Dog Tags

CHAPTER 79

“THERE ARE MANY, MANY VICTIMS IN THIS CASE” is how I start my closing statement. “There have been at least twenty-one deaths of people drawn together by fate or bad luck. Probably more. Most of the victims were innocent. Some were not.

“Mr. Morrison has told you that you should be focusing on only one of those deaths, that of Mr. Erskine, and he is partly right. That is the crime you are here to rule on, to decide beyond a reasonable doubt whether Mr. Zimmerman is guilty.

“But common sense requires you to look further. Because eighteen people died in the explosion that cost Billy Zimmerman his leg. And at least three people were murdered after Mr. Erskine, while Billy was sitting in a jail cell. If you know that others killed twenty of those people, how can you believe beyond a reasonable doubt that Billy Zimmerman killed the twenty-first?

“I said it in my opening statement, and I’ll say it again. Billy is not perfect; he committed three thefts. But balance that against all the good he has done, as a decorated police officer and a combat veteran. And while you’re doing the balancing, throw in the shameful way that we as a society treated him after he protected us for so long. After he lost his leg in the horror that was Iraq.

“We may never know who pulled the trigger in front of the bar that night. We may never know the identities of the men who appeared mysteriously after the shot was fired, only to run off and never be seen again. The police decided they had the killer and looked no farther. They may have been well intentioned, but they were hasty, and they were wrong. It is a wrong that you have the power to right.

“In the interests of justice, please right that wrong.”

I sit down at the defense table, and Billy leans over and says, “Outstanding.” Hike hands me a note that says, “You’re as good as Kevin said you were.”

But I’m not paying attention to what they are saying, nor am I doing what I usually do after my closing statement. I ordinarily obsess that I haven’t done enough and panic at the fact that there’s nothing left for me to do. There is nothing I hate more than when a case goes to the jury’s hands, and that’s what is happening now.

This time, however, I’m thinking of something different, something I realized when I was talking about the men running onto the scene of Erskine’s murder that night.

I had been assuming that the men were FBI agents, following Harris but losing him in the chaos after the murder. The way Billy described the scene, though, three men came out of nowhere, as if they had been lying in wait.

I can’t imagine the bureau would have the inclination or manpower to have three people following a guy like Harris, nor do I know how they would have known to follow him in the first place. Pete described him as a hired gun out of Philadelphia; M likely employed him on a freelance basis.

To use that much manpower, and to have them in place as they did, must mean that they were watching Erskine. And there is a damn good likelihood that Erskine knew they were there. That he even planned for them to be there.

Erskine was smart; he was not the kind of guy to walk around with a truckload of FBI guys following him, watching him commit illegal acts. He would have been much more careful, if he had any reason to be.

If I’m right, Erskine was working with the FBI. Maybe he was getting immunity in return for turning in his bosses, and the apparent blackmail was part of a sting operation. I’m far from sure about why they were working together, but I still feel like I’ve figured out another piece of the puzzle.

Our game of chicken has a long way to go.

Judge Catchings gives a standard charge to the jury, and since it is almost four o’clock when he finishes, he sends them home. Neither Eli nor I had made a request to have them sequestered, not that I think the judge would have agreed anyway. Sequestering is pretty rare these days, and in the absence of special circumstances, judges usually don’t force it on juries.

He does, however, give them a strong dose of the same admonition he’s been giving throughout the trial: that they are to scrupulously avoid all media coverage of the case. I’ve never believed that jurors completely do that; I know I wouldn’t. I’d hide in the basement and watch everything.

The jurors all nod as he says this. My guess is they’d nod an agreement to stick toothpicks in their eyes if that’s what it would take not to get stuck in a local hotel. Then off they go, to reconvene tomorrow morning and start deciding whether Billy Zimmerman is going to live the rest of his life in a cage.

“You did a hell of a job,” Billy says as we shake hands.

“That remains to be seen,” I say.

He shook his head. “I’ve seen it already. No matter what the jury says.”

It’s a generous thing for him to say, especially with the stress he must be under, but it’s consistent with his attitude throughout the trial. He’s done nothing to make me sorry I took the case, even though he hasn’t paid me a dime.

I go home and Laurie greets me with a kiss and a glass of wine. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around while you’re waiting for a verdict,” she says. “Are you still as nuts as ever?”

I nod. “Some things never change.” I become a complete basket case while waiting for a verdict. I adhere to ridiculous superstitions and am generally impossible to be around.

“You want me to move into a hotel?” she asks. It’s a serious question; she doesn’t want to intrude on my space or make things more difficult for me by my feeling I have to be civil.

“That nuts I’m not,” I say. “Besides, we still have a lot of work to do.”

We are going to continue our investigation, even more energetically now that I’m not tied down to being in court every day. If Billy is convicted, then I will use the results of that investigation for an appeal. If he’s acquitted, I’ll turn over everything we know to Benson and be done with it. Then he can have the responsibility for preventing whatever is going to happen for himself.

Usually I dread hearing that the jury has reached a verdict, but this time I’m semi-eager for it. The sooner I can tell Benson what I know, without damaging Billy’s interests, the better.