In the Company of Liars

ONE DAY EARLIER
TUESDAY, MARCH 2

Ipromise not to make a habit out of having you come to my house,” Allison says to Paul Riley. She stretches, after two hours of preparation for the preliminary hearing this coming Thursday, March 4.

“Not a problem,” Paul says. They are in the living room. Allison told Paul that she didn’t want to spread out at the kitchen or dining-room tables. She wanted something more comfortable, she told him. For the most part, they just talked, anyway, didn’t cover many documents, so the living room worked just fine.

The state will call a forensic pathologist to confirm death by homicide and to fix the time of death near seven p.m. on the night of February seventh of this year. Roger Ogren will call the two detectives who interrogated her and searched her house-the first time, not just recently-to authenticate the physical evidence and to testify that she lied to them about being linked romantically to Sam Dillon. There will be testimony linking the hair follicle, the fingernail, and the single platinum earring to Allison and the blood on her sweatshirt to Sam. The judge will hear about Allison storming into Sam’s office in the capital the day before his death.

The state’s second search of Allison’s home, which took place over this past weekend, was directed at looking for what the prosecutors believe to be the murder weapon, a small gold statuette with a marble base, presented to Sam Dillon by the Midwest Manufacturers’ Association only two years ago. An award, authorities have finally figured out, that has been missing from Sam Dillon’s mantel since the night of the murder.

It was a sufficiently small item that it could have been hidden anywhere, which meant that the prosecutors had leave to literally take her house apart looking for it.

“They find that trophy,” she tells Paul, “and I’m finished.”

“Well, then, let’s hope they don’t.” Paul is not looking at her as he says this. It must be difficult to hear a client acknowledge such things. Even someone who has spent his entire adult life in criminal law must find some revulsion in representing people who have done wrong. It is harder to focus on your important role in the system of criminal justice when your client all but tells you that she bludgeoned a man to death.

“Paul,” she says, “I’ve been in your shoes. I want you to know, I don’t expect the impossible. At the end of the day, I did what I did. If I can’t beat this, it won’t be for lack of having a good lawyer.”

“I appreciate that, Allison. But obviously, it won’t stop me one beat from doing everything I can.”

“Oh, I know that. I have no doubt. But doing everything you can is different from being able to sleep at night. I killed him, Paul. I wish I could take it back but I can’t. The truth is, I loved him, and I’d do anything to bring him back. But without him”-she takes a breath-“this may sound like an odd thing to say, but life just isn’t the same without him. I’ve had almost a month to think about this. I am more or less resigned to whatever happens. I want to fight this with everything I have, and I will. I don’t want to go to prison. It’s just-if things go badly, I don’t want you losing sleep over this. I don’t want you thinking an innocent person is rotting in jail. Because that wouldn’t be the case.”

“You are something else, Allison Pagone.” He closes up his briefcase. “I appreciate you trying to put me at ease, but believe me, I’m a professional. I’ll tell you what would keep me from sleeping at night,” he adds.

“Not doing the best you can.”

“Exactly.”

She gets up to see him out. “The judge is going to find probable cause, isn’t she?”

Paul nods. “Yes, she is,” he says.