The Guilty (39 page)

They
continued a while in silence, taking the ramp onto the Villa Maria Auto-Route, heading toward the downtown core. Things weren’t going quite the way he had hoped. Instead of convincing her to help him, he was having difficulty reaching out to her through his own anger.

He tried to soften his tone.

“Mrs. Campbell, can’t you see what this has done to the both of us? I’m at my wit’s end right now. I hardly know where to turn. And look at how you’ve been acting the past two weeks. It’s not so easy being a party to perjury, is it? Not when you have to watch supposed witnesses swear on the Bible.”

She didn’t answer, nor did she even turn her head. He only hoped she was still willing to listen to him.

“If you came to me on Friday, it wasn’t because you were happy with what you did. I think you’ve been avoiding me all this time because you were afraid you couldn’t keep the lie going. In the end that’s what happened, isn’t it?”

Still no answer, but he wasn’t going to let his temper flare again.

“You can’t feel very good about the way you suckered Pete in, either, can you? I mean, I’m an old hand at all this double-talking, right? It’s what I’ve done all my life. But Pete’s an original innocent. Even with those two phony witnesses, he still thinks Marlon didn’t shoot anybody.

“I just wish you hadn’t dragged him into all this. Like I told him, I can cover my ass. That’s second nature for me by now. But he’s up shit’s creek, if you’ll excuse my French. He knows he’s going to get disbarred for this, but I don’t know if he’s aware he’s going to jail.”

This time she did answer him.

“Nobody has to go to jail.”

“No? You don’t think they put people in jail for this kind of stunt?”

“You wouldn’t turn him in. You’d face the same thing.”

“You’re not listening. I can cover my ass. You’re
my
alibi. You kept me in the dark the whole time, and the only ones who are facing jail time for this are you and Peter.”

“So that’s what you’ve decided
! Betray my son, turn Peter and me in, all the while protecting yourself? Can you live with that?”

“I could if I had to, but that’s not my plan at all. If you’re willing to trust me the only person
who’s going to jail is Marlon.”

“But I don’t want him to go to jail. Haven’t you understood that yet?”

“Yes, I have. But I would have expected you to have other concerns for him. Aren’t you supposed to be worried about his eternal soul right about now?”

“Oh, you can mock me if you like, but I have thought of nothing but his soul and mine since the beginning. But why should I leave him to waste away in jail by himself, when we are both damned anyway?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Please, Mr. Bratt, when it comes to the law of God, you are not an authority.”

“But what happened to forgiveness? Aren’t you supposed to seek forgiveness for your sins? I learned a lot about confession when I was in Sunday school and if that’s not good for the soul…”

He let his words trail off, afraid of sounding insincere, and hoping she could see what he was getting at. She sat gazing at him quietly for several seconds, and he turned his head to look at her.

She allowed herself a small smile and said, “I was just trying to picture you in Sunday school.”

“I’m afraid it was wasted on me.”

“Perhaps not.”

Bratt wonder
ed if he was better off pushing her harder or hoping she could come to her own decision.

You never won anything waiting for the witnesses to come up with answers to their own questions,
he reminded himself.
Let’s see how much of my catechism I remember.

“If you help Marlon get away with this than you are definitely condemning his soul to hell. As much as you hate the idea of him in jail, are you willing to do that?”

“You don’t think killing those boys was enough to damn him?”

“I don’t know. He could repent, couldn’t he? Wouldn’t God forgive him if he accepted his punishment and honestly repented his crimes?”

“I can’t answer for God…but that is what I’ve always believed.”

“Well, how do you expect Marlon to seek forgiveness when he’s going to avoid responsibility for what he did? If he thinks he’s gotten away with murder, he’ll never regret anything he did.”

“That’s not necessarily so.”

“Oh, come on. Do you think that after he walks away a free man, by getting people to falsely swear
to his innocence, he’s going to turn around and honestly feel bad about everything he did? You’re still lying to yourself if you do.”

She sat quietly, seeming to take all this in, so he kept up the pressure.

