Jury of One

39

Alex Baniewicz looked relieved upon seeing Shelly. Relieved but haggard, his many weeks in pretrial detention obviously showing their wear. In the seven days since she had seen him, Alex had lost weight that he could not afford to lose, which added a pronouncement to his eyes and nose. His hair was flat, probably owing to the hardness of the water-and to the fact that Alex probably took few, and very short, showers for obvious reasons. Shelly’s first impression, whenever she arrived to visit, was always the same-an utter helplessness, the knowledge that even if she could get him off these charges somehow, she could not spring him right now. Over forty days still remained until trial, and a smart attorney might ask for more time, waive the right to a speedy trial and take more time to investigate. For strategic reasons, she was unwilling to do so. She felt that a quick trial worked to her advantage. Yet she had to concede that another reason to speed things along was the fact that she had serious doubts that Alex could survive an extended term incarcerated.

Her second impression, always, was that she was going to lose this case, and he was going to end up incarcerated anyway. She had theories. She would tell a story that would be supportable, but at the end of the day, a police officer was shot and there was no particularly strong evidence-that she had seen so far, at least-to justify that act. She thought she had a decent chance of beating the death penalty and maybe even getting a reduction down from murder in the first degree, but outright victory seemed so far from her reach at the moment that it was hard to even consider. And yet that was all that she was doing, looking for the smoking gun or the magical piece of evidence that would irretrievably alter the course of this case.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, which was an interesting reversal of roles.

Shelly sat in the chair next to Alex’s chained position at the edge of the table. She did not hug him or even touch him. The rules of contact, since the change in their relationship from friends to mother-son, had not been defined. “How are you doing?” she asked. She knew how she would answer that question.

“Hanging in there,” he said. His voice was weak. His expression indicated exactly what she had feared-hardened features, lifeless eyes. Alex was apparently no more optimistic than Shelly about his future.

“Alex, I think it’s time for us to stop dancing. I’ve been afraid to ask you some questions, and you have been unwilling, for some reason, to be straight with me.”

“I haven’t been straight with you?” he asked.

She tapped the table lightly. “Alex, you have to understand that I am your lawyer first. And as your lawyer, I don’t judge. I simply look out for your best interests. If you’ve done something you’re ashamed of, or you wouldn’t want anyone to know, you still can tell me. I don’t care. But I-”

“Shelly, come on. Cut to it.” Alex seemed to lack the energy for speeches.

Fair enough. “I think there is more to the story than you’ve been telling me. I think someone else was there with you that night. I think maybe someone else pulled the trigger, even. And I want to know why you won’t tell me about it.”

“Oh, Christ.” He looked away with a pained expression.

“Are you a Cannibal, Alex?”

He dropped his head and made a noise that could indicate laughter or a punch to the gut. “A Cannibal, Shelly? Do I look Mexican-”

“Cut the shit, Alex. You know what I mean. Were you working with them? Do they have something to-”

“No!” His voice cracked. “Jesus Christ, Shelly, a Can? Are you out of your freaking mind?”

“You sell drugs,” she said calmly. “You travel to the west side to get your stuff. That’s the Cans’ turf. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that your supplier, Todavia, is a Cannibal. And I can find that much out without your help. So it makes me think, hey, maybe the Cans sunk their claws into you.”

Alex shook his head.

“You said Miroballi found out about you from Todo. You said that, Alex.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So if Todavia is a Cannibal-and I’ll bet my life he is-that means there’s a connection. And Miroballi knew about it.”

“So? So the fuck what, Shelly!” She recognized the look on Alex’s face. She had seen it a hundred times. It was the expression of a boy in a corner, out of smart ideas.

“Miroballi’s partner said that Miroballi was looking to make a name for himself. He said Miroballi wanted to make a bust on the Cannibals’ turf. And he was using you to do it. He was using you to get at them.”

“Me.” Alex grunted a pained laugh. He was going with the obvious response-he was a white kid from the white part of town, a small-time dealer not working the streets. What in the hell use could he be to a cop taking down a drug empire on the west side?

And no, she didn’t have a response for that, exactly. Miroballi could use Todavia to get at the Cannibals, but he already had Todo-he didn’t need Alex for that. She was missing a piece of the puzzle. But that didn’t make her wrong.

“Miroballi’s partner-Sanchez-he says Miroballi was worried that you had tipped off the Cannibals. And I’m thinking, maybe the Cannibals did know about Miroballi’s plan to go after them on his own. So they took him down, Alex. Not you. But you’re afraid to give them up. You think they’ll hurt your family. They’ll hurt Angela. And I’m here to tell you, I won’t ever let that happen.”

“Oh, good.” Alex clapped his hands together. “I tell you, Shelly, I had my doubts, but now that you make that promise, I tell you, I don’t have a care in the world.” He fixed on her. “I really hope you can come up with something better than that. Really, I’m willing to go with something that works. But that is the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You make me guess, Alex, I’m going to guess. You want me to keep shooting in the dark? Keep me there, and I’ll keep shooting. I’ll probably miss. Hey, it’s only your life.”

Alex grabbed at his hair with both hands, squeezed his eyes shut. She was being hard on him but she felt she had no choice.

“Alex, understand that you have control here, not me. If you don’t like what I’m going to say in court, you can fire me. I can’t force a defense on you. Tell me the truth and I’ll tell you what I intend to do. If you don’t like it, fire me. And I’ll keep what you say confidential, either way. Get what I’m saying? There’s no down side to telling me the truth.”

Alex appeared to be on the verge of losing his composure, but he slowly deflated and lowered his hands. “Don’t ever talk about the Cannibals again,” he said. “They don’t have anything to do with this. You start nosing around there and you will get my family in danger.”

“Tell me who shot Miroballi, Alex.”

“Why, Shelly-why in the hell don’t you think it was me?”

“The gunpowder residue test was negative.”

“You said that doesn’t prove I didn’t shoot the gun.”

“It doesn’t prove you did, either.”

“I shot him,” he said. “I shot him I shot him I shot him.” He patted his chest. “Want me to announce it to the whole city?” He dropped a finger on the table. “Stick with that, okay, Shelly? Okay, lawyer? Stick with that and figure out this fucking self-defense plan. I wasn’t this guy’s snitch. This guy wasn’t some crusader. This guy was a scumbag and I will swear on my mother’s grave”-he stopped on that comment, glanced away from Shelly-“I will swear that this guy was going to take my head off if I didn’t do it first. Or just-” He turned away from her. “Or just walk away and forget the whole thing.”

Walk away again, he meant. And she certainly had no response to that.