Supreme Judicial Court is delicate. Right now, our three members are able to convince enough of the other conservatives to vote our way on land issues without them knowing what’s behind it. That balance would be upset if Bradley joins the court. A scandal in his family is the best thing that could have happened for us.
“When Lex Devlin joined the defense, we were afraid he might get a defendant’s verdict. We had Angela Lamb offer a plea bargain on a lesser charge. That would have been enough to taint Judge Bradley.”
“Is Angela Lamb a member of this association?”
“No. Not a member. She’s been under our control, though, since we financed her campaign to become district attorney. She follows orders whenever we need it. After Lex Devlin got involved in the Bradley case, we had her reduce the charge to something we thought Bradley might plead to rather than risk Devlin’s getting him off. Even the lesser charge would have been an embarrassment to Judge Bradley. We could have used it to keep him off the court.”
I checked my watch. It was nine thirty, and I had things to do before I could get to the courthouse. There was so much more to unravel, but I’d leave that to the prosecutors.
“One last question. Judge Posner, the judge who’s trying the Bradley case, is he one of yours?”
He looked up.
“No.”
I kneeled down beside Julie. “Let’s wrap it up. Save it on a couple of discs and print it out. Three times.”
I took a walk down to the pond while Julie worked with the laptop and the miniprinter she had in the case. I wondered when the swan boats would be launched in the spring. I resolved to come back and try to recapture those beautiful, innocent days of feeding the ducks.
Julie called me back when she had three verbatim copies of Loring’s statement printed out. I checked them out. It was all there.
I took a highlighter pen out of Julie’s case and marked in screaming yellow the section about Mr. Devlin’s innocence of the jury fixing.
I gave one copy to Loring and told him to read it. It took him about five minutes. I was surprised there were no more tears.
He took out a gold-plated Mont Blanc pen and signed all three copies. As I took each one from him, I said a prayer of thanksgiving to God, who cares about old trial lawyers.
31
When I left the public garden just after ten, I literally ran into a stationery store on Boylston Street. I bought three large manila envelopes, and I made two more copies of the signed statements of Frank Gallagher and Martin Shortbridge. I put a copy of Loring’s, Gallagher’s, and Shortbridge’s statements in each of the envelopes and sealed them.
I carried the first set to the United States Attorney’s office in the federal building. I handed it personally to Pete Styles, the United States Attorney. I wanted him to know whom it came from in case he had any questions. I knew that he’d make the most of it under the federal corruption in public office statutes and that old beloved gangbuster, RICO-the Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations statute. Pete was as good a person as ever sat in that office. If the case carried him to the Senate or beyond, the people would be the winners.
My second stop was the Suffolk County district attorney’s office. I handed the envelope to the deputy DA, Alice Wright, since Ms. Lamb, the DA, was at the moment in courtroom 809, selecting a jury to convict Anthony Bradley. Our soon-to-be-former DA was also implicated in Loring’s statement.
That was all in the line of duty. My third stop was a labor of love. I removed the statement of Shortbridge from the third envelope because of my agreement to keep it out of the public eye “if possible.” The chances were that it was an empty gesture, since he would undoubtedly be smeared by the exposure of corruption that was about to cut loose.
I hand-carried that golden third envelope with the statements of Gallagher and Loring and laid it in the hands of my buddy, Mike Loftus, the best columnist to whom the Globe ever gave the power of the pen.
He was surprised at my presence.
“Michael, aren’t you supposed to be at trial in the Bradley case?”
“I am. I’m out of here. I just wanted you to know for sure where that envelope came from. It’s exactly what it purports to be. I’m giving you an exclusive with my blessings. Just one request. The whole business is going to blow your socks off. You’ll have material for columns through Labor Day. What I’m asking is this. For your first column, will you focus on the stuff about Lex Devlin? It’s just a request. There’re no strings.”
He looked at me with a funny look. “What the hell’s in here, Mike?”
There were no smiles when I said it. “It’s what every reporter dreams about. Read it and weep.”
32
I hit the street in front of the Globe building running. It was past noon. I figured that in the noon traffic I could get to the courthouse in better time on foot than in a cab.
I darted between cars on Franklin Street, collecting an interesting array of shouts and hand signals from drivers, for one of whom I nearly became a hood ornament. I took the steps of the courthouse in threes. I passed through security and pushed my way through the crowd in the lobby to the elevator.
I caught sight of Tommy Flaherty, one of the court officers, running toward the elevator. He was yelling something. I told him I couldn’t hear. When he got to the door of the elevator, I could make out the words.
“You better get the hell up there, Mike! Lex Devlin!”
I yelled past the front line of people.
“What about him?”
The door closed. Tommy had time to get in just one word.
“Heart!”
When the door opened, I squeezed my way out of the elevator. A crowd of reporters and spectators had spilled into the corridor. They filled it with a nervous buzz.
I ran into the courtroom. There was a circle of people in front of defense counsel’s table. I pushed close enough to see Mr. Devlin lying on the floor. There were three men in white uniforms working over him. His face was the color of ashes.
Anthony Bradley was standing closest to me.
“What happened, Anthony?”
“I think he took a heart attack. He put his hand up here on his chest, and he just went down. They called the ambulance. They’ve been working on him for fifteen minutes.”
I worked my way through to kneel down beside him. He looked up at me. His eyes brightened a little.
“You picked a hell of a day to go on strike, sonny. Where’ve you been?”
“You’ll know soon enough. How’re you doing?”
“I’ll be ready to play the Celtics tomorrow. Today I think I’ll sit on the bench. We got the jury picked. Angela’s about to fire her first salvo.”
I looked around as Judge Posner kneeled down beside me.
“How is it, Lex?”
“Not so bad, Judge.”
The judge said quietly to me, “They gave him a shot. I think he’s settling down.”
Judge Posner said to Lex, “They’ll get you to the hospital in no time, Lex. You’re looking better. I’ll grant your motion for a continuance.”
Lex’s head came off the floor, and his eyes burned.
“No. No motion for a continuance.”
“What do you mean, Lex?”
