Authors: Alan Jacobson
“Who the hell knows with her?” He stopped on a landing and took a deep breath. “Look, even if she didn’t see me take it, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she took out a cigarette during lunch with me, and then a couple of hours later there’s a cigarette in the crime lab that I’m asking Gray to run a lip print and DNA analysis on.”
After a moment’s thought, Hellman said, “I just don’t see a fourth amendment issue here.”
“What about a civil suit? Could Harding and her attorney go after me for a civil rights violation?”
Hellman snorted. “I don’t have to tell you that anybody can file a civil suit for anything. All it takes is a few hundred bucks. It doesn’t stand a chance of winning, but yeah, they could file one. And you’d be spending a lot more time in California away from your family than you’d like. Win or lose.” He paused. “But I really think the biggest problem lies with your buddy Palucci and the obstruction of justice issue.”
Chandler clenched his jaw. “What if I call Jennings myself and confront him?”
“No. That’ll be worse.”
“Fine. Then I have another idea,” Chandler said. “Let me make a few calls and I’ll get back to you.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’ll let you know. I’ve just gotta make some calls first.”
He disconnected the call, then dialed Lou Palucci.
“I heard,” Chandler said. “Sorry, man. I had no idea that Gray would blabber it all over the damn place. I thought he was a professional.”
“He’s on the strange side, Chandler. Normally, he’d be fine,” Palucci said, “but this is not the kind of thing that comes up regularly. Not to mention the fact that he’s fairly green. But it’s not like he was telling everyone about it. Apparently, he and Jennings got into a pissing match over you. Each had his own story to tell. And it just came out. At least, that’s the version I got.”
“Why don’t you talk to Jennings. Tell him what kind of an impact this is going to have on the lab—and on
you.
Tell him it could cost you your job.”
“I spent the entire night thinking about it. Can’t you just see the headline? ‘Director of State Crime Lab Involved in Scandal.’ If he doesn’t know what’s going on in his own department, what kind of a director is he? And if it does get out that I did know, it’ll be worse: I knowingly violated procedure, abused my position, allowed the usage of taxpayers’ money for personal interests...it’ll be filled with all sorts of things for the media to grab hold of.”
After a moment of silence, Chandler sighed. “Lou, listen to me. All you have to do is talk with Jennings. Now, before he gets to Denton, the chief, and the attorney general. Just make sure you impress upon him the fact that if he takes the lab down in an effort to take revenge on a fifteen-year-old dispute, he’ll be blacklisted by the very lab he relies on to make his cases.”
“I think I’ve got a better source of persuasion for Jennings.”
“Who’s that?”
“Someone who saved his ass a few years back. Jennings owes him.”
Chandler gave him his number in New York and hung up. He ran his fingers through his hair, then leaned his shoulder into the metal fire door and pushed into the hallway.
“Dammit.”
A DAY AFTER HIS DISCHARGE from the hospital and an hour after returning to work, criminalist Stuart Saperstein was dispatched to a crime scene. Three hours later, he settled down at his desk to log in all the evidence he had collected. Before he could finish, however, he was summoned to Lou Palucci’s office.
He tossed the digital recorder onto his desk and trudged down the hall.
As he walked through the doorway, Palucci was hanging up the phone. “Sap,” he said. “Close that door and grab a seat.”
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Saperstein said, tilting his head back and peering at his boss through soiled glasses.
“See, that’s why you’re a criminalist. Very observant. You don’t miss a damn thing.” He scooted his chair closer to the desk. “I’ve got a situation here that I need your help with. Your buddy, Bill Jennings, is threatening to bring some serious heat down on me and the rest of the lab and you have to stop it cold. Before it gets anywhere.”
Palucci spent the next five minutes providing the details of Chandler’s involvement with the lab. Finally, Saperstein interrupted the explanation.
“So,” he said, removing his glasses and poking at the dust on the lens with a finger, “what you’re saying is that this guy Chandler used the state lab for private gain, and Bill found out about it, and you’re afraid he’s going to raise a stink. Saperstein replaced his glasses. “I don’t get it. Why would Bill care?”
