Unintended Consequences (16 page)

“Well, then, it seems to me you have a basis for attorney misconduct, but that’s not the motion before me.”

“I’ll be filing an application for a writ of habeas corpus with the district court, but with execution scheduled for only three weeks away, you can appreciate the urgency of finding out just who’s buried in that grave. If it’s not Angelina Calhoun, then—well, the implications are obvious.”

Landry stood up. “Your Honor, if I may. There are so many holes in this motion, it’s leaking water all over the floor. And the mess can be mopped up with a single word:
laches.
”

It was the argument Dani expected.
It was based on the concept that fairness dictated that people shouldn’t be allowed to procrastinate in asserting their rights. She had prepared for that claim. “Your Honor. Laches only applies when an adverse party has been prejudiced. The state can hardly claim that they’ve been hurt by the delay. They have no vested interest in seeing an innocent man put to death.”

Landry quickly responded. “The state certainly does have an interest in finality. The Supreme Court has recognized that interest. The defendant had ample opportunity to ask that this body be exhumed and the child’s DNA tested. Seventeen years of opportunity. This motion is nothing but a delaying tactic while they attempt to convince the federal courts to undo his conviction. An attempt I’m sure will be as unsuccessful as his previous appeals.”

Dani started to speak, but Judge Edwards held up his hand. “Ms. Trumball, I’m sure your motion is well-meaning, but I have to agree with the state here. Your client should have spoken up at his trial.”

“But Your Honor—”

“I know what you’re going to say. I told you I read your papers. He was afraid his daughter wouldn’t get the medical care she needed if he spoke up. Frankly, I find that story to be highly incredible. Motion denied,” he said and called the next case.

Although disappointed, Dani was neither surprised nor discouraged. She’d already prepared an appeal in anticipation of this ruling. She just needed Judge Edwards’s written order to append to her papers and she’d be ready to file.

“Do you believe that guy?” Melanie fumed as they walked out of the courtroom. “He barely let you say a word. It didn’t matter what you were going to say—he’d already made up his mind.”

“I knew it was a long shot with this judge. He has a reputation for being tough on crime. He’s up for election next year and probably doesn’t want to be known as the man who helped George Calhoun get out of prison.”

“But the only way his ruling would get George out of prison is if it turns out the body isn’t his daughter. How could setting an innocent man free hurt the judge?”

They didn’t teach young lawyers about courtroom politics. Melanie still held the notion that justice was the guiding principle for all officers of the court. She needed to toughen up and come to terms with the real world. “Look, it’s all about winning for everyone. The prosecuting attorney wants to win a conviction. She’ll convince herself that weak evidence shouldn’t stand in the way of removing criminals from the street. Maybe she’ll hold back something that might help the defense even though she knows she shouldn’t. Maybe she’ll coach a witness whose memory isn’t the best with what to say. The defense counsel convinces himself that the Constitution requires due process for even the lowest scum, and the Supreme Court has said that includes the right to adequate counsel. So he’ll use just as many backhanded tactics to win an acquittal and assuage his conscience by believing he’s upholding the Constitution. The judge wants to win reelection, so she’ll choose to play it safe. Don’t get me wrong. There are great judges, prosecutors, and defense attorneys committed to performing their roles with integrity and passion. But you have to realize there are too many of the other kind as well.”

“Okay. So assume this judge wants to play it safe. I still don’t see how ordering exhumation is risky.”

“Let’s say he ordered the exhumation, and the DNA test comes back proving she’s Angelina Calhoun. Now the press is all over him for allowing this horrible murderer another chance, for delaying the justice they’ve all been waiting for. Edwards is a coward. He doesn’t want to risk looking like he favors defendants. He knows we’ll appeal, and if he’s right in denying the order, it proves how smart he is. And if he’s overturned, well, then, townsfolk can feel comfortable that he’s a tough judge.”

Melanie shook her head. Dani knew how she felt: disgusted. She had experienced it many times, both as a prosecutor in the US Attorney’s Office and working at HIPP. Law school didn’t prepare hopeful attorneys for the vagaries of judicial decision. The study of law was devoid of politics, of pettiness, of bad judges and incompetent attorneys. There was a purity to the study of law that Dani loved. Over the years, she’d come to terms with the messiness in the real-life practice of law.

