Rosato And Associates: Accused Part 5

Mary hit the gas. "Who was Stall's lawyer? Was he a public defender?"

"No, a private lawyer. I never heard of him. Bob Brandt."

"Never heard of him either. Was he court-appointed?"

"No."

"So they went out of the system. Too bad." Mary knew that Philadelphia had a fairly decent system for representing indigent murder defendants, in that 80 percent would get a well-qualified lawyer appointed by the court, and the remainder went to the Public Defender's Office, which was staffed with experienced and committed criminal defense lawyers.

"His firm is the Law Offices of Bob Brandt." Judy slid her iPhone from her purse and hit a few keys on the touch screen. "Here's Brandt's website. It doesn't say he practices criminal law except DUI." She pinched the screen to enlarge it. "He looks young, even now. Five years ago, he must have been very young. Went to Temple Law and Penn State. Okay, so he graduated law school three years before he tried Stall's case. Wanna bet it was practically his first murder case?"

Mary was already thinking they could attack the conviction based on ineffective a.s.sistance of counsel. It was a tough argument to win, but the law was that if trial counsel was incompetent and his incompetence made the difference between conviction and acquittal, Stall could get a new trial. Mary asked, "Who was in for the D.A.?"

"The district attorney himself. Mean Mel Bount."

"For real?" Mary looked over.

"Of course. It's so high-profile, a resume case. I read that Mel's about to run for governor. Bet it helps to have a check from the Gardner clan. Okay, here we go." Judy scanned the legal pad on her lap. "Day one of the trial. The Commonwealth's opening is that Stall was seen by three witnesses running from the building and was caught by the guests with blood on his s.h.i.+rt and hands. He was distraught and scared. He had to be tackled and tried to get away. He had a cut on his hand consistent with a knife that's slick with blood, common in knife murders. His blood, hair, and skin cells are found on Fiona's body. When the cops come, he asks immediately for a lawyer."

Mary kept her eyes on the road. She wasn't Pollyanna enough to think that race didn't matter, but she wasn't jumping to any conclusions. "You know that Philadelphia juries tend to be mostly African-American."

"True, and blacks can be racists, too."

Mary let it go.

"First Commonwealth witness is the arresting cop who testifies that Stall is five foot ten and right-handed, and that he asks for a lawyer, even before his interview."

"Did they videotape the interview?"

"Such as it was, yes. The cop testifies about the knife wound found on Stall's right hand, and he is right-handed. After the cop, the second witness is the coroner, who testifies that Fiona's death occurred from a single stab wound through the heart, from a slight downward angle, as if from a taller person, probably right-handed."

"Uh-oh."

"Right. Also he testifies that the wound looks like it was made by a common kitchen knife, though the weapon was never recovered. He also says that the knife wound on Stall's hand was made by the same knife, and here's where he also says it's common in knife murders for the killer to get cut. Gruesome."

"Really."

"Yep, and hold that thought. The third witness is a blood expert who says that the blood found on Stall's s.h.i.+rt, hands, and under his nails was Fiona's blood type, which is Type O. By the way, Stall's type is A, so by process of deduction it's not his."

Mary switched to the fast lane, bypa.s.sing the traffic backing up at the Montgomery Drive exit.

"Blood expert also says that it's Stall's blood on Fiona's s.h.i.+rt, presumably from the cut on his hand. Still day one, fourth witness is a DNA expert, who says he has a match on the blood on Stall's s.h.i.+rt, and it is Fiona's."

"So they got her blood on him, and his blood on her."

"Yep. Plus, DNA expert also testifies that they find Stall's DNA on Fiona's clothes, in the form of skin cells and hair."

"Hair ID's not that reliable."

"It's just icing. The cake? They find his saliva in her mouth, identified by DNA."

Mary groaned. "No s.e.xual a.s.sault though."

"No."

"Thank G.o.d. Did you see whether Brandt scored any points on cross?"

"No, I didn't have time to read the trial transcripts." Judy flipped to the next page of her pad. "Second day. Three witnesses testified that they saw Stall hurry up a back stair to the small conference room where she was killed, minutes before she was killed, and one saw him come back down again. They pick him out of a lineup, which appears to be properly conducted."

"They're not really eyewitnesses. They didn't see the crime."

"True, and still, even properly conducted eyewitness IDs are suspect. And also, keep in mind, that this one is cross-racial."

"What does that matter?" Mary glanced over, intrigued.

"There's cases that say that cross-racial IDs are especially unreliable. White people can't tell black people apart, and black people can't tell white people apart."

"Bodes well for the City of Brotherly Love."

Judy consulted her notes. "Final fact witness is the catering manager, Stall's boss, who testifies that one of the kitchen knives went missing. Obvious implication, that's the murder weapon, and he also testifies that Stall would have had access to it, all night."

"Maybe they lost it or misplaced it."

"Possible. Lastly, of course, both John and Jane Gardner take the stand and talk about how Fiona went missing that night. They were supposed to make a speech about the new offices' dedication at nine o'clock, but she wasn't around, so they went looking for her. They found Stall running before they found her."

Mary could imagine the horror of that night, for Allegra. "So what was the defense?"

"Brandt argued in his opening that there was no evidence of motive, and reasonable doubt that Stall was the doer, and Stall testified himself."

"That's practically malpractice. What's his side of the story?"

"He said he ran up to the conference room because he heard a shout. He saw Fiona on the floor, got blood on his hands when he covered the wound to try and stop her bleeding, and got his saliva in her mouth when he tried to resuscitate her."

"That's not CPR procedure anymore, is it?"

"No. And he says the cut on his hand happened in the kitchen that night when he cut limes."

