Sudden Death Part 10

She nods. "He has now. The guy was afraid to come forward. Didn't want to become Kato Kaelin when the s.h.i.+t hit the fan." She's referring to a key witness in the O. J. Simpson case, who became the b.u.t.t of months' worth of late night jokes on television.

"The good news better be really good," I say.

"I think it is. The witness heard the argument when Kenny was dropping Preston off at his house. He saw Preston get out of the car and Kenny's car pull away."

She's right; this is very good news. For Kenny to have committed the murder later that night, he would have had to come back. If he was going to do that, why leave in the first place? It doesn't exonerate him by any means, but it makes it more reasonable to argue that someone else entered the picture that night.

"Did he say what they were arguing about?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Not really... he just heard bits and pieces. And he didn't actually see Kenny, but he ID'd the car. I wrote a full report; there's a copy on your desk, and I have one with me."

This is such intriguing information that for a moment I forget the Findlay disaster. I'm prepared to bring it up when Laurie starts talking about this great walk and run she went on with Tara today. Is it possible she's letting me off the hook?

We get home without any mention of the dreaded F-word, which is how I've come to think of Findlay. Tara meets me at the door, tail wagging furiously and head burrowed into me to receive my petting. Her excitement at seeing me is something I never take for granted; it's a gift to be loved this much.

I take Tara for a walk and go back to the house. Laurie is in the bedroom, looking much as she did when I left, except for the fact that she's not wearing any clothes. It's a comfortable look, so I try it myself. I like it, so we try it together. It works really well.

After our lovemaking my mouth decides to once again blurt something out without first having discussed it with my brain. "I was in Findlay," I say. "I met Sandy Walsh."

She nods, though she seems slightly groggy and ready for sleep. "I know. He called me. He liked you a lot."

"And I liked him. But I went there behind your back to check up on him... and on you. I was looking for ammunition to use to keep you here."

"Mmmm. I know. Can we talk about this in the morning?"

I'm anxious and nervous about this subject, and it's barely keeping her awake? "Laurie, I'm sorry I did it. It was devious and petty, and you deserve better."

"It's okay, Andy. I'm not angry with you. I appreciate what you did."

"Excuse me? Earth to Laurie, Earth to Laurie, come in please, come in please. Why aren't you p.i.s.sed at me?"

She gets up on one elbow, apparently having given up for now on the possibility of imminent sleep. "Andy, you did what you did because you love me, because you don't want to lose me. You also might be concerned that I could make a decision I'd regret. So what if you didn't tell me about it in advance? What you did wasn't terrible, n.o.body got hurt. All in all, it makes me feel good that you did it."

"Oh," I say. "Good night."

"Good night."

A few minutes later my mouth opens up again. "Laurie, I'm not sure I can stand it if you leave."

She's asleep. She can't hear me.

TODAY'S A ROUGH day for Kenny Schilling. Not that there's an easy day for him in County Jail, awaiting a trial that will determine if he'll ever have another day of freedom. But today is the day of the Giants' first exhibition game, and it's a further, agonizing reminder to Kenny that he lives in a seven-by-ten-foot world, with no road trips. day for Kenny Schilling. Not that there's an easy day for him in County Jail, awaiting a trial that will determine if he'll ever have another day of freedom. But today is the day of the Giants' first exhibition game, and it's a further, agonizing reminder to Kenny that he lives in a seven-by-ten-foot world, with no road trips.

My arrival today is a welcome diversion for Kenny from the boring hours with nothing to do but lie around and worry, but he no longer has that look of hopeful expectation when he sees me. It's gotten through to him that there are not going to be any miracle finishes here, no Hail Mary pa.s.ses. If we're going to prevail, it will be at trial, and the road is straight uphill.

I ask Kenny about the death of Matt Lane, and his initial reaction seems to be surprise rather than concern. He tells pretty much the same story that Calvin told, though of course he claims to have had nothing to do with the shooting. In fact, he says, no one has ever even hinted at the suggestion.

"They're not saying I had anything to do with Matt getting shot, are they?" he asks, the worry growing.

I shake my head. "The prosecution doesn't even know about it yet, but they will. Unless there's something you're not telling me, it won't be a problem."

"I'm not holding back anything."

"Good. Then tell me about your argument with Troy Preston when you dropped him at his house."

This time the flash of concern is immediate and transparent. He tries to cover it, but as an actor he's a very good football player. "I don't remember no argument," he says.

I decide to take the tough, direct approach, not my specialty. "Yes, you do."

"Come on, man, we were just talking. It was probably about a girl... okay? No big deal."

