False Convictions

34

CHRIST, I FEEL LIKE an idiot,” Casey said as they climbed into the backseat of the Lexus.

“Why?” Graham asked.

“Did you see those people’s faces? Did you hear what she said? National security? They sure as hell didn’t know they were looking at a twenty-year-old semen sample for the Freedom Project, I can promise you that. They acted like we’re trying to stop another nine-eleven.”

Graham waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Relax. No one got hurt. We’re working the system. We just got our case moved to the top of the pile. It’s nothing they wouldn’t have done anyway, just sooner.”

Casey rode in silence, digesting his words.

“So,” Graham said, “you get with the judge to press him about setting Dwayne free, and I’ll get the media whipped up, pour a little gas on the flames that are already beginning to spring up around Patricia Rivers.”

Casey didn’t respond.

“Come on, will you?” Graham said, touching her shoulder. “This is important. Okay, I grant you, it’s not another nine-eleven. Maybe I shouldn’t have played the terror card to get them to make this such a priority, but no one got hurt and we are righting a pretty big wrong here.”

Casey exhaled through her nose and said, “And that son-of-abitch Rivers has dodged this thing too long.”

“Good,” Graham said with a single nod. “Why don’t you get with Marty and give Judge Kollar a chance to pile on? If he’s smart, he can be a part of this.”

“What kind of gas?” Casey asked.

“We’ve got an innocent man in jail for twenty years,” Graham said, ticking off his fingers, “a corrupt district attorney whose son is the real killer and is hiding out on a desert island, oh, and did I mention that that same DA is about to become one of the most powerful judges in the entire country? This thing is a bonanza. Ralph told me the little blurb this weekend in the Auburn Citizen already has tongues wagging. Right, Ralph?”

The folds of skin in Ralph’s neck bulged as he looked up at his boss in the rearview mirror and grunted his agreement.

“That’s right,” Graham said, “American Sunday is interested-blood in the water-and now it’s time to start the feeding frenzy.”

Casey shivered.

“What?” Graham asked.

“I was thinking of our dive and that feeding frenzy,” she said. “What kind of a person does something like that?”

“Same kind that rapes and murders his prom queen girlfriend,” Graham said, his face and voice somber.

“I honestly didn’t know if Rivers’s DNA was going to match,” Casey said. “I hate to say it, but part of me wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Dwayne Hubbard who killed her. I hate to say it, but there’s something… I don’t know, weird about him. I know he’s our client and I shouldn’t say that, but either way, what you just said might be a problem for us.”

“What’d I say?” Graham said.

“The part about Cassandra being Rivers’s girlfriend,” Casey said, smiling weakly at him. “It’s the defense lawyer in me, I can’t help it. I’m thinking if I’m Rivers’s attorney, I can use that.”

“I don’t follow,” Graham said, removing his hand from her shoulder and cracking open one of the water bottles Ralph kept the cup holders supplied with.

“If I’m his attorney,” she said. “I’m going to concede that it’s Rivers’s semen. So what? My client was the boyfriend. He had consensual sex, but he never killed her.”

Graham twisted up his face. “She was raped and murdered. The police report talks about torn tissue and bruising consistent with rape. He stabbed her ten times.”

Casey stared at him. “The killer could have used a condom.”

Graham scoffed. “That’s bullshit. Rapists don’t use condoms.”

“They could,” she said. “A smart one. Dwayne Hubbard isn’t dumb. He was an A student, despite a pretty desperate home life.”

Graham chuckled before quietly saying, “You’re not Rivers’s attorney, you’re Dwayne’s attorney. You work for the Project.”

“I know,” Casey said just as softly and patting his hand, “but it helps to know what cards the other players have, right? It might not be a straight flush, but it’s a pair of sixes, anyway.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Graham asked.

“We need the media to convict this guy for us,” Casey said. “And that makes your gas on the flames or your blood in the water all the more important. We need them so whipped up about Patricia Rivers bending the system for her son that Kollar won’t dare to buy into some lame condom theory.”

“You’ll be national headlines,” Graham said.

“Me?” Casey said. “I thought you were the one taking care of the media.”

“I’m the one lining it up behind the scenes,” Graham said. “You’re the one on camera. I told you from the start that was a big reason for me recruiting you. That’s why you get the big bucks.”

“Last I checked, I was doing this for free,” Casey said.

“One million dollars a year for two cases?” Graham said. “That’s not free.”

“The money is for the clinic.”

“Hey, it’s not up to me what you do with the money,” he said. “I just pay the bills.”

“Okay,” Casey said, nodding. “I can do that.”

“And you like it, too,” Graham said, offering half a grin.

“Well, I don’t mind,” Casey said. “Let’s just say that.”

When her cell phone rang, Casey checked the caller ID and recognized the number.

“Speaking of the media,” she said in a mutter.

“Who is it?” Graham asked.

Casey tried to sound casual. “Jake Carlson.”