The Burning Man

DEATH CASE

Chapter SIXTEEN.

There were no fancy decorations in the Whitaker County Circuit Court. The county could not afford them and the enny-conscious rural constituents did not p want them. They wanted justice, fast and without frills.

So, the benches for the spectators were hard, the judge's dais was unadorned and the only dashes of color were in the flags of Oregon and the Unite& States that flanked Circuit Court judge Harry Kuffel's high-backed chair.

judge Kuffel was someone you could easily picture in a bow tie, vest and bowler hat tap-dancing across a vaudeville stage. He was five six with a dancer's slender, but compact, build. He wore his gray hair slicked down 'and his mustache was neatly trimmed. Kuffel's suits were expensive and conservative, but the judge had a ready smile and tried to keep the atmos here in his p courtroom from being overly stuffy.

"The state calls Don Bosco, Your Honor," Becky O'Shay said.

As the psychologist walked to the front of the packed courtroom to take the oath, Judge Kuffel sneaked a look at the clock. It was four-thirty. In one half hour, he would recess for the night. Kuffel looked interested, but was secretly bored. He had decided how he would rule ... ... ... . J

on the defendant's motion to suppress Gary Harmon's statements to Dennis Downes hours ago.

"Will this be your last witness?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well."

Peter had been relieved when Steve Mancini volunteered to handle the pretrial motion. He knew very little about the law of confessions and was only too glad to let Mancini do the research, write the brief and examine the witnesses.

Peter barely listened while Bosco explained his academic and professional credentials and gave the court a brief outline of his duties as Director of Mental Health for the county. This testimony was strictly for the record, since Bosco was well known to the court.

Peter glanced at Gary. Poor kid. Peter had to admire him. He really tried. Mancini had told Gary to take notes when witnesses were testifying.

They had to train Gary now, so he would know how to fake it when there was a jury in the room. Peter and Steve agreed that subjecting Gary to cross-examination would lead to disaster. Since he would probably not take the stand, it was important to create the illusion that Gary was involved in his defense.

Gary had taken the note writing to heart and scribbled constantly, even though he understood little of what he heard. Peter had glanced at Gary's notes and they were gibberish. Still, he looked great writing. Very intense. Thank God or his good looks.

"Mr. Bosco," O'Shay asked, "were you summoned to the Whitaker police station on the evening of Sandra Whiley's murder?"

&(I was."

"Do you remember when you arrived?"

"Not. exactly, but I'm certain it was sometime between nine and ten."

"Where did you go when you arrived at the station?"

"Into a small room next to the room where Mr. Harmon was being questioned."

.. I'm "Could you see and hear the defendant?"

"Yes. There was a two-way mirror and an intercom that let me hear what was said."

"Was Mr. Harmon's interrogation under way when you arrived?"

"Yes.

"How much of it did you hear?"

"Several hours. Maybe five. The interrogation went on for some time."

"Did Sergeant Downes make any promises in exchange for Mr. Harmon's cooperation?"

"No."

"Did you ever hear Sergeant Downes threaten the defendant?"

"Did it sound like Mr. Harmon was being coerced into talking to Sergeant Downes?"

Bosco hesitated before answering and looked at Steve Mancini. Peter caught the look, but Mancini did not react at all.

"No," Bosco said.

Becky O'Shay checked her notes. Then, she smiled at the witness.

"No further questions."

"Mr. Mancini?" judge Kuffel asked.

"No questions."

Bosco frowned. He tilted his head slightly, as if he was attempting to signal Mancini, but Steve was absorbed in his notes. Bosco stood slowly, as if trying to give Mancini extra time to act. Mancini saw Bosco staring at him and smiled. Bosco's brow knitted, but he walked out of the courtroom. Peter noticed the psychologist's confusion and leaned over to Steve.

"Bosco hesitated when Becky asked whether Gary seemed to be coerced. I think he wanted to say something. Why didn't you follow' up?"

"I, already interviewed Bosco. He can't help us," Mancini whispered.

"Do you have any rebuttal witnesses, Mr. Mancini?"

judge Kuffel asked.

"No, sir."

"Then, we'll recess for the day and I'll hear argument in the morning."

judge Kuffel left the bench quickly and the reporters surged forward. Peter walked over to them, but Becky O'Shay intercepted him.

"Drop by my office before you leave the courthouse, she said.

