The Hidden Man

“Would you like to consult with an attorney, Mr. Butcher?”

“No-no, Judge.”

“All right, then. Do you have any personal stake in the outcome of this case?”

“Me? No.”

“Do you have any relationship with the defendant, Mr. Cutler?”

“No.”

“Or Mr. Kolarich, the attorney?”

“No, Judge.” Butcher still looked like the guy who hadn’t figured out the joke was on him. Maybe that’s because the joke was on me. And Sammy.

“Fuck,” Sammy mumbled.

“Judge, this can’t be right,” Butcher said. “Maybe-maybe-”

“All right, now.” The judge resumed her position, facing the entire courtroom. “The Court will state for the record that it is inclined to believe that Mr. Butcher has made an inadvertent mistake and not an intentional lie. It would not be my decision ultimately, but I think the record should reflect my viewpoint.” She looked at the prosecutor. “In light of Mr. Mapp’s surprise evidence here, I think it would be imprudent for me to bar Mr. Butcher’s testimony today. Maybe, Mr. Kolarich, you can find some way to resuscitate it. I will hear this motion to bar the testimony again, if necessary, the day of trial. But Mr. Kolarich, do not try my patience here. It seems abundantly clear to me that Mr. Butcher’s testimony is mistaken, at best, and I absolutely will not allow his testimony unless you can give me an extraordinarily satisfactory explanation for why I should. Am I making myself clear?”

I managed to say, “Yes, Your Honor.” In the space of five minutes, Tommy Butcher had been officially scratched off my witness list.

“And Mr. Mapp, this will not be the first time you spring evidence on the defense at a hearing before me. It will be the last time. Am I making that clear?”

“Of course, Your Honor.”

The judge rose and left the bunch. I looked at Tommy Butcher, who was mumbling to himself, his eyes frantically darting about.

The deputy came over to escort Sammy back to detention.

“We still have Archie Novotny,” I told him.

He looked at me with fear in his eyes. “I sure hope so, Koke,” he said.

The deputy took Sammy away. I looked back at Tommy Butcher, his face ashen, sitting motionless in the witness stand.

“Voluntary and twelve.” Lester Mapp, enjoying the upper hand, approached me. “And after today, you thank your lucky stars I haven’t pulled that offer.”

“You’d mentioned voluntary and ten.” I did my best to sound confident, after having my lunch handed to me in court.

“I said think about ten years, and you didn’t get back to me, and now you’ve lost the best thing you had going for you. You’re lucky twelve is still on the table.”

I found myself nodding as Lester Mapp left the courtroom. For the first time, I seriously considered a plea bargain. I was down to one witness, one alternative suspect-Archie Novotny, who would make for a decent suspect but who would deny any involvement. It was all I had.

Twelve years, out in six with good behavior. One year already served awaiting trial, leaving Sammy with five years more. Lester Mapp, albeit in his condescending way, had spoken the truth back in his office when we discussed a plea: This was a gift. Griffin Perlini had become a temporary media celebrity with the discovery of the dead girls, and the county attorney’s office wasn’t all that thrilled about prosecuting the man who avenged his sister’s murder.

When the courtroom had completely emptied out, Tommy Butcher pushed himself out of the witness stand. He looked like he’d just received some really bad news from the doctor.

“What the hell just happened?” I asked him.

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what coulda happened. I mean, I know what I saw. I mean, nothin’ that happened here changes the fact that the guy-the guy you showed me the photograph of-that guy was there that night, right?”

It was true that I could still place Kenny Sanders at the Liberty Apartments on the night of the murder. But Sanders wasn’t going to admit to anything beyond that. I needed Butcher’s testimony to have him be not only there, but fleeing the building with a gun at around ten o’clock. After this court hearing today, it would be a tough sell to get the judge to allow Butcher’s testimony at all, much less to get a jury to believe it. And without Butcher, all I had was Kenny Sanders admitting he was there that night but not admitting anything beyond that. I had nothing at all.

“Christ, it was a year ago,” Butcher told me. “I thought it was Downey’s. It must have been some place else. Lemme think on this and-”

“Forget it, Tom. It’s over.”

I was still numb from disbelief. What colossally shitty luck. The place gets its liquor license pulled?

“Tell me what I gotta do, Mr. Kolarich. Tell me how to fix this. I definitely saw a guy running out of that building. Tell me what I gotta do.”

I closed up my briefcase and shook my head. “Pray,” I said.

Butcher walked out, seemingly in a trance. I waited in the empty courtroom until he was long gone before I removed my cell phone. “Brown tweed jacket, red tie,” I said to Joel Lightner. “Heavyset, balding. Give him about five minutes and he’ll be outside.”

52

LET’S SAY EIGHT. Eight years, out in four, with one already served. That’s three more years inside, Sam.”

I’d caught up with Sammy in the holding cell in the courthouse before his transport back to the detention center. My client sat against the wall of the cell, dejected and bitter.

“They’re at twelve now?” he asked.

“Say I get him to eight.”

“After today?”

“Sammy-say I get him to eight,” I said. “Let’s pretend, okay? Could you do that?”

He played with the idea. It was never an easy thing to accept, obviously, but the whole point was considering the alternative.

“I have Archie Novotny,” I said. “And they have your statements to them, which were pretty close to a confession, and they have your car at the scene, at the time of the murder, and they have eyewitnesses. Maybe- maybe I can shake those witnesses, Sammy. I haven’t even been able to talk to them yet. I will. But nothing I do to them will change the fact that they picked you out of a lineup.”

He didn’t answer. It was as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Could you do eight?” I asked again.

“After what that asshole did to my sister?” Sammy’s head fell back against the cell wall.

“I don’t think Griffin Perlini killed Audrey.” I blurted it out without thinking. I hadn’t necessarily planned on telling Sammy this fact any time soon. It really didn’t change our case at all-in fact, it hurt it. But I thought it might help Sammy accept a prison sentence.

Sammy stared at me for a long time without speaking.

“Remember Mrs. Thomas, our neighbor?” I said. “She didn’t think it was Perlini who ran off with Audrey. She thought Perlini was too small to fit the man she saw running off with Audrey. And that’s not all, Sam. Here’s the real problem: Perlini had a bum knee. He’d torn his ACL and never repaired it. He couldn’t run, Sam. The guy who