De Luca calls in the jury, and they come in looking properly solemn. I have no ability to read faces, so I don’t try. If they convict Noah, I’ll want to track them down and rip off those faces, so rather than read them, I should try to remember them.
De Luca asks the foreman if they have reached a verdict, and the woman says that they have. “Please give the form to the clerk,” he instructs, and she does so. He then asks Noah to stand, and I join him in doing so.
I put my hand on Noah’s shoulder, as a gesture of support but really because in the past I’ve put my hands on other defendants’ shoulders, and they’ve been acquitted. My verdict superstitions continue until the verdict is read.
The bailiff then brings the form to De Luca. He opens it and takes what seems like a month to read it. He then hands it to the clerk, and asks him to read it aloud.
“In the matter of
I keep my hand on Noah’s shoulder as the clerk reads the guilty verdicts for the other three counts as well. The hand-on-the-shoulder thing obviously does not work.
Becky moves forward and hugs Noah, and the bailiffs respectfully allow her a few seconds to do so. I lean in to both of them and say, “This will not stand,” but I doubt they believe me.
The gallery is fairly loud, and De Luca slams his gavel repeatedly to achieve quiet. It takes a minute or so, but he finally gets it.
“First of all, I would like to thank the members of the jury for your service. You have worked hard, heard the evidence, and made your decision. Based on the facts presented to you, it is the correct decision.
“But I have just been given additional facts, some classified, that you did not have and therefore were not able to consider in your deliberations. It is for that reason that I am exercising my right to set aside your verdict and order a directed verdict of acquittal.”
The gallery is quiet for a few moments, as if trying to digest what they have heard. I’m having a bit of a digestion problem myself. Then they explode in noise, and I barely hear De Luca tell Noah that he is no longer subject to the jurisdiction of this court.
“I’m free?” Noah asks me, understandably bewildered.
“You’re not just free. You’re innocent.”
“I’ll talk to lead counsel in chambers,” De Luca says.
As I stand to obey the order, I spot Mulcahy out of the corner of my eye. He’s smiling.
“I spent the past twenty minutes on the phone with the White House chief of staff and the attorney general. They told me in no uncertain terms that Noah Galloway was innocent of this crime, and that the events in Texas last night confirmed it beyond any doubt.”
Dylan has looked stunned since the verdict was announced, but the shock seems to be slowly giving way to anger. “What specific information did they give you?”
“Not much, and what they did provide was classified. They relied on my security clearance from my days in Army Intelligence.”
“So you took their word for it?” Dylan asks. “And disregarded the will of the jury?”
De Luca’s eyes flash some anger, but he controls himself. Dylan has put a lot of hard work into this case, and won, and then lost. I think De Luca is giving him some leeway because of it.
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I say, smiling sweetly for Dylan. “What you did was courageous.”
When I leave, the gallery is empty, except for Laurie, Hike, Noah, Becky, and Mulcahy, who is sitting alone near the back. I walk over to him first.
“You’ve got some pull,” I say.
“When I want to, and when it’s necessary.”
“I thought you didn’t consider it necessary.”
“I changed my mind,” he says.
“I’m glad you did.”
He looks over at Noah and Becky. “Me too.” Then he turns and walks out of the courtroom.
Whenever a jury rules in our favor, we have a victory party at Charlie’s.
Tonight’s is a particularly festive one, and we all get drunk toasting Becky and Noah.
Willie Miller is here. He’s drinking club sodas, because he is a recovering alcoholic. He’s leaving next month on a book tour, and the book has already gotten a rave advance review.
Pete and Vince are here as well. Pete is particularly grateful to me for getting this one right; as much as he wanted the case solved, he wanted justice to prevail. So this was pretty much a perfect resolution for him.
Things happened so fast at the end that Noah was out of the loop, and he has some questions for me. “How did you know that Bauer was alive?” he asks.
“I wasn’t positive, but it seemed like a safe bet. Lockman flew to Philadelphia after Texas, and the only reason I could think of for that was to talk to Bauer. He had discovered the uranium, and rather than just tell his bosses at Milgram about it, he saw a way to make a fortune by letting Bauer go after it. Also, when I heard the car was incinerated by napalm, I thought that it was an attempt to hide who the victim really was.”
“And that was Fowler?”
“That’s my best guess. Bauer was getting rid of everybody who knew what was happening.”
“Where did Ricci fit in?”
“Just provided the muscle, and was paid well for it. I think once he saw the publicity and the danger it represented, and he found out that Petrone was pissed off, he stepped aside.”
“But why me, Andy? Why did they set me up?”
“You were a backup plan. My guess is they scouted customers for the drug dealers in that house, and made you as a possible person to pin it on. Maybe you were unconscious from drugs, or maybe they injected you, but they were able to burn your arms, and get your DNA on that can. When the police started investigating the baby angle, they trotted you out to stop them.”
Laurie comes over to join in the conversation. “I can’t figure out why Bauer came to us,” she says.
“To make himself look like one of the blackmail victims, so that when he faked his death, no one would be looking for him. With what he was doing, if people thought he was alive, there would be no place in the world that he could hide. He wasn’t the type to live in Pakistani caves.”
When I get a chance to talk to Becky alone, I take out a check that I had in my pocket and give it to her. She looks at it and sees that it is for forty-one hundred dollars. “What is this for?”
“It’s the money that was in the box with Danny Butler’s head,” I say. “I figured you’d rather have it this way than the cash.”
“Andy, you should keep it. We owe you this and a hundred times more.”
“Noah gave me Tara,” I say. “I’m still ahead of the game.”
She kisses me and says, “I’m afraid to ask, but where’s the head?”
“Marcus hasn’t told me, and I don’t want to ask.”
Later, as the night is coming to an end, Noah comes over and says, “You know there is no way I can ever thank you. You gave me back my wife, and my son, and my life.”
“Any chance we could give you back your dog?” I ask.
He laughs. “You don’t like Bailey?”
“Actually, we love her. She’s a gentle giant, and sweet as hell. We just can’t afford to feed her.”
“Can we come by tomorrow and get her? I’m also dying to see Tara. She saved my life; I want to thank her.”
“Words won’t do the trick,” I say. “Better bring some biscuits.”
David Rosenfelt