Steve Mancini talked to Gary while the guards handcuffed him. Mancini patted Gary on the shoulder and said something that made Gary smile. While Peter and Becky talked to the reporters, Mancini gathered up his notes and law books.

"Becky wants to see us," Peter told Steve when he returned to the table.

"What for?"

Peter shrugged. The two attorneys hefted their briefcases and books and headed upstairs.

"What's up?" Peter asked the deputy D.A. when they were all in her office.

O'Shay handed Peter copies of a police report.

"We received this information last week, but we've been checking it out. Now that I've decided to use this witness, I'm obligated to give you his statement."

The two defense lawyers read the police report. When Mancini finished it, he shook his head and chuckled.

"You're not serious about using Kevin as a witness, are you?"

"Dead serious," Becky answered.

"Come on. You can't believe a thing Kevin says. You know he's just trying to weasel out of this federal drug bust."

"I'm sure that's what you'll argue to the jury."

"We've got a problem," Steve Mancini told Peter as soon as they were outside the courthouse. "I've got to get off Gary's case."

"Why?"

"I've got a conflict of interest. I can't represent a client if another client is going to be a key witness against him.

"What if I cross-examine Booth?"

Mancini shook his head. "If I know something about B.oath that will help Gary and I don't tell you, I'm violating my duty to Gary. But if I use confidential information I obtained from Booth to help Gary, I'm violating my duty to Booth. Even staying on as co-counsel presents the appearance of p I impro riety. I have no choice. I've got to get off the case."

"Jesus, Steve. How am I supposed to try this case alone?"

"Hey, I'm sympathetic. I feel bad about talking you into taking the case. If you don't think you can do it, you can resign.

But Peter knew that resigning was not an option. He had cut himself off from his father and quit his job. If he tried to get a position anywhere, he would receive references from Hale, Greaves and Amos Geary that would make Saddam Hussein look like a better job can I J didate. Without the Harmons' retainer he would be dead broke. A victory for Gary Harmon was his only way out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

"No, I can't let Gary down," Peter said.

Mancini clapped Peter on the back 1"That's what I wanted to hear. Besides, I have confidence in you.

You're a quick study, Peter. This criminal stuff is a cinch. This might even work out better for you in the long run. When you win, you won't have to share the credit."

The Ponderosa was on the opposite side of Whitaker from the Stallion. it catered to workingmen and solitary drinkers. Its jukebox played country and the waitresses unds to life.

were older women who had lost a few to an could get Most of the time it was a place where a in totally sloshed in peace and quiet. Occasionally, it was the scene of violent barroom brawls.

osa regulars.

Barney Pullen fit right in with the Ponder He had a beer gut, a bushy black beard and a don'truck-with-me attitude he had picked up in the Marines.

football was He liked to fish, hunt and drink beer. NFL as intellectual as he got. After the Marines, Pullen worked as a cop in Eugene, Oregon, until an incident with a suspect occurred. Pullen wasn't exactly fired, but he didn't exactly quit the force, either. The whole affair was left murky and Pullen moved to Whitaker, where he worked in his brother's body shop.

One day, Pullen was assigned the job of figuring out what caused the knocking sound that Steve Mancini heard whenever his Cadillac went over fifty. In between d pro football, Pullen mendiscussions of car engines an tioned his police background. Mancini needed an investigator with a knowledge of cars for a personal injury case and Pullen agreed to work on the case. He had done spot investigation for Mancini ever since and Peter had hired him for the Harmon case on Mancini's recommendation when the other investigators Mancini had mentioned turned out to be unavailable.

Jake Cataldo was tending bar when Pullen stepped in out of the late afternoon sun. Pullen blinked a few times and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

"Hi, Jake," Pullen said, as he hoisted himself onto a bar stool next to a couple of regulars.

Cataldo was a big man with short, curly black hair ho is ' and the pate complexion of someone w indoors during the day.

"Hi, Barney. What can I do you for?"

Pullen ordered a beer. Cataldo turned to get it for him.

"What are you doin' with yourself lately?" the bartender asked, when he placed the glass of beer in front of Pullen.

"You been reading about the girl who was murdered in the park?"

Cataldo nodded.

"I'm still working at the garage and I'm doing a little investigating for the guy who's trying the case."

"No shit? You know, that Harmon kid was in here.

the night that girl was killed. Sat right here at the bar. I served him myself."

