Supreme Justice

Chapter Thirty

Of all the cases Mary Garrett would handle, Sarah Woodruff’s had the strangest ending. When she entered the courthouse on the third day of trial, Mary was unsure how the case was going. She wasn’t crazy about the jury, and Judge Alan Nesbit was someone she rubbed the wrong way for reasons Mary could never determine.

The Multnomah County Courthouse was a blunt, functional concrete building that had been completed in 1914 and took up the entire block between Main and Salmon and Fourth and Fifth in downtown Portland. Most of the building’s center was hollow, creating four marble corridors. When Mary and Sarah got out of the elevator on the fifth floor, a herd of reporters surged toward them. Mary looked insubstantial but her personality was Shaq-size, and she bulled through the reporters like a middle linebacker, repeating “No comment” until the courtroom door closed behind them.

Max Dietz was in a hushed conversation with Claire Bonner at the prosecution’s counsel table. When they saw Mary and Sarah, they stopped talking. Mary opened the swinging gate in the low fence that separated the spectator section from the bar of the court and stood aside to let Sarah in. She had just arranged her papers and law books on the defense counsel table when the bailiff walked over.

“The judge wants the parties in chambers right away,” the bailiff said.

“What’s up?” Mary asked the DA.

Dietz shrugged. “You know as much as I do.”

Mary followed Dietz, Bonner, and Woodruff into chambers. The first thing she noticed was the television and DVD player standing next to the judge’s desk and the presence of a court reporter. The judge looked upset. As soon as everyone was seated, Nesbit sat up straight.

“I’ve just received some disturbing information that will require me to dismiss the government’s case.”

“What are you talking about?” Dietz blurted out. “Garrett hasn’t given me any-”

Nesbit held up his hand.

“Please, Max. This has nothing to do with Ms. Garrett. When I came to work today, I found a DVD on my desk. I have no idea how it got there, but you need to see it.”

Nesbit swiveled his chair and hit PLAY. Sarah’s hand flew to her chest and she gasped. John Finley was staring at her, holding a copy of that day’s New York Times.

“My name is John Finley, and I’m sorry for the confusion my disappearance has caused. Sarah, if you’re in the room when they play this, I can’t tell you how awful I feel about everything that’s happened to you. Unfortunately, I could not reveal the fact that I am alive and well until today. I hope this proof that I am alive will end your ordeal.”

The DVD ended. Mary looked at Sarah. All the color had drained from her face. Judge Nesbit addressed the DA.

“You introduced a photograph of Finley that was seized from Miss Woodruff’s condo,” the judge said. “The man on the DVD looks exactly like him.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dietz said as he envisioned the disappearance of his career and his public humiliation.

“Please, Max. I know how unsettling this is, but you can see that I have no choice here. The man is alive. He was never murdered.”

Dietz couldn’t think of anything to say. Mary had plenty of questions, but she wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize the dismissal of the charges against her client. She turned toward Sarah and saw that anger was replacing shock. She started to say something, but Mary gripped her wrist and shook her head.

“Shall I prepare a motion to dismiss with prejudice?” Mary asked.

“No, I’d think that would be the district attorney’s job, given the circumstances,” the judge said.

Dietz stood. “I’ll have it here before lunch,” he said, not even trying to hide his anger.

Mary couldn’t blame Dietz for being upset. Everyone in the room was reeling.

“I’ll dismiss the jury,” Judge Nesbit said. “There’s no need for you to wait.”

Dietz stormed out with Claire Bonner in tow. Mary went into the courtroom and gathered up her books and papers from counsel table before leading Sarah out of court.

“That son of a bitch,” Woodruff said as soon as they’d fought their way through the reporters and were out of earshot of anyone. “I’m sorry I didn’t kill him.”

“Calm down,” Mary said. “The important thing is that you’re free and you’re not facing a death sentence.”

Woodruff stopped dead and glared at her attorney. “No, Mary, the important thing is that I’m broke from financing the defense of a case that should never have been filed, and my career and reputation have been ruined.”

“Under the circumstances, I’ll be refunding the greater part of your retainer, and the bureau should lift your suspension immediately.”

“I appreciate your generosity, but any hope I ever had of making detective is gone. The bureau will stick me in a desk job. After all this publicity, I’ll be a liability on the street.”

“The furor will die down. People forget.”

“But the bureaucracy doesn’t. Take my word for it: My days as a cop are over.”

It took most of the day to organize the files in the Woodruff case because everyone in the office wanted to know what had happened in court and everyone had a theory about John Finley’s disappearance. Around four, Mary wandered down to the lunchroom and poured a cup of coffee. Back in her office, she told the receptionist to hold her calls and closed her door.

It was nice to have peace and quiet. Mary closed her eyes. She felt good about the outcome of the case, even if she had no idea what was really going on. The big thing was that death row was no longer a possibility for Sarah Woodruff. Or so she thought.