Carved in Bone

CHAPTER 31

District attorney Bob Roper looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. Burt DeVriess looked like he’d just won the lottery. We were convened in the chambers of Judge Barr to review the exhumation results. “Gentlemen, let’s proceed,” said the judge. “This is most unusual, but given that Mr. Roper asked for this conference, and Mr. DeVriess agreed, I’m willing for us to have an informal discussion about this case. I’ve got a hearing in ten minutes, so we need to cut straight to the chase.”

DeVriess was happy to oblige. “Your Honor, I think the exhumation results speak for themselves,” he crowed.

“Then why are you talking, Mr. DeVriess? Kindly be quiet.” I suppressed a grin, or at least tried, halfway. “Dr. Brockton, I’ve read your report, along with Dr. Carter’s; thank you for your quick and thorough examination.” I nodded, figuring I shouldn’t speak unless asked to. “Mr. Roper, have you read the report?” Roper nodded miserably. “And what is your response? Does your forensic anthropologist take issue with Dr. Brockton’s conclusions?”

Roper hedged. “Your Honor, much as we respect Dr. Brockton and Dr. Carter, there is other evidence in this case that strongly corroborates the state’s case.”

The judge pounced on him. “Such as?” Roper drew a deep breath, like a man about to take a long swim underwater, but the judge cut him off. “For God’s sake, Bob, cut your losses. The ME blew the autopsy and you know it. Unless Dr. Hamilton has something on you that could ruin your career or wreck your marriage, just bite the bullet and drop the charge. It’s embarrassing, but not as humiliating as losing in court would be. I can pretty much guarantee that you won’t win this one, and you lay yourself open to a malicious prosecution lawsuit. On the other hand, if you drop the charge and apologize to the defendant, you look like the good guy. You get to talk about how truth and justice have prevailed, and you get to celebrate the vindication of an innocent man. It’s the best damn deal you can walk out of here with.”

Roper swallowed hard; it was a big dose of medicine he was being handed. “Your Honor, in light of new evidence, the state respectfully withdraws the charge, apologizes to the court and to the defendant, and thanks Dr. Brockton and Dr. Carter for bringing important exculpatory facts to light in this case.”

The judge smiled. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You file the paperwork and I’ll order the defendant’s release. I’m also ordering his record expunged. Unless, of course, defense counsel has some objection?”

DeVriess smiled a smug smile. “Well, Your Honor, the defense was eagerly anticipating a jury trial…”

“Just shut up, Grease,” snapped the judge as he stood and strode toward his courtroom, “before I change my mind.” DeVriess reddened, Roper brightened, and I smiled to myself.

The rest of us stood to leave by way of the door to the judge’s outer office. Roper shook my hand with a rueful smile. “Bill, you did the right thing, unfortunately for me.”

I clapped his shoulder with my left hand. “Don’t take it too hard, Bob. You based your case on the autopsy report; not your fault it was bad. The one who’s got something to answer for is the medical examiner. I wouldn’t be surprised if the state tries to yank Garland’s medical license over this. It’s not his first screwup, you know.”

“I know. But it’s his last screwup on a case for me — I’ve already made arrangements to contract out my autopsies to Dr. Carter and her staff down in Chattanooga.” I’d heard as much already from Jess, but I acted as if it were news, and welcome news, coming from the DA. “Bill, if the state moves to pull Dr. Hamilton’s medical license, I hope you’ll testify as candidly in Nashville as you did here.”

I nodded. “I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” he said. “He needs to be put out to pasture. If this case helps bring that to pass, I guess it’s worth the humiliation.” I was glad to hear him looking ahead. “Thanks for what you did, Bill. I didn’t enjoy it, but I do appreciate it.”

DeVriess leaned in. “Hey, how about sharing the love? I’m the one that cried foul.”

“Go to hell, Burt,” said Roper. “Bill, I look forward to working with you again. With you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I smiled. “See you.” He nodded and started down the marble hallway. “Oh, and Bob?” He looked back. “Thanks for what you said about Kathleen the other day. It’s been rough, and I’m not good at talking about it, but it helps to hear from folks who care.” He smiled and walked away.

“Bastard,” muttered DeVriess. “Dr. Brockton, I’ve got somebody who really wants to meet you.” I had a class to teach, I protested, but he persisted. “This’ll just take a second, and I think you’ll be glad.” I relented, and he led me away from the judge’s chambers office and into a part of the court building where I’d never been before. A uniformed guard buzzed us through a security door; DeVriess opened a door marked “Dock” and led me into a bare white room. A scrawny man in faded jeans and a white shirt rose from a plastic chair. “Eddie, I want you to meet Dr. Brockton. Doctor, this is Eddie Meacham, the man whose name you just cleared. The man who just got his life back.”

Meacham stared as if I were some alien species, then flung himself at me and wrapped me in a bony hug. I patted him on the back a few times, then extricated myself so I could breathe again. Meacham made several attempts to speak. Finally he whispered, “Thank you. Thank you.” That was all he managed to get out. But it was enough. I nodded, moved myself, and backed out of the room.

DeVriess had been right — I was glad. Glad I’d met his client; glad I’d taken the case — taken the bait that Grease, pervert-protecting bastard that he was, had lobbed my way that day over lunch. Miranda was right: “Strange bedfellows indeed,” I murmured as I pushed open the courthouse door and stepped into the early October sunshine.