The Wrong Man

101

Deidre Maley and I waited on the top floor of the Boyd Center at the reception area. Tom Stoller came walking down a hallway, unescorted for the first time in about a year, holding a small bag of personal possessions.

He looked at each of us briefly before his gaze went beyond us. That was Tom. Maybe it wouldn’t be someday.

The day after the bombing, Judge Nash declared a mistrial in the matter of State v. Thomas Stoller. Two days later, Wendy Kotowski called me with the news that the county attorney would not re-try Tom Stoller for the murder of Kathy Rubinkowski and was dismissing the case with prejudice. Randall Manning was dead, but there was more than sufficient evidence to suggest that Kathy Rubinkowski had uncovered evidence of the terrorist plot and had died because of it.

The media, hungry for any angles they could find on the December 7 events, had taken up Tom’s cause. He was featured on cable news programs and even 60 Minutes. He was headed now for a private home that would give him the care he’d needed since he left Iraq. We hoped it wouldn’t be long before it was outpatient care, so he wouldn’t have to spend his life in some institution. For now, all that mattered was that things were finally starting to look up for the guy.

We took the elevator down together and stopped in the lobby. Deidre was going to drive Tom to the facility now, and I was heading back to the office.

Deidre had been on the verge of breaking down all morning, since she first saw me. Apparently she wasn’t good with good-byes. I wasn’t, either, which was why I had made plans with Deidre to have lunch next week at Tom’s facility. It wasn’t good-bye. It was see you next week.

“Well, we did it,” I said, clapping my hands together. I put out my hand for Tom. “Lieutenant-”

Tom came forward and wrapped his arms around me tightly. I didn’t really know how to respond. This wasn’t how it usually worked with us. Deidre, who by now had turned on the waterworks, joined us and made it a three-person hug. It had been a pretty bumpy ride, no doubt, and Tom had defied some pretty serious odds.

Finally, Tom released me. He stepped back, nodded without looking at me, and walked away. Deidre kissed my cheek, said, “See you next week,” and followed after him.