office as a stepping-stone to higher and greater political office. Hawpe is maybe thirty-five, tall, and good-looking and might as well be wearing a sign on his forehead that says, “One day you will be calling me Governor Hawpe.”
But for now he starts off by telling me to call him “Daniel,” and I, ever gracious, give him permission to use “Andy.”
“Andy, I’ve been following your career; you’ve won some great cases. I told Janine Coletti you were going to be a handful at the hearing.”
“Is she joining us for this meeting?” I ask.
“She’s been reassigned. I’m going to handle this from now on.”
This is a surprise, and probably unfair to her. She did a decent, albeit unspectacular, job. “She’s a good attorney,” I say.
He nods vigorously. “Damn good. Damn good. This is no reflection on her; we’re just going to take this case in a new direction.”
“Which direction might that be?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“It’s time to wrap this up, Andy. We don’t need another trial, even though I think we’d win it. And Evans certainly doesn’t need it. It’s time to plead it out.”
I’m not surprised that he’s making the offer, though the speed with which he’s making it is quite unusual. We only got the new trial yesterday. By doing it in this manner, he’s looking more than a little anxious, and thereby hurting his negotiating position. He must know that but clearly isn’t bothered by it.
“What’s your offer?” I ask.
“Time served plus ten. He’ll be up for parole in five, and we won’t oppose it as long as he’s a good boy in prison.”
It’s a shocking offer. In the original trial, the prosecution went for life without the possibility of parole and got it. Now we’ve got some new forensic evidence and a dog that didn’t die, and Richard can be out in five years. It’s generous to the point of nonsensical, and if we accept it, it will be an embarrassment for his office.
“I’ll convey it to my client,” I say. “But he’s already been in prison too long.”
He shrugs. “Just let me know.”
My hunch is that the decision to make this offer was not his, and that he’d be happy if we turned it down. “I’ll get back to you within a few days.”
“Going up against you in court might be fun,” he says.
I nod. “A real hoot.”
* * * * *
I DON’T WITHHOLD information like this from a client one second more than necessary, which is why I have called this early morning meeting with Richard, Karen, and Kevin at the prison.
“The prosecutor has made an offer, which I will tell you now,” I say to Richard. “But I don’t want you to make a decision about it until I’ve described the entire situation.”
He nods. “Fair enough.”
“The offer is time served plus ten, with an agreement going in that you’ll be paroled in five.”
Richard nods thoughtfully, not saying anything. Karen says, “Oh, man…” Their outward reactions couldn’t be more different, but I have no idea what each is thinking.
I proceed to lay out everything that I know about the case. He’s already heard a lot of it, but I add my discussion with Petrone and with Antwan Cooper’s family, what we learned from the Army files, and my recent visit with Donna Banks. I leave nothing out and, for the moment, do not give my subjective interpretations about it. There will be time for that later.
“I’m not sure what all this means,” Richard says, a confusion that I unfortunately share.
“There is one consistent thread that runs through it,” I say. “A lot of people, including some in the government, are concerned about what we are doing. Whether it’s trying to kill your lawyer, tapping his phone, or offering an overly generous plea bargain, I think there exists a great desire on the part of a wide variety of people that this not go to trial.”
“You think the plea bargain offer is overly generous?” he asks.
I nod. “I do, but that doesn’t mean you should accept it. It’s just very unusual for an offer like that to be made in these circumstances, and my guess-and it’s only a guess-is that pressure from very high up was brought to bear on the prosecutor.”
“Don’t take it, Richard,” Karen says. “Andy’s gonna win this thing.”
Richard smiles at his sister’s confidence. He turns and, for the first time, asks me, “Would you really win this thing?”
“I think we’d have a decent chance. There’s also a significant chance that we’d lose. Overall, fifty-fifty.”
He turns to Kevin. “Is that how you feel?”
Kevin nods. “It is.”
“I’m going to be very up front with all of you,” Richard says. “I decided the other night, the night before we got the new trial, that I couldn’t spend my life in prison. If we lose this, I’m going to take my own life.”
Karen starts to cry softly, and Richard kisses her on the head.
“I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not a way to live, and the unfairness and waste just becomes too much to bear. Having all this happen-finally having a reason to hope-somehow, it’s made that very clear to me.” He turns back to Kevin and me. “So what we’re talking about here is not five years versus life in prison. It’s five years versus
He says all this clearly and almost dispassionately, not looking to make an impact and not looking for sympathy. I think, in his situation, I’d feel the same way.
Richard continues: “The reason to accept the deal, even though it would include the horror of five more years in this place, is therefore pretty obvious. The reasons to turn it down are a little more complicated.”
He goes on: “There’s Stacy. Somebody killed her, and if I take the plea bargain, we’ll never find out who, and that person will never be punished.”
“We might never find out who anyway.”
He nods. “I know. That’s why it’s complicated. And then there’s the other reason.”
I can’t help but smile. “Reggie,” I say.
He nods. “Reggie. He’s not likely to live five more years. Not by a typical golden retriever’s life expectancy.”
“That’s true,” I say.
“He’s the one who has given me this chance. I know it sounds stupid…”
“It’s very stupid,” I say.
“But you understand it.”
I smile again. “I do.”
Richard pauses a moment and then looks at Karen, Kevin, and me in turn before speaking.
“Let’s kick their ass.”
Ass-kicking in the justice system is done a little differently from ass-kicking in, say, the National Football League. They use bone-crushing blocks and devastating tackles while we use meticulously prepared briefs and probing questions. They need shoulder pads and helmets to protect themselves from harm; when we see danger coming we just stand up and object.
Kevin and I head back to the office to discuss exactly how we plan to kick the prosecution’s ass. They are going to come in far more prepared than they were at the hearing. They’ll have better answers for our forensics expert, and probably a bunch of canine lifeguards who’ll swear that Reggie could have made that swim in his sleep.
We’ve been looking at three main areas: the customs operation in Newark, the Army connection from seven years ago, and the government’s obvious, though surreptitious, interest in what we’re doing. All three are still viable things for us to investigate, but I’ve been making the mistake of thinking they must be interrelated.
It would all tie together nicely if these Army guys had a scam to smuggle things, maybe arms or drugs, through customs and had to get Richard out of the way to accomplish it. The government could be onto them and
