Losing Faith (41 page)

Two hours later, the U.S. Attorney’s Office issues a press release stating that Aaron Littman will not be retried.

It’s finally over.

64

M
oments after the government announces that Aaron Littman is no longer a murderer, people who shunned him while he was under indictment begin texting, calling, and e-mailing their exhortations that they never believed the charges were true.

Among the first of those calls is one from Clint Broden.

“Nicolai wanted to call himself,” Broden says without any hint of recognition of the ridiculousness of the entire gesture, “but given his circumstances, I couldn’t allow it, of course. I told him that you, of all people, would certainly understand. He wanted to congratulate you and asked that I tell you that it seems you are less of a categorical imperative guy after all.”

Not surprising given that he’s a terrorist, a murderer, and a blackmailer, Garkov is also a first-rate prick right up until the end. Aaron is tempted to say just that to Broden but decides that there’s no point. Aaron’s confident Nicolai Garkov will see prison soon enough, either for the crimes of which he stands accused or something else he hasn’t done yet.

“Thanks for the call, Clint,” Aaron replies, careful not to wish Broden any luck in his upcoming defense of Nicolai Garkov.

Like Nicolai Garkov, others, especially some members of the press, have recognized that Rosenthal’s confession demonstrates that Aaron’s entire defense consisted of perjured testimony. There is simply no way to ascribe motive to Rosenthal’s crime without concluding that he was protecting Aaron from disclosure of his affair with Judge Nichols.

Aaron’s well aware of the collateral consequences of the conduct
he’s engaged in, and yet he believes that this time there will not be any negative fallout for Cynthia or Rachel for their perjury. Fitz has too good a political ear for that. Any further prosecution only keeps in the public eye that he indicted and tried the wrong man for the underlying crime.

THE PRISON’S ORANGE JUMPSUIT
hangs off Sam Rosenthal’s slight frame when he enters the MCC visitors’ room. Even in the short time he’s been here, Rosenthal appears to have lost weight and looks frail, reminding Aaron of the days after Sam’s accident a decade ago.

Rosenthal makes his way to Aaron, relying on a metal cane with a four-pronged base, like they issue in hospitals. He isn’t shackled at all, perhaps because he’s already so unsteady.

More out of habit than irony, Aaron has taken a seat at the same table where Rosenthal was sitting when Aaron entered this room the day after his own arrest. As then, the room is empty, but for the guards who stand at its perimeter.

“I was hoping it was you,” Rosenthal says. “The guards don’t say who’s visiting, just that you have a visitor.”

Aaron nods. Of course he knows this.

“You want to hear something funny?”

Aaron is hard-pressed to imagine what Rosenthal could say that would amount to humor at a moment like this.

“Sure,” Aaron says.

“I can’t get out of my mind this image of Gordon White laughing his ass off. All he ever wanted in life was to have his name before mine.”

Gordon White has been dead for more than twenty years, and he exists primarily as the final name on the Cromwell Altman masthead. Rosenthal may be correct that White will move up to third position, but it’s more likely both their names will be jettisoned, and the firm will simply rebrand itself as Cromwell Altman. Aaron wonders if this is the saddest stroke of all for Rosenthal, even worse than dying in
prison. To have his name taken off his life’s work.

“I’m going to resign from the firm,” Aaron says. “In fact, right after I leave here I’m going to make it official before the COC.”

Aaron expects to be asked about who will take over the firm, but instead Rosenthal says, “And do what?”

“Cynthia was offered a teaching position at the University of Virginia. They say that I can have one too if I want. Guest lecturer or something.”

“Don’t worry,” Rosenthal says with a smile. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of teaching again.”

Aaron smiles too, remembering that day in Justice Rellington’s chambers all those years ago. “I don’t know. I think I might want some time to do nothing. Just think about everything that’s happened.”

Rosenthal’s smile runs away, replaced by an expression of profound sadness. For a moment, Aaron is tempted to provide some comfort, but then he stops short, recognizing that it’s wholly appropriate for Sam Rosenthal to suffer for what he’s done.

“When she called me that night,” Rosenthal begins, even though Aaron hasn’t asked him to explain, “she said she’d just seen you. She told me about the affair, and I pretended as if I didn’t already know. I told her that I could still save her nomination, but only if she stepped aside on Garkov. She kept saying that she was sure it was all going to come out and how she wanted to do it in her own way. She was going to reveal everything the next day in court. She said she was calling me so that I could tell Senator Kheel, so he didn’t feel blindsided, but I think the real reason she was calling me was so I could tell you. In fact, the last thing she said on the phone was ‘Tell Aaron not to hate me.’”

That among Faith’s final words were those seeking his forgiveness is too cruel an irony for Aaron to fathom. Aaron cannot stop himself from tearing up, even as Rosenthal continues to tell his story without emotion, as if he’s recounting a military mission that happened to
experience casualties.

“There was no doubt in my mind that if she went public, your career was over, so I asked to meet with her. I knew it was risky. You could be a suspect if she’d told anyone that you’d met her that night, and I could be a suspect if people saw the phone call to my office. I swear, I didn’t know she had called your office number by mistake and been rerouted to me. But I had to act then or it would have been too late. So I did what I had to do. There was no other option.”

“Of course there were other options, Sam. All that was at stake was a law firm. That didn’t justify taking a woman’s life.”

“A
law firm
?” Rosenthal says with incredulity. “That law firm was
my life
. And I thought it was yours too. And just as I’m sure you would take a life to protect your children’s lives, that’s what I was doing too.”

Aaron has no doubt that this is true. Sam Rosenthal could have gotten away with murder, and yet he didn’t.

Rosenthal stands to say good-bye, seemingly to release Aaron from any further obligations. “I don’t want you keeping the COC waiting on my account,” he says.

