Raising Cain (37 page)

By the time Gardner and Jennifer had finished their meal, some of the ice between them had melted. Gardner ordered an after-dinner
drink, and Jennifer asked for tea. They had stuck to business all evening. Gardner suddenly grasped Jennifer’s hand and squeezed.
“I’ve missed you. Are you coming home tonight?”

Jennifer avoided his eyes.

“Jen, please,” Gardner said. “You’ve made your point.”

Jennifer looked up. “What point have I made?”

“I need to be more… more understanding.”

Jennifer gently removed her hand. “That’s not all that this is about.”

“Please, Jen,” Gardner begged. “The trial, Brownie. I listened to you. I let you have your say…. I’m trying, for God’s sake.”

Jennifer stood up. “We can talk about it tomorrow. I’ll be at the trial, and maybe we can have dinner again after court.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll walk you out.”

Jennifer pecked his cheek and turned to leave. “No need,” she said. “I can make it on my own.”

*   *   *

Gardner drove to Brownie’s house after his dinner with Jennifer, his mind in turmoil. So that was it: Paul Brown was the second
suspect. As Jennifer said, it explained everything. No wonder Brownie’s attitude had been so strange. He’d done a brilliant
detecting job. He’d uncovered his own brother. And then he’d covered him up again.

Gardner slowed for the turn onto Brownie’s road. Snowplows had cleared a path through, but wind had blown white drifts across
the surface again. It was desolate out here, a lonely stretch of rocks and bare-boned trees, a perfect place for a man to
take refuge from his friends.

Gardner parked and made his way to the house. He knocked, and Brownie opened the door. “Gard. What’s going on?”

“Sorry to disturb you,” Gardner apologized, “but something’s come up.”

Brownie let him in, and they moved to the living room. Gardner’s expression made it clear that the “something” was monumental.

“Spit it out, man,” Brownie said.

Gardner sat on the couch and motioned Brownie to sit beside him. For the past hour he’d been plotting his move. Brownie’s
motivation was noble. He was sacrificing himself for family. Gardner couldn’t attack him for that; he had to take a more subtle
approach. “I want you to tell me about Paul,” he began.

Brownie’s eyes narrowed.

“You said at the funeral it was a long story about you and him. I want to hear it.”

“At this hour? In the middle of the trial?”

“Here,” Gardner said. “Now.”

Brownie crossed his arms. “We went different directions in our lives. That’s all.”

“He became a racist, and you didn’t?”

Brownie stared at the wall. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What
would
you say?”

“Nothing. He had his ideas about the way life should be, and I had my own. That’s it. End of story.”

“Was killing one of his ideas?”

Brownie jerked his head around. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Brownie stared in silence.

“I know the whole story, Brownie.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Jennifer retrieved the backup log of the fingerprint comparison you ran at the detention center. We know whose print you
matched.”

Brownie remained still. “Where did the fingerprint come from?”

“From Thomas Ruth’s shoes, where you lifted them.”

“Is that right? How do you know?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Brownie. Your brother is directly implicated in Thomas Ruth’s death. We both know that.”

“Knowing and proving are two different things.”

“You destroyed the print, didn’t you?”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

“You knew nothing could be proven without the fingerprint, so you disposed of it.”

“What print? I told you I got nothing off the shoes.”

“Then where did you get the print you submitted for comparison? Paul Brown’s?”

Brownie picked up a glass from the table. “Here, maybe. Or the doorknob, or—”

“Goddamn it, Brownie!” Gardner gripped his knees. This wasn’t going to work. If Brownie produced the fingerprint, he could
clear himself instantly, but he’d already made sure the print never saw the light of day.

“Take it easy.”

“No. You cannot
do
this!”

“I hear where you’re coming from, Gard.” Brownie touched Gardner’s arm. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I am grateful
for it. I value your friendship and your help more than I can ever say. But you got to cut me some slack here. I got my mind
set. I’m a grown man. I can make decisions. I have a right to decide how to defend my own case. I know what I want to put
in. And I know what I want to keep out.

