Innocent

CHAPTER 35

Tommy, June 24, 2009

In the moment, Tommy's first sensation was like realizing a pipe has burst inside the wall or that the guy on the other end of the phone has had a heart attack. It isn't working; that's all you know for a second. Regular life has stopped cold.

As Tommy read the message on the screen, he felt a flurry of motion beside him. The jurors, already leaning forward to view the computer, had left their seats to get closer, and once they did, several of the reporters edged across the imaginary boundary line to the well of the court so they could see, too. That in turn led a number of spectators to crowd ahead to find out what had occurred. The bailiffs rushed toward everyone, yelling for them to get back. Only when the sound of Judge Yee's gavel snapped through the courtroom did Tommy realize that Yee, who had come down to witness the demonstration, had resumed the bench.

"Everybody sit," proclaimed the judge. "Everybody in seats." He smacked the block again and repeated his order.

All retreated except Rusty's son, who stood bewildered and by himself in the center of the courtroom, as useless as a naked mannequin in a store window. In time, Marta pointed him back up to the witness stand. The judge gaveled for order yet again.

"Quiet, please, quiet." The stir continued, and Judge Yee, rarely forceful, banged harder and said, "Quiet or I ask bailiff to remove you. Quiet!"

Like a grade-school class, the courtroom finally settled.

"Okay, first," said the judge. "Mr. Sabich, I want you go back down and read what is on computer for the court reporter, so we got a clear record. Okay?"

Nat marched back down and described what was on the screen in a monotone:

"There is a Christmas card with a black border and some black wreaths, like from Halloween, on the screen. It says, 'Seasons Greetings, 2008,' and below it, there is some script." He read out the little poem.

"Okay," said Judge Yee. "Okay. Ms. Stern, how you want to proceed?"

After conferring with her father, she suggested a brief recess.

"Good idea," said the judge. "Lawyers, please come back to chambers."

The four attorneys followed Yee out the door beside the bench and down to the other end of the internal corridor that separated the courtrooms from the judges' office space. Stern was struggling along, and Tommy and Jim ended up twenty feet in front of them. Full of rage, Brand kept muttering, "This is complete bullshit," as they walked.

For the trial, Judge Yee had been using the chambers of Malcolm Marsh, who was on leave to teach trial practice for a year in Australia. Judge Marsh was a serious violinist, who arranged to play with the symphony to celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday, and he decorated his chambers with framed recordings and signed sheet music. Judge Yee removed his robe and motioned the lawyers to their seats, while he remained standing behind Marsh's desk.

"Okay," said Yee, "anybody here can tell me what happened?"

There was a lengthy silence before Marta spoke.

"Your Honor, it appears that someone planted a message on Judge Sabich's computer before it was impounded, and the message seems to say that whoever wrote it set Judge Sabich up on these charges."

"That's crap," said Brand.

Judge Yee lifted a finger sternly. "Please, Brand," he said, and Jim apologized repeatedly.

"That was completely stupid," he said several times.

"What to do?" asked the judge.

Eventually, Marta said, "I think we should examine the computer. We should let the experts from both sides come in and in each other's presence do whatever diagnostic tests they can without changing the data and tell us when the message was put on the computer and whether or not it appears legitimate."

"Good," said Yee. He liked the plan. The Sterns would summon their two whiz kids on an emergency basis, while the prosecutors did the same with Professor Gorvetich. Brand and Marta stood up to make the calls. Marta reached their guys on her cell, but it turned out that Brand had Gorvetich's number back across the street, so he departed. In the meantime, Yee asked the bailiff to send the jurors home, and the lawyers agreed to head back to their offices to await the experts' conclusion. The computer would remain in the courtroom under the eye of the court security officers.

On the way out, Stern gave Tommy one of his mysterious little smiles. Sandy was actually looking better, his face a little fuller and the rash clearly starting to fade. Just in time, Tommy thought. Just in fucking time for Sandy to smile for the cameras when he won.

"Interesting case," Stern said.

Out in the courtroom, Tommy and Rory and Ruta put the trial cart back together. Brand was fussy about the order in which he stored the exhibits, and the three of them kept trying to remind themselves what Jim wanted, each of them unwilling at the moment to see Brand go off, as he would, if it wasn't all as he liked.

