Proof Positive (2006) (16 page)

Amanda had dated Toby soon after she'd dealt with the psychological impact of another terrifying incident and was eager to resume a normal life. She flashed back to the night a team of killers had invaded her father's house. Frank had almost died, and she'd been forced to kill a man. It was Mike who had comforted her that evening. She remembered the compassion on his face and the tenderness with which he held her as she sobbed against his chest.

After the home invasion, she'd kept everyone at arm's length. Then, one day, she'd decided to stop feeling sorry for herself. Vigorous exercise had been an important part of Amanda's life since she'd started swimming competitively as a little girl, but she had let herself go while she was dealing with her trauma. The day she went back to the Y to start working out again, Toby was coaching the masters team. They'd met before, during one of Amanda's workouts, and the day she'd returned to the pool they'd talked briefly on the deck. The next week, they had their first date.

Mike had called to see how she was doing while she was recovering from the effects of the home invasion, but he had not suggested that they get together. She believed that he was reluctant to get involved again because of the way she'd broken up with him. It had been abrupt and cruel, and her only excuse was the severe mental stress she'd been under at the time. When he finally got up the nerve to ask her out during a chance meeting at the courthouse, she was already seeing Toby. Mike had put up a brave front, but Amanda could tell that she'd hurt him.

If Mike did ask her out, Amanda knew that she should turn him down unless she was ready for a serious relationship. But he probably wasn't interested anymore. Mike had not spoken to her since the prelim. Her shoulders slumped. Hell, no one had called her. She wondered if anyone ever would call or if she'd end up one of those driven career women who worked eighteen-hour days to keep from thinking about their barren personal lives.

Suddenly, Amanda burst out laughing. What a fool she was. She was only thirty-three, her relationship with Toby had been over less than a month and already she was consigning herself to life in a convent. There were plenty of men out there and plenty of time to meet them. Ditch the self-pity and grow up, she told herself. Either she would find someone or she wouldn' t. She was a survivor. She'd had to kill to survive, and she'd almost died twice. She didn't need a man to feel good about herself. Still, in the back of her mind was a fear of growing old alone, of not finding that one true love who made your life different, who made you soar. The love of your life that her father had found when he married her mother.

Amanda squared her shoulders and stuffed the negative thoughts deep down until they almost disappeared. She was not going to play this game. A cutting wind was blowing in from the river. Amanda turned up her jacket collar and forged on. It was going to be a cold and depressing day, but she was not going to be depressed.

When Amanda was a few blocks from her office, she bought a grande cafT latte at the Nordstrom coffee bar, for warmth. She took a sip and planned her day. She would handle her hearing at eleven, work out in the pool at the Y at noon, then work up the jury instructions for a burglary case that was going to trial in a few weeks. All in all, it would be an uneventful day, but a day without excitement was good once in a while.

Jacob Cohen's parents were waiting for Amanda in the reception room at Jaffe, Katz, Lehane, and Brindisi. As soon as Amanda opened the hall door, the rabbi stood up, and Amanda knew that she was going to have to scrap her plans.

Solomon and Valerie Cohen did not look like the stereotypical rabbi and rabbi's wife. Solomon, who wore Armani suits and HermFs ties, could easily be mistaken for a banker or an attorney at a white-shoe law firm. He was just over six feet tall, with blue eyes, a square jaw, and styled black hair through which were threaded streaks of aristocratic gray. The rabbi still moved like the athlete he'd been in high school, where he'd been a varsity basketball player.

Valerie Cohen, who had grown up in one of Portland's wealthiest households, was tall, blond, and tanned, and would have looked right at home on the cover of Town & Country. She had created a minor scandal when she broke off her engagement to a member of her country-club set to marry Solomon, whom she'd met at a party when he was home on a break from his rabbinical studies.

Amanda, we need to talk to you, the rabbi said. Can you spare some time?

Amanda told the receptionist to hold her calls before leading the couple to her office. As soon as they were seated, Valerie clasped her hands tightly in her lap, and the rabbi laid one of his large hands over hers.

I apologize for coming in without an appointment but You know we have a son?

Amanda nodded.

His name is Jacob and he's been arrested.

The rabbi spoke haltingly. His features were drawn, and it was obvious that he was under a great strain.

What's the charge? Amanda asked.

It's all too much, Valerie said. She started to cry.

A member of our congregation works in the district attorney's office. He called me last night. He said that Jacob is charged with murder and that there's a strong case against him. He urged us to hire a lawyer.

I'll be glad to help if I can. What else do you know about the charges?

I don't know much, but before we get into that there's something we have to know, Rabbi Cohen said. His wife looked wretched. If we hire you, you can't let Jacob know that we' re paying your fee. You'll have to tell him that you' re court-appointed if he asks. Can you do that? Will it be a problem?

Amanda's brow furrowed. Why won't Jacob let you help him? she asked.

Solomon looked like someone in great pain. Valerie and I love Jacob. We' ve never done a thing to hurt him, but How much do you know about our son?

Not much, Amanda said. She had known Rabbi Cohen forever. He was her rabbi and he'd presided over her bat mitzvah. But she knew very little about the Cohens' son, whom she'd seen at temple when he was young and had not seen there in many years.

Our son has lived a very sad life, Valerie said. Several years ago, something terrible happened and many people died because of something Jacob did. His guilt unbalanced him and he's never recovered.

What happened? What did Jacob do?

Jacob was rebellious as a boy, Valerie said, avoiding the question. He ran away from home several times and was in trouble in school nothing criminal truancy mostly, disruptive behavior. He had a lot of difficulty making friends. We hoped that would change when he went to college, but he refused to apply. You can imagine how this upset us.

