Outfoxed: An Andy Carpenter Mystery (18 page)

“So those are the facts you will hear, supported by the evidence. But you will also hear words, supported by theories. You will hear from the defense that a sinister, criminal element is behind all of this.

“Straw men will be created, to fool you into not seeing this for what it is: a convict bent on revenge, taking matters into his own hands, committing a horrible act.

“Words and facts. Facts and words. Please keep in mind, as I know you will, that there is a difference.”

Hatchet asks me if I want to give my opening statement now, or wait until it’s time to present the defense’s case. As I always do, I opt not to wait.

I never write out my statements in advance; I find it’s better when I simply know what points I want to make, without restricting myself to a set speech. That allows me to react spontaneously to what else has been said in the courtroom, which is what I do now.

“Mr. Trell is right that we agree on the fact that Brian Atkins escaped from prison. But he is wrong when he says that is the only thing we agree on. We also agree that facts matter more than words.

“But as it relates to why you are here, the murders of Denise Atkins and Gerald Wright, words are all he is going to give you. There is no eyewitness testimony to the killings. There is, in fact, no forensics evidence that Brian Atkins is guilty of this horrendous crime. Yes, let me repeat that, you will not see a single shred of forensics evidence pointing to Mr. Atkins’s guilt.

“So you will be presented with facts and words, and you will have to determine which is which. That’s your job; it’s why you’re here. But there is something you have, which everyone has brought with you today, that will help you make your decision.

“It is logic. No one asked you to check your logic at the door when you entered this courtroom. Your ability to reason is what makes you human, and it is what makes humans good jurors.

“Brian Atkins did not kill those two people. That is what I am telling you today, right now, standing here. When this trial has concluded, you may agree with me, or not, but I submit that you will at least have a reasonable doubt as to his guilt.

“So listen to the words, look at the facts, and use your logical minds to decide what weight to give all of it. That’s all I ask. Thank you.”

Brian smiles when I head back to the defense table. “Thank you,” he says, and shakes my hand when I get there. He’s feeling good, because someone has finally risen to his defense and said something supportive.

I’m glad he feels that way, but he’d better hang on to it, because it’s going to be a while before he feels that way again. It’s going to be downhill from here.

Hatchet turns to Trell and says the chilling words that are going to start our descent. “Call your first witness.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Joseph Russo was worried. He had been in dangerous situations before; his work life was defined by dangerous situations. But somehow they always felt within his control, as though through guts or toughness or smarts he could survive and triumph. This time was different.

He wasn’t panicked, not even close. He always survived and advanced, and he would again; this time was no different. But this time he couldn’t yet see the path that it would take, and for the first time, he didn’t have full confidence in the person choosing that path.

Russo had always had complete faith in Dominic Petrone. He never questioned his confidence in Petrone, never had come close to doing so, and it had ultimately served him well. Petrone was smart, brilliant in fact, and Russo had always been in awe of that. He felt Petrone combined smarts and toughness in such a way that he could have, and should have, been president of the United States, had he chosen a very different career path.

Actually, were Russo to think about that some more, he would have realized that Petrone could not have put up with the bullshit that went with the presidency. Too much trying to get other people to go along, too much compromise. That was not Petrone’s way.

But Petrone’s way was changing. He had always been content to dominate within his sphere of influence, and let others do the same within theirs. But he had been presented with this opportunity and had grabbed it.

Part of his explanation and reasoning was that if he hadn’t done so, someone else would have. It would have put Petrone in the same position that he is now putting others. But Russo didn’t buy that, not for a second, and it made him uncomfortable to have these feelings of borderline disloyalty.

Worse yet, Russo had been made the front man for the operation. He knew that it was because he was the person Petrone most trusted and had confidence in, and in a way he relished the power and prominence it gave him.

But with the prominence came vulnerability; Petrone was making some serious enemies and Russo would be in their crosshairs. That’s the way it had always been; the stakes were just much higher now.