“There was an incident about fifteen years ago involving Jennings and Chandler. The two of them squared off, and Chandler turned out to be right. Big case, big blow-up. Jennings came out looking real bad.”
“His chance to get even,” Saperstein said.
Palucci nodded. “With us in the middle.” He shook his head. “If this gets out to the chief...” Palucci started to say as he stood up. He waved a hand at the air. “I should’ve stopped it before it had a chance to go any further.”
“You want me to see what I can do.”
“You saved his career. He owes you.”
Saperstein sighed, stood up and paced. “I’ve got ulcerative colitis and I just got out of the hospital. Couldn’t you wait a few days before laying all this on my shoulders?”
“Wish I could have. But there’s no time. You can see what a potentially sensitive matter this is.”
Saperstein nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He headed for the door. “I’ll talk to him. Give him a dose of reason. Best I can do.”
When Hellman called his office for messages after court had adjourned, he was informed that Denton had called. Hellman’s stomach tightened. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, just that it was extremely important.”
Although it was after five, he knew Denton would be there. The prosecutor answered his own line.
“Jeffrey,” Denton said with an air of indignation. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me before we talk?”
“Tim...” sighed Hellman.
“Don’t give me ‘Tim.’”
“What the hell do you want me to say? I’ve got an overzealous investigator who’s accustomed to doing things...differently than we do them here. I just found out myself.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Denton said. “He used to be an investigator with this office. He should’ve known better.”
“He and I have been all through that. He should’ve known better and he fucked up. But it doesn’t change the facts. And the facts are that Madison’s DNA does not match your sample. Someone else’s does.”
“That’s why you were so sure that if I got a sample of Harding’s DNA I’d be satisfied that your client is innocent and the charges should be dismissed.”
Hellman did not say anything.
“This is the wrong way of going about it, Jeffrey. You should’ve disclosed the evidence you had. Remember the laws governing discovery?”
“What was I going to do? Chandler didn’t tell me where he’d taken her DNA sample. I was going to turn it all over to you once I had the results, but when he told me where the tests had been run, we were in a bind. I couldn’t tell you what I had because you’d want to see the report, and when I had no report, you would’ve asked why and then I would’ve had to tell you that it was done at the state crime lab, and for sure all hell would have broken loose.”
“So this way is better?” Denton asked. “You don’t tell me about the information you’ve uncovered, you hide it from me. Kind of violate discovery, but not really, because you strongly hint that I should check out this other suspect. But what you don’t tell me is why you’re so convinced that she’s the guilty party. You hand me this cock-and-bull story about motive and extortion—”
“It’s not cock-and-bull. It’s absolutely real. And it’ll make your case.”
“That’s not the point. You should’ve told me what you had.”
“Look…” Hellman pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we just put this behind us?”
“Put this behind us? Tell that to Jennings. He’s got a history with Chandler—”
“I know all about it. But if you’re going to let Jennings stir up all sorts of shit all because of a disagreement fifteen years ago—”
“Jennings is not a marionette, Jeffrey. I don’t have control over what he says and does. If he wants to go blowing wind all over the goddamned station about what Chandler did, there’s nothing I can do to stop him. If he wants to go to the lab chief, again there’s nothing I can do.”
“If he ever wants to step foot in that lab again, he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“It’s his decision.”
“Why don’t you let him know your position?”
“And get accused of trying to assist a cover-up?”
Hellman did not like the sound of that. It meant that Denton was going to take action on this himself, regardless of what Jennings said or did. “Don’t tell me you’re going to get involved.”
“Get involved?” Denton asked, his voice rising a couple of octaves. “Get involved? I’m already involved. The only question is what I should do about it. And really, there’s not even a question. I have no choice.”
“Well, before you do anything rash, think about your actions.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all morning since Jennings told me? It places me in an ethical bind.”
“You can deny that Jennings ever disclosed any of this to you.”
