Presumption of Innocence db-1 Page 3

  "The gang aggravator?" Duncan looked sideways at Brunelle.

  "Well yeah. That's what everybody calls it, but it has wider application than that."

  Duncan's eyes narrowed. "Let's start with the burglary. Did they steal something from the house?"

  "Doesn't look like it," Brunelle admitted.

  "So how is there a burglary?"

  "Well," Brunelle smiled, "burglary is unlawful entering with intent to commit any crime. Murder is a crime."

  "So you're going to bootstrap the murder to aggravate itself?"

  Brunelle shrugged. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  Duncan smirked. "What else you got?"

  "Deliberate cruelty to the level of torture."

  Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Did they do that?"

  "Depends on your definition of torture," answered Brunelle. "They bound her hands, hung her upside down, and slit her throat."

  "Not to diminish the tragedy here, Dave, but that doesn't sound like torture. In fact, I think that's the so-called humane way of killing animals so the meat is kosher."

  "Well, I'll let the defense attorney argue that it was humane," Brunelle replied. "We're not animals. That girl knew what was happening to her."

  Duncan shifted in his seat. "What's the last one? The gang one? What's the identifiable group he's trying to elevate himself in?"

  Brunelle grimaced. If Duncan had disliked the other aggravators, he was going to hate this one.

  "Vampires."

  Duncan waited for a minute, perhaps hoping it was a joke.

  "Seriously," added Brunelle.

  Duncan leaned onto his desk. "Look, Dave. Everybody thinks I'm gonna run for governor one of these days. But you know what? I'm not. Who needs that crap? Roads and schools and parks and prisons and everything else under the God damn sun. No, I got it good here. Bring justice to the community, give some speeches, and I've been doing it so long, no one even files to run against me anymore."

  He leaned back into his chair again. "I let you charge that, I'll be looking for a new job next election day."

  Brunelle knew Duncan was right. He was grasping at straws. This had to be a death case. Or at least life without parole. But if they couldn't prove one of those aggravating factors, Karpati could get away with only twenty years. He'd only be forty when he got out. That wasn't justice.

  "I think the torture one is your best bet," Duncan said. "I'll let you go capital, but not on vampires. You'll need to prove that what they did was torture."

  Brunelle bit his cheek and nodded. "Arraignment's first thing tomorrow."

  "Then you'd better get moving, Dave, and figure out how to make that stick. You'll need an expert."

  Brunelle smiled. "I know just who to talk to."

  Chapter 6

  "Dr. Anderson?" Brunelle rapped on the assistant medical examiner's office door. It was right off the examining room at the morgue. Brunelle supposed if it didn't bother her to stick her hands into decomposing bodies, she probably didn't even think about having her office near the examining room.

  Kat was sitting at her small desk, typing something into her computer. She turned around at the knock.

  "Why, if it isn't David Brunelle, Assistant District Attorney?" She smiled. A bright, full lipped smile. "What brings you to my humble office?"

  Brunelle tried not to stare at her pretty mouth, but it only led to his eyes dropping to her curvy body. He looked away, at some gruesome autopsy photographs on her desk, and was able to gather himself again.

  "The Montgomery murder," Brunelle managed to say. "I need to pick your brain a bit."

  Kat laughed. "You know, I actually do pick brains. Real ones. Part of the job."

  Brunelle smiled. Medical examiners were weird. They had to be. Who else could do that job? He just hadn't met one so beautiful before. So, ironically, alive.

  "Ha. Yeah. Medical examiner humor," said Brunelle. "I'll have to come by and observe sometime."

  Kat tipped her head. "You'd do that?"

  Brunelle shrugged. "For the right case. I've been to a few over the years."

  Kat stuck out her lip and nodded. "That's impressive, David Brunelle. So what can I do for you on the Montgomery homicide?"

  "Murder," Brunelle insisted.

  "Murder is a legal term," Kat answered. "That's your job. Mine is medical. It was a homicide. You get to prove it was murder."

  "Then help me do that," Brunelle replied.

  Kat crossed her arms. "Not really my job, David. But what do you need to know?"

  "Did you confirm she bled out?" Brunelle started.

