Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (18 page)

“Very well,” the Judge said, “she surrenders her passport.
 
What else do we need here?”

“Might I suggest home confinement?” Bridget Fahey said.
 
The Judge raised his eyebrows and turned to Ben.
 

“Frankly Judge, I think home confinement is a little extreme.
 
There is no significant evidence of flight here.
 
She has a child in school and significant ties to the community.
 
I’m just not sure that’s warranted.”
 

“Perhaps not from your point of view,” the Judge said, “but it doesn’t appear to be terribly unreasonable either.
 
Can you live with home confinement, Ms. Fahey?”
 

“If we must,
your
Honor.”
 

“Okay then,” the Judge said, “home confinement it is.
 
Counsel,” he said holding off Ben with a shake of his head, “home confinement isn’t that bad.
 
She’ll still have some freedom to come and go if she can make a case for it and you clear it ahead of time.
 
This will allow her to be with her son after school, things like that.
 
That seems fair.
 
Now we’re left with the amount of bond.
 
Ms. Fahey, what do you think?”
 

“The People would suggest ten million dollars, your Honor.”
 

The Judge whistled.
 
“I’m assuming you mean ten million dollars bail which means one million dollars in bond, correct?”
 
Fahey nodded.
 
“I take it you believe the Defendant and her husband have those kinds of resources?”
 

“We do, Your Honor.”
 

“I can’t wait to hear your reaction, Counsel.”
 

“Well my reaction ought to be obvious, Judge.
 
Ten million dollars is excessive in light of the fact that you’re talking about home confinement.
 
I mean, what are the odds that she’s going to go anywhere now?
 
You essentially have a tracking device on her.
 
That should lower the amount of bail required substantially.
 
I wouldn’t think you’d need bail in excess of five hundred thousand dollars given the fact that you’re talking about home confinement.”
 

The Judge shrugged.
 
“That means fifty thousand dollars bond, which isn’t very much, even when you consider home confinement.
 
But, Ms. Fahey, he does have a point.”
 
He considered it for a moment, then nodded.
 
His decision was made.
 
“Let’s make bail at an even one million dollars, which means a bond of one hundred thousand dollars.
 
Okay.
 
That’s enough.
 
Why don’t we go back in and put it on the record.”
 

16

It took over two hours to effectuate Meg’s release.
 
Following much haggling and a great deal of pressure from her husband, Meg agreed to move back into the brownstone on Astor Street and stay there pending the outcome of this ordeal.
 
After completing the paperwork in the clerk’s office, Ben, Mark and Joe
Cavallaro
were ushered into a small room, where they were joined by Detective Nelson, a uniformed officer and eventually by Meg herself.
  

“You look like you survived okay,” Ben said when he saw her.
 

She shrugged and seemed more interested in seeing Ben than her own husband, who made an excessive production out of being reunited with his wife.
 

As they were getting ready to leave, Nelson took Ben aside and said, “You might want to have somebody pull up her car.
 
There are a lot of media types out there and it’s a long way between the entrance and the parking garage.”
 

Ben looked slightly puzzled.
 
“What do you mean?
 
There weren’t that many media people in the courtroom, maybe ten or twelve,” he said.
 

“Well, there are a lot more of them now,” Nelson said.
 
“Once they found out who was arrested, the story has taken on a new life.”
 

They all looked at each other for a minute.
 
Finally,
Cavallaro
spoke up.
 
“I guess I’ve got to get the car.
 
She’s driving with me after all.”
 

“You do that,” Nelson said.
 
“We’ll let you pull up out front.”
 
He looked around.
 
“You’re going to have a hard time getting through all the reporters without making some sort of a statement.”
 

Meg looked horrified.
 
“I don’t want to say anything.”
 

“You’re not going to say anything,” Ben said.
 
“I’ll make a brief statement, proclaim your innocence, and we’ll get you to the car.”
 

“I’ll be out there with a handful of uniforms to make sure nothing crazy happens,” Nelson said.
 

“Thanks,” Ben replied.
 

“I’ll pull my car up behind Mr.
Cavallaro’s
,” Nelson continued.
 
“We’ll be following you over to your house so we can hook up all the monitoring equipment.
 
It shouldn’t take too long.
 
Once we’re there, I’ll be able to give you a brief rundown on how things work.
 
It’s not that bad really.”

Nelson led them through a series of corridors, up one set of stairs and down another, until they came out a side entrance to the building.
 
Nelson looked back when he reached the doorway.
 
“Once I open the door, you’ll probably be able to hear the commotion out there.
 
Are we ready?
 
Okay, c’mon, follow me.”
 

Nelson went first, followed by a uniformed police officer, Ben, Megan, Mark and then two sheriff’s deputies.
 
They went down along the side of the building and turned left and came out on the front steps.
 
An army of reporters greeted them at the bottom of the steps near the street.
 
Megan saw them before they saw her and whispered, “Oh my God,” under her breath.
 

Ben, too, was slightly taken aback by the size of the throng and stopped, taking Meg by the arm and leading her out in the direction of the reporters.
 
A couple of reporters saw them and cried out and the horde turned and rushed toward them.
 
