the property.
"Anyway," he continued, "Jackson gave his information to a girl we use
for personnel-related stuff, and that's about all I had to do with him.
Then Friday I'm working at the site late, checking out the status of
things, and I see Jackson packing away some paint into his van. I
didn't recognize him, so I asked the guy his name. I remembered it
from when Larry told me to hire him, so I told him, Go ahead and take
it. Then I called Larry."
"What was his reaction?"
"Nothing special. Just thanked me for telling him about it. Next
thing I know, we got a body on our hands Monday and Jackson's getting
arrested for it."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"So I'm not a good Samaritan. Sue me."
I wasn't buying it. If his decisions today said anything about his
behavior generally, Minkins was self-interested. No way did he sit
there silently while Gunderson dragged him into the middle of this.
"You're leaving something out. How'd you wind up at the library?"
He pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. "So you did make me. I
was beginning to wonder."
Sucker.
"When I saw the news about Jackson, I asked Larry what the fuck was
going on. All he said was and I remember this "Take a lesson from it,
Billy, and keep your mouth shut." Scared the shit out of me. So I
started doing some snooping around of my own. Figured if I got the
goods on whoever pulled that shit on Jackson and the lady judge, they
couldn't pull anything on me."
"And what did you find out?"
"Not a lot. I know Larry's leveraged up the ass trying to keep the
bills paid. And I know you were doing some serious research into the
urban growth boundary."
"You're still not telling me why you were following me, Billy."
"It was stupid, OK? I watched the news Friday about the hearing, and
they said something about there being a shooting at your house last
month. I was thinking about trying to work something out with you, so
I went by Saturday morning, just because I wasn't doing nothing else.
Then I saw you driving away. Next thing I know, I'm following you
around the library. When I saw what you was working on, I realized I
didn't have a fucking clue about what was going on, and I was like to
get myself in more trouble than be able to help myself."
"But now you're coming clean anyway."
"Well, when you said what you said earlier, I figured it was about the
only choice I had. Larry sure as hell ain't gonna take care of me."
It sounded credible. I could see a guy like Billy Minkins feeling
desperate enough to follow me around while he tried to figure out what
to do. Thanks to the local news, anyone who was curious could find out
what block I lived on from a search of the Internet.
"Did you tell Gunderson about the library?" I asked.
"No way. I hightailed it out of there and laid low. I ain't saying
I'm perfect. Hell, it's not like I'm blind it's not every businessman
who's gonna let a guy like me take care of an operation. But no way
did I sign up to be in the middle of a murder trial and whatever crap
led up to it."
"You certainly don't sound like someone who trusts Larry Gunderson.
How'd you hook up with him anyway?"
Minkins let out a chuckle. "AA. Court-ordered after my check-writing
scheme went awry. I couldn't get work after that, and Larry'd been in
the program for years. Fucking ironic, ain't it?"
There's a reason guys like Minkins wind up in the system. Instead of
taking some responsibility for the decision that led him to this room,
he had found a way to blame it on the only chance a court had given him
to get his life under control. But Minkins seemed to think I liked
him, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Do you know of any connection between Gunderson and Clarissa
Easterbrook?"
"Other than her body being found there? Nope."
"Do you know anything about Gunderson paying bribes or kickbacks to her
or any other public officials?"
"Nope, but I wouldn't put it past him."
"Are you going to bother telling me what you're fishing for, Kincaid?"
Leave it to Lisa Lopez to think she's not doing her job unless she
butts in every once in a while.
"Me telling you what I think isn't part of this deal," I said. "What
matters is your client telling me what he knows, and I'm trying to make
sure he's done that."
I asked a few more questions, but I couldn't get anything more out of
him.
Lopez could tell the debriefing was coming to a close. "There you go,
Kincaid. Billy never even broke the law, so I want assurances that he
doesn't face potential prosecution. And his PO better not jam him up,
either."
"But he hasn't given me anything, Lisa. He said it himself. He
doesn't know what happened."
"You've got more than you had before. And he might not know all the
details, but that's because he doesn't have anything to do with it."
She was right. That's the problem with our system of flipping. Those
who have the most to trade are the ones least deserving of a break. If
Minkins was telling the truth, he had some serious moral shortcomings
but he wasn't a murderer.
"Fine, but only after he passes a poly."