Milo Gorvetich arrived just as Tommy was about to return to the office across the street. Milo was a little guy, shorter than Tommy or Stern, with wild white hair and a goatee stained yellow from his pipe. It had been Brand's idea to hire him in the first place, because Brand had taken a programming class from Milo two decades ago. As the first member of the U football team ever to appear in Gorvetich's classroom, Brand had gotten enough attention from the professor to make some form of gentlemen's C. But Gorvetich was an old man now. He rambled and had lost his edge. Sandy's hotshot kids had run rings around him, and at this stage Tommy was no longer sure he fully trusted him. He told Milo what had occurred, and the old guy's eyes widened. Tommy feared he was going to be pretty much clueless.

With the two women, Tommy crossed the street. He found Brand in his office, stewing, his feet on his desk while he chewed on a straw. Brand had many of the physical blessings that Tommy had envied in other trial lawyers for years. Big and solid and handsome, he had that aura of iron strength jurors loved in prosecutors especially. But Tommy exceeded Jim in one physical trait that was nearly essential to trying lawsuits-the ability to do well without sleep. Jim needed eight hours, and when he didn't get it, he got cranky like a little kid. He'd plainly had a long night here yesterday, working with the techs and trying to think his way through the defense's new suicide theory. The cellophane wrappings from the dinner he'd had out of the vending machine were mixed in the wastebasket beside his desk with the rose-colored filaments of the shrink-wrap they'd stripped off of Sabich's computer, before the seals were removed in the courtroom this morning.

"So is this just too fucking convenient or what?" Brand asked. "The victim comes back from the dead to announce she framed the defendant. I mean, give me a fucking break. Really. This is just crap. Day one they say it's suicide. Day two she says, Yeah, and I did it to screw him."

Tommy sat down in the wooden chair beside Brand's desk. There was a new picture of Jody and the girls, and Tommy studied it for a second.

"Good-looking women," said Tommy.

Brand smiled a little. Tommy told him Gorvetich had arrived.

"What did he say?" Brand asked.

"He said they should be able to look at the calendaring client and see right away when the object was created. I didn't quite understand, but I figured you would. 'Object' means the card?"

"Right." Brand thought for a second as he chewed on his straw. "I think the calendar program stores the date the object was created as part of the object. I think he even said that to me on the phone."

"But we've had that thing-Rusty's computer-under lock and key since last November, right?"

"Pretty much. Early December, actually. It was over at the appellate court for a month with George Mason while we hassled about what we could look at. You remember."

Tommy remembered. He'd thought the court of appeals judges were going to cross the street and picket the County Building. When you started looking into their business, judges were about as entitled as sultans.

"Okay, but if the card is real-"

Brand interrupted. "It's not real."

"Okay," said Tommy. "Okay. But just playing along for a second-"

"It's not real," Brand said again. His nostrils were flared like a bull's. He could not abide the fact that the boss was even willing to consider the possibility. But that said it all. Either the card was going to turn out to be a plant, in which case Sabich was slabbed, or it would be legitimate and they would have little choice but to dismiss the case. It was that simple.

Tommy and Brand sat another minute with nothing to say. Malvern, Tommy's assistant, had seen him come in and knocked to tell him Dominga was on the phone. She'd probably heard the news about a "dramatic development" in the Sabich case.

"Let me know when Gorvetich reports back," Tommy said as he stood.

Brand's phone was ringing, and he nodded as he picked up. Tommy didn't get to the door.

"Gorvetich," Brand said behind him. He had a finger raised when Molto looked back.

Tommy watched Jim listen. His dark eyes weren't moving, and his face was set in a solemn frown. Tommy was not sure Brand was breathing. "Okay," said Brand. Then he repeated, "I understand," several times. At the end, Jimmy slammed down the handset and sat there with his eyes shut.

"What?" Molto asked.

"They've finished an initial examination."

"And?"

"And the object was created the day before Barbara Sabich died." Jim took a second to think. "It's real," said Brand. He kicked the trash can beside his desk, and the contents went flying. "It's fucking real."