"Who was she?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I don't know... I'm not even sure it was about a girl. We'd argue all the time... it could have been about football. I'm tellin' you, it didn't mean nothing."

I can't shake him, and he's probably telling the truth, so I let it drop for now. If Dylan wants to, he can use his resources to run it down, then provide it for me in discovery.

As I'm leaving the jail, I run into Bobby Pollard, his wife, Teri, and their son, Jason. Bobby's been coming to see Kenny on a regular basis, and since the prison has not exactly been designed with the handicapped in mind, Teri comes to help him navigate the place in his wheelchair.

"I was going to call you, but I figured I shouldn't," says Bobby.

"What about?"

"I don't know... just to see how things were going. To see if I could help in any way. And I heard you went up to Wisconsin to see Matt's father."

His knowledge of this surprises me. "How did you hear that?"

"Old Calvin keeps in touch with some of the guys. You know, he tells one person, they tell another..."

Teri smiles and winks at me. "It's the old football players' network. They spread the news faster than CNN."

"Did you know Matt?" I ask.

Bobby nods. "I sure did. And I was there that day. I was with his parents when they got the news. It was the worst day of my life." He points to his useless legs. "Worse than the day this happened."

I ask Bobby a bunch of questions about the day Matt was killed but get basically the same story. It must have been a hunting accident... n.o.body has any idea who did it... Kenny could never have done such a thing. I have no reason to believe otherwise, but it's starting to nag at me a little.

I also ask Bobby if he'd be willing to testify on Kenny's behalf, mostly as a character witness, and he once again vows he'll do whatever he can to help.

Before I leave, Teri motions me to the side and talks softly, so that Jason can't hear. "Jason wanted to see his 'Uncle Kenny.' Do you think there's anything wrong with his being here?"

I shrug. "I wouldn't think so, if you answer his questions honestly about what's going on. But I'm not the best guy to ask about how to treat a seven-year-old. I can barely take care of myself."

She laughs, and they go inside. I head back to the office for a meeting with Kevin, Laurie, and Adam. The trial date is starting to bear down on us, and we are way behind. Of course, I always feel we are way behind, and this time is no worse than most. What we're really lacking is evidence to present in our client's favor, which is generally a good thing to have.

We discuss whether to hire a jury consultant, and even though Kevin is in favor of it, I decide not to. I find that I always spend a lot of time with them and then just go ahead and follow my own instincts anyway.

Another decision to be made is whether to challenge the blood evidence. The Simpson trial and verdict have had an unfortunate effect, besides the fact that a double murderer was set free. It's also made police far more diligent and careful in their handling of evidence, especially blood evidence. Kevin has gone over the collection done in this case, and there are no grounds on which to convince a jury that the lab reports are not legitimate.

On the investigative front we've made gradual progress, but with few favorable results. All that is really left to do now is continue to follow up and talk to friends of Kenny's and Preston's, especially those people who knew them both. The pro football community is a large and close one, and that list is very long. The Giants, because of all the research they did on Kenny before the draft, have provided much of it, and it goes back to his early high school days. Pro football teams don't like to make mistakes with first-round draft picks.

Kevin reports that he has attempted to reach at least seventy-five people so far and has been successful in talking to perhaps fifty. Almost all are cooperative. Five are in prison, three have left the country, and another three have died, including Matt Lane.

The one positive development is that Cesar Quintana has not yet killed me. Moreno has kept his end of the bargain, and even Laurie agrees that Marcus can be a.s.signed other tasks than surrept.i.tious bodyguard for me. Once the trial begins and we start to throw Quintana's name around some more, that may change. I still don't know what he thinks Kenny has of his, but he seems to have backed off for now.

Adam has proven to be surprisingly helpful and insightful in these conversations, and I suggest that Kevin let him take over some of the burden in checking out the list of friends. After all, we're paying Adam a dollar; we might as well get our money's worth.

Laurie has put off her decision until after the trial, when we both can have more time to think clearly. I view this as a positive sign: She loves this work and loves working with me, and it's a priority for her. I also view this as a negative sign: She's planning to leave and doesn't want to crush me during such a crucial trial.

Stable I'm not.

ARRIVING AT THE courthouse for jury selection day, it doesn't feel only like a football player is on trial. It feels like a football game is about to take place. Every parking lot within a mile is overflowing, and there's actually a tailgating environment, with some people even bringing picnic lunches. There's also a tangible excitement in the air, which I can only liken to a play-off game at Giants Stadium. courthouse for jury selection day, it doesn't feel only like a football player is on trial. It feels like a football game is about to take place. Every parking lot within a mile is overflowing, and there's actually a tailgating environment, with some people even bringing picnic lunches. There's also a tangible excitement in the air, which I can only liken to a play-off game at Giants Stadium.

