The Sleeping Beauty Killer

39

Laurie rang the bell of Janice Marwood’s office. When no one answered, she opened the door and stepped in. This is an office, she thought. At a glance she could see that the space had probably served as a family home in the early twentieth century. On her left, what used to be the living room was now a reception area with several chairs and a table with magazines.

What was missing was any sign of life-not a person in sight.

“Hello?” Laurie called out, as she stepped into the reception area. She heard footsteps coming down the hall.

A woman emerged from the back of the house, a jar of peanut butter in one hand, a spoon in the other. “I’m here-Oh.”

Oh, Laurie thought. She introduced herself even though she strongly suspected from the woman’s reaction that she already knew who she was. “I’ve called a few times on behalf of Casey Carter.”

Marwood finished swallowing the lump of peanut butter in her mouth and freed her hands for a quick shake. “Sorry, I’m juggling a ton of cases right now. I swear I was going to call you today, come hell or high water.”

Laurie didn’t believe it for a second. “Did you get the waiver we faxed over? I’m eager to talk to you. We start production in two days.” Faxed over in this context meant faxed, emailed, and sent certified mail. Called a few times translated to daily phone messages. And yet Laurie had not heard one word from Casey’s trial lawyer. “The courthouse doesn’t allow cameras inside, but we have permits to film out front. Or we’d be happy to do it here if that’s more convenient. Most of all, I’d love to pick your thoughts. It’s been fifteen years, and Casey has never wavered once about her innocence.”

Janice worked her jaw as if she were still eating. “Yeah, about that. It’s Casey’s right to forgo attorney-client privilege, but I’ve looked into the issue of whether I’m obliged to participate in a television show against my own desires. The answer is no.”

Laurie had imagined multiple scenes that might have played out when she arrived at Janice’s office, but this hadn’t been one of them. “You owe a duty of loyalty to your client. She spent a good part of her life in prison and is now desperate to clear her name. You’re supposed to be her advocate. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand the conflict here.”

“My job is-was-to fight for her at trial. And on appeal. But the litigation is over. I’m not some reality TV star. It’s not my job to appear on camera.”

“Casey signed the papers.”

“That’s fine, but she can’t order me to talk to you any more than she can tell me where to go to dinner tonight. I did pull her case files from storage. She has every right to those materials. And she’s welcome to call me for any type of consult she’d like. But as far as your show goes, I won’t be participating.”

Once again, Laurie found herself wishing that she had Alex by her side. She had assumed that Casey’s lawyer would at least feign an interest in taking up the gauntlet on her former client’s behalf, but now that Marwood was resisting, Laurie had no authority to contradict her. Before she even realized what was happening, the attorney was walking her across the foyer into a room with a conference table, where two banker boxes marked “C Carter” were waiting on the table.

“What would have happened to these if I hadn’t driven up from the city today?” Laurie asked.

“Like I said, I was about to call you. FedEx would have picked them up in the morning.”

Once again, Laurie didn’t believe a word she was saying. “During the trial, someone was trolling Casey with negative comments online. Did you ever look into that?”

“Everything I have is in the files.”

“One of the jurors was even told by his daughter about a comment claiming that Casey confessed. He reported it to the judge. Why didn’t you ask for a mistrial?”

She pushed one of the boxes in Laurie’s direction. “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t owe you any explanations about trial strategy. Now do you need help taking these boxes with you? Because that’s all I have to offer.”

Alex had graded Janice Marwood as a C-minus lawyer, but Laurie wanted to give her a giant F.

When she walked outside, file boxes in tow, she could see her father in the rental car, fingertips tapping against the steering wheel. She suspected he was listening to the sixties channel, his favorite station on satellite radio.

He popped the trunk when he spotted her and hopped out to help. “Looks like that went well,” he said, grabbing one of the boxes.

“Not at all,” she said. She had no proof, but found herself wondering whether Hunter’s father could have gotten to Casey’s own lawyer.