Billy Minkins had his own priorities. "And I want some protection."
"Explain it to him. Lisa. I'm not exactly running a witness
protection program here."
"Fuck that noise," Minkins said. "I get the impression you don't know
any more about what's going on than I do. You turn me loose after
Gunderson knows I cut a deal, and I might wind up like that judge of
yours."
Shoot. Why didn't I think of that?
There was only one way to swing this, and it all depended on how badly
Billy wanted protection. As it turned out, he was more scared than I
thought.
Lisa and I told Prescott's clerk that we were ready and returned to the
courtroom. Thorpe and Gunderson were already there, presumably waiting
for Slip to call Gunderson to the stand pursuant to the subpoena.
"We're back on the record," Judge Prescott made clear. "Mr. Minkins
has chosen to proceed with separate counsel, and he is now present and
represented by Lisa Lopez. The motion to quash the subpoenas served
upon Larry Gunderson and William Minkins is quashed. Mr. Szlipkowsky,
you may proceed to question your witnesses."
This had happened too quickly. I hadn't had a chance to talk to Slip.
I crossed my fingers and hoped that the fifty-fifty odds would fall my
way.
"The defense calls Larry Gunderson to the stand."
I exhaled a sigh of relief, and Jim Thorpe rose. "Excuse me, your
honor. It was my understanding that the purpose of the prosecutor's
conference with Ms. Lopez was to determine whether Mr. Minkins was
offering testimony that would warrant an offer of immunity to him. As
your honor is well aware, such conferences often invite fabrications,
especially where as in Mr. Minkins's situation the person being
questioned i
s
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on probation and therefore subject to the whim of law enforcement. It
only seems fair that my client should know what occurred in that
conference before being questioned."
Somewhere along the road, when I wasn't looking, Prescott had truly
come into her own. Without asking any guidance from the other
attorneys, she reached the right conclusion. "Mr. Gunderson is merely
a witness in these proceedings, not the accused. He has no standing to
request information about other witness's potential testimony. Please
instruct your client to take the witness seat."
Thorpe whispered some last minute advice in his ear and Gunderson took
the stand. Short, round, and balding, he might have appeared jolly
under happier circumstances. But here, his expression was stern but
concerned as he repeated the same response to each of Slip's questions:
"On the advice of counsel, I decline to answer pursuant to my Fifth
Amendment rights."
Although typically the bane of my existence, today the words were music
to my ears. Larry Gunderson, the supposedly disinterested landowner,
was invoking his rights. It was better than anything I could have
hoped for.
When Slip had finished his list of questions, he called Minkins to the
stand. To everyone's surprise (well, maybe not everyone's), Minkins
also invoked his Fifth Amendment rights. When the questioning was
done, I rose.
"Your honor, at this point, I would request that the sheriff's deputy
place Mr. Minkins in custody on a probation detainer pursuant to the
request of his probation officer."
"This is ludicrous, your honor." I wasn't surprised at Lisa's acting
skills. Having seen her profess her faith in her clients time and time
again in court, I knew she could pull it off. "Ms. Kincaid is
obviously penalizing my client for invoking his Fifth Amendment
rights."
"Ms. Lopez is forgetting, your honor, that Mr. Minkins was a defense
witness, not a suspect. The State is continuing to pursue its case
against the defendant, Melvin Jackson, and is simply informing the
court of a decision by the probation department. The probation officer
has already faxed a formal detainer to the sheriff's department. He is
concerned about Mr. Thorpe s earlier representation about Mr.
Minkins's whereabouts at the time of the offense. The witness is on
supervision for a forgery that arose from an alcohol and gambling
addiction."
Moments later, Minkins was led away in cuffs, where he'd be safe and
sound in a relatively clean and comfortable county holding cell until I
told his PO it was time for a hearing. It wasn't the Four Seasons, but
it provided the protection Minkins was after.
Larry Gunderson's head looked like it was about to explode. My guess
was that he had been tempted to perjure his way through the
questioning, but was smart enough to play it safe once he assumed that
Minkins had given him up. It's nearly impossible to make your way
through an interrogation when you don't know what cards the questioner
has already drawn. Any screwups would be under oath and on the record,
preventing him from wiggling around at a trial down the road.