Nelson stopped and let them gather around, but did not allow them to get too close.
 
Additional officers joined them in an effort to keep the crowd at bay.
 
Cavallaro
, who had parked his black Mercedes on the street at the bottom of the steps, circled around the reporters and pushed through the perimeter of uniformed officers to emerge at his wife’s side.
 
Ben stood on the other side of Meg, flanked by Mark.
 
Nelson stood off to one side eyeing the crowd.
 

As camera lights half-blinded him and microphones wagged in his face, Ben realized that his mouth was dry.
 
He worried for a second that if he tried to speak, no words would come.
 
Reporters started throwing questions at them from all directions, most of which Ben couldn’t understand in the jumble of competing voices.
 
He held up both hands in an effort to quiet the crowd, the noise barely subsiding.
 
An odd thought flashed through his mind - why didn’t I comb my hair before we came out here?
 

“Good morning,” he said in a tentative voice.
 
The crowd grew quieter and pushed toward him.
 
“As I said to some of you earlier, my name is Benjamin
Lohmeier
.
 
I’m with the office of Schulte &
Luckenbill
in Ithaca.
 
To my left is my colleague, Mark Schaefer.”
 
Several reporters shouted out questions toward Meg.
 
Ben put up his hands again and said, “Hold on a minute.
 
I’m sorry, but my client will not make any comment here this morning.
 
I can tell you this, however,” he said glancing to his right and noticing Joseph
Cavallaro’s
expression, “Mrs.
Cavallaro
has the full support of her family and friends as she embarks on this ordeal.
 
As you can see, her husband, Joseph
Cavallaro
, is here providing his full support.”

Ben’s voice grew more confident.
 
“These charges are very serious, and we will approach them very seriously.
 
Rest assured, Mrs.
Cavallaro
looks forward to her day in Court, for she knows that when a thorough and complete examination of all the evidence occurs, there will be no doubt whatsoever in anyone’s mind that she is innocent of the murder of Daniel Greenfield.
 
That’s really all I have to say right now.
 
Obviously, we’ll know a lot more when we see what evidence the prosecution thinks they have.”

He turned and took Meg’s arm and a voice called out, “What’s your reaction to the bail situation?”
 

“Bail?” he said, “I can only say that Judge Quinn is one of the most highly-respected judges in this division.
 
Making decisions on the amount and the availability of bail is one of the most difficult decisions any judge has to make.
 
While we believe that home confinement is not necessary under these circumstances, we respect the Court’s decision and firmly believe that he did what he thought was right.
 
We certainly accept that.
 
Thank you very much folks.”
 

With that, Ben raised his arm in almost a wave of goodbye and ended the short press conference.

Nelson and his men pushed through the reporters, who parted only grudgingly, and made their way down the steps to
Cavallaro’s
car.
 
Cavallaro
went around to the driver’s side and Ben held the door open for Meg to get in on the passenger’s side.
 
Before he shut the door behind her, he leaned in and said, “You did a great job.
 
We’ll see you back at the house in a few minutes.”
 
She nodded and smiled, every moment of the scene captured by cameras.
 

17

Later that afternoon, after getting Meg settled in at the brownstone, Ben rounded the corner and looked for Professor Samuel
Dorlund’s
office.
 
Finding it, he knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.
 
He pushed the door open only to discover that no one was inside.
 
“Damn,” he said aloud.
 
Closing the door, he started to turn and go back toward the elevators when Professor
Dorlund
himself turned the corner and walked toward him.
 
Seeing Ben standing at his office door,
Dorlund
said, “Hi, can I help you with something?”
 

“Yes, I hope so,” Ben said.
 
Dorlund
walked by him and opened the door and entered his office and began putting his class materials on his desk as Ben followed him inside.
 
“My name is Benjamin
Lohmeier
.
 
I represent Megan Rand who …”
 

Dorlund
turned at the sound of her name and gave Ben an angry look.
 
“I know who she is,” he said.
 
“She’s the one who murdered Daniel.
 
I don’t have anything to say to you.”
 

“She didn’t kill anyone,” Ben said, “but obviously, I’d like to find out who did.”
 

“I’m sure you would,”
Dorlund
said.
 
“Now if you’ll excuse me.”
 

“No,” Ben said, “I’m not going to excuse you.”
 

“I beg your pardon?”
Dorlund
said.
 

“Professor,” Ben said holding up his hand, “just hold on a minute.
 
I’ve known Megan Rand a long time.
 
We were in the same section together at this law school.
 
I also knew Professor Greenfield.
 
And most importantly, I know that Megan Rand did not kill Daniel Greenfield.”
 

“Is that what you think?”
 

“That’s what I know.
 
Now, I also know that you and Daniel Greenfield have been close friends for a very, very long time, and I’m sure that you would very much like to see the person who did this caught and punished.
 
One way to do that is by talking to me.”
 

The two men stared at each other for several seconds before
Dorlund
realized that Ben would not take no for an answer.
  
He relented.
 
“Okay,” he said, “Mr.
Lohmeier
is it?
 
Sit down.
 
I have a few minutes for you.
 
What do you need to know?”