Dead Center (17 page)

• • • • •

F
INDLAY HAS NEVER
seen anything like this. The national media have descended on the small community for today’s hearing in numbers dwarfing those here at any time before. Eddie’s suicide and confession have in a bizarre way added a cachet to the case that has made it even more appealing to those who report on the human condition.

I would imagine that the assembled reporters have mixed emotions about today’s hearing. If it goes our way, Jeremy is released and the story is over. If it goes against us, they will have to spend the winter on the frozen tundra covering the trial in long underwear.

The state police have cooperated in turning over whatever they have on the case, and we have promptly received the documents in discovery. The investigation is far from complete, but a substantial amount of work has already been done. The bottom line is that the state police have found nothing inconsistent with suicide, and their handwriting expert has no doubt that it is Eddie’s handwriting.

My goal is a simple one: It is to say that this evidence should be admissible if Jeremy goes to trial, and that its very admissibility should preclude Jeremy from having to go to trial at all.

The gallery is packed as Judge Morrison takes his seat at the bench. Both Lester and I have submitted briefs in support of our respective positions, but if the judge has not already formed an opinion, then it is the oral arguments that will sway him.

My only witness at the hearing is Detective Woisheski, and I take him through the entire investigation into Eddie’s apparent suicide. He is an excellent, experienced witness; his answers are concise and exactly on point. My questions merely provide the road map; he’s driving the car.

There is little that Lester can do with him on cross-examination, other than to repeatedly make the point that the investigation is not concluded and that it is certainly possible that information might still turn up that could lead Woisheski to believe that Eddie was murdered.

Lester then calls Laurie to the stand, in order that she can report on the Findlay side of the “Eddie investigation.” His hope is that she will be able to learn that Eddie could not have committed the murders of Liz and Sheryl and that therefore his confession in the note was either fabricated or coerced.

Lester knows that Laurie is not about to do that at this point, and she does not. But she does at least slightly bolster Lester by saying that she has uncovered no independent evidence of Eddie’s involvement in the murders. I cross-examine her briefly, only to get the alternative truth that she has not found anything to exonerate him either.

Once Laurie leaves the stand, the main event begins: the oral arguments. Judge Morrison decides to address the admissibility question first, and Lester states his position that the only reason Eddie’s death has any bearing on our case at all is the note. And the note, continues Lester, is hearsay and therefore not admissible. Should Judge Morrison issue such a ruling, reasons Lester, then our case is unaffected. Our jury could not be influenced by a note that they are never permitted to see.

“Your Honor,” I say, “the prosecution knows full well that the note represents a ‘dying declaration’ and is an exception to the hearsay rule.” The law makes this exception in the belief that a person about to die is likely to be truthful, as well as the obvious fact that since the person is dead at the time of trial, hearsay is the only way his views can be introduced.

Lester interrupts with the expected counterargument that a dying declaration, under Wisconsin law, is only an exception to the hearsay rule to show how the declarant died. For example, a person who is in the process of dying from a gunshot can identify the shooter, and that statement would be admissible. But that’s all.

I rebut, “I can only assume the prosecutor is not familiar with the law, Your Honor. He should know that the statement is in fact admissible, since it is a ‘statement against interest.’ Were Mr. Carson to have been unsuccessful in his suicide attempt, the statement that the note represents could have exposed him to a criminal prosecution and is therefore legally considered against his interest.”

My belief is that the only area in which the law is ambiguous and not totally favoring our position is the question of whether the dying declaration can be in writing, and not spoken. There is insufficient case law on this, and it will be up to Judge Morrison to decide.

We go on to my basic premise, which is that the facts behind Eddie’s demise create so much reasonable doubt about Jeremy’s guilt that had it been known two months ago, Jeremy would not have even been arrested, no less brought to trial.

“There may have been probable cause at the time of the indictment,” I argue, “but it effectively has ceased to exist. And based on Detective Woisheski’s testimony, it is reasonable to believe that Eddie Carson made this confession of his own free will. How, then, could a jury find Jeremy Davidson guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of the same murders that Eddie Carson credibly confessed to?”

Lester responds by repeating his argument that bogus confessions are very common in high-profile murder cases and that if the actual defendant were released every time someone else confessed to the same crime, no one would ever get convicted. It’s a decent point; I just have to hope Judge Morrison doesn’t feel it carries the day.