  "Oh yes. No doubt about that. The typical body usually has about five or six liters of blood. She lost at least two liters. Maybe two and a half. There was no other trauma, so that's definitely the cause of death."

  "She did have that incision on her neck," Brunelle pointed out.

  "Right," Kat smiled and pointed a finger at him. "I said 'other trauma.' Don't try to trick me, lawyer-man. That laceration was the only pathology on the body. It was the exit for the blood, and the lack of blood caused her heart to stop."

  "Did it hurt?" Brunelle asked.

  Kat nodded. "I imagine it did. A cut to your neck is going to hurt."

  Brunelle shook his head. "No, not the cut. The bleeding out. Would that have hurt?"

  Kat considered. "Not really, I wouldn’t think. The cut was to the carotid artery. Clean, exact cut. I mean, really, whoever did this had an excellent grasp of anatomy. I couldn't have picked a better place for the incision."

  "Wow, that's great, Dr. Anderson," said Brunelle. "Maybe tone the professional admiration down a bit for the jury when you testify though, okay?"

  Kat frowned. "It's not admiration. I'm simply explaining that whoever made this cut knew exactly where to cut to cause the most amount of blood to be ejected from the body until her heart stopped beating. And even then, it would have dripped and drained a bit."

  Brunelle was used to having to bring witnesses back around to the answer he needed. "And so that sensation, of your blood pumping out of your neck with each heart beat-would that have been painful? Or better yet, excruciating?"

  Kat let out a surprised laugh. "Excruciating is better?"

  Brunelle shrugged. "Lawyer thing."

  "I guess so," Kat raised an eyebrow and looked away. "Well, no. Definitely not excruciating. And probably not terribly painful either. Terrifying, but not painful."

  Brunelle frowned and tapped absently on the doorframe. "Well, that's too bad."

  "Too bad that the girl didn’t endure excruciating pain?" Kat asked.

  Brunelle shrugged again. "Like I said, lawyer thing.

  "I knew I didn't like lawyers," Kat joked.

  Brunelle raised an eyebrow. "We're not all bad. And besides I'm not really a lawyer, I'm a prosecutor."

  "Is there a difference?"

  "I think there is."

  Kat nodded. "You keep telling yourself that, David. Maybe you'll convince yourself."

  Brunelle laughed, but more out of politeness. His mind was already considering the possibilities.

  "Can I come pick your brain again" he asked. "If I think of any other questions."

  Kat smiled and crossed her shapely legs. "You can pick my brain anytime, David Brunelle. But next time, let's do it over coffee."

  Brunelle's eyebrows shot up. He didn't say anything for a moment.

  "A speechless lawyer," she laughed. "That's a rare sight."

  Brunelle smiled. "I always get quiet when I'm happy. Thanks, Dr. Anderson."

  "Call me Kat."

  "I will," Brunelle stepped back in to the hallway. "I promise."

  Chapter 7

  The arraignment was scheduled for nine o'clock. The camera crews were already lined up outside the courtroom. Brunelle was looking over the charging documents in his office when there came a knock on his door.

  It was Duncan. "You all set?" he asked.

  Brunelle nodded. "I think so."

&nbs
p; "No vampires, right?"

  Brunelle laughed. "Right. No vampires. Burglary and torture."

  "Think you can make those stick?"

  Brunelle recalled the dead girl's face hanging upside down in front of him as he entered the home that night. "Yeah. Pretty sure I can."

  Duncan grinned. "Good. Now let's just hope he gets a shitty lawyer."

  Brunelle smiled again. "Sure. But not too shitty. I don't want it come back on ineffective assistance of counsel."

  "Good point," said Duncan. Then, tapping his chin, he added. "When you finish with the arraignment, stop by and we can talk about a second chair."

  "Second chair?" Brunelle repeated. "I figured I'd try it alone. I don't need co-counsel."

  Duncan shrugged slightly. "Oh, it might be a good idea. Chance for somebody to learn from you. Besides, it's always good to have another set of eyes look at something."

  Brunelle nodded, but he wasn't excited about having to take time to teach a junior attorney how to try a death case. But he could worry about that after the arraignment.

