The Borzoi Killings

21.

Richie Lupo’s office was sprawling. Located in a drab two-story municipal building constructed almost entirely of brown cinderblocks in the outskirts of Riverhead, it overlooked a high school football field with deep ruts in the brown grass. In contrast to the drabness of the other offices in the building, the office of the District Attorney of Suffolk County had wood-paneled walls, bookcases, a credenza filled with law books, and Richie’s many trophies and memorabilia on every available surface except his desk, which was completely clear.

Raquel Rematti, who always tried to meet the head of every prosecuting office she dealt with, recognized from the first handshake that Richie didn’t like her. He did little to conceal the contempt he wanted to convey for a lawyer who had a storied career. In Richie’s domain in Suffolk County he barely tolerated outsiders who came in to represent clients, and Raquel Rematti was a special outsider. Raquel, for her part, wasn’t going to let the hostility bother her. This visit was not about her; she had a reason to be there.

“Thanks for letting me see you, Mr. Lupo. And Margaret, it’s good to see you again, outside of the courtroom.”

Glancing first at Margaret Harding and then at Raquel, Lupo said, “Ms. Rematti, what can we do for you?”

“You can help me save a man’s life.”

Riche Lupo glanced again at Margaret Harding, as though looking for guidance in how to deal with this woman. “Help me understand,” he said to Raquel. “You’ve lost me already.”

“I went to visit my client last Friday.”

“Which client is that?”

“I only have one client out here at the moment, Mr. Lupo. That’s Mr. Suarez.”

“What do you want to tell me about Mr. Suarez?”

“When I saw him last Friday his face was bruised and he had a stab wound in his back.”

“He’s gotten proper medical care, hasn’t he?”

Raquel wasn’t surprised that Riche Lupo already knew about the attack. She said, “His medical care is not my major concern. He’s young and strong. He’ll survive the bruises and wounds. But obviously his life is in jeopardy.”

“How so? Did he tell you that?”

“Not at all. Mr. Suarez is a stoic. He said very little, but it’s clear, isn’t it, that he didn’t slip and fall in the shower.”

“You know, Ms. Rematti, I got an incident report from the prison.” He touched a piece of paper on his desk and glanced at it as though checking a sentence. Richie Lupo said, “He seems to have attacked another prisoner, unprovoked, and that prisoner was severely injured.”

With an unexpected edge of anger in her voice, she said, “It didn’t happen that way. People with stab wounds in their backs generally aren’t the attackers.”

“Is that right? I should believe one Juan Suarez, if that’s his name, and not three prison guards who filed the incident report? Now why in God’s name should I do that?”

“What you should do, Mr. Lupo, is take whatever steps you need to take to protect my client’s life.”

“Take steps? I don’t know what happens in other parts of the country, Ms. Rematti, but in this part of the world the DA’s office has absolutely no control over prison security. That’s all up to the prison. I’m sure you know that. Pigs will fly before the prison listens to me.”

“Look, I want to avoid taking this to the judge. You know as well as I do that all you have to do is pick up the phone and the prison will do much more to protect him. The judge doesn’t want a dead defendant on her hands.”

“Go to the judge, Ms. Rematti, be my guest, and she’ll give you exactly the same answer I’m giving you-the prisons make their own rules and do what they feel they need to do to create a secure environment. Secure, that is, for the guards, the other inmates and, last on the scale of priorities, your client.”

“I don’t think she has that narrow a view of the scope of her powers.”

“You know what, Ms. Rematti? I think I know the judge far better than you do. She and I went to law school together at Hofstra. I can’t stop you from asking her to get what you think your client deserves. In fact, your client should have thanked his lucky stars that he was able to get around the prison for work and exercise and meals. They’ve been pretty lenient toward him. If I had anything to say about it, he’d be in lockdown twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Which is where he is now, and he may stay there for good. That should protect him.”

“Somebody tried to kill him, sir. I see jails that are more humane in Alabama.”

Richie Lupo was staring at Margaret Harding as though looking for her to express admiration for him, for his bravery in challenging the legendary Raquel Rematti. “I don’t know anything, Ms. Rematti, about jails in Alabama. This isn’t Alabama. It’s Suffolk County.”

The words that formed in Raquel’s mind were distinct-You’re an asshole, Richie Lupo-but years of self-discipline suppressed the words. Finally she said, “Mr. Lupo, I can have the New York Times and CNN here in ten seconds to hear about the attempt to kill my client and the fact that the guards, after turning their backs on the assault, then filed a false report. They intervened only after Mr. Suarez got the upper hand.”

Richie Lupo was now angry. He leaned toward her. “Bring them out, Ms. Rematti. You know what? I don’t give a flying fuck what they say. As I said, this is Suffolk County. I like it fine here. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want to go anywhere. Anderson Cooper can piss all over me. I win elections, he doesn’t.”

Raquel too was angry. She was almost startled by Richie Lupo’s rant. In her career she’d had many tense and acrimonious encounters with prosecutors-after all, this business was not for the faint at heart-but there was something outside the pale, off-the-reservation, about Richie Lupo, who resembled Mitt Romney but spoke like Rush Limbaugh. Was he, she wondered, putting on an act for the very attractive Margaret Harding? Was he crazy? “I get the complete picture now, Mr. Lupo.” She stood up. “I’m going back to planet earth.”

As Raquel left the room, she heard Richie Lupo and Margaret Harding laugh. It was loud and derisive laughter.