I'm good at jury selection; it's one of my strengths. I'm not sure why, except it is a commonsense process, and that's how I treat it. But as soon as we get started, it's quite clear that this is unlike any other jury selection I've ever been a part of.

Ordinarily, potential jurors come in armed to the teeth with excuses not to serve. Few people have the time or the inclination to tie themselves down to a lengthy trial, in the process putting their own lives on hold. They all seem to have reasons why their business or their sick relative or their very future cannot survive the ordeal.

Not this time. Jury service in the trial of New Jersey v. Kenneth Schilling New Jersey v. Kenneth Schilling is seen as a plum a.s.signment, guaranteeing a shot on is seen as a plum a.s.signment, guaranteeing a shot on Regis and Kelly, Regis and Kelly, if not a lucrative book deal. This is the first trial-of-the-century trial, and everybody wants a piece of it. if not a lucrative book deal. This is the first trial-of-the-century trial, and everybody wants a piece of it.

Everybody but me. I'm always a pessimist at the start of a trial, but this time it's justified. We have done little to counter the physical evidence and could never do anything to counter the image that America has of Kenny holed up in his house with a gun, fending off the police. Things can change within a trial-there is an inevitable ebb and flow-but from my vantage point right now it looks like there will be a lot more ebbing than flowing.

The media have been speculating on whether I am going to play "the race card" and that if I'm going to do so, it will most likely be evident in jury selection. I'm not above playing any cards that are dealt to me, but I honestly have no idea what the race card is. Kenny Schilling and his alleged victim are both African-Americans, so if there is an advantage to be gained, I'm not a good enough card player to pick up on it.

Kevin and I meet briefly with Kenny in an anteroom before the court session begins, and I can tell that he is pumped. The endless waiting is over, and he thinks we can go on the offensive. I have to spend some time educating him on what const.i.tutes jury selection and how boring it can be.

The courtroom is a place where the truth is revered, so it's a bad sign that at least ninety percent of the prospective jurors here today are full of s.h.i.+t. Almost without exception they claim to have an open mind, to have no preconceived notions about the case. In fact, most of them claim to have had little exposure to it, which means they have been spending the last three months in a coma.

Judge Harrison seems even more cynical about the process than I am. He exercises his right to question the jurors along with the lawyers, and at times he is openly incredulous at their claims of purity of thought and knowledge.

I infuriate Dylan by asking many of the prospective jurors if anyone they know or any members of their family have had any drug problems, or drug-related encounters with the police. The press in the gallery buzzes at the mere mention, knowing that I'm going to be using Quintana as a possible other suspect. Dylan wants drugs to enter this case only in that Preston and Kenny were both under the influence when Preston was killed.

The juror wannabes fall into two categories: those who sit on the stand and stare at Kenny and those who deliberately avoid staring, stealing quick glances whenever they think they can do so without being noticed. Kenny was a popular player before, but he has now achieved true stardom through this case. Somehow these jurors, though professing to be open-minded and barely aware of the facts of the case, seem to understand that.

Dylan seems less annoyed by the dishonesty running rampant in the courtroom than I am, but we both use up most of our challenges. We finally empanel a jury that I can live with, though am not thrilled by. There are eight males, of which three are African-American and one Hispanic. The four females are three whites and one African-American. The chosen group seems to be reasonably intelligent and likely to at least listen to our case, should we happen to find one along the way.

Judge Harrison asks Dylan and me if we want to sequester the jury. We both say that we do not, which is pretty much what we have to say. Neither of us wants to be responsible for imprisoning these people in a motel for weeks; they might take it out on us when it's time to reach a verdict. Harrison agrees, and the jury will not be sequestered, though he lectures them sternly on the need to avoid all media coverage of the case. Yeah, right.

During a trial I make it a practice to have our team meet every night to prepare for the next day's witnesses, as well as go over everything, so as not to let anything slip between the cracks. Tonight will be the first of these regular meetings, with the main purpose being to prepare for opening statements.

The regular team for the duration of the trial will consist of Laurie, Kevin, Adam, and myself. Marcus will come when he has something specific to contribute, but these are basically strategy sessions, and strategy is not Marcus's strong point.

We kick around the limited options open to us in our opening statement, until it gets too depressing. I like to speak more or less off the cuff so as to sound natural and more sincere. The difficulty I sometimes have is when I have a lot of points to make, and want to make sure I don't forget anything. That is not the case here; I have disturbingly few points to make.

