The Advocate's Devil (20 page)

“Holy shit! Now you’re telling me—my own goddamned, highly paid
defense
lawyer—that I’m
guilty
. Who appointed you prosecutor? Who appointed you
God?
I don’t have to take this. I’ll go down the block, I’ll look in the Yellow Pages. Any kid out of law school could win this
case, especially after what we’ve dug up on Jennifer.”

“I’m not telling you that I think you’re guilty. The truth is I still believe that you’re probably innocent, though I’m not
as sure as I used to be, and I don’t think you’ve told me the truth about everything. I do have to tell you, though, that
Justin and Rendi believe you’re guilty. And they have found some troubling documentation that supports their view.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What documentation? What about the facts concerning Jennifer?”

“Justin and Rendi think that you knew everything about Jennifer
before
you decided to go out with her. That’s why you picked her. They believe it was a setup from the get-go, that you always pick
women who have something in their past—a false accusation of rape or sexual harassment, something that will make it impossible
for them to bring a successful rape charge. Are they right, Joe?”

Joe looked stunned. Then he muttered, “Well, Counselor, do
you
believe them?”

“I don’t know. Justin has found some interesting stuff on the computer. Like the fact that you got the printout on Jennifer
a few days before you went out with her. Also the computer request you made was for cases of false sexual allegations.”

There was a look of total shock on Joe’s face. It was clear that Joe Campbell had never before been confronted with this accusation.
Abe could not tell whether the look was one of shocked guilt or shocked innocence. For the first time, Joe Campbell was speechless.
Abe waited a beat and then continued. “You’re not making it any easier. I need to find out who you really are.”

This time Joe was not silent. “Who the hell do you think you are, Sherlock fucking Holmes? Cut the shit and get back to earth.
You’re a goddamned criminal lawyer. You work for me. Your job—your
only
job—is to get me off. Not to tell me I’m lying, and not to tell me your associate—whose hourly fee I’m paying—thinks I’m
guilty because of some computer games he’s playing with himself. It’s all bullshit.”

“Explain to me why it’s bullshit, Joe. I’d love to be persuaded. Here, take a look.” Abe handed Joe the folder with the computer
printouts and explained Justin’s theory of how they showed that the search had predated Joe’s “chance” encounter with Jennifer.
Joe studied the printouts carefully, his demeanor pensive.

“It’s all rather complicated, Abe,” he said, pointing to the Jennifer Dowling printout. “Actually, I did several searches.
The first was for Jennifer Dowling. I did that search after I met her—like I told you. I don’t know why there’s no time notation.
Maybe CompuLaw did that only for law firms. Maybe the last part of the printout was irrelevant so I threw it away. Maybe CompuLaw
just screwed up. That kind of thing happens, you know.”

“What about the more general search for all false sex complaints?”

“I did do that—right after I did the Dowling search and found out about her false complaint. I wanted to know more about why
women make false complaints.”

“Why did you want to know?”

“Intellectual curiosity, I guess—and I wanted to understand Jennifer Dowling. I wanted to be sure she wasn’t the kind of woman
who might try to set me up.”

“That’s just what Justin thought—originally,” Abe said. He was impressed by Joe’s ability to come up so quickly with a plausible
explanation.

“Justin was right—originally. Why did he change his mind?”

“Because there’s more, Joe—even if you’re telling the truth about the computer stuff.”

“What?”

“Our investigator, Rendi Renaad, has come up with disturbing information about your sexual predilections from some of your
groupie friends.”

“You got
our
investigator to dig up dirt on me?” Joe asked, his demeanor once again belligerent. “Who the fuck do you think you are, the
National Enquirer?
”

“No, I’m your lawyer, and hard as this may be for you to believe, I’m trying to help you. She’s found some pretty nasty stuff.”

Joe paused, got up, and hovered above Abe, looking at him menacingly. Abe put his finger on the silent alarm he had installed
several years earlier, after a woman client accused of murdering her abusive husband had attacked Abe during an emotional
confrontation. He was about to press when Joe walked away, turned back, and said softly:

“Mr. Ringel, I have no choice but to insist that you fire Rendi and Justin. I want them off my case. They don’t believe in
me, and I don’t want to pay for people to dig up dirt on me.”