Judge Morrison promises to rule quickly on the matter and adjourns the hearing. Before the guards take Jeremy away, he asks me how I think it will turn out, and I tell him truthfully that I just can’t predict.

As a defense attorney I’m single-minded of purpose: I want to get my client off. As a thinking human being I’m troubled by what I see.

Basically, I don’t believe that Eddie committed suicide; nor did he kill Liz Barlow and Sheryl Hendricks. He ran away the first time we came for him, and that is not the act of a person who has lost his desire to live. Additionally, he told me on the phone that he ran because he was afraid I was sent by Drummond. If this were as straightforward as the suicide note makes it seem, why would Eddie fear Drummond?

Add to this the fact that Janet Carlson was convinced Calvin’s neck was broken by a powerful man. I simply cannot see Eddie fitting that description, nor can I imagine him luring Calvin to his death. Eddie strikes me as a guy who had information, information that he realized it was dangerous to have. He may even have tried to convey that information to Calvin, then watched as Calvin was himself killed.

If I’m right, then Eddie took off and ran, until he was tired of running and saw contacting me as a possible way out. But one of the problems with this scenario is why he didn’t contact the police instead.

And hovering over all this is a strong feeling of guilt that I have over Eddie’s death. I believe that had I not been searching for him, he would not have been killed. I can’t prove it; I just think it, and it bugs the hell out of me.

I consent to three evening interviews on the various cable news networks. They are all done from the house, and I do them in case Judge Morrison rules against us. Should he rule for us, Jeremy will be free and there will be no need to sway public opinion. But if Jeremy faces trial, I want the public, including our future jurors, to know how significant I consider Eddie’s confession to be.

I wake up in the morning to two pieces of good news. First, the court clerk calls to say that Judge Morrison will issue his ruling from the bench tomorrow morning. This is amazingly fast compared to larger jurisdictions, but it fits in with what I have come to expect in this case.

Even better, Laurie calls to tell me that she has today off, and asks if I’d like to go for a drive out to the lake. It’s the perfect solution for a day in which I would otherwise do nothing but obsess about the case. And if we actually walk outside near a lake in this weather, I’ll freeze to death and be able to forget about the case permanently.

Laurie asks that I drive, and she sits in the passenger seat. Even though it seems that Wisconsin has more lakes than people, the one we are driving to turns out to be about two hours away. This is fine with me; I’m feeling so comfortable we could be driving to Anchorage for all I care. Besides, it’s got to be warmer there.

Fortunately, the only time we spend outside is walking from the car to the restaurant we arrive at for lunch. We are brought to our table along the glass wall at the far end of the restaurant. We are overlooking Lake Netcong, which is as beautiful a place as any I have ever seen. The air is so clear that it feels like I’m wearing magnifying lenses on my eyes.

“This place is amazing,” I say.

She nods. “I know. I used to come here when I was a kid. The lake hasn’t changed at all.”

“Was this restaurant here?”

“No… there was just a small stand, sold hot dogs and hamburgers. My father would take me here for picnics and rent a boat for the day so we could sail. It feels like it was yesterday, but it was a hundred years ago.”

If I was harboring any hope that Laurie was longing to come back to Paterson with me, the look on her face is blowing that out of the frozen water. “I can see how much you love it here,” I say.

“I do, but that’s not how I would describe it. It’s more like I’m connected here. It feels like where I’m supposed to be.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” It’s sounding to me like the talks we had leading up to Laurie leaving me, and I don’t relish having another one.

She nods. “I’m sorry, but I’m not handling this well,” she says.

“Handling what well?”

“I’m also connected to you, Andy. I love you and I’m connected to you. But you love your home and you are connected there. So I don’t see a solution that gives me what I want.” She points to the lake. “This and you.”

“Laurie, Findlay is a nice place to live. The people are great, there’s cable TV, and I find I can go outside for ten or fifteen seconds without getting frostbite. But I can’t stay here forever.”

“I know.” Then, “Did you ever think about having a child?”

“I am a child.”

She laughs, but tells me she’s serious. “Do you ever think about it?” she asks again.

“Sometimes, but I always get scared by that Harry Chapin song.”

“You’re not going to song-talk again, are you?” she asks.