  "Okay, I'll stop by. Maybe we'll even know who his lawyer is by then."

  ***

  "William Harrison Welles," said the dapper man with the expensive suit and graying ponytail. He was addressing the semi-circle of reporters who had pinned him against the wall, their camera lights beaming and microphone extended. "And I am proud to be representing Mr. Karpati."

  Brunelle stopped in his tracks when he saw Welles. Damn it, he thought. Not only was Welles not a shitty attorney, he was a really damn good attorney. Worse, he was a media-loving publicity hound of an attorney who had reached semi-celebrity status in Seattle for defending some of the higher profile cases in the last few years.

  But he was expensive. Brunelle wondered whether Karpati could really afford him, or Welles was just using this as more free publicity.

  "Mr. Karpati is an innocent man," Welles went on. "He has been unjustly accused based on the unreliable word of a fifteen year-old juvenile delinquent, whom the State knows cannot be believed."

  Brunelle clenched his fists. Welles could say whatever he wanted, and there would be no repercussions. He was a defense attorney, sworn to use every available trick in the trade to defeat the State's allegations. But if Brunelle said anything more than confirming the charges and a general, 'We believe the evidence supports the charge,' then he was looking at a bar complaint or worse. Because then he would be trying to prejudice the defendant's right to a fair trial.

  Welles wasn't saying Karpati was innocent because he was. He was saying that psychopathic murderer was innocent because the twelve people who would eventually be sitting on the jury, months from now, whoever they might end up being-at least some of them would be watching the news tonight. And in the back of their mind, one or two might remember thinking at the time they heard the first news reports about it, 'Didn't somebody say he was innocent? Accused by some fifteen year old liar?'

  Brunelle squeezed his file and began walking again toward the arraignment courtroom. A couple of the reporters saw him and broke off to get a comment from him.

  "We believe the evidence supports the charge," Brunelle said into the blinding glare of the camera.

  "Is it true your case is based on the word of a fifteen year old juvenile delinquent?"

  Brunelle managed a tight smile. "I'll have copies of the charging documents after the arraignment." And he pushed through them into the courtroom.

  Welles had slipped inside during the paparazzi assault on Brunelle and was opening his Italian leather briefcase on the defense counsel table.

  "Nice to see you again, Dave," he said. "Better luck this time."

  Brunelle grimaced. "Nice to see you too. And thanks." He recalled the last case he and Welles had tried together. Welles had gotten an acquittal with a strange hybrid defense of prescription drug abuse, self defense, and baseless police misconduct allegations. "You know that guy killed somebody three months after you got him off, right?"

  Welles shrugged. "Don't worry Dave. He paid his bill in full before he went back to prison."

  Nice, thought Brunelle. "So is this one pro bono?"

  Welles smiled. "There are two things I never do, Dave. One is discuss fees. The other is handle a case for free."

  "This guy has that kind of money?" Brunelle was surprised. Welles was top tier, and charged top tier money. But more than surprised, Brunelle was really fishing for information.

  Welles didn't bite. "As I said, I never discuss fees." He put out a hand. "Do you have copies of the charging paperwork for my client?"

  Brunelle pulled the forms from his file and handed them to his adversary. "I'll let the judicial assistant know we're ready."

  A few minutes later, Judge Quinn took the bench.

  "All rise!" announced the judicial assistant. "The King County Superior Court is now in session. The Honorable Susan Quinn presiding."

  "You may be seated," said the judge as she took her seat above the litigants. "Are the parties ready on the matter of the State of Washington versus Arpad Karpati?"

  "The State is ready," answered Brunelle.

  "May it please the court," said Welles. "William Harrison Welles entering my notice of appearance on behalf of my client, Mr. Karpati. We are ready to enter our plea of not guilty and begin our vigorous defense of these false accusations."

  Judge Quinn stared down at Welles for several seconds. "Save it for the jury, Mr. Welles. I just need to know if we can bring your client in."

  Welles smiled. "By all means, Your Honor."