Lisa threw me a glance before leaving the courtroom. Other lawyers
might have worried about the long-term repercussions of crossing
another attorney, especially one as powerful as Jim Thorpe. But Lisa
Lopez, ever the true believer, did what was best for Minkins.
"Unless someone has further need of Mr. Thorpe and his client,"
Prescott said, "the two of you are free to leave as well." They almost
looked surprised when no one spoke up.
With the witnesses gone, Prescott asked Slip if he had any additional
witnesses.
"No, your honor."
"Rebuttal, Ms. Kincaid."
"None."
Slip and I went through the motions on argument. He wove the strongest
conspiracy story he could given the information he had. I stood by my
case against Jackson, emphasizing that any questions about possible
conspiracies must be decided by the jury. If anyone from the office
called Prescott to check up on me, it would look like I'd played my
proper role in the system. I wasn't looking for a dismissal against
Jackson, just enough of a reaction from the court to get my office's
attention.
When we were done arguing, Judge Prescott gave me what I needed.
"All right, I don't know what exactly happened in here today, but I'm
ready to rule."
When I got back to my office, I was greeted by a note on my chair. See
I didn't go for a run, but I did take a second to check my voice mail:
two defense attorneys, a victim, and my father. Since I had changed my
outgoing message to say I'd be in court all day, the callbacks could
wait.
In Russell's office, I did my best to look worn out from my crazy
morning. "Hey, there. I'm finally out of the Jackson prelim." I held
up the note he'd left for me.
"What the hell's going on over there? Your gem of an ex-husband called
Duncan a couple of hours ago claiming you were sabotaging your own
case. Something about you telling the defense attorney to subpoena
some clients you called him about over the weekend?"
Russell had been good to me so far, so I almost felt bad about lying to
him. Almost. "Roger's got his head up his ass. The defense
subpoenaed the same witnesses I asked him about, because anyone giving
a second thought about this case would be asking the same questions. If
anyone should be in trouble, it's him. He's thinking more about the
other clients than he is about Townsend."
"Sounds like a conflict," he said.
"I thought so too, but apparently all the clients signed off on it."
"So what was the end result?" he asked.
"Prescott found probable cause, but not without a fight. She said on
the record that the defense had raised serious questions about whether
we had the entire story, and that we skated through only because the
standard of proof's so low. Oh, yeah, and the media were in the
courtroom."
"You're fucking shitting me."
"I shit you not. After the morning I've had, I am in a strictly non
shitting mode of communication." I did my best to sound upset, but now
I had the office right where I needed it. No way would Duncan permit
the bureau to continue ignoring the evidence pointing to Gunderson.
"I'm almost afraid to ask: Who are these witnesses?"
"Larry Gunderson, who owns the Glenville construction site, and Billy
Minkins, who works for him."
"For the love of God, Kincaid. Not this again. The defendant's mom
says one thing to you 'my boy ain't never had a job so good' and ever
since then you can't let it drop."
His Mrs. Jackson impersonation wasn't half bad.
"It's more than that, Russ." But before I got a chance to explain it
all to him, his phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he decided to
answer it.
"Hi, Duncan .. . Yeah, she's right he
re.. .. No, Prescott found
probable cause, but it's a little more complicated than that.. .. OK,
yeah, we'll be right down." Russ hopped out of his chair as he hung
up. "I'll do what I can for you, Samantha, but if I were you I'd hold
my nose and pucker up, because you've got some serious ass-kissing in
front of you."
In the couple of minutes it took to run down the back stairs to
Duncan's office, I managed to give Russ at least the big picture. I
left out the part about my role in steering Slip's action, but I did
tell him about the contents of Clarissa's safe deposit box and
Gunderson's stake in the urban growth boundary.
"So what's your theory?"
"I'm not done telling you everything yet."
"Reader's Digest version, Kincaid. Duncan's waiting for us."
"I think Clarissa had some kind of deal with Gunderson where she agreed
to rule in his favor on his appeal. I also think that Gunderson has a
lot to lose if the urban growth boundary doesn't expand in Glenville,
and that Clarissa's affair with Caffrey had something to do with that.
For whatever reason, though, Clarissa was thinking about blowing the
whistle "
A voice cut me off. "Where the hell are they?" Shit. It was Duncan
standing in the hallway, apparently counting the seconds to make sure