“His only chance, maybe not a big chance, but the only chance he has, is to take responsibility for what he did and serve his jail sentence. Maybe then, somewhere down the road, he’ll realize how horrible what he did was, and have a chance to save his soul. He could change, you know. He wouldn’t be the first killer to find God in jail. But the way you’re acting, it’s like you don’t believe God would ever be able to forgive him. I would have thought that was a major no-no for you.”

“He would never forgive me.”

“God?”

“Marlon. If I turned him in, I’d lose my son forever.”

“You’ve already lost him. He was taken away by a cold-blooded killer, who cares as little for you as he did for those boys he shot. If he walks away free from what he did, the Marlon you’ve loved all your life will be as good as dead to you.”

She bowed her head and began crying again, not turning her face away from him this time. She pulled a tissue from an endless supply that seemed to fill her purse and wiped at her tears. She was weakened, and
it was time for Bratt to conclude his argument.

“You have a great faith in God, Mrs. Campbell. Something that you’ve shown me has been sorely lacking in my life. But you seem to have forgotten about it somehow. This is a chance for you to redeem all of us, including me. We’ve all twisted the truth beyond all recognition. I feel bad about it, and so does Peter. But we can’t set things right without your help. Marlon also needs your help, or he’ll go on living the way he has, with no chance to return to God’s grace. And for all your prayer and love of God, you’re damning yourself to hell too.

“Help me now. Help yourself at the same time, and help Marlon. After tomorrow, it’ll be too late for all of us.”

She didn’t answer, but Bratt didn’t need to hear her say anything. By the way she looked straight ahead out the windshield, trying to steel her resolve, he knew he had gotten his point across.

He headed for the nearest exit and got off the highway. They were near the eastern half of the city now, and he turned north and took the road that led to Nancy Morin’s home.

Bratt had often fantasized that his first time inside Nancy’s apartment would have been under more romantic circumstances. Now, he watched quietly as Jennifer Campbell sat alone in the small, neat living room, sipping tea, while Nancy tried to reach Francis Parent on the phone.

Bratt
had called her from his car just after they turned off the highway, and gave her a brief rundown of what had happened. She had been about to step out, but his news had stopped her in her tracks

Now he stood next to her in her kitchen as she spoke to Parent’s aged mother, with whom the prosecutor lived. She left a message that Parent should call her as soon as he came in, then hung up.

“He’s been up at the family cottage all weekend,” she said as she hung up. “When he goes up there it’s mostly to sulk, and he takes the phone off the hook.”

Bratt leaned his head back against a cupboard and rubbed his face.
This is only a minor setback,
he told himself.

“Robert, are you feeling al
l right?”

He lowered his hands and smiled at Nancy.

“Believe it or not, I feel pretty good. It’s like the weight of the world is off my shoulders. For the first time in weeks I know exactly what I want to do.”

They rejoined his client’s mother in the living room, and Nancy went and sat next to the worried-looking woman. Bratt stood over her, wondering what the next twenty-four hours was going to bring.

“We can’t reach him,” he told her. “It’s possible that you won’t get a chance to speak to him before tomorrow morning at court.”

“And, boy, won’t he be surprised,” Nancy added.

“I’ll say, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. He won’t have much time to think things through, so he’s going to have to do this my way. You’re going to have to keep a lot of what you heard here under your hat, Nancy.”

“You’re asking a lot of me, Robbie.”

“You want a conviction, you do it my way. Make sure Parent knows that too, before he starts asking too many questions. If he even gives her or Peter a dirty look I’ll see to it that she’s never allowed on the stand. I’m,
we’re
, trying to do the right thing here, but crucifying those two is not an option.”

Jennifer Campbell looked up at him, her eyes red with sadness.

“I don’t want to hurt Peter. But, I can’t fix all the lying I’ve done by adding more lies to them.”

“No, no. Don’t look at it that way. You
are
going to tell the truth, but only about what Marlon told you he did, not about getting those witnesses. There’s no reason to get yourself or Peter in trouble. He’s the one who committed the crime.”