“It’s suicide or nothing,” Brownie continued. “We have leads to follow from the
Fugitives
show, and you’re scoring points with the witnesses. You even got King himself on a pin. Let’s stick with the plan. Okay?”

Gardner didn’t know what to say. His client was innocent, and his client could prove his innocence. But he was not going to
do it.

“Can we please get back to suicide?” Brownie asked. “Leave that other shit alone?”

Gardner remained passive. Further discussion was pointless, and argument was out of the question. The brothers’ blood was
thick, despite the rift. And Brownie had limited the options to one.

“Suicide,” Gardner finally conceded.

“We’ll make it fly,” Brownie said hopefully.

“Yeah,” Gardner grumbled. But he knew otherwise. Without a miracle, Brownie was as good as dead.

“The state calls Dr. Raphael Aguilar to the stand,” Kent King announced. It was day two of the trial, and this was the third
witness of the morning. Again, the gallery was full, and there was an overflow in the hall. This time Jennifer was up front,
behind the defense table.

So far the witnesses had been mildly damaging. The first established that Ruth was with Brownie on the day he died. “That’s
the one,” Eunice Land had said without hesitation, pointing to Brownie. Gardner had left her alone on cross-examination; they
were conceding that Brownie stopped Ruth. The next witness, Randy Allison, established that Ruth was lifeless on the grid
when they encountered his body. Gardner brought out on cross-examination that the man and his sons had not seen him die, and
they had no idea what actually happened. Again, there was no conflict with the defense. Now the autopsy technician was about
to testify, and Gardner prayed that his testimony would be as superficial as the others.

“Identify yourself for the record,” King requested.

“Raphael Aguilar, M.D.,” the witness said, “certified state pathologist, currently assigned to the medical examiner’s office,
University Hospital, Baltimore.” He was a small Filipino man with thick gray hair and glasses.

“How long have you been a medical examiner?”

“Twenty-two years.”

Gardner stood. “We’ll concede qualifications, Your Honor. I acknowledge him as an expert in his field.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lawson,” Judge Ransome said. “The witness is qualified and will be permitted to render an expert opinion.
Let’s continue.”

King retrieved a set of photographs from Lin Song. He ran them by Gardner, had them marked for identification, and showed
them to the witness. “Take a look at these pictures, Doctor. Can you identify them?”

Aguilar adjusted his glasses and sorted through the stack. “Yes, I can.”

“What do they depict?”

“The body of Thomas Ruth, a man sent to our facility in September.”

“Did you perform an autopsy on that man?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did you prepare a report as a result of that autopsy?” Lin Song handed her co-counsel a stapled set of documents, which
he showed to Gardner, had marked, and handed to the witness.

“Yes. This is my report.”

“Was the autopsy performed in a routine manner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you reach a conclusion as to the cause of death?”

The witness checked the report and looked up. “Yes, I did.”

King turned to the jury. “And what was it? What caused Mr. Thomas Ruth to die?”

“Heart failure due to electrocution.”

“And what did you conclude the manner of death to be?”

Gardner jumped to his feet. “Objection.”

Judge Ransome looked surprised. “On what grounds, Counsel?”

“The conclusion is speculative.”

King moved toward the bench. “He conceded expertise, Judge.”

“I know, Mr. King,” Ransome said. “What about that, Counselor? You agreed that he is an expert.”

“That is correct,” Gardner replied, “but I don’t have to accept everything he says as gospel. Attributing manner of death
in this case is pure speculation. The evidence is totally circumstantial. It is impossible to pinpoint the exact manner of
death.”

Ransome thought for a moment. “This is really an issue you can explore on cross-examination, isn’t it? The witness is qualified
to give his opinion as to how the man died, and you can attack the premise all you want. I’m going to let him respond.”

King smiled and moved back toward the stand. “What was the manner of death in this case, Doctor?”

Aguilar faced the jury. “Homicide.”

“In his opinion,” Gardner interrupted.

“Your Honor…” King said.

“You’ll get your chance to establish that, Mr. Lawson,” Ransome declared, “but right now keep the sidebar comments to yourself.”

Gardner sat down. There was a minor stir in the crowd, and Jennifer whispered, “Hang in there” behind his back.

