Presumption of Innocence db-1 Page 10

  Welles stood up. "Yes. Well, then. Perhaps we should just move to the most important motion, the motion to dismiss the case for governmental misconduct."

  Judge Quinn nodded. "And is the alleged misconduct the same you just outlined for me in your previous argument?"

  "Yes, Your Honor," Welles started.

  "Motion denied," Judge Quinn interrupted. "Mr. Brunelle has articulated a legitimate law enforcement purpose for his actions, and I have fashioned a remedy short of dismissal. That witness shall not be allowed to testify at your client's trial. Therefore, dismissal is not warranted."

  Brunelle smiled again. Two for two. The warm "Good job again" whisper from his attractive co-counsel only deepened the smile.

  "Well, then," Welles stammered. "We would next ask the court to dismiss the aggravating factors alleged by the State. They are unsupported by the law or the facts, and should not be allowed to be put to a jury. The mere presence of these allegations will prejudice my client by suggesting his alleged crime was worse than others similar in nature. The court should dismiss the burglary aggravator because the alleged burglary is based on the murder itself. That is bootstrapping and completely unfair. Further, the court should dismiss the aggravator of torture for, while no doubt this was a heinous murder-apparently committed by the young lady in juvenile detention who confessed to it-"

  "Now who's trying to taint the jury pool?" Judge Quinn interrupted.

  "By no means, Your Honor," Welles replied, hand to his heart and apparently aghast at the very notion. "I simply point out the fact that there is no evidence that my client committed this crime, let alone that this poor girl suffered any more than any other murder victim. Accordingly, these aggravating factors must be dismissed, lest their very existence prejudice my client's right to a fair trial."

  Judge Quinn scowled this time, her narrowed eyes trained on the defense attorney. Then she turned to Brunelle. "Tell me why I shouldn't dismiss these aggravators."

  Brunelle stood again to address the court. "Gladly, Your Honor. First of all, I disagree with counsel's characterization of the evidence for these aggravators as 'weak.' There is no doubt Mr. Karpati committed a burglary, and-"

  "Let me stop you there, counsel," the judge interrupted. "How did he commit a burglary? Was anything stolen?"

  "No, Your Honor," Brunelle admitted. Now he had to engage in that dance of educating a judge about the law without the judge feeling like she's being talked down to. "As the court knows, burglary is unlawfully entering a building with the intent to commit a crime. Here, Mr. Karpati forced his way into the victim's home with the intent to commit murder."

  "So murder is the predicate crime for the burglary?"

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Nothing else?"

  "No, Your Honor."

  Judge Quinn nodded. "The defense motion is granted. I won't let you aggravate a murder with itself. The burglary aggravator is dismissed."

  Brunelle was surprised despite himself. He had originally expected to lose that motion but the hearing had gone so well to that point, he thought he was home free. He glanced at the defense table. Welles looked a bit surprised too, but it was hard to see through his smarmy grin.

  "What about the torture aggravator, Mr. Brunelle?" the judge pressed. "Any response to that?"

  Brunelle gathered himself. "Well, this one is different in kind, Your Honor. The court just made a legal ruling that burglary by murder can't aggravate the same murder. I disagree, but I understand the logic. But this aggravator is a factual determination. Either the girl suffered to a degree associated with torture, or she didn't. Whether she did should be left to the sound judgment of the jury."

  Judge Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I can never dismiss a charge if there's no evidence to support it?"

  Brunelle pressed a hand into his pants pocket and raised the other in a professorial gesture. "Well, that's an interesting question, Your Honor. Allow me to suggest that the answer might be 'No, you can't.' It's a separation of powers issue. The prosecutor's office is part of the executive branch. We decide what charges are brought. Your Honor is part of the judicial branch and ought not to be allowed to second guess the charging decisions of the executive."

  "But I just dismissed one of your aggravators," the judge pointed out.

  "Yes you did," Brunelle acknowledged. "Over my objection, I might add. But that may be different. That was a purely legal question. This one is factual."

