The Advocate's Devil (34 page)

Justin was staring at the words that had just materialized on the screen as if they were the text of a death sentence—which
is exactly what they may have been, if and when Campbell had punched them up at some point in the not-too-distant past.

Abe’s eyes quickly found the name he was hoping he wouldn’t see. The news story was several years old, from the
Los Angeles Times
. It told a sordid tale of a beautiful young married woman in Beverly Hills who had become a high-priced prostitute in order
to be financially independent of her husband. The details of the news account weren’t important, but the conclusion was as
clear as the name
Midge Lester
on the screen: somehow Campbell had managed to find this account of yet another perfect date rape victim. No woman who had
been a prostitute and who had obviously moved to another city and started a new life would be eager to bring charges.

Joe’s violence had apparently gotten out of hand during this rape, and Midge Lester had ended up dead. Maybe this death was
accidental, but it was certainly predictable. Campbell’s appetite for sexual violence was obviously getting harder to satisfy.

Abe and Justin both peered at the screen as if hoping the awful telltale letters glowing there would somehow disappear. Neither
could speak. It was the criminal defense lawyer’s worst nightmare:
they
had caused the death of an innocent woman by successfully defending a violent rapist they suspected was guilty. Every decent
criminal lawyer obsessed about this possibility. Few ever experienced it.

The silence was broken by Justin bursting out in tears. Abe put his arm around the younger man’s shoulder and tried to console
him, yet he could find no words of comfort either for Justin or for himself. Finally Abe spoke.

“There’s nothing anyone can say, Justin. And there’s nothing anyone could have done to prevent this. We live under a system
of rules, and we had no choice but to play by those rules.”

“I can’t live with rules that produce
this
. We’re not talking about only rape anymore. Jennifer Dowling will eventually recover. Midge Lester won’t. It’s over for her.
And the worst part of it is that we had it within our power to save her life.”

“No, we didn’t,” Abe said, “not without breaking the rules.”

“I don’t give a damn about the rules! Who knows which poor woman will be next? Abe, we’ve got to do something—”

“Take it easy. We can’t just call the cops on our client. We believe he killed Midge Lester only because we have confidential
information we obtained from him as his lawyers. I
promised
him that I would never reveal his computer secret. Just because he’s not our client anymore doesn’t mean we can blow the
whistle on him.”

“Well, what
can
we do?”

“First thing we
can
do is call Campbell and confront him with our knowledge.”

“Okay, you call him. I’ll listen on the extension.”

Abe dialed Campbell’s home number, hoping to find he was away at preseason training camp and hence could not have been in
New York when the killing took place. No such luck.

“Hello?”

“This is Abe Ringel. You know why I’m calling, Joe.”

“Hey, Abe, it’s nice to hear your voice. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the bullshit. We’ve read today’s newspaper, so there’s no use beating around the bush. We know you did it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What part of the newspaper are you referring to?” Campbell asked.

“Don’t bullshit us, Joe,” Justin interjected angrily. “A woman named Midge Lester was killed Saturday night at the Plaza Hotel,
and you killed her.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I was home Saturday night watching TV. Do you want me to tell you what was
on?”

“I’m sure you could tell us. You probably taped it. But we’re not buying it,” Abe said. “You were at the Plaza Saturday night,
having sex with Midge Lester. Things got out of hand after you got her to say no. You grabbed her around the neck. She choked
to death. And you did it.”

“I’m not the only guy who has sex with women in hotels,” Campbell said nonchalantly. “You guys have really been watching too
many Perry Mason reruns. Why don’t you leave it to New York’s Finest to solve this one?”

“Because they don’t know what we know,” Justin replied. “They don’t know about your little computer-assisted rape game. But
we do—and we’re going to tell them.”

“No, you’re not, damn it,” Campbell said, showing anger for the first time. “If you tell them
anything
I told you while you were my lawyers, I’ll have you disbarred and I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”

“Some things,” Justin said, “are more important than money. Don’t try to threaten us. We’re going to do the right thing, no
matter what it costs us.”