“And what have I done?”

“You’ve acted like a mother trying to protect her son, remember? Nobody’s going to blame you for that.”

Bratt glanced over to Nancy as if for confirmation and she nodded, albeit hesitantly, and said nothing.

“But lying is what got me here in the first place. How will it help me make things right?”  

“Look, trust me on this. Everybody’s been doing what they think is best from the beginning, but nobody’s been asking my opinion. Forgive me if I sound a bit vain, but I
am
the lawyer here. And I really do know what’s the best solution for everybody. So it’s my turn to make the decisions, OK?

“You
are
going to tell the truth, but only the truth about Marlon. He’s on trial, you’re not. Your role in this scheme is irrelevant to the jury, so nobody’s going to ask you about it and you’re not going to talk about it. Please tell me that’s clear.”

She looked unsure, but finally nodded.

“I’ll do whatever you say, Mr. Bratt.”

“Very wise decision. Now, Nancy, I need you to do the right thing here. She’s been through enough. You guys don’t need to look for any scapegoats.”

“OK, I’ll keep my mouth shut. This time you get your way. And may I say that your nobility is a very attractive character trait?”

“Thanks. For now, we cross our fingers,” he looked over at Jennifer Campbell’s tired face and added, “and pray for guidance.”

On the last day of Robert Bratt’s legal career he saw his first bird of the late-arriving spring. He watched it flying overhead as he walked into his office building and thought that it must be an omen of some sort, although he had no idea what. It didn’t matter. Today was not a day for superstition or luck. It was time for practical matters, for getting his hands a little dirty, taking back control of this trial and getting things done.

Kouri was sitting alone in his office as Bratt entered. He looked up nervously, and Bratt realized he was probably st
ill wondering what was going to be done about the alibi witnesses. Bratt had considered filling him in on what he had asked Campbell to do, but finally decided against it. He wasn’t sure how the young lawyer would react, especially if he still persisted in his belief that Small was innocent.

Bratt also thought that Kouri had taken part in more than his share of shady deals in this case already, so there would be no need to involve him in this one. If things didn’t work out the way Bratt hoped, Kouri would be in enough trouble without being an accomplice to this cover-up as well.

“Happy days, Pete,” he said, without hinting that it meant something totally different for him than it did for his assistant. “After Jordan’s cross-examination today, that’ll be it for our defense.”

Kouri rose from his seat without saying a word. As they set off for the courthouse he looked relieved, yet uncertain if he should be. He maintained his silent, pensive mood as they made the short walk in a warming sunshine.

Once there they met Jordan outside the courtroom, and the young witness looked relaxed and self-assured. Bratt had no doubt that Sims had informed him about how weak a challenge Parent’s cross-examination had been, despite a court order forbidding the witnesses from discussing their testimony.

No matter,
thought Bratt.
If Francis hasn’t totally lost what balls he had, he’ll take a very different approach with this one.

He entered the courtroom to find Parent already in his seat, with Nancy sitting beside him. Nancy had obviously already filled the prosecutor in on Bratt’s plan, because Parent looked like he had strong doubts about agreeing to anything the
defense attorney had in mind.

Bratt and Kouri had just taken their seats when Judge Green and the jury entered. The jurors’ faces showed that they knew the end of the trial was near, and they would be back to their
normal lives before too long. Jordan was sworn in and Bratt’s heart beat a little faster as Parent stood up to cross-examine him.

“Mr. Jordan, isn’t it true that this alleged alibi is nothing but an invention, concocted by the accused, Marlon Small?”

Without missing a beat, Jordan replied, “Not at all, sir.”

Bratt glanced at Green and saw the judge raise one eyebrow, as if to say, “That didn’t prove much.”

Just wait and see. We’ll give you a story to remember in your retirement.

“Mr. Jordan, is it not a fact that the accused asked both you and Mr. Sims to lie to this court, by providing him with a totally false alibi?”

Again, Jordan took the accusation in stride. “No, sir.”