Recently added to the equation was Andy Carpenter. Russo felt he should be ignored; he was a smart guy, but he’d never figure out what was going on. Sending the two guys to scare him off at the Giants game had been a mistake, and now it was a public one.

But now Petrone was telling Russo to compound that mistake. He didn’t want Carpenter threatened, he wanted him dead. And Russo thought that was a terrible idea.

It led to Russo paying a visit to Willie Miller. Russo didn’t have many soft spots, but he had one for Willie. Of course, Willie had earned it by beating the shit out of three guys out to kill Russo in prison. Willie was a stand-up guy, and Russo owed him big-time. That would never change.

Russo and two of his guys showed up at the Tara Foundation building in Haledon. They walked in and found Willie on the floor in the main play area, wrestling with six dogs and having them fetch balls and toys.

When he saw Russo, he lit up. “Joey, how’s it going?”

“You still doing this?” Russo asked. “What the hell is it with you and dogs?”

“They’re the best,” Willie said. “When they’re your friend, it’s for life.”

The dogs were barking loudly, and Russo said he wanted to talk to Willie alone, where they could hear. So Willie took him back to the office where potential adopters filled out their applications.

When they got back there, Russo said, “Willie, I’m telling you this because you’re a good guy. Your boss is causing trouble.”

“My boss?”

“Carpenter.”

“Oh, he’s not my boss. We’re partners.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s causing trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He’ll know what I’m talking about when you tell him to lay off.”

“He wouldn’t listen even if I told him, which I won’t.”

“Don’t get on the wrong side of this, Willie.”

“I know Andy pretty well, and I’ve never seen him on the wrong side.”

Russo looked at him, sizing him up, although he already knew what he was going to find. Willie Miller, unlike just about everybody else that Russo dealt with, was simply not afraid of him.

“Take care, my man,” Russo said.

“You too, Joey.”

Russo left the office and went into the main area, only to find his two men having assumed the Willie Miller role of playing with the dogs and throwing tennis balls.

“You got to be kidding,” Russo said.

Trell starts off by making a tactical mistake. At least that’s my opinion. He calls Donnie Thigpen to the stand, an unusual choice at best. Thigpen currently resides in the state penitentiary, and will be spending at least the next ten years there for aggravated assault.

Most prosecutors will first call witnesses whose testimony, if not crucial, is ironclad and immune to serious challenge on cross-examination. You want to give the feeling that you are confident in your case and that you have your act together.

Prison squealers are notoriously unreliable and unlikely to be trusted by juries. Just as Trell thinks the jury will look down on Brian for having been in prison, they will likely look down on Thigpen for the same reason. But Trell clearly wants to go with motive first, and that’s why he made this call.

“Mr. Thigpen, where are you currently living?” Trell wants to be open and upfront about this, though he really has no choice.

“The state prison.”

“Why are you there?”

“I was convicted of assault.”

“During your time there, did you have occasion to know and speak to the defendant, Brian Atkins?”

“Yes, a bunch of times.”

“Where did those conversations take place?”

“In the mess, the yard, the gym … a bunch of places.”

“Would you describe your relationship as friendly?”

“Sure. Yeah. I guess so.”

“Did you speak with Mr. Atkins in the days before his escape?” Trell asks, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“Yeah, he said his wife had dumped him. She was screwing around with his ex-partner and he was pissed about it.”

Trell keeps him on the stand for another ten minutes, breaking the indoor record for most consecutive times asking the same question, but Thigpen basically has nothing more to add.

He finally turns him over to me. Brian has told me that he doesn’t remember ever speaking to the guy, and I assume that’s true, though I don’t know it for certain. Whether Thigpen is testifying truthfully or not, I can still challenge him.

“Mr. Thigpen, you said you were convicted of assault.”

“Right.”

“Were you guilty?”

He delays answering for a few moments. I doubt he’s trying to remember whether he committed the assault or not; he’s just trying to figure out which answer will play best and cause him the least harm.

