The Advocate's Devil (11 page)

Judge Crosby had such a good laugh that he—or rather Pedro—ruled in favor of Abe’s—or rather Pepe’s—client.

As they left the courtroom, the Texas lawyer couldn’t get over Abe’s audacity. “No one around here ever thought of doing that.”

“It’s nothing special,” Abe replied. “Every trial lawyer knows that when you have a woman judge, it’s often better to have
a woman argue. Same for a black or Hispanic judge. I just took it to its logical conclusion.”

Jon and Emma laughed when Abe finished his story, then Emma grew serious again. “Daddy, that case was different. It involved
drugs. This one involves rape.”

“Alleged rape, my dear, alleged. And by disclosing the accuser’s name, it may help us prove that the allegation is false.
Sorry, Emma, I’ve got to do it.”

Abe began calling his media contacts, telling each one of them that he wanted to respond to the interview. “Tomorrow morning,
eleven o’clock, my office. I’m answering Puccio. It will be a good story.” Within fifteen minutes he had an impromptu press
meeting set up. Abe was accessible to the media—most of the time. He had spent years building these relationships because
that was how the legal system worked—for better or for worse, press coverage was part of the game, and spin was the first
rule.

Abe had another rule—this one about dinner at home. No matter how important the case on which he was working, there was no
discussion of it during dinner. During breakfast, fine. During lunch, okay. But never during dinner. There were no exceptions,
not even for the Campbell case. Emma hated “the rule,” much as she hated other arbitrary restrictions.

“It’s a rule for children, not for grownups,” she had complained.

“You’re right,” Abe had responded. “But it’s
me
who’s the child, not you. I
need
an arbitrary restriction, or else I would never get off my cases.”

Dinner tonight was a Mideastern couscous, one of Rendi’s specialties. It was delicious, and Emma, Abe, and Jon all complimented
the chef. “I don’t understand you, Rendi,” Emma said as she picked through the couscous to avoid eating any meat. “You’re
the most modern, liberated, independent, and uncompromising woman I know, and yet you cook for my father as if you were his
slave. How come?”

“Because I choose to,” Rendi answered without a trace of ambivalence. “I love to cook for your dad and for you. It brings
out the domestic side of me that I rarely get to feel in my work.”

“But why don’t you make Dad help—at least do the dishes?”

“Because he doesn’t enjoy that, and it would make it seem like a trade-off. I don’t
need
your father to do the dishes in order to prove that he regards me as an equal. He shows that in every way. Our relationship,
whatever else it may not be, is certainly equal.”

“Wow!” Jon exclaimed. “What a beautiful statement.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Emma said, resting an arm on his shoulder. “That was Rendi talking, not me. If you ever want
me
to make
you
dinner, it’s shopping, dishes, and dessert from you.”

Over baklava and Turkish coffee, the foursome talked about Jon’s decision to pick Stanford over Harvard and Emma’s choice
to attend Barnard rather than Brown. Abe was happy they would be in different places. Although he would be pleased to have
a son-in-law like Jon
eventually
, he really wanted Emma to date other guys. Abe wasn’t thrilled with Barnard’s location on the Upper West Side of Manhattan,
but he knew it was exactly the right kind of school for his very political daughter.

Abe would miss these dinners. He would miss Emma’s physical presence in the house. When Emma left for college, his real period
of mourning for Hannah would begin.

By ten-thirty the next morning, Abe’s whole office suite was packed with reporters, TV cameras, and microphones. It was not
the first time. In fact, the office neighbors had complained that the sight of cameras in the building was upsetting their
clients. Well, there was nothing Abe could do, except try to explain that it was hard to practice law these days without an
occasional media blitz.

At exactly eleven
A.M
., Abe began. “This case endangers the civil liberties of all Americans. If a rape charge can be brought on the basis of this
evidence—or really lack of evidence—then nobody is safe from false charges. If you read the arrest report—which I am making
available now—carefully, you will see several important facts. First, the alleged victim acknowledges that she originally
consented to sex. Second, it does not take much reading between the lines to see that this is not the first time this woman
has falsely accused someone of sexual misconduct. I urge you to look into this carefully and have the courage to report as
fully on the relevant background of an accuser as you report on the background of a celebrity accused.”