“Mr. Jordan, is it not true that the accused admitted his guilt for these crimes in your presence?”

“No, he never did.”

“Mr. Jordan, is it not true that you told the accused’s mother, Jennifer Campbell, that you were glad to help your friend get away with these crimes by lying to this court?”

Jordan paused slightly before answering, wondering where exactly these questions were leading. Then, once again, he said, “No, sir.”

“Mr. Jordan, is it not true that you, the accused, and Mrs. Campbell had a three-way telephone conversation in which the accused stated, and I quote, ‘I didn’t
plan to do those Phillips boys. They just shouldn’t have been there;’ end quote?”

Jordan’s eyes jumped to Kouri’s face, an expression of confusion evident at having heard this direct quotation. He took several seconds to gather his thoughts before answering and, during this time, Bratt saw the jurors perk up noticeably, as if the trial had just gotten interesting again.

“I, I never heard Mr. Small say that…sir.”

“You never heard Mrs. Campbell say in reply, ‘I pray for
all those boys every night,’ to which the accused commented, ‘It’s me you should be praying for. So that my guys can pull this off’.”

“I never had any conversations with both Mrs. Campbell and Marlon at the same time,” Jordan stated firmly.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Jordan,” Parent said, sounding truly grateful, and sat down. He looked toward Bratt and nodded almost imperceptibly. Bratt breathed a sigh of relief that the first part of his plan had been successfully completed, and stood up to address the court.

“My Lord, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The
defense rests.”

He sat back down and Kouri reached over and gave his arm a congratulatory squeeze. Bratt didn’t turn to look at him. He felt he was being a hypocrite toward his assistant, even if it was for his own good.

Parent stood up, eliciting a small look of surprise from the judge, who surely thought the final witness had been heard.

“My Lord, having heard the
defense witnesses, the Crown will be calling one witness in rebuttal.”

“Not something you forgot to put in your evidence in chief, I presume,” Green grumbled, clearly skeptical about the Crown’s strategy.

“No sir. A new witness that I only learned of this morning. And she will be called on to rebut certain statements by the last defense witness, which were not in any way foreseeable by the Crown.”

“Really? How dramatic. And just who might your rebuttal witness be?”

“The accused’s mother. Jennifer Campbell.”

The courtroom almost exploded at this announcement. Small and Kouri jumped simultaneously to their feet, and shouted in unison: “What?”

Green himself looked dumbfounded and for a few moments allowed the loud buzzing and arguing go on in the courtroom unabated. The jurors talked excitedly among themselves, like children who had just learned of the surprise visit of a favorite relative.

The two calmest people in the courtroom were Bratt and Parent. The
defense attorney ignored his client’s repeated calls to turn around and explain this sudden turn of events. He sat with his back to the prisoner’s box, suppressing the smile he felt growing on the inside. As for Parent, he seemed to be breathing easier than he had been of late, regaining his grasp on the victory that had been slipping away from him until today.

Finally, Green got over his shock and stood up, slamming his hand down on his desk.

“Everybody calm down! I want quiet or I will clear this court!”

The buzzing died down, although probably not as fast as he would have liked. The jurors turned their attention back to him, as did Parent. Kouri sat back down next to Bratt, looking confused and angry. Only Small continued standing in the prisoner’s box, keeping silent with obvious difficulty.

“Mr. Parent,” Green began, glowering at the prosecutor over his glasses, then opening his mouth to continue, seemed to lose track of what he wanted to say, and so closed it again. The anger seeped out of his face and was replaced by a look of wonder at what Parent intended to do. All he could ask was, “Really?”

“Most definitely, My Lord,” Parent answered, his confidence having returned to his voice.

“And Mr. Bratt, what do you have to say?”

Bratt stood slowly and shrugged, feigning indifference.

“I guess I’ll wait and see what he’s trying to prove.”

This obviously wasn’t good enough for Small who looked on the verge of panicking as he yelled out, “I GOTTA TALK TO MY LAWYER NOW!”

