Jury of One

55

The guard bolted Alex’s cuffs onto the table. Shelly realized that she could no longer remember what Alex used to look like before everything went south for him, the radiance in his expression, the gentleness in his manner, the humor. She moved to him and kissed him on the cheek. It brought a measure of life to his face.

“How you holding up, kiddo?” she asked.

He nodded. He was a bit disarmed, she could see.

“You know about the F.B.I. bust?”

He nodded. Shelly showed him the list of names of the people arrested. “Do you know any of these people?”

Alex directed his focus on the sheet with an intensity she had not seen in him before. He sat back. “No.”

“You seem relieved.”

“I thought the guys at McHenry Stern would go down.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about that. “The guys you supplied at work.”

“Yeah.”

That made sense, perhaps, that the F.B.I. left them alone. First, because they hadn’t arrested-and wouldn’t be arresting-Alex, which could lead to some sticky cross-examinations at trial. Second, because these guys were buying three to five ounces a week, which was far beneath what normally interested federal agents. They might, on the other hand, refer the case to the state prosecutors.

“I don’t know any of those folks on this list,” Alex said.

“Okay.” That might or might not be okay. Shelly might well prefer that Alex was on a first-name basis with all of the crooked cops and gangbangers. “So listen, Alex. We have ten days until trial. We’ve got two different theories we’ve talked about. We have to make a call. At least between us, we do. I might be able to play some games up there, but we have to be straight what we’re doing.”

His chest heaved. “Okay, so what do you think?”

She had taken the seat nearest him. How was this for an icebreaker? “I know that Ronnie is my son and not you.”

His mouth opened.

“Don’t-please, Alex. Just don’t deny it, okay? I saw it for myself.” She focused on the table and kept talking, to take the spotlight off Alex while she exposed his undeniable dishonesty. “You had your reasons, I assume. You wanted me fully invested in this case. But I still am. I’ll do anything I can for you. I would have all along, by the way. But anyway. That’s done. So let’s put that behind us. Okay?”

She saw the pain in Alex’s face, saw him begin to burst forth with a string of apologies that were probably near the surface for a long while. He spent the next ten minutes apologizing and explaining. Shelly had already forgiven him and repeatedly assured him of that fact.

Finally, if for no other reason than time being short, she slapped her hand on the table. “Apology accepted. Let’s move on.” She looked at him. “Ready to move on?”

He laughed.

“This next part isn’t quite as funny. If we claim that you’re innocent-that you didn’t do it-then we have to play this game. I was in here before, saying it was the Cannibals. You say no, and that handcuffs me. I have to give them someone, right? The jury has to have some reason to think that someone else was in that alley.”

His face hardened. He was following the map now.

“No,” he said.

“Ronnie was there, Alex. I know it and I can’t shake out my mind and suddenly not know it. I know he was there, as sure as I’m sitting here.”

“No. Shelly, no.”

“Alex, you have to hear me out. You have to hear me out or I have to withdraw as your lawyer.”

That seemed to get his attention.

“I have a conflict now. I think someone else could be responsible, but that someone is related to me. So the only way I can be your lawyer is if you say it’s okay. You have to let me tell you everything I think, and then we have to talk about it. So just shut up, okay?”

Alex folded his arms, fuming.

“I think Ronnie was there. I think after the shooting, you ran to his car, and after you drove away, you switched clothes. You switched clothes so the incriminating evidence wouldn’t be on you. The blood. The gunpowder. Ronnie took your clothes, and the gun, and he drove somewhere and dumped them. That’s why the cops never found the murder weapon. Or your hat or coat, for that matter. You were wearing Ronnie’s leather jacket when you were caught.”

She could see, from the sheepish look on his face, that she was right.

“He left you behind because you were already made. Sanchez knew you. So this was the best he could do.”

“That’s crazy,” Alex said halfheartedly.

“You hurt your knee that night,” she said. “You fell and hurt your knee. You could hardly move right after. That’s how Miroballi was able to catch you. And there’s no way you could have gotten half a mile away with the city police descending on the scene. Unless Ronnie had driven you.”

She could see Alex’s mind race. He seemed unable to concede. “Well, if we were switching clothes and all that to hide the stuff on me, that means I shot him.”