“No.”

“The jury was wrong?” I ask.

“They said what they thought.”

“And what they thought, that you were guilty, was wrong?” I ask.

“Yeah. It was wrong.” Hopefully this jury will be insulted on behalf of Thigpen’s jury, but it’s a small victory.

Thigpen continues. “And I’ve been a model prisoner; that’s why they moved me to minimum security.”

“Congratulations. All of us, except maybe the woman you threw down the stairs, are happy for you.”

“Objection,” Trell screams, propelled out of his chair.

“Sustained.” Hatchet looks sternly at me. “Be careful, Mr. Carpenter.”

“Certainly, Your Honor. Mr. Thigpen, you say that Mr. Atkins confided in you regarding his feelings about his wife.”

“Yeah.”

“So you were close friends? You shared intimate details about your lives?”

“We talked, yeah.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“About what?”

“About his life,” I say.

Thigpen is wary and clearly worried. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“For example, where did he go to college? Did he and his wife have any children? Was he married before? Before he was in prison, did he wear boxers or briefs? That kind of thing.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember him saying any of that stuff.”

“What do you remember?”

“Just what I said.”

“That’s it? He approached you in the prison one day, having told you nothing about his life before, and volunteered that he was angry at his wife and ex-partner?”

“Right. That’s what happened.”

“Mr. Thigpen, did you testify at your own trial?”

“No, my lawyer wouldn’t let me. That’s why I got myself a new lawyer.”

“So this is your first time testifying in front of a jury?”

“No, I’ve been in other trials.”

“Is it true you’ve testified for the prosecution in three different cases, each time claiming that the defendant in those cases confided incriminating information to you?”

“Yeah, I’m an easy guy to talk to,” he says.

“A regular Dr. Phil,” I say. Trell objects, and Hatchet sustains. “No further questions.”

“They don’t even get the Giants games on TV. They get the Packers,” Ricky says. “And they wear these cheese things on their heads, and they think Aaron Rodgers is better than Eli Manning.” Ricky is obviously still trying to adjust to life in Wisconsin.

“They know not of what they speak, Rick.” I say this even though when it comes to the Rodgers/Manning comparison, they unfortunately know exactly of what they speak.

“Ask them how many Super Bowl rings Rodgers has,” I say.

“How many does he have?”

“One. Eli has two.”

“Great. That’s a good one. What about the cheese on their heads?”

“That I can’t help you with. Here’s Mom.”

I give the phone to Laurie; I really enjoy the morning calls from Ricky, especially since Laurie’s friend has told us that our phones are not tapped.

Sending him to Wisconsin was a tough call, but it was the right one. Laurie has friends on the police force up there who are keeping an unobtrusive eye on him and have not reported anything unusual. In that small a town, strangers would stand out, especially the kind of strangers that would work for Petrone.

Hatchet has announced that he had a commitment that would prevent court from starting until 11:00
A.M
. today. It might be a doctor’s appointment, though that would indicate that Hatchet is human, so it must be something else.

In any event, it gives me a chance to take Tara and Sebastian for a longer walk than usual. We pretty much cover Eastside Park, which is empty this time of year. It’s supposed to snow later, and I hope it does. Watching them play and roll over in the snow is one of my favorite things to do. As always, I don’t see Marcus, but I take comfort in the knowledge that he’s out there, watching.

Though she would growl and never admit it if I said it to her face, having Sebastian in the house has made Tara younger and more active. I thought she might react badly to no longer being the only dog, but she hasn’t. It might be because she knows she’ll always be my favorite. Sebastian, for his part, seems okay with that.

When I get home, Laurie says that Willie called to report that Joseph Russo told him to tell me to lay off. I’m not happy about it, but I’m sort of surprised that Russo handled it in that manner. To me it seems uncharacteristically weak and ineffectual, and I know plenty about weak and ineffectual.