Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (50 page)

“A little or a lot?”

“A lot.”

“Good answer.”
 
He gave her a big kiss on the forehead.

“Daddy, are you going to have to go back to the office?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not.
 
I’m going to spend rest of the evening with you.”
 
And he did.

45

The heat and humidity that distinguished Friday gave way to much cooler and less humid conditions on Saturday.
 
Ben met his father and his brother, Michael, for their first round of golf together of the year.
 
Usually, the three tried to play together at least once a month during the golf season.
 
Not this year.
 
Too busy with the trial.
 
Ben got home at about four-thirty and trudged upstairs to take a shower.
 
He and Libby had dinner reservations downtown at seven with some friends and if he wasn’t ready to go on time, she’d be all over him.
 

Ben was drying off after his shower when Libby pushed into the bathroom.
 
“You sure got some sun today,” she said giving him the once over with her eyes.
 

He acted wounded.
 
“That’s the best you can do when you walk in here and I’ve got nothing on but a towel is say, ‘you sure got some sun today’?”
 

She raised her eyebrows.
 
“Oh well.”
 

Bryan and Helen Carlson arrived on time at six-fifteen and the two couples took the Carlson’s Lexus SUV downtown to the restaurant.
 
Libby
Lohmeier
and Helen Carlson had known each other since grade school and the two couples and their families frequently socialized, even taking vacations together from time to time.
   

The restaurant was a trendy eclectic spot in Lincoln Park and they left stuffed and satisfied, the beautiful warm day having transformed into a cool and comfortable evening.
 
They walked down the sidewalk chatting about dinner and turned the corner heading toward the car when Ben, not looking where he was going, bumped into two men sharing an embrace.
 
“I’m sorry, excuse me,” he said stepping around them.

“No problem,” one of the men said in a low voice.
 

As Ben looked back to once again acknowledge his indiscretion, something struck him as unusual, but he didn’t know what.
 
He stopped and studied the men for a couple of seconds from the rear as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
 
What was it?
 
He couldn’t put his finger on it.
 

Then Libby said, “Are you coming or not?”

Ben snapped back to reality, paused another second and then said, “Sure,” and turned and caught up.

Later that night, in a small room with the door closed to keep the noise outside from intruding, the Protector sat on an old chair behind a small metal desk and pondered the beginning of the Greenfield murder trial.
 
Would further action need to be taken?
 
Had
Lohmeier
figured it out? No, he couldn’t have.
 
The beating may not have slowed him down much, but he couldn’t have figured it out.
 
He couldn’t have.
 
What of the other?
 
What to do about the other?
 
The Protector sat in that small room and thought about the future for a long while, the outside noise never intruding, then checked the time and went back to work.
 

46

Ben met with Meg the evening before jury selection began and found her much calmer than he had anticipated, even eager for things to get started.
 
He sensed that she had come to terms with her situation and felt at peace with the road that lay ahead.
 
Her husband, on the other hand, displayed none of the traits of a seasoned litigator and couldn’t hide his nervousness and lack of comfort.
 
Ben felt surprised that his attitude hadn’t rubbed off on Meg, but was relieved that she seemed so ready for the trial to commence.
 

Ben took strength from her demeanor and when they met the media on the steps of the Courthouse on Wednesday morning, he conveyed her feelings when he said, “We’ve been looking forward to this date for a long time.
 
As I’ve said in the past, today is the day Megan Rand
Cavallaro
begins to take her life back, her reputation back.
 
We look forward to the impaneling of a fair and impartial jury of her peers, who will ultimately come to conclude what we have known from the first, that Megan is innocent.
 
Thank you.”

The final two jurors were seated the following Tuesday afternoon at about two o’clock.
 
The final composition of the sixteen jurors and alternates seemed quite balanced and both sides appeared to get some of what they wanted.
 
 
Of the sixteen, there were six men and ten women; seven were white and five black, three Hispanic and one woman from Korea.
 
Once they had their sixteen, Judge Wilson thanked the rest for their service and adjourned for the day.
 
“We’ll start tomorrow with the State’s opening statement at ten a.m.,” he said slamming the gavel down and ending Court for the day.
 

On his way to Court the following morning, Ben tried to remember the last time he watched Bridget Fahey deliver an opening statement.
 
Although he couldn’t remember a specific occasion, he had seen her in action many times and knew that she would be well-prepared, thorough and probably quite effective.
   

Traffic moved fairly quickly and Ben reached the courtroom first, about half an hour early and only minutes before Dan and Mark.
 
When the
Cavallaros
reached the courtroom about ten minutes early, Megan looked more nervous than before and her husband rubbed her shoulders as if to supply moral support.
 
He and Ben exchanged nods.
 
Meg wore a cream-colored blouse and a tan skirt, with simple pearl earrings and a matching necklace.
 
She looked pure and innocent, like she belonged in a commercial for moisturizing lotion.

Bridget Fahey arrived only moments before Judge Wilson came out on the bench, followed by her gaggle of assistants.
 
When Judge Wilson took the bench and everyone had found their seats, he turned to her and said, “Ms. Fahey, are you ready to proceed?”
 