They headed to Judge Edwards’s office. A young woman sat at a desk outside his chambers. Dani handed her a business card. “Good morning. We just came from Judge Edwards’s courtroom on the
People v. George Calhoun
case. I’d like to make sure we get a copy of the judge’s decision as quickly as possible.”

The young woman looked at the card. “I’m sure everyone wants the decision as soon as possible. It usually takes about a week, sometimes longer, depending on his calendar.”

Secretaries were the gatekeepers. If this one weren’t on Dani’s side, she could delay typing up a decision out of spite. “I appreciate how busy everyone is. But my client is facing execution in three weeks. For a crime we don’t believe he committed.”

The young woman stared at her and sighed. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are an angel of mercy,” Dani said and thanked her.

“What now?” Melanie asked as they left the clerk’s office.

“Now we pray Tommy comes up with something.”

C
HAPTER

17

I
t seemed as if the rain would never stop. Six days in a row of nonstop showers made Sunny feel as if she were lost at sea, with nothing but water wherever she looked and no hope of rescue. Six days of putting together puzzles with Rachel, six days of reading
Goodnight Moon
over and over, six days of watching
Dora the Explorer
on the television. She thought she would lose her mind. Eric didn’t understand. He’d come home exhausted in the evening and think Sunny’s life was a breeze, taking care of a three-year-old her only responsibility. He didn’t even demand dinner when he came home: Takeout from the Chinese restaurant or pizza parlor worked as well as a home-cooked meal. Nor did he mind when she hadn’t tidied the apartment, Rachel’s toys strewn all over the living-room floor and the laundry still waiting to be folded.

Stuck inside the apartment day after day made her feel trapped. Eric promised they’d move away from New York when he finished his residency. Sunny hoped it would be closer to her mother. She loathed being so far from her. She wondered whether Rachel would remember her life in New York City—the noise, the smell, the crowds. She recalled so little of her own childhood. Her first real memory was from when she was six and entering first grade. When she attempted to conjure up earlier events, she’d felt a strange uneasiness, so she’d stopped trying.

“Mommy, I’m bored.”

Even her sweet-natured angel had turned whiny after six days of being cooped up.

“I know, Rachel. I think tomorrow the sun will be back and we can go to the park then. I bet Billy will be there.”

“But I’m bored now.”

Sunny understood boredom. It was her daily companion.

Eric heard the telephone ring first. He often received calls in the middle of the night and, despite his natural tendency to be a heavy sleeper, had trained himself to awaken quickly at that familiar sound. Expecting the hospital to be on the other end, he answered briskly, “Dr. Bergman.” Sunny, finely attuned to the cries of a child, had learned to maintain a state of sleep through those calls, but something in Eric’s tone broke through her sleep.

“I see,” she heard him say softly. “When did it happen? No, of course, I’m sure you did everything you could.” Quiet, and then Eric’s voice again. “That would be a great help, thank you. We’ll get the first plane out.”

“What’s wrong?” Sunny asked as she opened her eyes in the darkened bedroom.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying? What’s wrong?

“Your mother. She’s had a heart attack.”

A state of disbelief seized Sunny. She bolted upright in bed and let herself be pulled into an embrace by Eric. “Is she okay?” she whispered, too afraid to speak the words loudly.

“No. I’m sorry. She passed away before the ambulance arrived.”

“But…but…it can’t be true. Mom’s heart is fine. She’s always been so strong.”

“Sometimes it happens like that. With no warning.” Eric held Sunny tight as the realization of her mother’s death sunk in and her body shook from crying. A loud wail arose from her body. She kept shaking her head and murmuring, “No.”

Eric stroked her hair until the sobs subsided.

“What will I do without her? She’s my rock. I need her.”

“I know.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Nancy. Your mother called her when she started having chest pains. She wanted to believe it was indigestion, but Nancy insisted she call 911. Only it was too late.”

Nancy. Her mom’s longtime friend. Almost like an aunt to Sunny.