  "But isn't there case law that a court can dismiss charges when it determines that no reasonable jury could find what the State is alleging?" the judge pressed. "State v. Knapstad? Bremerton v. Corbett?"

  "Well, yes," Brunelle admitted. "But I don't think that's the case here."

  Judge Quinn frowned and held up some papers. "Did you read the affidavits Mr. Welles provided?"

  Brunelle swallowed hard. "Yes, Your Honor," he admitted.

  "Do you have any affidavits to the contrary?"

  Another swallow. "No, Your Honor."

  Brunelle considered arguing the point further, but Quinn wasn't one of those judges who rules for whoever argues last. She was sharp. In fact, Brunelle was pretty sure she'd already made up her mind on all the motions before she ever took the bench.

  "The defendant's motion to dismiss the torture aggravator is also granted."

  Brunelle managed just to grimace even as the defense table erupted in hushed congratulations.

  "We would like to be heard on bail, Your Honor," Welles trumpeted. "Now that this is no longer an aggravated case."

  Brunelle didn't wait for the judge to ask his opinion. "We object to that, Your Honor. By court rule, all motions must be made with five days notice. That includes motions to reduce bail."

  Welles huffed in surprise. "That's ludicrous, Your Honor. This is no longer a capital case. You can no longer constitutionally hold my client without bail. I shouldn't have to note a motion to be argued five days from now."

  Judge Quinn glowered at Brunelle. "I understand the court rules, Mr. Brunelle, but why should we wait five days to do something that, Constitutionally, I have to do now."

  "Because, Your Honor," Brunelle answered as he pulled copies of his pleadings from his file. He handed a copy to Welles and one to the judge, "the State is filing a motion to add a new aggravating factor. We can argue that in five days as well. If the Court allows the amendment, then bail cannot be granted."

  Welles flipped through the document roughly. "New aggravator? Which one?"

  "RCW 10.95.020, section fifteen," Brunelle answered.

  Welles' faces screwed up as his mind recalled the statue. "The gang aggravator? This wasn't a gang killing."

  "It's any group, counsel," Brunelle explained. "It applies if the killing was committed to advance the defendant's status in any identifiable group."

  "What group?" Welles demanded.

  Judge Quinn looked up from her examination of Brunelle's pleadings. "Vampires?"

  Chapter 26

  The gallery broke out into almost immediate laughter. 'Almost,' because it took a second or two for everyone to confirm they really heard what they thought they heard. Even the jail guards were fighting back laughter. Brunelle scanned the courtroom. Yamata was staring at him in disbelief and Welles was grinning it up for the cameras. The only people who weren't laughing were the judge, and Karpati.

  Brunelle made a point of never looking at defendants. Partly because he wasn't supposed to stare them down, partly because there was no reason to since all communication went through counsel, and partly because half the time they wanted to try to stare him down. But when he looked over to see Karpati's reaction, Karpati's eyes bored into Brunelle's. He could tell Karpati didn't think it was funny at all. The man was pissed. And that let Brunelle know he'd made the right decision.

  "Order! Order!" Judge Quinn pounded her gavel, something judges rarely did in real life. "Everyone get a hold of themselves."

  When the giggling subsided, the judge stared down a
t Brunelle. "Are you being serious, Mr. Brunelle?"

  "Absolutely, Your Honor," Brunelle answered confidently.

  "And why didn't you file this originally?" asked the judge.

  "I considered it, Your Honor," Brunelle answered, "but there wasn't quite enough information to support it."

  Brunelle waited a moment then glanced sideways at Welles. "That recently changed."

  Welles decided to push on with the disbelieving laugh despite the judge's serious tone. "Really, Your Honor, this is farcical. Surely the court can see-"

  The judge turned back to Brunelle. "Have you provided the defense with this new information?"

  "No, Your Honor," Brunelle admitted, "but I can do that by tomorrow. I'm just waiting on some reports."

  Judge Quinn narrowed her eyes again. "We'll set the motion to add the aggravating factor for one week from today. I will treat it the same as the torture aggravator, which means you better have some facts to back it up. Is that clear, Mr. Brunelle?"