“Well, the right thing is to preserve your obligation to me—to shut up. In any event, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I
didn’t kill that woman in the hotel. If you try to blow the whistle on me, you’ll both end up looking like idiots when they
find the real killer.”

“We’ve got you dead to rights on this one, Joe,” Abe said. “Justin searched for the name of the dead woman in our various
databases, and he came up with the same kind of background that has characterized your previous victims. We now have three
women—all of whom fit the same modus operandi. If Cheryl Puccio ever got her hands on that piece of information, you’d be
on trial for murder before you could say ‘guilty as charged.’”

“It’s just a fucking coincidence, Abe. Lots of women have backgrounds, especially those who go to hotel rooms with guys they’ve
just met.”

“Somehow you manage to find them all,” Justin said. “It’s a pattern, not a coincidence. And we know how you find them. It’s
there in the public record—if Puccio just knew where to look.”

“So now
you’re
threatening
me
, right? What are you planning to do? Write an anonymous letter to Puccio telling her to do a Nexis search on the dead woman
and Jennifer Dowling?”

“And maybe a few other women we’ve learned about,” Justin added.

“Abe won’t let you do that. It would ruin his career. He’d no longer be known as the lawyer who
won
the Joe Campbell case, but rather as the lawyer who falsely accused his own client of murder.”

“And maybe also,” Abe added pensively, “as the lawyer who caused the death of Midge Lester.”

“See, Justin,” Campbell said. “I’m right about Abe. Your boss is too much of a realist to blow his hard-earned reputation
on your little game of show-and-tell. In any event, you’re both wrong about this killing. It wasn’t me.”

“Right,” Justin replied. “And you didn’t rape Jennifer Dowling, either.”

“That’s right. And that’s what I like to hear.
My
lawyers—who were very well paid to defend me—taking
my
side for a change, not trying to become amateur prosecutors. By the way, you’ll be relieved to know that I’m going to begin
seeing a shrink once a week—she’s a psychologist who specializes in athletes with anxiety. If talking to her will relieve
your
anxiety, you have my permission to call her. Otherwise why don’t
you guys
find a shrink who specializes in
lawyers
with anxiety.” Campbell slammed down the phone, leaving them hanging.

Justin cursed. “What did you expect from that manipulative son of a bitch—a full confession? Permission to turn him in?”

“No, but I hoped he might be a bit more frightened. He saw right through your bluff.”

“I’m not sure it is a bluff,” Justin said. “I really am thinking of turning him in.”

“Justin, you know you can’t do that. It would be the end of your career.”

“And
yours
. That’s why I’m not gonna do anything alone. We’re in this together. And we’ve got to come up with something that stops this
guy. There has got to be a way.”

“I’m all for it—if we can find some way to stop him without breaking too many rules. Maybe stretch them a bit, but not break
them.”

“Okay,” Justin said with a small smile, his first since getting the call from Abe. “I’ll look at the existing law, and you
start thinking; about how to make
new
law.”

“Haskel, I really need your judgment.”

“Do I have any judgment left?” Haskel asked, lifting his head slightly from where it had been resting on his chest.

“How have you been? Have you been taking your medicine?”

“Not very much. I will have eternity to be free of pain and to be asleep. I cherish the few remaining hours of lucidity I
have left, even if they come with the price tag of pain and anxiety.”

“I have something for you to read,” Abe said, opening up
The New York Times
to the story about the Plaza Hotel killing.

“Please, Abraham, read it to me. My eyes hurt when I read.”

Abe read aloud the brief news account.

“A terrible tragedy. I know how worried you must be with Emma going to New York.”

“It’s not about Emma, although I am worried about her. It’s about Joe Campbell.”

“I’m so proud of you, Abraham. You won that difficult case without violating any ethical rules. I was worried about you during
that case, especially after you confided in me what you had found.”