Sunny tried to be strong, but tears erupted once more. Her father had died six years earlier. On her wedding day, when she walked down the aisle, she’d forced herself to hold back the tears that were so close to the surface because it wasn’t her father by her side. “I have no one left,” she said between sobs.

“You have me and Rachel.”

“Yes, but it’s not the same. I’m an orphan now. I’ve lost my history.”

Eric stroked her arm and whispered comforting words to her. They didn’t even try to return to sleep. He held Sunny in his arms until the outside light streaming through the blinds announced that a new day had begun.

The taxicab turned onto Aspen Road and Sunny felt her chest tighten. She had expected to return to her childhood home two weeks later for the Easter celebration. Her mother always waited in her plump window-side chair watching for her arrival. Now an empty house awaited her. Instead of a grandmother smothering Rachel with kisses, they’d walk into a deathly quiet home.

Nancy had made the funeral arrangements and contacted the few friends and family members who were left. Sunny had felt too numb to make decisions and was relieved to turn those responsibilities over to others. Now, as the taxicab turned into her driveway—her mother’s driveway—tears once again began to roll down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” Rachel said. “I’ll kiss the boo-boo and make it all better.”

Sunny wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and wrapped her arm around Rachel. “You’ve already made it better. See? No more crying.”

Eric paid the driver while Sunny and Rachel gathered their belongings and got out. The sun’s rays were strong, the glare startling to Sunny.
That’s wrong. It should be a gloomy day, not sparkling.
Yet everything did sparkle. The house, the lawn, the luxuriant gardens her mother had loved to tend. Holding Rachel’s hand, Sunny unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Pictures of her family adorned the foyer walls.

Eric came in behind them. “Why don’t you just relax? I’ll call the funeral home and let them know we’re here. We have a few hours before we’re expected there.”

It seemed surreal. Everything in the house looked the same as Sunny remembered: the gingham curtains in the kitchen that she’d helped her mother sew; on the dining-room table, the lace doily they’d picked up at a garage sale; the slipcovered sofa in the living room. Somehow, she’d thought it would be changed, different without her mother’s presence. She walked from room to room, touching items in each. It gave her a sense of connection, connection to her mother, connection to her childhood.

The funeral service would be held the next day, a graveside service with just a small group in attendance. Her mother had retired from nursing a few years earlier and hadn’t remained in touch with her former colleagues. “I want to travel while I’m still young enough to get around on my own,” she’d said. And she did travel. Her first trip had been to New York, to visit Sunny. From there, she and Nancy flew to Paris. It had always been her dream to tour the Louvre, walk down the Champs Élysées, ride an elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. “It was everything I’d imagined,” she told Sunny on her return. “Don’t wait to travel until you’re old, like me. Do it while you’re young.” She and Nancy had taken more trips after that, but the trip to Paris had remained special to her.

Sunny wondered if her mother would have begun traveling earlier in her life if she hadn’t had her daughter to take care of. She’d been an older mother when she finally gave birth to Sunny, almost forty. The parents of Sunny’s friends were still in their forties when their children went off to college, young enough to enjoy the freedom that brought. As Sunny walked through the house and fingered the knickknacks her mother had brought home from her travels, she wondered whether she had ever regretted being held down by a child. But as soon as the thought passed through her mind, it evaporated. Sunny knew that she had been the center of her parents’ world, that they had loved every moment of their lives. Her mother had set aside her dream of traveling for something she cherished even more: her daughter.
How fortunate I was
. She settled onto the couch and looked at Eric and Rachel. She had postponed her own dream of becoming a nurse in favor of motherhood. As she watched her daughter snuggle in her father’s lap, Sunny knew with certainty that she didn’t regret her decision.

C
HAPTER

18

D
amn bureaucracies! Tommy had spent more than a week being shuffled from one agency to another and he’d gotten zilch. He’d hoped he wouldn’t need to make a trip to Minnesota, but he’d gotten nowhere fast with the phone. Tomorrow he’d hoof it out there. Spring had finally arrived in New York. The incessant rain had stopped, the sun shone, and the golf course beckoned. He’d checked the weather forecast for Rochester, Minnesota, and it stunk. Wet and cold.