Is Harmon a regular?"

"Not really. I mean, he's stopped in once or twice."

"Then why do you remember him?"

"He was picked up the next day for the murder. It was on the news. His picture was in the paper."

"You don't happen to remember what time he came in, do you?"

"Actually, I do. It was around eleven fifty-five."

"How do you remember that?"

"There was a Mariners game on and the damn thing wasstillgoingafterseventeen' rungs-Then Griffeyhits In this shot and the game's over. I glanced at my watch. It was eleven fifty-three, eleven fifty-four. Something like that, but not exactly midnight. That's when the Harmon kid sat down and asked for coffee. I didn't hear him, because I turned away to switch the channel. I told him to hang on. I remember that clear as day."

"How'd he look?"

"A little rocky." Cataldo shrugged. "He was quiet.

He had the coffee and something to eat. Then, he had a few drinks.When he left, he was weaving, but I thought he'd make it home okay."

"What did he eat?"

"Some biscuits and gravy."

"Biscuits and gravy?" Pullen repeated, while thinking that this wouldn't be his dish of choice if he'd just slaughtered a woman.

"Did you notice anything unusual about Harmon's clothes?"

The bartender considered the question for a moment, then shook his head.

"No blood?" Pullen asked.

Cataldo thought about that. "You see how the lighting is in here. There coulda been something I didn't see.

But I didn't notice blood."

Chapter SEVENTEEN.

Carmen Polinsky was a forty-six-year-old mother of two who was married to an accountant. For twenty years, she had been a housewife. Before that she worked in a bookstore. Nothing in her past had prepared her for a job interview for the position of assassin for the state of Oregon. This job interview was technically called "voir dire" and it denoted the process by which a jury was selected in Gary Harmon's trial.

judge Kuffel had denied the motion to suppress Gary's statements, but he had granted Peter's motion for individual voir dire ecau o the unusua nature of a death case. None of the of jurors were in the courtroom to witness Carmen Polinsky's distress when Becky O'Shay asked her if she had an attitude concerning the death penalty that would make it impossible for her to vote for a death sentence if Gary Harmon was convicted of aggravated murder. Whenever anyone mentioned the death n pe alty, Mrs. Polinsky gripped her purse so tightly that her knuckles turned white. It was obvious that she would rather be in Zaire during an Ebola outbreak than in this courtroom in Whitaker. It was equally obvious that Mrs. Polinsky would never, ever condemn anyone to death.

"To tell the truth Mrs. Polinsky started.

O'Shay leaned forward, praying that Polinsky would confess her inability to kill for the state. Normally, O'Shay would have gotten rid of her with a peremptory challenge, which can be used to excuse a juror without stating a reason, but it was near the end of the second week of jury selection and the prosecutor had used all of her peremptories. , Now, she could get rid of Mrs. Polinsky only by convincing the judge that she could not be fair to the state. "I honestly don't know," Polinsky shook her head.

she concluded.

O'Shay went at Mrs. Polinsky from a different angle.

Her job was to manipulate the woman into saying that she could never condemn someone to death. If O'Shay succeeded, it would be Peter's job to rehabilitate the woman by convincing her that she could vote to kill n, because that was the only way he would Gary Harmo be able to keep her on the jury. The absurdity of the position in which he found himself was not lost on Peter.

Mrs. Polinsky vacillated again. judge Kuffel glanced at the clock and said, "It's almost five. I'm going to stop for the day. Mrs. Polinsky, I want you to think about Ms. O'Shay's question. When we reconvene tomorrow morning, I'll expect a decisive answer from you. A 'yes' or 'no' answer. Understood?"

Mrs. Polinsky sped out of the courtroom.

"I'll see you two in chambers," the judge commanded as he left the bench. Peter gave a few words of encouragement to Gary as the guards cuffed him and led him away. While he was gathering up his paperwork, Peter noticed Becky in an animated discussion with Dennis Downes at the rear of the courtroom. Downes was nodding his head vigorously in response to something O'Shay had asked and Becky was grinning broadly.

The court reporter was not present when Peter and dge Kuffel w O'Shay walked into chambers, and Ju as puffing on a smelly cigar in violation of a no-smoking ordinance he stubbornly chose to ignore, so Peter knew the conference was off the record.

