Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (24 page)

A moment later, a sheriff’s deputy emerged and called out, “All rise.”

At that very instant, the other door behind the bench opened and the Honorable William Wilson emerged, walked up a handful of steps and took his seat behind the bench.
 
Ben did not hear the rest of what the deputy said, for his eyes were glued on Wilson.
 
Despite being an average-sized man, Judge Wilson presented an imposing figure.
 
With his gray balding crew cut and stern, almost expressionless demeanor, Judge Wilson carried himself with the bearing of a Marine drill instructor.
 
Known as the best defense lawyer in Chicago before he ascended to the bench, Wilson intimidated lawyers in his courtroom just as he intimidated students in his classroom.
 
After having the opportunity to watch the Judge up close as a member of his trial team years before, Ben concluded that Wilson did it without even trying.
 
Whether it was his reputation, or his manner or his obvious skill as a lawyer and judge, Ben did not know.
 
He just knew that he had to be completely prepared and fully professional at all times.
 
As everyone in the courtroom took their seats, the Judge gave a quick good morning and called the first case.
 
Theirs was the fourth and last case on the call.
 
When Wilson called the case, Ben and Mark rose from their seats and walked up to the bench.
 

Bridget Fahey seemed to race from her seat to be the first one there and said, “Good morning,
your
Honor.
 
Bridget Fahey for the people,” before Ben and Mark had even arrived.
 

Ben gave her a quick glance and said, “Good morning,
your
Honor.
 
Benjamin
Lohmeier
and Mark Schaefer on behalf of Megan Rand
Cavallaro
.”

“Good morning, Counsel,” the Judge said with a short nod.
 
As he looked down at them, there was no sign of recognition.
 
“This case has been assigned to me from downstairs,” the Judge began.
 
“Before we get started, I’m sure it’s no secret that I knew the deceased in this case personally by virtue of my position of an Adjunct Professor of Law at the Chicago College of Law and my having served for many years as the Director of the law school’s Trial Advocacy Program.
 
While I did know Professor Greenfield personally, I did not know him well, nor did I ever work with him closely despite his being a Professor of Criminal Law.
 
Consequently, I do not feel that there is any reason why I could not thoroughly and objectively handle my duties in this case.
 
Of course, if Counsel believe otherwise, or believe that a conflict exists such that I should
recuse
myself in this matter, please let me know and I will be happy to do so.”

Bridget Fahey spoke first.
 
“
Your
Honor, the people see no reason why you should
recuse
yourself at this time.”
 

The Judge looked at Ben.
 
“
Your
Honor,” Ben said, “we agree.
 
We see no reason why a recusal should be required.
 
We believe you are more than capable of being fair and objective in this matter and we will not be seeking a recusal.”

“Very well,” the Judge said.
 
“I understand we have some discovery matters to discuss this morning,” he said, wasting no time.
 
“Mr.
Lohmeier
, what information are you seeking from the State?”

Ben took a moment to outline the discovery he was seeking.
 
After he finished, Judge Wilson looked at Bridget Fahey and said, “Ms. Fahey, this all seems pretty routine and reasonable.
 
How much time will it take you to produce the information requested?”

“We would like at least twenty-eight days, your Honor.
 
Not all of the scientific reports and medical analysis have been completed as of yet.”

“That is too long, counsel.
 
You have had enough evidence in your possession to arrest the Defendant and take her before a grand jury, you should be able to provide defense counsel with this information within fourteen days.”

“But your Honor,” Fahey interjected, “as I said, we still have not received all of the reports yet.”

“Fine.
 
Produce everything in your possession that is responsive to both Defendant’s discovery requests and the applicable rules of discovery within fourteen days.
 
You can supplement your responses as additional information becomes available.
 
Let’s get the information out there and get this case moving.
 
I will see you back here in twenty-eight days,” he said looking at his calendar.
  
“That will be March 1st at nine-thirty.
 
Ms. Fahey?”

“Yes Judge?”
 

“When do you anticipate getting a decision from the grand jury?”

“Your Honor, we hope to have the grand jury return an indictment against the Defendant by the next Court appearance.”

“Very well,” the Judge said.
 
“Before I let you go, I want to emphasize the dictates and requirements of the rules of professional conduct, though I am sure you are aware of them.
 
I will not institute any gag order with respect to the media at this time, however, I fully expect all of the lawyers in this case to strictly adhere to the rules of professional conduct, particularly with respect to providing information and commentary to the news media.
 
I recognize that this is a case of some degree of public interest, but I will not allow this case to be tried in the media.”
 
The Judge looked down at them and nodded.

“Very well,
your
Honor,” Ben said.

“Okay then,” the Judge concluded, “that will be all.”
     

22

Citing Judge Wilson’s admonition about the rules of professional conduct, Ben’s conversations with the reporters on the front steps of the Courthouse was necessarily brief.
 
He frankly appreciated Wilson giving him some cover so he could avoid dealing with the media the way lawyers in so many of the high profile cases do.
 
This was his first big public case and he wasn’t yet comfortable with the public relations aspect of it.
 