  The judge nodded to the guards, who opened a side door to the holding cells built behind the courtrooms. Karpati strutted in, hands cuffed in front of him and a guard right behind him. He was wearing his jail-issued gray pajamas and plastic flip-flops. He grinned at the gallery and shook, as best he could, Welles' hand.

  "May my client be unhandcuffed, Your Honor?" Welles requested. "I assure you he poses no threat to anyone."

  Judge Quinn nodded again and one of the guards stepped over to unhandcuff Karpati. Then the guard directed him by the shoulders into the defendant's chair at the defense table. Welles sat beside him and put his arm around him, whispering something in his ear. Brunelle stayed up at the bar and handed the charging documents to the judicial assistant, who passed them to the judge.

  "At this time," began Brunelle, "the State is filing charges of Aggravated Murder in the First Degree against Mr. Karpati."

  That much was on the first page. Brunelle was pretty sure Welles hadn't looked at page two yet.

  "In addition," Brunelle went on, "the State is filing a count of Rape of a Child in the Third Degree."

  That got Karpati's attention. He surrendered an agitated "What?!" before Welles grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Welles said didn't seem to make Karpati any less angry, but he didn't say anything more.

  Welles stood up. "We have received copies of the charging documents, Your Honor. We waive a formal reading of the charges, and enter pleas of absolutely not guilty to all counts."

  Brunelle rolled his eyes at the 'absolutely.'

  "We would like," Welles went on, "to be heard on conditions of release pending trial."

  Brunelle had already pre-filled out the order on conditions of release. Aggravated murder in the first degree was a capital offense. The court always held capital defendants in custody without the opportunity to post bail. Nevertheless, the judge looked at Brunelle. "What is the State's recommendation as to conditions of release?"

  Brunelle, still dumbstruck by even the request to discuss bail, hesitated before replying. "Uh, we would ask the court to hold Mr. Karpati without bail. This is a capital case, and pursuant to the state constitution, capital defendants are not entitled to bail."

  The judge turned to the defense attorney. "Mr. Welles, what say you? It is the normal practice of this court to hold capital defendants without bail."

  "It may be, Your Honor," Welles said with a flourish of his
hand, "but only because I have yet to argue this issue before this court."

  Brunelle resisted his urge to huff, and instead busied himself by pretending to take notes on Welles' argument. Judge Quinn raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.

  "The State constitution does not deny a capital defendant his Constitutional right to bail," Welles went on. He pulled out a green covered statute book from his large brief case. He flipped it open to the page he had already bookmarked. "It merely makes such assurance explicit for noncapital cases. The actual language is, and I quote, 'All persons charged with a crime shall be bailable by sufficient sureties, except for capital offenses when the proof is evident or presumption great.'"

  Brunelle looked askance at Welles. The judge did the same. "That doesn't seem to support your position, Mr. Welles," she said.

  "Oh, but it does, Your Honor," Welles smiled. "Listen again. 'All persons charged with crime shall be bailable.' All. The only exception is capital offenses. But not all capital offenses. Oh no. Only those where the proof is evident or the presumption great. Well, we know what the presumption is. My client is presumed innocent. The presumption is great, your honor, in fact it is sacrosanct. But it is a presumption of innocence and therefore a presumption of bail."

  "What about the part about the proof being evident?" Judge Quinn asked.

  "Precisely!" Welles threw a hand in the air. "What about that evident proof? Where is it? Is it here today? Has the State brought anyone to present this evident proof? No, of course not. Because my client is innocent. Innocent, I say. And I daresay they know that, and that is why they have not brought any evidence to today's hearing. Just some flimsy pieces of paper drafted by the prosecutor this morning. There is no proof in this case, Your Honor. None. And therefore, under the constitution of this great State, you, Your Honor, with all due respect, you are absolutely prohibited from denying my client bail."

  Judge Quinn let her stare linger at Welles for a minute. Then she pursed her lips and looked at Brunelle. "State's response?"

  "The State has filed a criminal complaint," Brunelle responded evenly, "which charges the defendant with the crime of aggravated murder in the first degree. That is a capital offense. Attached to the complaint is a summary of the investigation which includes information from an eyewitness that the defendant committed the crime in her presence. The proof is evident. The court should deny bail."