"For Christ's sake, Peter," the judge said, "let that woman off the jury."

"It's up to Becky to lay a foundation if she wants to kick her off," Peter answered stubbornly, dropping onto an overstuffed couch that stretched along a wall covered with diplomas, certificates of appreciation from community organizations and pictures of Kuffel holding up fish of various sizes.

"Be reasonable, Peter," O'Shay said. "Even if she gets on, she won't last a day. She's already a wreck and she hasn't even seen the autopsy pictures."

"You might be right," Peter answered with a condescending smile "but there's still no legal basis for excusing her. Being'nervous doesn't do it. Everyone on that jury is going to be nervous."

judge Kuffel shook his head disgust. Hale was right to fight O'Shay on this. Gary Harmon would be better off with Polinsky on the jury and O'Shay would have to give him a legal basis for kicking her off or the reluctant housewife would become one of Gary Harmon's judges.

"I have something I wanted to mention," O'Shay said. "Several weeks ago, we interviewed an inmate at the jail who claimed that the defendant confessed to him."

"Did you notify the defense?" the judge asked.

"Oh yes. Mr. Booth is awaiting trial on a serious drug charge and has a reason to try to ingratiate himself with our office, so I asked him for some corroboration for his story. We just got it."

O'Shay handed Peter and the judge a copy of a document.

"What the hell is this?" Peter asked, as soon as he scanned it.

"It's a report from the FBI laboratory in Washington, D.C. We sent them a hatchet we found in a storm drain on thewhitaker campus. It was right where Mr. Harmon told Kevin Booth he threw it after he hacked Sandra Whiley to death. The handle was wiped clean of fingerprints, but Sandra Whiley's blood and hair are on the blade." When Peter found his voice, he said, "I move to have this evidence suppressed. This is a clear violation of the discovery statutes. This should have been revealed to the defense as soon as it was discovered so we could have our own experts test the blood and hair."

O'Shay smiled sweetly atpeter. "I don't think we violated the discovery statutes. They only require the prosecution to reveal the existence of evidence we intend to introduce at trial. I had no intention of introducing this hatchet until I was certain it had some connection with this case and I did not become convinced until I read the FBI report. After all, Peter, Kevin Booth is a criminal.

We weren't sure he was telling the truth about your client's confession. Until now, that is."

"Move it, Booth," the guard commanded as Kevin Booth lathered up for the second time. "This ain't a resort." Booth thought of some choice retorts5 but he didn't dare make them to the six-fives two-hundred-and-fiftypound corrections officer who was lounging just outside the bars next to the shower. Inmates in the security block of the jail in Stark were allowed only two showers a week and these were precious moments for Booth.

rd cut off Booth's hot water A minute later, the guard doubled over laughing and and he screamed. The gua Booth choked back a "motherfucker" that surely would have led to some diabolical punishment.

"I warned you to move your ass. Now, finish up. We got other guests in this hotel."

Booth dodged in and out of the freezing water until all the soap was off. His clean clothes were in his cell at the other end of the security tank..He wrapped as much of his shivering body as he could in a towel that barely covered his Private parts and huddled his shoulders as he walked past the fags, psychos and snitches who shared the security block with him.

Booth hated his new situation. At least he had human beings to talk to in Whitaker. The security block was for prisoners who could not be allowed to live in the normal jai "I population: escape risks, homosexuals, ultraviolent prisoners and informants. Booth hated queers, was scared to death of psychos and considered himself different from the other snitches, but he was going to have to stay in this madhouse if he expected to live long enough to trade Gary Harmon's freedom for his own.

Booth's cell was long and narrow and contained a sink, a flush toilet and two bunks, but he was the sole occu i pant. As soon as the guard saw that his prisoner was inside, he closed the moving bars electronically. The guard never entered the security block unless there was an emergency.

He patrolled the long corridor on the other side of the bars occasionally, but when it was shower time, he stayed in his chair and used the controls to open and close the bars of each cell as each prisoner's turn to shower arrived.

"How you doin', Kevin?" a voice asked as Booth was getting into his underpants. Booth paused with one leg raised and looked through the bars. The prisoner who had spoken to him was a slender young man with pale skin and a blond crew cut. The only distinguishing mark on his body was a swastika tattoo on his right forearm.