Green turned to scold him for speaking out of turn, then again his features softened.

“Yes, I’m sure you would want to. We’ll take a ten-minute recess while Mr. Parent readies his witness. Mr. Bratt, you may speak to your client there in the box once the courtroom is cleared.”

Small paced along the side
of the ten-foot long box, his cuffed hands opening and closing as if he were strangling somebody in his imagination. Once the courtroom had emptied there were only his two lawyers and a guard sitting at the end of the box left with him. The guard didn’t even try to look like he wasn’t listening to their conversation, but this was only a minor concern to the accused at that point.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Bratt shrugged again, knowing full well that his indifference would only serve to aggravate his client even further.

“They can call rebuttal evidence if it’s to answer something that came out in the
defense case and they had no way of foreseeing it beforehand.”

“But if it’s to prove an out of court statement by Marlon,” Kouri argued, “it has to be in their evidence in chief.”

“Not if they can show they never knew of this witness or that statement before now.”

“And how the hell do they know about her now,” Small demanded. “Who told them to go speak to my mom?”

Bratt considered telling him the truth, but thought Small would probably fire him on the spot. He would have been more than happy to walk away from this case, but it could have caused delays in finishing the trial and he was worried that Jennifer Campbell might lose her nerve in the meantime.

“We’ll just have to wait until she gets on the stand to see what she says about you and about showing up here today.”

“Shit! Is that all you can tell me, wait and see?”

Again Bratt shrugged, looking anything but concerned. The effect on his client was predictable.

“Fuck you,” Small hissed.

The ten-minute break stretched
out to half an hour, but Green finally got back on the bench. The jurors looked excitedly from Parent to Small. Their wide-eyed anticipation was responded to with a sullen glare from the accused.

Parent seemed to have grown several inches, he was standing so tall now, but Bratt was past the point where he needed to mock his rival’s pride. He had no problem with the prosecutor reveling in his moment of glory, as long as everything went according to plan.

The courtroom door swung open and a uniformed police officer stepped in, followed close behind by Jennifer Campbell. She walked slowly forward, focused on the witness stand to avoid accidentally making contact with her son’s eyes. Bratt thought that she looked so much older now than when he had first met her. As concerned as she had been for her son’s fate, it had been her role in the perjury that seemed to have taken its greatest toll on her. 

She stepped through the small opening in the witness box and positioned herself in front of the Bible that rested on the counter in front of her, gazing at it with a mixture of sadness and affection.

When she was sworn in, her voice was so low that Parent had to ask her to speak up, and he did so with great gentleness, like she was a fragile crystal.

“Mrs. Campbell. Are you Marlon Small’s mother?”

She swallowed before answering, this admission clearly difficult for her now, and kept her eyes only on the prosecutor as she spoke.

“Yes. I am.”

“You are aware of what he was accused of last summer?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you know he claims to have been in a park in LaSalle, playing basketball, at the time of the shootings in Little Burgundy?”

“I was aware of that.”

“Do you know anybody who was willing to place him in the park that night?”

“Yes, two boys. Vernon Sims and Everton Jordan.”

“And how did you first find out about them?”

She stretched a little and looked at the judge now, her head held high.

“Marlon asked me to call them, to see if they would be willing to be his alibi witnesses. Actually, he asked me to speak to several people, to see who would make the best witnesses.”

Bratt squirmed in his seat. He saw that she was on the borderline of admitting her own participation in the perjury plot and hoped that she hadn’t decided to punish herself too, after all.

“And these were people who were with him in the park on the night of June 14, 1999?”

Now, for the first time since she had entered the courtroom, she turned and looked at her son, who sat staring back at her in disbelief.

“Not at all. My son…my son told me he was never in the park that night. He asked me to help him find at least two people who could testify convincingly that he was. But it was a lie.”

Aw, shit,
Bratt thought.
Why’d she have to go and do that to herself? She just had to be a martyr.

Even Parent seemed unprepared for her admission of complicity and he took several seconds to gather his thoughts.