Abe paused and looked directly at Mike Black—who had published a column that morning, saying that if Abe Ringel really believed
in his client’s innocence, why didn’t he put his own credibility on the line, rather than hiding behind Campbell’s boilerplate
assertion of innocence? “I will stake my professional reputation on the prediction that Joe Campbell will be acquitted, if
this case even goes to trial. No responsible prosecutor should be willing to go forward with this kind of case.”

As soon as he finished his statement, questions began.

“Mr. Ringel, I noticed that in the police report you gave out, you didn’t white out the name of the victim. Was that inadvertent?”

“No, I gave you the entire report with no omissions. Jennifer Dowling is not presumed to be a victim. She’s an accuser, and
we intend to prove that she’s a false accuser.”

“Do you want us to publish her name?”

“That’s your decision. I certainly hope you will. And I urge anyone out there with information about Jennifer Dowling to call
my office. That is why we decided to release her name. We are hoping that people who know her will come forward with factual
information that might be relevant to the case.”

More questions followed.

“Why are you attacking an alleged rape victim?”

“Isn’t putting the victim on trial a discredited tactic?”

“Can we interview Campbell?”

Abe responded to the last question first. “Why don’t you try to interview Ms. Dowling? She is the accuser. My client has a
presumption of innocence. An accuser is always on trial under the American system. And rape should be no exception.”

Abe took a few more questions, gave a few more answers, and ended the press conference.

Justin quickly ushered Abe into a conference room. “You really put yourself out on a limb—staking your professional reputation.
That’s on videotape. Forever! If Campbell loses, the TV stations will play that clip all day and all night. Why did you do
it?”

“Because this guy is not only innocent. He’s gonna be found innocent. Not like Charlie O. He has everything going for him—and
for us. Let’s make the most of it. I know what I’m doing. Give me a break, huh?”

“You’re the boss. And it’s your reputation on the line. I could always say I never heard of you,” Justin joked.

“What do you hear from Charlie Odell? Has he stopped taking his pills?”

“I spoke to him an hour ago. He’s stopped. The psycho-pharmacologist I consulted said it could take a few days before they
can see any difference.”

“Does the prison know he’s stopped?”

“I don’t know for sure, but when they do find out, they’re certainly going to try to force him to take the medicine.”

“What a world we live in,” Abe mused. “A lawyer has to literally drive his client crazy in order to save his life. No wonder
they tell so many nasty lawyer jokes.”

On Monday night Abe was invited by Larry King to debate Gloria McDermot, the feminist attorney who specialized in representing
rape victims. King hardly got a word in as McDermot and Ringel argued whether the usual rules of evidence—including the presumption
of innocence—should apply in rape cases.

Gloria began, “Abe, you know that rape is the most under-reported serious crime in America. And the major reason rape victims
don’t prosecute their rapists is lawyers like you, who drag them through the mud, disclosing their names, cross-examining
them as if they were the criminals.”

“You’re right, Gloria. Rape is underreported, and that’s a serious problem which we all recognize. However, there’s an equally
serious problem that you insist on ignoring.”

“What’s that?”

“Rape is also the most falsely reported crime, especially acquaintance rape. There are more fabricated date rape accusations
than any other serious crime, and that’s precisely why we need lawyers who challenge every alleged victim’s story.”

“See, you’re doing it right now, Abe. You’re accusing rape victims of lying.”

“Not all, not even most, certainly some. That’s why we need rigorous rules of evidence, especially in rape cases.”

The debate continued for half an hour, with most of the callers supporting McDermot. Nonetheless, Abe felt that he got his
point across.

The morning after the Larry King show, Rendi burst into Abe’s office. “I got all you need on the Dowling harassment case.”

Abe stopped his dictation to Gayle in midsentence. “I’m sorry to have interrupted the beginning of your sentence with the
middle of mine,” he quipped.