“I can rationalize all sorts of things. But you’re asking me to do you a favor that—”
“Whoa, hold it a second. I’m not asking for any favors whatsoever. It’s your lab that’s going to be raked through the coals in the media. And the lab’s never had a better manager than Lou Palucci. You know that as well as I do. But you have to ask yourself if one error in judgment is worth not only destroying a man’s career but also causing a tremendous upheaval in the lab at a time when it’s enjoying one of the most impeccable reputations in the entire country.”
“Jeffrey—”
“Wait a minute, I’m not finished. If you don’t care about the greater good, look at it selfishly. Every time you introduce a piece of evidence gathered at a crime scene, think about what every defense attorney who’s worth his weight in gold will say about it. It came from a corrupt lab. Who knows what’s tainted and what’s not? Who’s doing who favors? Who’s been paid off? Hell, some congressman vying for votes could push for a full-scale investigation. Maybe a few other skeletons will fall out of the closet. Not just at the lab, but at the DA’s office too. And then where will you be?”
“That’s a distortion of the situation—”
“Is it? It’s an edge for the defense. I’d use it, I’m telling you right now. And I have a bunch of friends who I’m sure would use it, too.”
There was a long silence. Hellman knew that sometimes saying nothing elicited more of a response from his adversary than continuing to argue.
“I’ll give it some more thought. Talk to Jennings.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Tim. Let me know what happens.”
Hellman hung up and walked out into the cold air with his head spinning. His mind was sifting through several emotions, the most primal of which were frustration and anger aimed at Chandler. He found his car and headed over to his health club for a dose of weights and a visit to the steam room. He needed to work off some stress before it tied him in a knot from which even Houdini would not be able to escape.
Saperstein poked his glasses up his nose. “I’m not asking you to overlook your duty as a homicide detective, Bill. I’m just telling you that you shouldn’t let what happened fifteen years ago affect your good judgment now.”
“And why not?” Jennings asked.
“Because you have to look at the big picture. What are you going to accomplish and who are you going to hurt along the way?”
“I can’t look the other way for personal reasons.”
“But you’re obsessed with this because of personal reasons. You can’t deny that. At least, if you’re honest with yourself, you can’t deny it.”
Jennings sat there in Saperstein’s cramped office, a six-by-eight cubbyhole with a desk shoved against the wall. There was barely enough room for Saperstein to squeeze past the desk en route to his chair.
“It’s not worth it,” Saperstein said. “I know what happened between you and Chandler fifteen years ago. It’s time to let go of it. Don’t let it destroy you all over again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you pursue this, it’s going to cause a shake-up in the lab. We’ll be dragged through the muck, mired in scandal for months, if not years. Lou Palucci will come under fire from the chief, and then he’ll be canned. Guaranteed. That won’t go over well here. We’re a tight family. We look out for each other. And I’m going to get the cold shoulder because you and I are friends; all of us are going to be looked at by outsiders with contempt.
“And it’ll damage our credibility for years to come. Every defense lawyer will harp on it: They’re corrupt. Taking evidence in through the back door. Using taxpayers’ money for personal favors for someone with connections. Preferential treatment. And then my favorite: Who knows what else they’re doing over there? Manufacturing results? Slanting reports toward the prosecution? The list of accusations will be limited only by the defense attorney’s imagination. Reporters’ll run investigative exposes for tabloid TV. Internal investigations. Shit, remember what went down at the LA crime lab after the Simpson trial? Not to mention what’s happened to the FBI lab—and their rep was impeccable.”
Saperstein paused, took a breath. Jennings was staring at the floor. “Lou has worked awfully hard to get us positive publicity. Anyone willing to listen to him gets an earful of all the good we do in this lab. He’s been a one-man public relations firm for us. We’ve got a solid rep nationwide. You’d be doing damage we may never recover from.”
Jennings continued to stare at the floor. Saperstein was not sure he was listening.
“If that’s not enough,” he said, “look at it this way. None of us is going to look after your ass.”
Jennings looked up at Saperstein with narrowed eyes.
“Is that a threat? From you?”
“A statement of fact. Look at it objectively. Do you think anyone here would be willing to do favors for you? Do you think anyone would want to work on any of your cases? And God forbid you needed something done right away. No prosecutor would want to have you on his case. You’d become a liability.”