“No, there’s a song called ‘Cat’s in the Cradle.’ ” She nods that she knows the song, but I continue. “It’s all about this guy who can never find the time to be with his son, and then the son grows up and can’t find the time to be with him.”

“And you worry that you’ll be like that?”

I nod. “I do.”

“I think you’d be a great father,” she says.

“I have my doubts,” I say.

“I’m not asking you to father my child, Andy.”

“Good.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, and I feel like I’m cowering in a foxhole, waiting for the next bomb to drop.

“Judge Morrison is going to rule in your favor tomorrow, and then you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not so sure. He could go either way on it.”

“I still don’t believe Eddie murdered those girls,” she says.

I’m feeling relief and less tension now that we have seemed to change the subject. It might be a sad commentary on me that I’m more comfortable talking about vicious murders than an intimate relationship. “I don’t either,” I say. “But among the many things that trouble me, one in particular stands out.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, let’s assume Eddie was murdered because of what he knew, probably who the real killer was. Then it makes perfect sense that the killer would get rid of Eddie.”

She nods. “Right.”

“But why force Eddie to write the note confessing to the murders? The real killer wouldn’t need that for protection; the murders were already blamed on Jeremy. So why would he bother to connect Eddie to the original murders? Why wouldn’t he just bury Eddie’s body somewhere and let Jeremy continue to take the fall?”

She thinks for a while and then says, “Because if Jeremy goes to trial, you will still be investigating the murders, trying to find the real killer. If everyone believes Eddie did it, you go home and the book is closed.”

“You’re a smart cop, you know?” I ask.

“Aw, shucks,” she says. “I love it when you compliment me.”

“I’m glad,” I say.

“And aren’t you also glad I changed the subject?” she asks.

“You have no idea,” I say.

• • • • •

R
ICHARD
D
AVIDSON
is standing outside my house at seven-thirty in the morning when I take Tara out for our walk. It’s probably ten degrees out, and I don’t know how long he’s been standing here, but he looks like a Popsicle.

“I’m just real nervous,” he says, “but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You want to go in and get de-iced?” I ask. “Or you want to walk with us?”

“I’ll walk, if that’s okay.”

“Fine.”

We walk around the block twice, which gives Richard time to ask me a hundred and fifty times if I think Judge Morrison will let Jeremy go free without trial. I give him my standard “It’s hard to tell” five or six times, but then start shrugging, since I’m afraid my tongue might freeze if my mouth is open too much.

The pressure he is feeling is not unlike waiting for a verdict. It should be easier, since even if this goes against his son, they’ve still got the trial, but that is offset by the fact that Richard has no experience with these kinds of things.

I invite him to have coffee with Kevin and me before court starts, and he leaps at the opportunity. He feels that he can get some special insight into what might happen by being with us.

As I’m getting dressed, the phone rings, and the woman calling identifies herself as Catherine Gerard. She tells me that she has seen the coverage of the hearing and that it’s important that she talk to me.

“What about?” I ask.

“Center City… that religion.”

I’m running late and wishing she would get to the point. “Can you be more specific than that?”

“My husband was a Centurion,” she says. “He left to marry me.”

The name hits me… Gerard. “He wrote those articles,” I say.

“Yes, that’s right. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I tell her that I would like to talk to her very much, though in truth I’ll have no need to if Judge Morrison rules in our favor. I take her number and tell her I’ll be calling her back later to set up a meeting. “Is your husband willing to talk about this as well?” I ask.

“My husband is dead,” she says. “They killed him.”

“Who did?”

“The Centurions.”

My curiosity is through the roof on this, but I have to leave. I promise her that I will be in touch, and I finish getting dressed. I meet Richard and Kevin at the diner just as Kevin is saying, “I don’t know… it’s really impossible to predict these things,” when I arrive. Going by the look on his face, I doubt it’s the first time he’s had to say it.

I haven’t had the time to think about what Laurie had to say yesterday, but right now it hits me that if Judge Morrison rules the way I am hoping, Tara and I will be out of here by tomorrow. If I am, I hope I never see another bratwurst again; the diner has reacted to the media frenzy by renaming their bratwurst sandwiches after news celebrities. Their special for today is the “Brat Lauer.”

The street in front of the courthouse is the closest that Findlay can come to a mob scene. Media trucks dominate the landscape, and the townspeople are hovering in the hope that they will be admitted into the court. I see Laurie and her officers taking charge, making sure that order is maintained. It’s a scene that seems completely incongruous in this town.