  "Crystal," answered Brunelle.

  "Good," the judge continued. "And copies of any information, reports, whatever, that you intend to rely on must be delivered to Mr. Welles' office by nine a.m. tomorrow. Do you understand?"

  Brunelle nodded. "Yes, Your Honor."

  Before Welles could do more than shake his head and try another disbelieving laugh, the judge turned to him and said, "We'll set your bail hearing for the same time."

  Welles threw a pained expression at the judge. "I object. There are no aggravating factors at present, and this latest attempt by the prosecutor is beyond ludicrous. My client should be allowed bail now because-"

  "I said one week from today, Mr. Welles," Judge Quinn interrupted. "Did you not understand me?"

  Welles regained himself and dropped back into compliant attorney mode. "I understand you, Your Honor. One week from today. Thank you."

  With that, the judge banged her gavel again and declared the court at recess. Welles stepped over to Brunelle, a smug grin on his face. "Pretty desperate move, Brunelle."

  Brunelle smiled back. "Oh yeah?" He pointed past the defense attorney. "Your client doesn't seem to think so."

  They both looked at Karpati, who only scowled back at them.

  "I believe," Welles said after a moment, "that he's concerned about your mental health."

  "He better be concerned about his own health," Brunelle replied, "because I'm planning on shoving a needle in his arm when this is all over."

  Welles stared at Brunelle for a moment. "Very well, Brunelle. Those documents better not be even one minute late tomorrow morning."

  "Don't worry, Billy. They'll be on time. I think you'll find them very enlightening."

  In truth, though, Brunelle knew he'd find them reassuring. The vampire claim was almost as thin as the torture. It was going to be a battle to keep the case aggravated.

  ***

  "Vampires?" Yamata finally asked as they walked into the attorney area between the courtroom and the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Whatever I can to keep this case capital," Brunelle replied. "You heard Chen. This guy is a wanna-be vampire."

  Yamata shook her pretty head. "Maybe, but you've got no proof."

  Brunelle shrugged. "Well then, we better call Chen when we get upstairs, and hope he's got something to back us up."

  ***

  Getting upstairs proved easier said than done. When they opened the door to the hallway, they were met with the blinding glare of a half-dozen television cameras.

  "Mr. Brunelle! Mr. Brunelle! Do you really think Karpati is a vampire?"

  Brunelle squinted against the lights. "I really can't comment on pending cases. You guys know that."

  "Come on, Dave," one of the reporters he'd come to know over the years tried, "you can't allege somebody's a vampire and then not give us a quote. You know this is gonna lead tonight."

  Brunelle sighed. He did know that. And although he hated getting interviewed by the media, his boss didn't. And his boss had taught him two things: always have a quote ready, and never say anything that isn't already in a document filed with the court-that way anything you say is already out there anyway.

  "The State is not alleging that Mr. Karpati is a vampire," he explained, "but we believe the evidence will show that he wanted others to believe he was and that he committed this murder in part to advance such a belief."

  He knew that wouldn't satisfy them.

  "Is that it, Dave?" asked the same reporter. "Can't you at least call him the 'Vampire Murderer' or something?"

  "Sorry, Keith," Brunelle. "Just the facts." Then he spotted the door to the attorneys' area opening again. "But I believe Mr. Welles is about to come out. I'm sure he has much more he'd like to say."

  The paparazzi sprinted toward the defense attorney as he emerged into the hallway.

  "What do you think about your client being labeled the Vampire Murderer?"

  Welles wound up for his undoubtedly eloquent and long-winded response. Brunelle didn't stick around to hear it. He had some getting-yelled-at to attend to.

  ***

  "What the fuck were you thinking, Dave?" Duncan shook his head from across his desk. "Seriously, I thought we talked about this."

  Brunelle had gone straight to Duncan's office for his whipping. He'd insisted Yamata come along, but only so he could make sure Duncan knew she'd had nothing to do with it.

  "Maybe I should go?" she tried.