For a brief moment Aaron considers telling Rosenthal that he is not forgiven, that some conduct is too horrible to forgive. But Aaron is all that Sam Rosenthal has in this world, and some responsibilities are simply too great to abandon, and so he pulls his mentor into him, hugging him. This is too much for Sam Rosenthal to endure and he begins to sob.

THE COC GIVES AARON
a standing ovation when he enters the conference room. His place at the head of the conference room table is vacant, as is the chair across from it, where Samuel Rosenthal was a fixture for longer than any one of them has served.

“Thank you,” Aaron says to quiet the applause of the COC. “I cannot tell you all how much I appreciate all of your support. I would like to tell you that the last few months have reconfirmed how
important this law firm is to me, and that I’m rededicated to its leadership and our continued success . . . but the opposite is true. All that I’ve experienced has made it abundantly clear to me that what matters in life is what goes on not in this office, but in my home, with my family.”

Aaron’s departure from Cromwell Altman Rosenthal and White has been a matter of negotiation. In exchange for stepping aside and allowing Donald Pierce to finally achieve his life’s ambition, Aaron has secured a place on the COC for Rachel London, as well as Abby Sloane’s appointment to the newly created position of deputy chairman.

Pierce says, “I speak not only for this committee but for the whole of Cromwell Altman when I say that we are deeply indebted to you and your leadership over these past ten years. We all wish you and your family the very best.”

With that, Aaron leaves the COC to continue its business. As he enters his corner office, he thinks he hears the rustle of Donald Pierce changing seats.

Alone in his office, Aaron can’t help but stare out the window one last time. He imagines that he’ll never again see the world from such a high perch and smiles at the irony that he so rarely appreciated the view. Although his walls are covered with framed clippings of his legal triumphs and photographs of him with various A-listers, when he scans the space for personal mementos that he wants to take with him, he reaches only for a single picture of Cynthia, Lindsay, and Samantha.

Then he leaves Cromwell Altman Rosenthal and White for the last time. The rest of his life now awaits him.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THANK YOU FOR READING
Losing Faith
, hopefully enjoying it, and now reading the acknowledgments. Please send me an e-mail at
[email protected]
and tell me what you thought of it. Or find me on my Facebook fan page,
www.facebook.com/pages/Adam-Mitzner/146568165416677
, and post there. Also, reviews help spread the word, so please post a review to your favorite site.

I am truly fortunate to have had some great people assist me in bringing
Losing Faith
to you. My agent, Scott Miller at Trident Media, deserves special thanks that go beyond just this book, for taking a chance on me way back when. Scott’s assistant, Stephanie Hoover, has always been there for me whenever I’ve had a question or a concern. At Gallery Books, I’m lucky beyond words to work with Ed Schlesinger, who makes everything I write better. Once the book is finished, Stephanie DeLuca helps get the word out, which is just as important as (if not more so than) the work that goes into writing it. I’ve also been privileged to work with the very talented people at FSB, who tell the blogosphere about me, especially Fauzia Burke and Leyane Jerejian.

My partners and colleagues at Pavia & Harcourt, the law firm where I do my day job as the head of their litigation department, have been incredibly supportive of my nighttime writing activities. Those who know me will appreciate that more than being a lawyer or even a writer, I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. There are many reasons that dream will not come true, but at least this way I get to have an alter ego.

I once heard someone describe the writing process as being in an empty room and then, slowly, inviting people in. I’ve been very fortunate that I have some amazing and talented people willing to come into that room and help me: Clint Broden, Matthew Brooks, Gregg Goldman, Jane Goldman, Sofia Logue, Rebecca Nelson, Debbie Peikes, Benjamin Plevin, Ellice Schwab, Jessica Shacter, Kevin Shacter, Lisa Sheffield, Jodi Siskind, Marilyn Steinthal, and Joellen Valentine.

If some of those names sound familiar, it’s because after my friends do me the great kindness of reading my unfinished book and providing helpful advice, I reward them by using their names for characters that do not in any way actually resemble them. In
Losing Faith
, I have stolen the identity of Clint Broden (who would like the world to know that he’s more academically accomplished than his fictional counterpart but every bit as much a Pepsi man), Harrison Geller, Jane Cleary, Gregg Goldman, Dana Luria, Sara Meyers, Diane Pimentel, Kenneth Sadinoff, Alyssa Sanders, David Sanyour, Ellice Schwab, and Jodi Siskind.

Losing Faith
is dedicated to my fifteen-year-old stepsons, Michael and Benjamin Plevin. Benjamin read
Losing Faith
twice in draft and offered insightful comments, and although Michael decided to skip the reading process, that did not in any way impede him from offering his own insightful commentary.

My daughters, Rebecca and Emily, are always at the forefront of my mind when I write—even though neither of them has read any of my work. In Rebecca’s case, I think it’s because the last thing a teenage girl wants is to know that much about her father’s deepest thoughts, and in the case of Emily, who is eleven, it’s because the themes are still too adult for her. But I suspect that someday they’ll both read
Losing Faith
and I hope that when they do, they not only like it but also remember how happy I was when I wrote it.

Last, and certainly most, my love and utmost thanks to my wife, Susan. She’s not only the first person I let into the writing room,
but I sometimes make her stay there long after she’d rather have left. Although she now has me on a strict “I’m only going to read it three times” diet, her assistance to the finished product cannot be measured merely by her critiques. Her presence by my side is what allows me to venture into the writing room in the first place, because I know that what really matters is outside of that room, with her, our family, and our friends.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photograph by Susan Steinthal

ADAM MITZNER, a lawyer by day, is also the author of
A Case of Redemption
and
A Conflict of Interest
. He lives in New York City, with his wife and children.

FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
authors.simonandschuster.com/Adam-Mitzner

MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

SimonandSchuster.com

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