“On what do you base your
opinion
, Doctor?” King asked, glancing at Gardner. “You said homicide. How did you come to that conclusion?”

“The fact he was in handcuffs and the way in which the body was subjected to the electrical current. That was a forcible act.”

King looked at the jury. “So you don’t believe that the man might have done it to himself.”

Aguilar shook his head. “No. I don’t believe so. Someone else did it to him.”

“Dr. Aguilar,” Gardner began when it was his turn, “you said earlier today that ‘someone else’ killed Mr. Ruth. Do you recall
that testimony?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who was it?”

“Sir?”

“Who killed Mr. Ruth?”

Aguilar stirred. “Who? I…”

“You don’t know who killed the man. You’re only guessing, in fact, that someone did it. Isn’t that right? You don’t have a
clue as to what really happened?”

“Objection.” King’s voice rang out. “He’s arguing with the witness.”

“It’s fair cross,” Ransome ruled. “Answer the question, Doctor.”

Aguilar looked confused. “What was it?”

“Rephrase, Mr. Lawson.”

“You do not have any idea as to who, in fact, killed Ruth. Isn’t that right?”

“Who did it? No.
How
—”

Gardner held up his hand. “We’ll get to
how
in a minute. We’re on
who
now. Tell the jury who killed Thomas Ruth.”

“I don’t know,” the doctor replied.

“You don’t know?”

“That’s what I said.”

“So, in point of fact you don’t know if someone
else
did it, or he did it to himself.”

Aguilar put his hand on his glasses. “That’s different.”

“Really?” Gardner had approached the stand and was now in the doctor’s face. “Tell us the difference.”

“A man wouldn’t cuff himself to commit suicide.”

“So you’re basing your opinion on the fact he was handcuffed.”

Aguilar nodded. “Yes, in part.”

“Not just in part,” Gardner replied. “Your homicide theory is based entirely upon the fact that he was handcuffed. Isn’t that
right?”

“He’s already given the basis of his opinion,” King interjected.

“He can give it again,” Ransome replied. “Answer the question, Doctor.”

“People don’t usually handcuff
themselves
,” the witness ventured.

“Right,” Gardner said. “So you’ve equated handcuffing with murdering. Haven’t you?”

Aguilar frowned. “I guess so.”

“What if he was handcuffed by an innocent party and then released? What if he was upset, distraught, and suicidal, and took
it upon himself to go to the grid and end his life? How would that affect your opinion?”

“That’s not likely.”

“Not likely, but it could have happened.”

King stood up. “
Anything
can happen, Judge. That’s not a proper question.”

“Overruled,” Ransome said.

“If Ruth was already handcuffed, he could have gone to the grid and killed himself. Isn’t that right?”

“Possibly.”

Gardner turned to the jury. “So your conclusion that someone else killed Ruth is not altogether firm. If he were handcuffed,
released, and suicidal, he could have taken his own life.”

“Yes,” the doctor said nervously. “It could have happened that way.”

“In that case, do you want to retract your previous assertion that the manner of death was homicide?” Gardner asked.

“Object!” King hollered. “He cannot change what is already written in the report.” He waved the autopsy documents over his
head.

“Approach the bench,” the judge declared. “Let me see that,” he said as they neared him.

King handed over the report, and they all paused while the judge read.

“The witness can restate his conclusion,” Gardner declared when Rollie looked up.

“He cannot,” King retorted. “He’s already submitted his official finding. It’s on the death certificate.”

“Gentlemen,” Ransome said. “Please. I think we’re arguing semantics here.” He put the report down on the bench. “The witness
is not, as I understand it, contradicting his finding. He’s merely responding to Mr. Lawson’s hypothetical question. He can
answer affirmatively and still not change his ultimate conclusion.”

King smiled.

“But—” Gardner began.

“The conclusion of homicide stands,” the judge declared. “I will not allow the report to be modified.”

“But Judge—” Gardner sputtered.

“Enough, Mr. Lawson. Let’s proceed!”

Gardner slowly returned to the trial table. So there it was in writing, and it could not be changed. Thomas Ruth had been
killed. And that fact was beyond dispute.