“Yes, it does. Or I’m missing something. But remember what I said, Alex. I don’t have to prove anything. If I can put Ronnie at the scene, it might be enough for reasonable doubt.” She ticked off the points. “Two boys in the alley. No murder weapon to be found anywhere. You were tested for the presence of gunpowder residue and it was inconclusive. So why is it any more likely that it was you than Ronnie? That might be reasonable doubt right there. Especially if I can add more to the story, which I can.” She dropped her hands on the table. “We’ve seen Ronnie on the west side, Alex. We’ve seen him with Eddie Todavia. I don’t think they were getting together to play bingo.”

“Bullshit.”

“Which means, at a minimum, that he was selling drugs. It might also mean that he’s working with the Cannibals. Let me finish,” she said as he began to protest. “So take that, and take Officer Sanchez’s belief that you were a snitch for Miroballi who had tipped off the Cannibals and, to me, that just means that you confided in Ronnie what you were doing. And he told the Cannibals.” She held up her hands. “Or something like that. I don’t know and I don’t have to connect every dot. I just have to come close and it’s over, I think.”

Alex had been shaking his head. “You’re wrong and I won’t agree to that. I’ll say it differently at trial. I’ll contradict that. How many times do I have to tell you that I shot the guy? I did it. If you put Ronnie there, you just take him down with me. They’ll say he was an accessory, right?”

She tapped the table. “Alex, you have to agree that you want me as your lawyer, even though I suspect another boy who happens to be my son.”

“I want you to be my lawyer if you don’t say he did it.”

“That’s a different subject. Are you willing to waive the conflict?”

“Whatever. Yeah. I don’t care about that. Because he had nothing to do with this, Shelly.”

She sat back in her chair.

“Someone’s gotta take care of Angela,” he said.

Oh. That hadn’t occurred to her. Alex might have figured that his goose was cooked-they’d nail him for something; he’d have to do at least some time in jail-and he could trust Ronnie to watch out for little Angela. But if Ronnie went down, too, there’d be no one to help Mary Ellen raise the child.

So that was it. Sure.

“You gotta agree that you won’t say anything like that at trial, Shelly. That you won’t make Ronnie out to be the bad guy.”

She thought it through as objectively as she could-making the case in her mind that self-defense was preferable to pointing the finger at Ronnie. Alex would sabotage any attempt by her to implicate Ronnie. She could make all the suggestions she wanted at trial, but Alex would insist, as he had just said, on testifying, and he would take the fall. In the end, Shelly would have hurt her credibility with a confused jury.

It wouldn’t work. That door was closed to her.

And self-defense appeared to be wide open. Talk about a ripe moment to be accusing a cop of narcotics trafficking and fear of the F.B.I. catching him! She thought of yesterday’s media coverage of the drug sting. Today’s follow-up. It was all over the news. She couldn’t have scripted it better. In truth, she had scripted it somewhat; she always had planned on this, but she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the news coverage.

Dan Morphew would do his best to exclude jurors who had read about the F.B.I. sting. But good luck finding twelve people who hadn’t heard. He would be stuck with their lame promises of keeping an open mind and not being influenced. That was fine. The point was, when she came at them talking about dirty cops selling drugs, they’d be nodding their heads. She would put the indicted cops on the witness stand, the F.B.I. agent, the federal prosecutor, and Alex would ride a wave of anti-police sentiment to an acquittal.

Yes. She could feel it now. It made sense. She felt a flood of relief. There would be nothing to gain by putting Ronnie at the scene, so she wouldn’t. He would be irrelevant to this case. This would be the same thing it always was. A case of self-defense.

“Alex, I do need something from you,” she said. “All of this that we’ve discussed about Ronnie. You can’t talk to him about it.” She pointed upward. “They can listen in. You’ll be tipping them off.”

He looked up, then around the room. “Right.”

“The part about Ronnie being my son-I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that, either. For the same reason. But it’s more selfish on my part. I’d rather do that on my own terms.”

“He doesn’t know you know.”

“Not at this point. I’d like to handle that in the-”

He waved her off. “Do whatever. I won’t say anything. I won’t embarrass you like that, Shelly. I never would. I’m-I’m really sorry I lied about that. I was scared, you know?”

She put a hand on his. “I know. Forget about it.” She removed some files from her bag. “Now we have a lot to go over. So let’s get started.”