all the parties realized that the media are present in the
courtroom.'
I gestured toward Dan Manning from the Oregonian at the back of the
room, sitting with a few others who presumably were also reporters.
Cameras aren't permitted in Oregon courtrooms, and lawyers who don't
spend a lot of time around the courthouse don't always recognize the
media. Just me, trying to be helpful.
It got the response from Thorpe that I wanted. 'In that case, your
honor, we request that the proffer be delivered in chambers. Whatever
Mr. Szlipkowsky is about to say is groundless speculation, and the
damage to my client would be further aggravated if it were repeated in
the media.'
Thorpe, Gunderson, Minkins, Slip, and I followed Prescott through the
door behind the bench. I got a better look at Minkins when he passed
me. He could definitely be the guy from the library, but I still
wasn't positive.
Since Roger was there as Townsend's attorney, he had to stay outside.
All to the good, since he knew better than Thorpe how devious I could
be. Jackson stayed put too. I'd long gotten used to the criminal
justice systems practice of leaving the defendant at the counsel table,
just in case he was beginning to think his presence was relevant.
Slip and I were at the back of the pack, and no one seemed to be paying
attention to us. He scribbled something on the corner of his legal
pad, ripped it off, and passed it to me as I walked through the door
behind him. By then, Prescott was sitting at her desk, so I slipped
the page into a folder. If the teacher caught us passing notes, we'd
get the grown-up equivalent of detention, and whatever was on that
piece of paper would be public information.
'Let's hear it, Mr. Szlipkowsky.'
'Melvin Jackson is presumed innocent. So presume just for a moment,
your honor, that someone other than Melvin Jackson killed Clarissa
Easterbrook. If that's true, as I believe it is, then let's be honest
that someone did a pretty good job setting up my client. My client was
upset with the victim, he worked where the body was found, paint from
his van was found on her dog, and then, of course, the weapon's the
icing on the cake. As I delved into the question of who might be in a
position to accomplish such a setup, I kept coming back to the
construction site in Glenville.'
Slip continued to spell out the coincidences for her. Jackson, his
landscaping business a fly-by-night operation in the penny newspapers,
suddenly gets a call from Minkins asking him to work on a
multimillion-dollar project by Gunderson Development. Minkins sees him
take paint from the property, and later that paint turns up on
Clarissa's dog. When Clarissa's body is found at the property, it's
Gunderson Development that makes sure the police get Melvin's name. And
then it turns out that Jackson's not the only person with business in
front of Clarissa Easterbrook; a case in which Easterbrook ruled on
behalf of Gunderson had her troubled enough that she kept a copy of the
case file under lock and key.
Prescott raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by the amount of detail
in the proffer. The problem was that the proffer was enough to raise
eyebrows, but Slip still didn't have enough to tie everything together.
It was, in Thorpe's words, pure speculation. Prescott's ruling could
go either way. Convincing her to pull the trigger and put the
witnesses in the chair would be a matter of strategy.
First, we had to sit through Thorpe's diatribe. 'To suggest that my
clients had anything whatsoever to do with Ms. Easter-brook's murder
is outrageous. Mr. Szlipkowsky should be grateful that Mr. Gunderson
hasn't sued him for slander.' Thorpe handed the judge, Slip, and me
copies of an affidavit signed by a Lee Block. I had to admit, I was
impressed by the work Dunn Simon had done in the hours that had passed
since the subpoenas were served. 'As you can see,' Thorpe explained,
'Mr. Gunderson was in Bend, Oregon, looking at a property all day on
the Sunday when Ms. Easterbrook disappeared. Mr. Minkins was in the
casino at Chinook Winds until four p.m. that day. We are working on
locating a videotape to substantiate that, and I'm confident we will
have it by the end of the day.'
The plan was working. Without even getting a ruling on the subpoenas,
the attorney who refused to let me talk to Gunderson and Minkins
informally had just locked them into alibis for the time of Clarissa's
death. Go figure.
Having set up the facts he wanted to rely on, Thorpe launched into his
argument. He took the predictable route, borrowing many of the same
points made by Bow Tie on Friday.
I opened the folder on my lap to sneak a glance at the note that Slip
had passed me. The man's handwriting was as sloppy as his attire, but
I made it out: Disc = finances of OHSU pediatric wing.
I tried to pull my concentration back to Thorpe, who was using words
like ludicrous, preposterous, and farcical. If Dunn Simon was charging
by the word, he should have checked his thesaurus and added cockamamy
and wacky while he was at it.
Why had Clarissa kept the financial records from Townsends hospital
wing in her safe deposit box? Maybe they were his backup records and
she was keeping them for him, but would she really tell him about a