"Did the chef testify?"

"Yes, but for the Commonwealth. He said that he didn't ask Stall to cut any limes."

Mary mulled it over as she drove. "So when Stall hears a shout, he goes to see what it is himself? He doesn't tell anyone? He doesn't call security? It does sound fishy. Why doesn't Allegra think that's fishy?" She hit the gas, heading west toward Valley Forge. "How did they prove motive?"

"Mel's opening argued Stall must have tried to push himself on her, and when she resisted, he killed her. If you have blood, skin, hair, saliva, and positive IDs, that's enough evidence of motive." Judy closed her legal pad. "Plus maybe they made something of it on cross. We'll have to see the transcript or talk to him, and in any event, remember, it didn't go to the jury. Stall pled guilty after he testified."

Mary nodded. It was hard to believe Stall was innocent if he had pled guilty, but she knew that it happened, having had a false confession case before, in which a man pled guilty to protect someone else. "So the day he testified he was innocent, he pled guilty?"

"Yes, and we can both guess it didn't go well for him on the stand. That's probably why."

"I wonder how often that happens, that someone takes a plea deal after trial has commenced?"

"It happens."

"But why does the Commonwealth offer it, after they'd been put to the trouble of a trial, and especially after his testimony went south?"

"A deal is still better than the risk of an acquittal. They get a guarantee, and no appeals."

Mary thought of another angle, too. "It probably looks better for the D.A. if Stall pleads out, instead of being convicted, in a case with racial overtones, and cla.s.s, too. Then there's less question of his guilt in the press."

"Excellent point, and the case did get a lot of press." Judy looked over, nodding. "How did you figure that out?"

"I'm an expert on guilt. I have enough for every felon in the Commonwealth." Mary managed a smile. "Who was his other witness?"

"His mom." Judy paused.

"So what was his deal, in the end?"

"Let me take you through it. He was charged with first degree murder, which carries only two possible penalties, death or life without parole. LWOP, as they say."

Mary snorted, never having liked the acronym. "Italians don't like the WOP part."

Judy smiled. "It's not a death case, he has no record and no aggravators."

"Right, and second degree murder doesn't apply, since that's murder in the course of a felony."

"Yep, so the Commonwealth reduced the killing to third degree, which has a statutory maximum of twenty to forty. He pled guilty to twenty-five to fifty."

"So they increased it during trial."

"Because he didn't take it the first time. At twenty-four, he's in Graterford until he's fifty, at least."

Mary felt a twinge. "Did he appeal the guilty plea for any reason?"

"No."

"Did he file for post-conviction relief, based on ineffective a.s.sistance of counsel, in connection with the plea?"

"No."

Mary steered the car past the City Line exit, at speed. "So if he's innocent, all he has is us."

"No, he doesn't even have us. Allegra has us. Don't mix your clients, remember?"

"Okay." Mary thought a minute. "Remember that Allegra told us she had a reason for thinking Stall was innocent, but she didn't want to tell us in the meeting?"

"Sure. Wonder what it was."

"We'll ask her." Mary glanced over to see Judy deep in thought. "We're not gonna let her parents close her out of our meeting, are we?"

"h.e.l.l, no." Judy grinned. "n.o.body grounds our clients but us."

Mary laughed, then accelerated, heading for open road.

But for a second, she wasn't sure if she was speeding from something, or to something.

Chapter Eight.

Houyhnhnm Farm, read the sign, and Mary turned into the driveway, her car tires rumbling over gray cobblestones until they reached a tall iron gate covered with English ivy. Beside it were stanchions of gray stone, with a silvery call box on the left, discreetly hidden in evergreens that flanked the driveway.

"Can you believe this place?" Mary lowered the window to press the call b.u.t.ton. They had arrived after driving through the prettiest countryside she had ever seen, and they weren't in South Philly anymore. "Think they'll adopt me?"

"Just because they have money, doesn't mean you want to be in this family."

"It doesn't mean I don't, either." Mary pressed the buzzer, which crackled instantly. "h.e.l.lo, it's Mary DiNunzio and Judy Carrier, here to meet with the Gardners."

"Welcome," said a woman's voice, warmly. "Come in and follow the road. Take a left, then turn right, toward the house."

"Thank you." Mary raised the window while the iron gates swung open. "The mom sounds nice."

"It's the maid."

Mary smiled and turned onto the road, which switched to a grayish gravel. "I'm intimidated."

"Don't be. Remember, they're just people and we're lawyers. We can sue them to death."

Mary steered the car past groupings of specimen bushes and trees, each with little bra.s.s nameplates. "The farm has a name, the trees have a name, everybody has a name."

"Birds." Judy pointed at a white aviary on the right, housing colorful finches that darted about, and a white chicken coop with a long run, where black-and-white hens cl.u.s.tered in the shade. "Look at that. Birds of a feather really do flock together."

"This isn't a house, it's a theme park."

"It's a petting zoo, but you can't pet anything. There's the stables." Judy nodded at a large hill on the left, and at its crest sat a large white stable, surrounded by fenced pastures where dark horses grazed, the graceful heads bent toward the gra.s.s and their tails flicking.

"Aw, I like horses."

"Evidently, so do they. Except that in Gulliver's Travels, the Houyhnhnm weren't very nice. They were stern and imperious, like John Gardner on the phone."

"Keep an open mind. Rich people can't help it if they sound like bill collectors. They kind of are."

"There's the house."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." Mary steered the car toward a huge mansion of gray stone, which had three wings, Palladian windows, and a bright white portico over the front door, under which stood an attractive, middle-aged couple.