She stood and said, “Yes,
your
Honor.”
 

She remained standing as the Sheriff’s deputy left to get the jury.
 
As is proper decorum, Megan and her defense team also rose when the jury entered the courtroom and took their place in the jury box.
  

Judge Wilson turned and faced the jury.
 
In his best professorial mode, he said, “We are now going to proceed with opening statements.
 
One thing you should remember, the opening statement is not evidence and should not be treated as such.
 
Rather, it is the lawyer’s description of the expected evidence and testimony of witnesses.
 
Nevertheless, you should listen carefully because it provides the road map for each side’s case, what it expects to prove and even what it expects the other side to prove.”
 
He turned back to Bridget Fahey and nodded.
 
“Ms. Fahey, you may begin.”

Bridget Fahey rose and carried a file folder over to a rectangular wooden ledge in front of the jury box.
 
She opened up the folder and took out her notes.
 
She wore a charcoal gray suit and white blouse, with simple gold earrings and a matching chain.
 
Her reddish hair was pulled back in a gold barrette.
 
Ben thought she looked a little nervous.
 
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
 
My name is Bridget Fahey,” she said in a slightly uncomfortable voice.
 
Her hands were clasped at waist level in front of her.
 
“I’m the First Assistant State’s Attorney for the County of Cook.
 
I’m here today to present the People’s case against the Defendant, Megan Rand
Cavallaro
.
 
She has been indicted by a grand jury of your fellow citizens and charged under the Illinois Criminal Code with first degree murder in the death of Professor Daniel Greenfield, of the Chicago College of Law.
 
The evidence will show that she committed this heinous act by repeatedly striking Professor Greenfield in the head with a baseball bat while in his office on or about December 28th of last year.”
 

As she moved along, Ben sensed Bridget Fahey becoming more loose and comfortable and it showed in her presentation.
 
Beside him, he could feel Megan growing increasingly uneasy over being portrayed as a murderer in open Court for
all the
world to see.
 
Ben took a green index card from a stack on the corner of the table and wrote, “Stay calm” on it and slid it over to his client, who looked at it and nodded.
 

Meanwhile, Bridget Fahey continued laying out the facts as she saw them.
 
“The relationship between the Defendant and Professor Greenfield began in 1989, when she enrolled as a student at the Chicago College of Law.
 
Like all first year law students, the Defendant was assigned to a section consisting of about ninety students.
 
The Defendant’s section took Criminal Law during their first semester of law school in the fall of 1989.
 
Daniel Greenfield was the professor of that course.
 
Thereafter, sometime during late 1990 or early 1991, the Defendant initiated and ultimately began a more personal relationship with Professor Greenfield, a relationship which ultimately became a sexual one.
 
The Defendant’s affair with Professor Greenfield lasted for quite some time, finally ending before the birth of the Defendant’s first child in the summer of 1992.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Anthony’s birth.
 
While Fahey hadn’t technically violated the Court’s ruling prohibiting her from mentioning Anthony’s paternity, she had walked right up to the edge and looked over the side.
 
The implication was unmistakable.
 
He looked up and Judge Wilson glanced briefly in his direction, occasionally a sign a Judge makes when he anticipates an objection.
 
Ben made a split-second decision not to object, fearing that doing so might call more attention to the statement than it warranted.
 
If she said anything else along these lines, however, he would be forced to object.

Bridget Fahey stepped away from the precipice.
 
Ben maintained his outward appearance of serenity, as though he were listening to peaceful music or watching a movie.
 
Fahey continued.
 
“The Defendant’s husband, Joseph
Cavallaro
, did not know about her affair with Daniel Greenfield.”

Bridget Fahey was on a roll now and Ben watched as she picked up steam.
 
“During the fall of 2001, contacts between the Defendant and Daniel Greenfield started up again.
 
Phone records indicate several calls between the two in the weeks and months leading up to Daniel Greenfield’s death.
 
The Defendant even visited Daniel Greenfield at the law school.
 
A security guard at the law school, Charles Powell, will testify that he recognizes the Defendant from seeing her during these visits around the date of the murder.”
 

At these words, several heads in the jury box turned toward Meg and eyed her suspiciously.
 
Exactly as Fahey intended.
 
She went on.
 
“On December 27th, the Defendant spoke to Professor Greenfield on the telephone, arranging a meeting for the following day.
 
December 28th was a Friday, the last day the law school would be open for the year.
 
It wouldn’t reopen until January 2nd, the following Wednesday, five days later.
 
The fall semester had ended a couple of weeks earlier, Christmas had just taken place and New Year’s was only a couple of days away, so the law school was naturally quite empty.
 
There would be few witnesses to worry about.

They met in Professor Greenfield’s office.
 
Whatever was said between the two, something went very wrong.
 
The Defendant had reached the point of no return.
 
While Daniel Greenfield was leaning over behind his desk, perhaps to put something in his nearby briefcase, the Defendant did the unthinkable.
 
She picked up a baseball bat and struck him on the back of the head, somewhere behind and above his left ear.
 
He fell.
 
She struck him again and again and again, as many as ten to twelve times on the back of his head, crushing his skull and killing him.”