God, you’d think I would be used to it by now, Karp steamed silently as the judge’s clerk entered the courtroom, an indication that the judge was on his way and it was time to amble over to the prosecution table. In fact, you’d think I’d have gotten past telling myself that I should be used to it by now.
He wondered what Marlene was up to and could only hope it didn’t involve more guns. She’d called after arriving in New Mexico and told him that Lucy was fine and that Ned, while grazed by a bullet and knocked around a bit, would heal completely, too.
However, she was mourning the loss of Jojola, who apparently died just when it appeared that the fight was over. One of the terrorists who’d survived had apparently hidden a weapon and killed Jojola.
Marlene’s voice caught. Karp thought she might be crying and kicked himself for not going with her. He’d liked Jojola a great deal from the moment they’d met-a man at peace with himself and his view of the world.
Karp hung up the telephone not sure what he thought of Marlene’s faith in Jojola’s spirit-filled world and Lucy’s Catholic mysticism. Then again, I suppose they’re no different than Judaism and the concepts his boys were studying for their bar mitzvah. Spirits. A God risen from the dead. Or a God who parts seas and hands down laws written in stone tablets. It all takes faith, he thought. You believe what you believe.
What he believed right now was that Kane was trying to make good on his threat to kill the people he loved, and it had shook him. Most of Karp’s adult life he’d been exposed to the most heinous side of human nature, of which the slaughter of the children and officers during Kane’s escape was as bad as it got. But there was still a big difference when the intended victims were your flesh and blood, and if Kane had walked into the courtroom at that moment, Karp would have gladly wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.
Karp was still indulging his homicidal fantasy of watching Kane’s face turn blue when the bailiff entered the court, followed by the judge, and cried out the traditional, “Oyez. Oyez. The Honorable Judge Paul Hans Lussman III.”
As they waited for the judge to be seated, Karp, who was standing next to Guma at the prosecution table, glanced back to where Jack Swanburg and Charlotte Gates were sitting, waiting to be called to the stand. Gates smiled at him and Swanburg added a nod; they looked relaxed and slightly bored. During witness preparation in Karp’s office the night before, Swanburg and Gates had assured him that their scientific expertise was convincingly persuasive.
After the body was exhumed, Bryce Anderson, Stavros’s lead lawyer, had filed a motion to controvert the search warrant and to prevent the prosecution from entering the remains found in the Stavros backyard as evidence. The defense’s main contention was not only deficient probable cause to justify the issuance of the warrant, but there was insufficient proof that the body was that of Teresa Stavros. So the judge had granted the defense request for an evidentiary hearing.
“Good morning, Your Honor,” Anderson said. “I’ll leave alone the question of the district attorney’s motives for suddenly pursuing this case just five months before the general election. However, this case is awash in irregularities, including the DAO pursuing an indictment for murder when there was no proof that Mrs. Stavros is even deceased. Then they go all the way to Colorado to ‘find’ some group that claims to locate bodies with divining rods, or some such thing, and now claim that they ‘know’ whose bones are buried in the backyard at the Stavros residence. The defense contends that the state should have to at least prove that the remains are truly those of Teresa Aiello Stavros. If they are not prepared to do that, or simply cannot do that, then we are asking the court to suppress the bare bones, pun intended,” he said smirking while looking back at the press, “upon which this case rests. And I might add, Your Honor, to order the District Attorney’s Office to vacate the indictment and let Mr. Stavros go on with his life, which first and foremost will be to unseat the current district attorney of New York.”
The judge looked at the prosecution team. “Good morning, Mr. Karp and Mr. Guma,” he said. “Which of you will be speaking on behalf of the people?”
“Mr. Guma,” Karp replied quickly. “He is lead counsel in this case. I’m here as Sancho to his Don Quixote.”
The courtroom tittered and even the defense lawyers allowed themselves to smile. “I see you haven’t managed to keep him from tilting at windmills,” Anderson joked, half turning in his seat to see if the members of the media were taking notes that might state something about his commanding presence in the courtroom. He’d spent a lot of time at the gym to keep his body toned and more than a few bucks with a “cosmetic surgeon” to make sure the face remained taut and youthful, and he looked like he got dressed at the dry cleaner’s. He checked the effect by winking at a pretty blond television reporter and was rewarded with a blush. Have to buy her a drink later, he thought absently. Wonder what she’d do for “an exclusive.”
“Indeed,” said the judge. “Very well, Mr. Quixote-slash-Guma, are you ready to proceed with your evidence?”
“I am, Your Honor,” Guma replied as he rose from his seat. “But first I wanted to note something about Mr. Anderson’s innuendo stated for the benefit of the press specifically that the District Attorney’s Office chose to pursue this case prior to the election. Your Honor will recall that it was the defense that insisted on their client’s right to a speedy trial, and in fact chose the date in September as ‘most convenient’ for their busy schedules. As Mr. Anderson, this court, and anyone somewhat cognizant of the judicial system is aware, he could have delayed this trial until after the election. Indeed, we were prepared for that likelihood. In that case, only Mr. Karp’s political opponent would have benefited from the timing of this indictment as an opportunity to attack Mr. Karp through the only too willing members of the media-long before a jury renders a verdict that we believe will justify the timing as, in fact, long overdue.”
“Thank you for that aside, Mr. Guma,” the judge said sardonically. “But your boss is a big boy and plenty capable of taking care of himself. Please address the legal issues in front of this court today.”
“I was just getting there, Your Honor,” Guma replied. “My first response to counsel’s diatribe is to note that this is a system based in part on the law of common sense. Every juror is told that when deliberating, they are free to use their experience, their common sense-that when trying to ascertain what is meant by reasonable doubt, they are to use the same standards as they would when making an important decision in their everyday lives…their common sense. Mrs. Teresa Aiello Stavros, a devoted, thirty-five-year-old mother, disappeared fourteen years ago, fifteen in August. Since that time, there has been no evidence-not a clear photograph, not a conversation with a credible witness, not a handwritten letter. And in fact, as the defendant well knows, based upon all the facts contained in the affidavit that supported the issuance of the search warrant, at trial the people plan to call a handwriting expert who will testify that the signatures, allegedly of the deceased Mrs. Stavros, that appear on the so-called credit card and bank withdrawal slips-evidence the defense maintains is proof that she was still alive as of nine or ten years ago-were in fact forged. Moreover, we have a witness who says he saw Emil Stavros strangle his wife. So if the body, discovered after having served a legally justified search warrant issued by this court, isn’t that of Teresa Stavros, whose would it be?”
“Exactly,” Anderson replied, not waiting his turn as he shot to his feet. “Who? But that isn’t for my client to
