few feet away.

“We the jury in the above entitled court,” Danks said in his booming gruff voice, “find the defendant, Jared M. Reineer, not guilty.”

Except for a few reporters exploding out the back door to call it in, there was an eerie silence throughout the courtroom, similar to when death finally befalls a loved one who has been suffering horribly from a terminal disease. Even though everyone expected it and sometimes even wanted it to happen, once it does, you’re not sure it was best or what you really wanted all along. Maybe, just maybe, the gallery suspected what I knew. Reineer was guilty, but because of what McBean did, no one could ever be sure. That was what “reasonable doubt” was all about. To my dismay, the system worked.