“I’m sorry, Joe. That’s my call, not yours. If I’m in charge of your defense, I decide who works with me. I need them. And
I need them to dig up everything on you. Better them than the prosecutor. Everything Justin and Rendi learn is confidential.”

“I don’t care. They’re off my case.”

“The only way they’re off your case is if I’m off your case.”

“Okay, if you insist. You’re fired, too—effective immediately, along with your entire team. I will not be needing your services
any longer. Send me your final bill.”

Abe was prepared for that response. “I wish it were that easy, Joe, only it’s not.”

“What do you mean, it’s not? I have an absolute right to fire you and your team, don’t I?”

“Of course you have that right, but you may not want to exercise it.”

“Why the hell not? You think I’m afraid of you?”

“That’s not it,” Abe answered him. “I promised you I would never disclose anything I learned about you as your lawyer, and
I’m bound by that commitment. You have to understand how the system works. If you and I part company at this point—no matter
how we put it for public consumption—it will send a clear message.”

“Yeah, that you’re a shyster and that I want to replace you with a real lawyer. No skin off my back, only some off yours.
No big deal. You’ll survive.”

“That’s not the message.”

“Then what is it?”

Abe stood up and grabbed a law book from the shelf, quickly finding the page he wanted Joe to look at. “Since the Supreme
Court’s decision a couple of years back in a case called
Nix
versus
Whiteside
, there has been an epidemic of lawyers dropping out of cases on the eve of trial. And no matter how they try to explain it,
everybody in the system knows what it means. Here, read this paragraph.”

“Well, I’m not in the system, and I don’t want to read any damn law books. You tell me what it says.”

“It covers the situation where the lawyer believes his client is planning to lie on the witness stand. If a lawyer knows that,
he either has to drop out of the case or blow the whistle on his client, and no lawyer can survive with a reputation as a
whistle-blower, so they take the easy way out.”

“What’s the easy way out?”

“They quit, or more likely they arrange to be fired. Every judge, every prosecutor, every journalist, every court watcher,
knows what it means. Firing me at this juncture would be like taking out a full-page ad in the Sunday
New York Times
confessing your guilt. Do you want to do that?”

“Goddamn it. You win.”

“This isn’t about winning. At least, not against you,” Abe said. “Part of me wishes you would fire us without shooting yourself
in the foot. You can’t, and I can’t quit, because I would be screwing you if I did. So now
I
have a problem, Kemo Sabe. My problem is that I know too much for both our good. I still suspect, despite your explanation,
that you may have used your computer to find out about Jennifer
before
you met her. I don’t know why. And I don’t know whether you raped her. My gut still tells me you didn’t, but not because
of anything
you’ve
told me. It’s because Jennifer Dowling’s story is so weak. I have difficulty believing anything you tell me. And I also know
that whether you’re innocent, guilty, or somewhere in between, it will still be difficult for the state to convict you because
you’re a great con artist.”

“Well, at least I’m glad to hear that you think it will be difficult to convict me,” Campbell said, looking out the window.
“If you’re gonna stay being my lawyer, I want you to do everything in your power to make sure it stays difficult—no matter
what you may think of me or what your damn assistants believe.”

“I’ll do everything the law allows me to do, but I’m not doing anything improper for you or anyone else,” Abe responded.

“What does that mean? What exactly
won’t
you do for me?”

“I can’t allow you to lie on the witness stand.”

“Hold your horses, Counselor. I’m gonna make your life easy. I’m a reasonable guy. I understand your problem, and I’m going
to solve it.” Campbell looked Abe solemnly in the eye. “I swear to you that I won’t lie on the witness stand.”

The athlete had gained control over himself. Suddenly he looked sincere. This guy is a trip, Abe thought as he imagined Campbell
using this same show of sincerity in his countless seduction routines. Was there anything that threw him out of control? Maybe
that was the key. Campbell never lost control. That could be hell on anyone’s sex life.

Joe was now talking quietly, though there was velocity behind his words. “One thing is not negotiable.”

“What’s that?”

