discovered him on a sleeping mat beside Lee No Tae. Lee had been strangled with a belt. An autopsy was done and revealed that his anus contained two different specimens of semen. One was traced to First Sergeant Moran, the other to Captain Whitehall. The autopsy also revealed that at least one case of anal penetration had been inflicted after the victim was dead. Since corpses can’t willingly consent, that leads to charges of murder, necrophilia, and rape.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And aside from the fact the victim was lying beside him, what evidence is there that Captain Whitehall did the crime?”
“Lee was strangled with an Army-issue belt that turned out to be Whitehall’s. Also First Sergeant Moran and Private Jackson are both turning evidence against Whitehall. Finally, one of the two semen specimens was traced to Whitehall, and he was the last known partner Lee slept with.”
“This is not good,” I said, which was so ridiculously obvious that everyone else chuckled.
“No, it’s worse than that,” Keith went on. “You know about Lee’s father?”
“The defense minister, right?”
“Also a living legend. He was a big war hero in one of the two army divisions the Koreans sent to Vietnam back in the sixties. When he returned home, he became disgusted with the military dictatorship here, resigned from the army, and became a democratic activist. He was imprisoned a number of times. He was beaten, tortured, and nearly executed, but he never broke. Every time he got out of prison, he went right back to the barricades. Once democracy finally came, he could’ve run for president and easily won. But he never did. He refused to take any rewards, until Kim Dae Jung, the current president, begged him to take the post of defense minister. The reason he begged him is because the Defense Ministry is so rife with corruption that the past three ministers have all ended up in prison. President Kim hoped that Minister Lee would lend his own good name to restore some public confidence in an institution known for being completely rotten.”
I said, “So that makes it bad from a public relations standpoint, but what does it have to do with this case?”
“Well, Lee No Tae was
“So that gives the prosecution something to hang over Moran’s head? Is that your point?”
“Oh, Sean, you
“And what have Moran and Jackson said?”
“We reviewed the statements they gave CID. They say Lee was straight, that he was just there to party, a lot of booze was being imbibed, and things got a little carried away.”
“Anything else?” I asked, noting with some dubiousness how Katherine’s team all seemed to believe the murdered man, Private Lee, was gay, despite what the witnesses were saying.
Katherine said, “Moran refused to confess he had intercourse with Lee. For obvious reasons, of course. He said the last time he saw Lee was when Lee and Whitehall entered the bedroom together, sometime around one in the morning. He said he heard them arguing angrily in the bedroom, but couldn’t tell what the argument was about. Jackson says pretty much the same thing.”
Katherine then began pointing her tiny fingers and handing out assignments to her coterie of cronies, while I stewed and moped in my corner.
I’d never given much thought to the topic of homosexuality, I guess because I’d never had to. I know damn well which sex I want to go home with when the cocktail party’s over, and that’s that. And the thing with the Army is, if you’re gay, you can’t tell anybody, or act like it, so to the best of my knowledge I didn’t even have any gay friends or acquaintances.
But I’d spent my whole life listening to jokes about gays. Eventually that seeps in, so you get to think of gays, at least the male ones, as whimsical, capricious, odd little creatures. Not all of them, though, because there’s another type. There’s the Rock Hudson variety that can completely fool you. I mean, he and Doris Day did manage to pull off some pretty steamy scenes. To this day, all lurid disclosures aside, I still wonder about the Rock. Anyway, his kind of gay doesn’t bother anybody in the least, because after all, what you don’t know don’t hurt you.
I stared at the floor and wished I was anywhere but here. There’re some cases you don’t mind defending, some you’re uncomfortable defending, and some that make you want to leap off a cliff – the kind that make you ashamed to be a lawyer.
Murder, necrophilia, rape: Katherine must’ve plotted her sweet revenge against me for eight long years.
She finally finished passing out instructions, and it didn’t escape my notice that no chores fell my way. The other three went eagerly dashing out of the room. I sat perfectly still in my corner till they were gone. Katherine acted like she took no notice of my still sitting there, till I finally stood up and walked over. I got right in her face, which made it damned hard to pretend I was a piece of furniture.
She broke into an impish grin. “Isn’t this exciting?” she asked. In all seriousness, too.
“No, it’s not exciting. See, exciting is a vacation in Bermuda, living in a cottage only a ten-minute walk from Horseshoe Bay. Exciting is lying on a beach and having no cares in the world. Exciting is wondering which girl’s skimpy bikini top is gonna get washed off by the next big wave. Those were all things I was doing until thirty hours ago.”
“What would you call this, then?”
“May I be candid?”
“Within limits,” she carefully replied. Like I said earlier, the woman wasn’t dumb.
“Completely absurd. You’ve got a client who’s probably guilty as hell. You’ve got a political agenda that never was popular, and your client has probably set it back a few centuries. And you’ve got an axe to grind with me.”
The grin left her face and she turned around and went over to sit in a chair by the window. It struck me she was buying time to think about how to address all that. Then she spun and looked out the window at all the twinkling lights off in the distance.
She lightly said, “You’ve got two out of three correct.”
“Which two? The guilty client? The political agenda? Or the axe to grind?”
She ignored my question. “Lighten up, Attila. When I got here ten days ago, they assigned a local as my co- counsel. I didn’t like him, so I fired him and asked for you.”
“What didn’t you like about him?”
“He was a homophobic bigot, for one thing, so my assistants didn’t trust him. He was dumb, for a second thing. Third, he was the kind of spit-shined, pants-pressed, salute-himself-in-the-mirror type your JAG Corps has in too great abundance. This is going to be a tough case. I can’t afford an unthinking automaton on my team.”
“Why me?” I asked. “To say it charitably, you and I never hit it off too good.”
I was still looking at the back of her head.
“At least I know you,” she said.
“Then what? Is this one of those ‘devil you know’ things?”
She nodded. “If you want to put it that way.”
“Well, I’ve got a few problems that have to be ironed out or this isn’t going to work. Actually it won’t work anyway, but here it is. First, don’t you ever dress me down in public again. You have a problem with me, muzzle it till we’re in private. This isn’t the law school library, and I’m a professional officer. Two, I’m no token. You want a token, I’ll get on the phone right now and have the Army send you one.”
She slowly twisted around in her chair and faced me. There was an odd glint in her eye. It didn’t fit right with somebody who was being told where to get off. I should’ve wondered about that. I was just too pumped up on my own vinegar to stop myself.
“If you’re not a token, what are you?”
“I carry my weight. I get jobs just like the rest of your team. Only I’m different. I’ve got a law degree and eight years of courtroom experience under my belt. Also, I’m an expert at military law.”