Actually, he did get a very good job, even though he didn't go to college, the rabbi said in the same tone he'd used when he told Amanda that Jacob had been charged with murder. He was hired as an air traffic controller. You have to be good at math and spatial relations. Jacob has a high IQ. He really applied himself. It takes several years of training before you' re allowed to work the board at an airport and he stuck it out. After six years, he was given a position at O' Hare in Chicago.

Jacob's troubles began when he met that woman, Valerie said bitterly. We knew it was a bad match. She wasn't educated, she was common, and she wasn't Jewish. We don't even know where they met, and he wouldn't talk about her background. When we tried to discuss her he became very hostile.

Valerie paused. Solomon squeezed her hand, and she continued.

Jacob has always been difficult where religion is involved. When he was young he claimed he was an atheist. It was a constant battle to get him to go to services. We think he denied his heritage to hurt us, though I don't know why. We tried to be good parents. It's just He was always so angry.

Jacob insisted on marrying this woman and he refused to be married by a rabbi. Solomon was furious. There were angry words spoken. After that, Jacob cut us out of his life. He wouldn't return our calls and his wife wouldn't talk to us. She claimed she was honoring Jacob's wishes.

You said that something terrible happened, Amanda pressed.

His wife told the doctors that Jacob caught her with a man and she told him that she was going to leave him, she was filing for divorce. He went to work the day she left him. He shouldn't have; he was too upset. He must have become distracted. Jacob made a mistake. Cohen's left hand curled into a fist. Two planes collided. Valerie was crying again. Hundreds died, he said, his voice shaking. No one survived.

Jacob had a nervous breakdown. His wife didn't know what to do, so she called us. We flew out immediately. It was terrible. He was in the mental ward at the county hospital. They had to sedate him. The doctor said that he was babbling biblical verses, blaming women and the CIA for the crash.

We put him in an excellent private hospital in Portland, Valerie said. He had the best care, but it didn't help, and our relations with him grew worse. He saw us as jailers; he said we were conspiring with the government to keep him drugged and locked away. He refused to admit that he was responsible for the crash. He said that his wife had conspired with the CIA to make the planes crash so he would be blamed and locked away, leaving her free to live with this other man.

His ramblings made no sense, the rabbi said. He sounded defeated. No matter what the doctors tried he would not stop claiming that his wife was in league with the devil.

Do you know the medical diagnosis for Jacob's mental problems? Amanda asked.

The doctor said that he's a paranoid schizophrenic, Valerie answered. They told us that this would explain his being a loner, not making friends. Supposedly the disease can stay hidden until a person reaches college age. Then it can come out if there is a triggering event, like his troubles with his wife or the crash. That's what the doctors told us.

Valerie paused. She looked ashamed of her son. Amanda hoped that wasn't true. Schizophrenia was no one's fault.

How did he get out of the hospital? Amanda asked.

Medication, the rabbi said. The doctors figured out a dosage that kept his delusions in check. After a year of progress, the decision was made to treat him as an outpatient. It was a disaster.

Not at first, Valerie said. We thought he was going to make it when he was released. She wrung her hands. We were so full of hope. He had his own apartment and he was hired as a clerk in a convenience store. The manager took a chance on him. And it worked for a while. But he stopped taking his medication. We didn't know until it was too late. He disappeared and started living in that lot. We didn't find out where he was until he was arrested for attacking a prostitute.

We tried to help him when we heard. We said that we would hire a lawyer for him. He wouldn't talk to us. He denied we were his parents. The court appointed an attorney. He tried to help Jacob, but Jacob is his own worst enemy. He was convicted of attempted rape and sent to prison.

Amanda suddenly remembered her meeting with Doug Weaver in the courthouse corridor.

Was your son recently acquitted of a charge of failing to register as a sex offender?

Yes. How did you know?

Amanda told the rabbi and his wife about her conversation with Doug Weaver.

It sounds like Doug did a terrific job, Amanda said. Why haven't you asked him to represent Jacob?

We checked on Mr. Weaver, the rabbi said. He did do a good job for Jacob, but that was a simple case. Jacob will face the death penalty. Mr. Weaver has not been very successful in murder cases.

One of his clients was executed, Valerie said.

Jacob is too important to us to take a chance on Mr. Weaver, Rabbi Cohen said. You and your father are the best. Jacob needs the best. Please help him. If if he has done something terrible he did it because he couldn't help himself. He needs help; he needs psychiatric care, not prison.

Okay, but I have to warn you that I may not be able to do any better than Doug.

We feel more comfortable with your firm, Valerie said. Mr. Weaver just doesn't inspire confidence.

Jacob's case is going to be very expensive.

Valerie looked Amanda in the eye. Jacob is our son. We will do whatever is necessary to see that he gets the best defense and the best care.

I'll need a one-hundred-thousand-dollar retainer, Amanda said, but the actual cost of Jacob's defense will be higher. I won't know how much higher until I decide how much time the case will take, the experts we'll need, co-counsel, et cetera.

Valerie Cohen opened her purse and took out a checkbook. Amanda buzzed her secretary and told her to bring in a retainer agreement.

When the Cohens left, Amanda thought about how hard it must be to raise a son like Jacob. The Cohens were concerned parents who had tried their best, but Jacob had not turned out well despite their best efforts. That, sadly, was not uncommon. She'd represented enough young people charged with crimes to know that much.

Amanda had no idea what it was like to be a parent, but she thought that it must be a very hard job, probably the hardest job a person could have. Every child was born with infinite promise, and every parent was filled with infinite hope at the moment of birth. Then things went wrong. You could see why if a child was a crack baby or the parents were abusive, but how did you explain what happened in loving households when a child became a criminal or an addict or a runaway? How did parents recover from a broken heart? Did they ever? The Cohens were suffering. Most probably, their suffering would never end, but Amanda would try to ease it by seeing that Jacob received fair treatment in court no matter what he'd done.