We have to fight through a crowd to make it into the courthouse, and we’re brought into an anteroom to meet briefly with Jeremy. He seems so nervous that I’m actually concerned he is going to faint.

The entire scene feels weird to me; there is all the tension of an upcoming verdict without having had the trial. It is as if opposing football captains went out for the pregame coin toss to learn who has won the game.

Within moments the gallery is packed, and I see that Laurie has taken a position along the side wall of the room. She and I make eye contact, and I believe we are thinking the same thing: that in a few moments Judge Morrison will be the one deciding how long we are together.

The bailiff announces the judge’s arrival on the bench, and the hearing begins. It will be an unusual one for me in that I will not be called on to speak. Judge Morrison will just read his decision, and that will be that.

Unfortunately, Judge Morrison decides to do more than just read his decision. He suddenly seems to relish being in the media spotlight, and he makes a long, rambling speech about the effect of this case on the community, and the need for people to come together when it is over.

“And now to the matter at hand,” says the judge before citing the voluminous case law that he studied to help him reach his decision. I glance at my watch to confirm that he has spoken for twenty minutes without giving so much as a hint which way he will rule.

I actually start to lose concentration for a moment and steal a look around the courtroom to see if I can spot Laurie again. It is a change in the judge’s tone that causes me to once again pay attention. “… this court does not have the benefit of a final determination of the investigation into the death of Edmond Carson. Yet in the interests of justice, both for this defendant and this community, further delay is unacceptable.”

I sit up slightly; here it comes…

“It seems clear to this court that the facts as they are currently known would make it a miscarriage of justice for a jury to render a verdict of ‘guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.’ Therefore, until and unless these facts change, no jury should be called upon to consider doing so. I hereby dismiss the murder charges against Jeremy Davidson, without prejudice.”

The room explodes, and in the moment Jeremy looks at me, hoping that I will confirm that it means what he thinks it means. I smile the confirmation, and he puts his head in his hands and starts to sob his happiness. Richard and Allie Davidson move up from their seats in the front row and hug their son, then me, and then Kevin.

Judge Morrison’s ruling was an obvious victory for our side, but not necessarily a permanent one. The phrase “without prejudice” means that the charges against Jeremy could be brought again at some future time, should the facts change. Because the trial against Jeremy had not actually started, jeopardy did not attach, so double jeopardy cannot come into play.

I start to move toward the exit doors when I see that Laurie has made her way over to me. “Will you stay until tomorrow? Maybe we can have dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” I say. “I’d like that.”

“Congratulations on the ruling.”

“Thanks.”

Laurie leaves to attend to her business, and I head back to the house with Kevin. Marcus comes over to confirm that I’ll no longer be needing his services.

“Unhh,” he says. Saying good-bye to Marcus is always a poignant event; right now I don’t think there’s a dry eye in the room.

Marcus starts walking toward the door but stops and turns to me. “Kid didn’t hang himself.”

I nod. “I know. I think this time both the good guys and the bad guys go free.”

“Unhh,” says Marcus, and leaves.

I sit down on the couch, apparently looking unhappy, because Kevin says, “You down about the case or leaving Laurie?”

“I’m not down. I’m one happy camper,” I say.

“Yeah… right.” He tells me that he’s on an evening flight back home and that this has been a positive experience for him. Even more positive is that Carol has left a message on his answering machine at home, saying that she wants to “talk.” It’s nothing definite, but I think that Kevin harbors the hope that before long he can get back on WebMD and start planning that honeymoon.

Kevin goes off to pack, and I get a phone call from Richard Davidson, once again thanking me for saving his son and asking me to send him a bill for my services. I tell him I’ll get around to it, but not to mortgage the farm.

I have a genetic resistance to packing until moments before I am about to leave for somewhere, so instead I use my monthly ten-minute allowance for introspection to think about why I’m down. It’s not about the case; I’m delighted that Jeremy is free, and although I believe the real murderer is still out there, that can’t be my concern. Guilty people get away with things all the time; my job is to make sure that innocent people don’t get put away in their stead.

I’m also not about to miss Findlay. It hasn’t been an unpleasant stay, and it really is a nice town, but I can take just so much fresh air and wholesomeness. I feel more at home in a place where crime and grime are far more prevalent.