The meeting ends, and Kevin is about to leave when Pete Stanton shows up. Pete lives more than a half hour out of town, and I wouldn't expect him to be working this late unless something significant had happened. I also wouldn't expect him to drop by without calling; he knows as well as anyone the intensity with which we work during a trial.

Pete greets everyone, but I can tell by the look on his face that something is wrong. He asks, "What's the word for when you make a contract with someone and then they die, so the deal can no longer be enforced?"

Kevin answers, "The contract is voided."

Pete nods and speaks to me. "Then you just got voided. Paul Moreno took a bullet in the head coming out of the Claremont tonight. p.r.o.nounced dead at the scene."

We throw questions at Pete and learn that in recent weeks the situation has grown increasingly tense between Moreno and Quintana on the one side and Dominic Petrone on the other. More and more Petrone has felt his operations being challenged by the Mexican drug ring, and it had apparently become financially intolerable, as well as personally and professionally embarra.s.sing.

Local and federal authorities alike were expecting a war to break out, though the expectation was that it would not be full-scale, but rather a couple of messages sent in the form of killings. No one believed that Petrone would start it by taking out Moreno.

Pete considers it a brilliant stroke by Petrone. Moreno was the absolute brains of his operation, and though Quintana will no doubt respond with violence, Pete doesn't consider him smart enough to prevail in a war.

Laurie disagrees. In Moreno she believes that Petrone had an adversary smart enough to make a deal when one was called for, a deal that could leave both sides alive and in profit. No deal is possible with Quintana, she feels, and on that Pete agrees.

What hasn't yet been mentioned is the effect this will have on me. My deal with Moreno to get Quintana to keep away from me is no longer operative. "Anybody want to take a stab at where that leaves my general life expectancy?" I ask.

"I certainly wouldn't make any long-term plans," Pete says.

Laurie tries some optimism. "I think Quintana will have his sights set on Petrone and his people. And that should certainly be enough to keep his hands full."

"But I represent an easier target. He could take me out for practice."

"I've got a black-and-white outside with two patrolmen," Pete says. "They'll keep an eye out tonight, but I think that tomorrow you should get Marcus back watching your a.s.s."

I look out the window, and sure enough, Pete has called for a patrol car to protect me. It's a sign that he's worried for my safety, or maybe he's worried that he'll have to find new financing for next year's birthday bash.

The timing of this is particularly terrible. Quintana was p.i.s.sed off that I brought his name into the Kenny Schilling furor, and my entire strategy in the trial that starts tomorrow is to bring Quintana's name into the Kenny Schilling furor. Since rational is not one of the many adjectives I've heard used to describe Quintana, it could provoke a deadly reaction. Or if he is is rational, he could well decide it's a h.e.l.l of a lot easier to show how macho he is by taking on me rather than Dominic Petrone. rational, he could well decide it's a h.e.l.l of a lot easier to show how macho he is by taking on me rather than Dominic Petrone.

"Maybe I'm just being selfish," I say, "not thinking about my client."

"How's that?" asks Kevin.

"Look at the irony here. We're trying to convince the jury that Quintana is a killer. If he kills me, or even tries to, it makes our case." It's a poor attempt at lightening the mood, yet it actually contains a grain of truth.

"I'd better call Marcus," Laurie says, and I don't try to stop her.

The meeting finally breaks up, and though this is Tuesday, not one of the nights that Laurie and I stay together, she says that she'd like to. I can't tell whether she wants to be with me or wants to watch out for me in Marcus's absence. I don't dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Laurie wants to sleep with me, and whatever the reason, pa.s.sion or protection, it's more than fine with me.

DYLAN HAS A surprise waiting for me when Judge Harrison asks if the lawyers have anything to bring up before he calls the jury in. He introduces a motion asking that the defense be prohibited from bringing irrelevant matters, like the drug underworld, into the case. surprise waiting for me when Judge Harrison asks if the lawyers have anything to bring up before he calls the jury in. He introduces a motion asking that the defense be prohibited from bringing irrelevant matters, like the drug underworld, into the case.

"If there is evidence that these people killed Troy Preston," says Dylan, "then by all means it should come in. However, mere evidence that they simply knew Troy Preston has no place in this trial."

Harrison turns to me. "Mr. Carpenter?"

"Your Honor, the motion is without merit, and would be so even if it weren't totally untimely. The prosecution has known for weeks of our intention in this area, yet they chose to wait until opening statements to contest it."

Dylan responds, "Your Honor, we would submit that the murder last night of Mr. Paul Moreno, which was widely reported this morning, makes this motion more pressing. The potential exists that it can turn this trial into a media circus, without having any real relevance."