When they crossed 26
^th
Street and reached the parking lot next to the Popeye’s, Ben stopped when he saw the cars parked wall-to-wall in the modestly-sized lot.
 
“Oh shit,” he said.
 
“We’re never going to get out of here.”

Mark laughed.
 
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.
 
I guarantee it.
 
These guys take care of me, you watch.”
 
Mark maneuvered through the cars and headed toward the shed in the middle of the lot.
 
Ben followed at his heels.
 
When Mark reached the chief attendant, he pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it in the palm of his hand and shook hands with the attendant.

“Counselors,” the attendant said, stuffing the money into his pocket, “did you have success this morning.”
 

“Not too bad,” Mark said, “not too bad.
 
Where are we?”

“You’re over there in the back corner.
 
The SUV, right?”

“That’s right,” Mark said.

The attendant waved his arm to a young man standing near the back of the lot.
 
“He’ll show you where it is.”

“Thanks a lot, my man,” Mark said slapping him on the back.
 
“We’ll see you next time.”

“Have a good day now,” the attendant said.

Mark led Ben between cars until they reached the back corner, where an alley cut through behind the lot and the Popeye’s store to reach 26
^th
Street.
 
There, in the far right hand corner, parked right up against the alley, stood Ben’s car.
 
All they had to do was hop in, pull out and go.
 

Ben nodded.
 
“Nice job,” he said with true admiration.

“I told you they take good care of me.
 
It’s worth the extra money to be able to get in and out when you want to.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Ben said.
 
“We’ll be coming here enough.”
 
They climbed into the car and in thirty seconds they were gone.
 

Fifteen minutes later, they pushed through the revolving doors at the law school and headed off to the elevators.
 
Ben got off on the 5th floor and Mark went up to the library on the 9th floor to do some research.
 
The door to the office was open, but Ben knocked anyway.
 
The woman behind the desk jumped.
 

“You startled me,” she said.

“Sorry about that,” Ben replied.
 
“Professor Berman, I was wondering if I could bother you for a few
minutes?
”

The woman looked away and considered the request for a few seconds.
 
“Sure,” she said, “come in and shut the door.”

Ben did so and sat down on the lone guest chair.
 
He glanced around the office and found it not particularly inviting.
 
It gave off a strange, almost sterile air that seemed designed to avoid saying anything personal about its inhabitant.
 
Professor Sally Berman was a nervous, almost mousy woman full of all sorts of personal idiosyncrasies.
 
Ben could see instantly that the ten years since he had last spoken to her had not diminished any of her quirkiness.
 

A tall thin woman in her late-thirties, Sally Berman came to the Chicago College of Law from a brief career in a big New York law firm, one for which she was no doubt ill-suited.
 
She specialized in torts and Ben’s first year section was also the first class she taught after she joined the law school.
 
Her fidgety manner, quivering voice and refusal to make eye contact often overshadowed a sharp intellect and biting wit.
 
She was definitely an acquired taste.
 
By the end of the first year, most of her students had gotten used to her mannerisms and actually liked her and enjoyed her class.

“So, how have you been?”
 
Ben asked remembering that Professor Berman’s manner often made him uncomfortable as well.

“I’ve been well, thank you,” she said looking to her left at nothing in particular.
 
Ben subconsciously found his eyes traveling in the same direction.
 
“You seem to be doing quite well yourself,” she continued.
 
“I certainly wish you the best of luck in your defense.
 
Ms. Rand certainly does not seem to me to be the kind of person who could kill someone.”

“No,” Ben agreed, “she’s not.
 
I guess that’s why I’m here.
 
Having been here awhile now, I was hoping you could help me shed some light on some of the goings on here at the law school.”

She cocked her head.
 
“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What I mean is I’m certainly aware of the rumors that had been circulating around here while I was a student about Professor Greenfield and female students.
 
I was wondering if you could shed any light on that.
 
In particular, I was hoping you could give me some perspective as a fellow professor, especially since you are a woman.”

“Ah,” she said looking down, “so that’s the rub.”
 
She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts.
 
Then she looked up at him and directly into his eyes.
 
Ben found this surprising and somewhat disconcerting.
  
“This is somewhat awkward,” she began.

Everything about you is awkward, Ben thought.

“Professor Greenfield was after all a colleague of mine for many years,” she said.
 
“On the other hand, he is a dead colleague now and your task in defending Ms. Rand seems somewhat more significant than my discomfort over discussing this.”
 
She hesitated before continuing.
 
“So I will tell you simply that Daniel Greenfield was a pig.”

“That is kind of a broad term,” Ben said, “and it conjures up all sorts of images.
 
What exactly do you mean by pig?”

“I mean pig in every real sense that a woman can describe a man as a pig.
 
If it’s fair to so describe a man, it is fair to describe Daniel Greenfield that way.
 
Daniel Greenfield was a chauvinist of the worst kind.”
 
Professor Berman’s eyes never left Ben’s and he noted a surprising intensity in her manner.
 
“In Daniel Greenfield’s world,” she continued, “women were mere objects, playthings put on this planet for his amusement and to satisfy his personal proclivities.
 
It is amazing to me that he managed to find a woman who would marry him, bear him children and stay with him as long as she did.”