That leaves Laurie, and leaving Laurie is without doubt the reason I’m depressed. She put it very well at lunch the other day, and her words apply to me as well as her. We love each other, but there is no way we can live in the same place.

Laurie comes over at five o’clock with three bags full of groceries. She vows to make me a dinner I will never forget, but she knows better. Food has never been that important to me; give me a burger and fries and I’m happy.

Laurie makes some fantastic fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and we spend a quiet evening together, capped off by a far-from-quiet time in the bedroom. But as wonderful as this all could be under different circumstances, it suffers from a general sadness that we both feel. We are splitting up again, and this time likely for good. It would be unrealistic to expect Findlay to have more brutal murders resulting in wrongly charged defendants to lure me back.

When Laurie left last time, I at least had anger to fall back on; now I don’t even have that. All I feel is the impending loss, and there’s no conflicting emotion to deflect the pain. She warned me this could happen, and she let me call the shots, but here I am.

We wake up in the morning, and Laurie asks if I’ll come down to her office with her. Now that Jeremy has been freed, it is incumbent on her to restart a full investigation into the deaths of Liz and Sheryl. It’s likely that the investigation will be forced to conclude that Eddie was the killer, but she has to go through the process anyway. As the person who discovered Eddie’s body, I’m a witness who has to be interviewed.

“Can’t you interview me here?” I ask. “Or do you have to put me under hot lights and sweat it out of me?”

She smiles. “I wouldn’t have to pressure you… you’d cave quickly enough. But I do need to record it.”

I agree to meet her there at ten-thirty, giving me plenty of time to take Tara for one last walk around Findlay. I run a little late, so I bring Tara with me to the police station. The sergeant at the desk doesn’t look terribly kindly at that.

“You can tie her up outside while you meet with Chief Collins,” he says.

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘no way, no how’?” I ask. “Please call Chief Collins and tell her that Andy Carpenter and his trusted companion are here to see her.”

The sergeant does that, though he substitutes the word “dog” for “trusted companion.” Laurie comes out and smiles when she sees Tara, telling the sergeant that they can bend the “no canines” rule just this one time.

Laurie brings us into the interview room, and I sit down. She closes the door behind her.

“You’re going to do this alone?” I ask.

She smiles. “I believe I can handle the likes of you on my own.”

She starts the recorder, gives the time and date, and then asks me to identify myself. Once I do so, she launches right into questions surrounding my involvement with Eddie and my presence in his motel room on the day he died.

I take her through my actions, leading up to the day he ran away from me at the Parker Motel. I don’t include everything, since some insignificant details are subject to lawyer-client privilege, but I so inform her when I leave something out.

“So when you arrived at the Parker, what did you do?” she asks.

“Kevin and I went into the office and convinced the clerk to give us his room number. Then we went outside, up to the second floor, and around to his room. The door was open, and he was nowhere to be found. Some of his possessions were still there, as if he had left in a hurry.”

“When did you hear from him next?” she asks.

“The next day. He called me and…” My mouth is searching for the words to finish the sentence, but my brain has intercepted them on the way and is in a state of shock.

Laurie prompts me. “He called you and…”

“Turn off the recorder,” I say.

“What? Andy…”

“Turn it off, please.”

She does so, probably because my tone of voice has changed so much. “What is it?” she asks.

“Laurie, when Eddie called me that day, he told me that he had run away from the Parker because he thought it might be Drummond that was chasing him. He said he hadn’t known it was me.”

“So?”

“So how did he find out it was me? I didn’t leave a card in his room… I didn’t give my name to the clerk. It wasn’t on television or in the newspaper. Yet by the next day he had found out that it was me at the Parker. Someone had to have told him.”

“Who did you tell?” she asks.

“You,” I say.

“No one else?”

“No. Kevin knew, of course, because he was there, but that’s it.”

I can see her mind racing to answer the next question even before I ask it. “Who did
you
tell?” I ask.

“Some of my officers,” she says, “but I’d vouch for them completely.” She pauses as the realization hits her. “Damn.”

“What is it?”

“I told Liz Barlow’s mother. You said I should confront her with it.”

“Was Drummond or anyone else there?”

She shakes her head. “No, I wouldn’t allow it. Wait a minute, her daughter was there. She heard the whole thing. I forget her name…”

Madeline.

Bingo.