Ignoring the put-down, Rendi launched into her findings. “I got the details of why Dowling’s case was dismissed.”

“Give.”

“Ms. Dowling sued her boss, Nick Armstrong, after he promised her a promotion if she had oral sex with him.”

“Where the heck did you come up with that? The records are sealed.”

“An anonymous call—from a guy who used to work with Dowling. He heard your press conference. NBC disclosed her name. The others
didn’t.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Lots of rumors and gossip, most of which we can’t use. But the stuff about Nick Armstrong I was able to confirm with a good
source.”

“Who?”

“Armstrong’s lawyer. I’ve done some work for him. He likes you. Hopes you might refer him some cases.”

“So what else did he tell you?”

“She came through and he didn’t.”

“I wonder what made her stoop so low?”

“I got the answer to that from a former colleague of Jennifer’s. It seems the company had lost its major client, Drexel Burnham,
when they went into bankruptcy. The PR business, as you well know, is definitely not great right now. Jennifer was desperate
and needed Armstrong’s influence to keep her job.”

“So she gave him a blow job?”

“It gets worse.”

Justin joined them after finishing up a phone call. “Did I miss anything good?’

“So far the false harassment case is confirmed. Okay, Rendi, go on,” Abe urged her.

To Rendi, who knew him so well, Abe’s contained excitement was apparent. “Okay. Not only did Armstrong ‘renege,’ if that is
an appropriate term, he did something even worse. I’m telling you, this guy is a real slime bucket. This Armstrong character
recommended her to another vice president of the company as, and I quote, ‘giving the best head in New York.’ Jennifer, mortified,
sued both men.”

“Who told you this?” Justin had missed the early part of the conversation.

“Her colleague, who still works at the company. This is the same colleague who finally broke down under pressure from the
company and disclosed that Jennifer had told her everything.”

“Which is how the company got the case dismissed—yes?” Abe was ahead of everybody, as usual.

“Right you are. Jennifer lied in her deposition, claiming that she had turned down both men, when, in fact, of course, she
hadn’t refused Mr. Armstrong. It destroyed her credibility. All she got out of this nightmare was a deal—a crummy one, if
you ask me—that her deposition would be sealed and the reason for her dismissal kept secret if she agreed to have the charges
dropped as unfounded.”

“Case, as they say, dismissed,” Justin said.

“I feel sorry for her,” Rendi said.

“Well, I understand that. It just happens to be a bonanza for our client. Can you get me a witness who knows the circumstances
and will testify—maybe this colleague?”

“No, she won’t testify, but I’ll try to find someone who will.”

And there was more. The limo driver had confirmed that there was necking in the car and that Jennifer had willingly invited
Campbell back to her room.

Even the one bit of physical corroboration—a small abrasion on her vagina, which an expert said was “consistent with rape”—turned
out to be, at best, ambiguous. The leading authority on vaginal abrasions, Dr. Joshua Weisburger of the Massachusetts General
Hospital, had confirmed that although Jennifer’s abrasion was indeed consistent with rape, it was also consistent with consensual
sex, especially if the man’s penis was unusually large and the woman had not borne children.

In Abe’s view there was nothing left to the prosecution’s case except the word of an alleged victim who had falsely accused
her previous boss of sexual harassment—or, at least, the formal record so showed. If this were any other crime or any other
defendant, Abe thought, the prosecution would fold. Yet Puccio wasn’t folding. She wasn’t even offering a deal—not that Abe
would accept a deal at this point. This case had high-visibility trial written all over it.

Things looked good. Abe’s losing streak was about to end. Though he was confident he had thought of every realistic possibility,
he decided to have Justin and Rendi review every piece of evidence again, more out of habit than necessity. Nothing could
go wrong.

C
AMBRIDGE
—
T
HURSDAY,
M
ARCH
23

“They’re forcing the pills into his stomach!” Justin announced, coming into Abe’s office. “The judge has scheduled a hearing
for Odell an hour from now. Our local guy is handling it. “He’s on his way to court. The shit has really hit the fan. The
prosecutor is blaming it all on you. Says you’re grandstanding at your client’s expense.”