Booth noticed the tattoo at the same time he noticed he milk container concealed under the prisoner's bath t I towel. The young man kept his easy smile as he tossed the contents of the milk container over Booth's naked body. Lighter fluid, Booth thought as a lighted match followed the liquid through the bars and transformed him into a human torch.

Peter ran as fast as he could along the jogging trails i in Wishing Well Park, pushing himself to exhaustion in the hope that his brain would be too busy working on his oxygen supply to concern itself with Gary Harmon. But Peter's brain would not cooperate and images of bloodencrusted hatchets dominated his thoughts.

The feds used a system for determining sentences that allowed judges almost no discretion. If he was convicted under the Federal Sentencing Guidelines, Kevin Booth would do a lot of federal time without the possibility of parole.

There was, however, a motion for reduction of sentence that the prosecutor could make if a defendant turned in someone. In cases like Booth's, this system created tremendous pressure to lie about the criminal involvement of an innocent person.

What troubled Peter was the possibility that Gary might be guilty. Gary would not state unequivocally that he did not kill Sandra Whiley. He claimed he drank so much that he did not have a clear memory for the hour or so when the murder was probably committed. Did he kill Whiley and repress the memory or was he simply lying? Peter could not believe Gary was capable of sustaining a lie for this long, but Peter had read about repressed memory. He had a hard time buying into the idea that someone could witness a murder or be sexually abused and have no memory of the event, but he knew it happened. Maybe a person with Gary's IQ was more susceptible to that kind of thing. If he had not killed Whiley, how was he able to tell Dennis Downes that the killer used a hatchet and how was he able to tell Kevin Booth where the murder weapon could be found?

There was no endorphin rush during his run and Peter reached his house depressed and exhausted. He had barely caught his breath when the phone rang.

"Mr. Hale?" a shaky voice asked.

"Gary? You sound upset. Has something happened?

Why are you calling?"

"I said I had to talk to you. I said I wanted to call my lawyer."

"That's good, Gary. You did just what I told you to do, if you were in trouble. Are you in trouble?"

"They say I burned up Kevin. I didn't burn him.

Please tell them I didn't burn him."

"Calm down, Gary. Who says you burned someone?"

"That lady lawyer and Sergeant Downes," Gary gulped in a voice close to tears.

"Are Sergeant Downes and Becky O'Shay with you?"

"Yeah.

"Put Ms. O'Shay on the phone."

There was dead air for a moment. Peter heard Gary saying something he could not make out. As soon as O'Shay took the phone, Peter said, "What's going on?

Why are you questioning Gary?"

"Kevin Booth was set on fire in his cell in the Stark O'Shay answered, her rage barely under control.

jail, "Unfortunately for your client, there was a fuck-UP.

Booth's still alive."

"You don't think Gary was involved, do you?" Peter asked incredulously. "He's not bright enough to plan something like that."

"We'll soon find out."

"How will you do that?"

"Sergeant Downes and I are going to question Gary."

"I can't let you do that. You two shouldn't be anywhere near Gary without my permission."

"This is a totally different crime, Peter. You don't represent Gary on this."

"The hell I don't," Peter said, losing his patience.

"Now, listen, Becky. I want you and Downes out of there."

"Don't tell me what to do," Becky answered angrily.

Peter did not want to upset O'Shay. He still had hopes of going out with her. But protecting Gary was crucial.

"Damn it, Becky. I'm Gary's lawyer. I can tell you what to do in this case."

"Why are you afraid to let Gary talk to us?"

"Are you nuts? You're prosecuting him. Downes arrested him. I don't want either of you within a mile of him. Now, get Gary back to his cell immediately and don't you dare ask him any questions. If I find you have, I'll move for a mistrial. You know what you're doing isn't ethical."

"I don't think you're in any position to discuss ethics, Hale."

"What ... what do you mean?"

"Do you think I believed for one moment that story about quitting Hale, Greaves to get out of the rat race?

I called a few friends in Portland. They knew all about the way you lied to judge Pruitt and lost that case for that crippled woman. You're pretty famous."

Peter felt sick. "Look, Becky he started, but O'Shay had already hung up.

Donna's doorbell rang at nine-thirty. She wondered who was calling so late. She smiled when she found Peter on her doorstep, but the smile faded as soon as she saw the expression on his face. Peter usually looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of a menswear catalog, but tonight his suit was rumpled, his tie was askew and his hair was a mess.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Everything. Where's Steve?"