Abe felt fortunate that today seemed to be one of Haskel’s good days. “I must confide in you again, Haskel. Both Justin and
I think that Joe Campbell was responsible for this killing in New York.”

“Did he tell you?”

“No, no,” Abe responded. “Quite the opposite. He denies it vehemently. Says he was at home.”

“So how can you be so sure? There are hundreds of such killings in New York every year.”

“We are sure, Haskel. As sure as anyone can be. Remember how I told you that Campbell would use his computer to look for women
who would be unlikely to report a rape? Well, this woman fit that description, and her story could be found through his computer
database. We checked it.”

“Abraham, you know I don’t understand computers. Is there any other possibility? Could it be coincidence?”

“There is always another possibility, but the circumstantial evidence points to the conclusion that Campbell found out about
her secret, just like he found out about Jennifer Dowling’s secret, and deliberately stalked her and raped her.”

“And killed her?”

“Probably not
deliberately
, but I can’t even be sure of that.”

“And you know all this because of what you learned when you were representing Mr. Campbell?”

“Yes. He confided in me about his use of computer searches only after I explicitly promised him confidentiality. Without his
confidential admission to me, we could never have figured out the pattern.”

“So now, my dear Abraham, you have information that would help to stop this awful man from doing further terrible injuries,
yet you cannot disclose this information because you obtained it in confidence?”

“That’s exactly right, and I need
your
help in figuring out a way to disclose this information and stop this guy.”

“Are you sure you are asking the correct question, my dear Abraham?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really want to figure out a way to disclose what you learned in confidence?”

“I don’t know, Haskel. What I do know is that I must do something. I can’t wait for him to kill again. I feel responsible
for this woman’s death.”

As Abe uttered these words, a vision of Hannah crossed his mind. She was driving her car, distracted by her concerns about
Abe and Rendi.

“Do you feel that responsibility as a lawyer?”

“What do you mean, Haskel?”

“As a lawyer, did you have any other option than silence?”

“Well, maybe not as a lawyer, but certainly as a human being I had the option of blowing the whistle on him. I could have
done what Shakespeare said: ‘Tell truth and shame the devil.’”

“Aha,” Haskel said. “Did you really have that option, Abraham? Were you really freer as a human being than as a lawyer?”

“Haskel, now I’m really getting confused,” Abe said, wondering to himself whether it was Haskel who was confused.

“Abraham, think about Abraham,” Haskel said.

Abe did not know whether Haskel was asking him to think about
himself
or about the biblical patriarch after whom he was named. Haskel made it clear in his next sentence:

“And then think about Socrates.”

Haskel fell asleep as Abe wondered what Abraham and Socrates had in common. While waiting for Haskel to awaken, he recalled
one similarity between the two historical figures. Both were prepared to sacrifice that which was most dear to them—in Abraham’s
case, his beloved child, Isaac; in Socrates’ case, his own life—in order to demonstrate their faith. Abraham demonstrated
his faith in God, who vindicated that faith by saving Isaac. And Socrates had demonstrated his faith in the Athenian system
of justice, which failed to vindicate him by ordering his death. How this all related to Joe Campbell and his deadly computer
eluded Abe. But at least he had an opening for when Haskel awoke.

A full hour passed before Haskel stirred. And when he did awaken, it was not the same Haskel as the one who had fully understood
Abe’s dilemma. He seemed more confused, less focused, and even more elliptical than usual in his questions.

“Haskel, I hope you had a good nap.”

“I don’t dream anymore.”

“I think I understand your reference to Abraham and Socrates.”

“Menschen. They were both menschen,” Haskel mused, employing the Yiddish-German word for “man” or “human being.”

“So?”

“So, you’re a mensch, too, Abraham. Act like a mensch.”

“I think I understand what you are telling me,” Abe said now. “I must search for a
single
answer to the question of what is the right thing to do. There is no correct
human
way, unless it is also the right
legal
way. That is why Socrates willingly swallowed the hemlock and why Abraham willingly set out to sacrifice his son.”