“If I decide that I want to testify, I’m damn well going to testify. I’m not going to lose this case—and my freedom and career—because
my own lawyer doesn’t believe me. I’m telling you right now, I’m innocent and I’ll testify truthfully.”

Abe started to get angry. “Who do you think I am? Some dumb groupie who will fall for that show of sincerity? I have a friend
in Hollywood who always tells me that ‘sincerity is the essence of good acting; if you can fake that, you can fake anything.’
Who do you think you’re conning here? You want me to feel good because you’ve looked me straight in the eye and lied to me?”

“No, I really mean it,” Campbell said. “This whole situation has been hell for me, and I’m beginning to realize that I do
have a problem. There is something sick about looking up the secret backgrounds of women I’m dating. I’m going to go to some
shrink.”

“You’re right again.” Abe shrugged. “At least legally. If you tell me that you’re going to testify truthfully, I am legally
bound to accept that, since I can’t know
for sure
that you’re lying. I don’t have a crystal ball. After all, some defendants whose lawyers think they’re lying tell the truth.
Personally
, I’m not sure whether I believe you.
Legally
, I have to believe you, because I have no hard proof to the contrary. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the conflict.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?”

“No, it’s just a human being talking to himself as a human being. As a lawyer, I’m satisfied with what you’ve told me. I have
to be, despite my doubts. As your lawyer, I am required to err on the side of believing you.”

“That sounds very schizoid.”

“Maybe, but some of us are human beings as well as professionals. And every so often there’s a conflict between those personas.
It’s not your problem. It’s mine.
You’re
my problem.”

“Where does that leave me?” Campbell asked.

“With a lawyer who believes you may be lying, and who isn’t sure whether you’re innocent or guilty, but who has to try to
prevent the prosecution from proving that you’re lying and guilty. I hate being in that position. But that’s
my
problem.”

“As long as it doesn’t become
my
problem,” Campbell replied. “I mean what I say about my right to testify.”

There was a menacing look on his face as Abe showed him to the door. Abe couldn’t worry about that now. He had to worry about
how to defend his client without losing his bar certificate—or his soul.

A Jury of
His Peers

C
AMBRIDGE
—
T
HURSDAY,
M
AY
25

Although one part of Abe wished that Campbell could have fired him, another part wanted desperately to continue on as Campbell’s
trial lawyer. Like every lawyer, Abe dreamed about that one great legal victory that would propel him into the casebooks that
law students read and the popular TV talk shows that everyone watched. Few lawyers achieved that dream, but those who did—Abe
thought to himself—had it made for life. They would always be known as “the lawyer who won the ‘X’ case.” F. Lee Bailey would
always be known as the lawyer who won the Sheppard case; Howard Weitzman as the lawyer who won the DeLorean case; William
Kunstler as the lawyer who won the Chicago 7 case; Roy Black as the lawyer who won the William Kennedy Smith case. And a part
of Abe Ringel wanted to be known as the lawyer who won the Campbell case.

Abe Ringel was already well-known around Boston and among his professional colleagues. He hoped a victory in the Campbell
case would propel him into that small circle of lawyers whose names were immediately recognized around the country. Abe smelled
that victory, and he resented the complications Justin and Rendi had uncovered.

This was also the part of him that Abe Ringel was most ashamed of. He never discussed his ambitious side with Haskel. Haskel
wouldn’t have understood, and he certainly wouldn’t have approved. To Haskel, the law was not a business or an entertainment.
It was a high calling, a learned occupation, an honorable profession. Haskel hated self-promotion, lawyer advertising, public
relations, and everything else that went along with the new trend toward lawyers as moneymakers and headline grabbers. “A
lawyer’s only advertisement should be the quality of his legal work,” Haskel had always taught his skeptical students.

Abe wanted to believe in Haskel’s approach to the practice of law, yet he couldn’t always live by those principles. Abe rationalized
his frequent appearances on radio and television by telling himself that Haskel’s way was right for Haskel’s era, but that
the increasing competitiveness of law practice and the increasing use of the media by ambitious prosecutors had made Haskel’s
way anachronistic for today’s lawyers.