"He's staying overnight in Salem. He has a business meeting there about Mountain View, tomorrow."

"Damn! That's right. I forgot." Xi "Is this about Gary? Has something happened?"

Peter nodded. "You know the inmate who's going to say Gary confessed?"

"Yes' "Another prisoner set him on fire this afternoon."

"They can't think Gary's involved."

"Becky and Downes tried to question Gary without me, but he remembered what I told him about demanding a call to his lawyer if any policeman tried to talk to him. I went down to the Jail and they backed off.

They're grasping at straws on the torching, but something else has come up.

That's what I really wanted to talk to Steve about."

"What happened?"

"They found the murder weapon and they've linked it to Gary."

"Oh no."

Donna's hand flew to her mouth. She looked stricken.

"Don't cry," Peter said when he saw Donna's shoulders start to shake. She tried to control herself, but she couldn't.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's just too much."

Peter didn't know what to do. He wanted to hold Donna, but he felt awkward. Donna was Steve's wife and this was Steve's house. He settled for handing her a handkerchief and stood red-faced while she dabbed at her eyes and tried to stop crying.

"It just seems like it's one thing after another." Then she was in Peter's arms, her body trembling as she sobbed into his shoulder. He let her lean against him, but he was afraid to hold her. He could smell Donna's hair and feel her breasts pushing against him. Peter held his breath and ended by giving her a few feeble pats on the back.

"I'm sorry," Donna managed, suddenly pulling away.

"Everything will be okay," he replied lamely.

"I've got to get ahold of myself," Donna answered, as she wiped at her eyes. Then she stopped and took Peter's hand.

"I want you to know I appreciate how hard you're working for Gary. He really trusts you."

Donna squeezed Peter's hand and held it for a moment before releasing it. Her hand felt warm and her proximity evoked in him a combination of embarrassment and sexual desire. Peter felt himself flush. They both looked down. Donna stepped back.

"Tell Steve what happened," Peter said. "I need to see him as soon as he gets back."

"I'll call him at his motel."

The Mancinis only lived a short distance from Peter and he had walked over.

It had cooled down since his run and the air was pleasant. It took a few blocks to shake off his sexual excitement and refocus on Gary's problem, but every so often Peter's thoughts would drift back to Donna.

Chapter EIGHTEEN.

"What did he say?" Earl Ridgely asked the man in the gray pinstripe suit.

"What did you expect, Mr. Ridgely?" Frank Ketchell answered. Ketchell, an investigator with the State Department of justice, was tall and gray-haired with a square jaw and bright blue eyes that wowed the ladies, but his good looks had not done him a bit of good with Elmer Maddox. After spending Saturday morning talking to the man who had set Kevin Booth on fire, Ketchell bad driven to Whitaker for this late afternoon meeting.

"Maddox thought the whole thing was a big joke. He kept cracking up when he described the way Booth hopped around and rolled on the floor while he was burning."

"Jesus," Becky O'Shay said, shaking her head with disgust.

"The only thing that upset Maddox was that the guard shoved him back in his cell before helping Booth.

They found a shiv when they searched him. I guess he was going to finish off Booth when the guard went into the cell to put out the fire."

"How did he expect to get away with this?" O'Shay asked in disbelief.

"I don't think it occurred to him. Like he said to me when I offered him a deal, "What are you gonna do if I don't cooperate? Give me more time?"

Maddox and a buddy were on a spree for over a year, running around the country knocking off banks and killing people. He's already serving three consecutive life terms in Tennessee, he's got a consecutive federal bank robbery for a job in Idaho, he's facing the death penalty for a robbery-murder in Stark and there are four other states waiting in line to get their hands on him."

"Why did he do it, then?"

Ketchell shrugged. "He's got a wife and family , in Washington State. I hear he loves his kid. Maybe someone promised to take care of them."

"Who "I've got no idea. I know you want Gary Harmon to be involved. The feds would love to hear that it was someone in the organization that Rafael Vargas works for. But I've got to tell you that there's no evidence connecting anyone other than Maddox to this right now."

"Someone smuggled in the lighter fluid and the matches."

"Oh, yeah. But Maddox could have set Booth on fire for his own amusement or for some real or imagined slight."

"How did he get the lighter fluid, matches and shiv into the security block? What kind of security do they have in Stark?" O'Shay asked.