  "No, Michelle," Duncan raised his hand. "Stay. You need to hear this too. Dave's dragged you into this mess, but I'm not gonna let him drag you under."

  He turned his attention back to Brunelle. "You should have gotten my okay on this first, Dave, but we'll talk about that later. Right now, my phone is ringing off the hook. They're calling it the 'Vampire Murderer Case.' So I've got one question for you, and one question only: can you make it stick?"

  Brunelle took a deep breath. He knew what he had to answer, but he'd made a career of being honest. He wasn't sure what the honest answer was, but he knew the right one. "Yes, Matt. I can make it stick. Judge Quinn won't dismiss this aggravator."

  Duncan nodded. "Good. Because if she does, you're off the case."

  Brunelle looked up almost as sharply as Yamata.

  "And Michelle," Duncan went on, "you'll be lead. So be ready."

  "Y- Yes, sir," she stammered. "Thank you, sir."

  Then she glanced over at Brunelle. "Although I'm sure it won't be necessary," she said. "Mr. Brunelle, er, Dave, knows what he's doing."

  Brunelle managed a smile. "Thanks," he said, even though they all knew she was lying.

  Chapter 27

  Chen's reports sucked.

  To begin with, they didn't even come through the fax machine until almost five o'clock. More importantly, they consisted of little more than his interview with Brunelle about the assault. There was a paragraph about the general police knowledge of the No Bloods, but nothing specific. He'd sent an officer to round some up and interview them, but the officer "met with little success." There wasn't a single name of a single No Blood gang member mentioned anywhere in the report.

  So Brunelle, after reading and rereading and rereading again all of the reports, was sure of two things.

  First, what he had was never going to be sufficient to survive Judge Quinn. And therefore second, he was going to have to come up with something solid before nine o'clock the next morning.

  He touched his still tender eye with a wince

  "The things Lady Justice demands," he joked as he stood and took his coat from the back of the door. "At least she can buy me a drink first."

  Chapter 28

  Brunelle waited in the dark of the landing to Faust's apartment building. It was quarter past two. He'd had a bit to drink, but not too much. He needed to think straight. That would be hard enough sober. As if he weren't already sure of that, his heart quickened as he heard her boots tick-tack up the sidewalk toward him.

  "Hello, Faust," he said fro
m the shadows as she stepped onto the landing.

  The brunette spun to face him, fear in her eyes for a moment-until she recognized him.

  "Oh fuck," she exhaled. "It's just you. What are you doing here?"

  "Just me? I'm hurt," Brunelle teased. "I'm also desperate. I need your help."

  Faust slid her key into the lock. "A lot of men are desperate for me."

  Brunelle tried to grin nonchalantly. "I'm desperate for information," he assured.

  She pushed open the door and smile sideways at him. "Is that all? Well, you can come upstairs anyway."

  ***

  Faust's apartment was small, but classy, just as Brunelle had expected. To the left was a small kitchen immediately off the front door, with a living room and balcony beyond. To the right was the door to the one bathroom, and the short hallway to her bedroom. He couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the mirror opposite the bed.

  "You want something to drink?" Faust asked as she latched the door behind them.

  Brunelle was already in the living room, checking out the view from the balcony. It wasn't much, just the parking lot out back. "No, thanks. Er, sure. Well, I don't know."

  "Awful late, huh, old man?" Faust teased. "Ready for bed?"

  He turned around and met her warm gaze. "No," he insisted, despite the fatigue across his back. "Just want to get down to business."

  Faust stepped into the living room and handed him a drinking glass of whiskey. "Mm, Mr. Brunelle, I like your style."

  He felt his face flush. He tried to ignore it. "I mean my case. The information. I need your help."

  Faust offered an intoxicating pout, then dropped onto her couch, crossing her strong-looking legs. "What information do you need, sir? I can't promise I'll give it to you."

  Brunelle scanned the room. He skipped the arm chair and sat next to her on the couch. "Those guys who beat me up," he started.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry," she interrupted. She reached out and touched the bruise still half-visible on his cheek. "I shouldn't have left you there alone."