Plea of Insanity (16 page)

30

On Wednesday, 2nd November, at three thirty in the afternoon, the Grand Jury returned an indictment charging Dr David Alain Marquette with four counts of first-degree murder. The thirteen men and eight women who comprised the jury had deliberated a little under twenty minutes. Although the concurrence of only twelve was needed to indict, Martin Yars reported to Rickthat he had it on good authority the vote was unanimous. By law, the substance of Grand Jury deliberations – including the actual vote – was supposed to be kept secret.

Marquette’s arraignment was the following morning at nine before Judge Farley and the courthouse was definitely jumping. On three, Judge Flowers was trying a thirteen-year-old aspiring serial killer for slitting the throat of his best buddy in their middle-school bathroom. On five, Judge Macias was sentencing a nineteen-year-old to life in prison for the shotgun murder of a drug dealer and his hard-nosed mother. At eleven o’clockin 6–10, Judge Houchens would be hearing a motion to suppress the statements of a father accused of molesting his five-year-old twin daughters and giving them gonorrhea while on a church camping trip. Arson in 2–6 before Judge Johnson. Home invasion in 2–10, cocaine trafficking, 5–7. Picka courtroom – any courtroom – and you’d be sure to be horrified. But as Julia hurried across the street, dodging raindrops and puddles the size of small lakes along the way, she knew it was
State vs. Marquette
that was drawing the crowd. There was a pile-up of local news trucks in front of the courthouse, their monstrous satellite antennas towering forty, fifty feet into the downpour.

It was funny, she thought, as she ran past them in her now-ruined new suede heels, you never knew what would make a headline. Like a sleeper-of-the-year at the box office, or a best-selling novel from an unknown writer, you just could never predict what would strike the public’s nerve and what wouldn’t. Some cases made a lot of noise in the beginning, but faded to barely a mention in the local section as the case made its way through the process and interest inexplicably petered out. Others never hit the paper at all. The aberrant exceptions – the Lyle and Erik Menendezes, Scott Petersons, O. J. Simpsons, Michael Jacksons, Bill Bantlings – those were the defendants who grasped and held the ultra-elusive
national
attention. Those were the big-name cases that made and ruined careers and fixated an entire country of workaholics in front of their TVs in the middle of busy afternoons just to watch a verdict be delivered.

Fortunately, that kind of intense media scrutiny wasn’t the case here. At least, not yet. But while David Marquette might not be making the headline desk over at
Good Morning America
or CNN, there was no denying he’d attracted and kept the fickle attention of the local desensitized press here in Miami. And that was intimidating enough for Julia. She spotted the jumble of cameras and the familiar faces she usually watched report the eleven o’clocknews as soon as she stepped off the escalator, all gathered in front of the grand mahogany doors of 4–10. Corrections had set up shop with another search table, metal detector and an extra set of plastic stanchions. A decent crowd of curious onlookers lingered to watch what was not going on, thickening the already-congested morning hallway.

She took a deep breath as butterflies began to flutter furiously about in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been a newsmonger, or had a lifelong desire to ‘be on TV’, but seeing the cameras and knowing that they were here on
her
case made her more than just a little anxious. It was a few minutes to nine, and Rickwas either inside already, or, as was more likely the case, still across the street sipping coffee in his office and flipping through the paper. He hated sitting around any courtroom waiting for court to start, so Julia knew she was probably the first to be making an appearance for Team State. She worried about doing or saying the wrong thing in front of all the cameras and familiar-faced reporters who were sure to ask for her thoughts and comments.

She needn’t have worried. She walked right past everyone and into the courtroom without anybody even asking her for the time of day. Inside, a jabbering, excited crowd of correction officers, attorneys, cops, defendants and witnesses filled the courtroom. Most were there for cases other than
State vs. Marquette
, but Julia suspected the tripod-mounted cameras in both corners of the room had definitely added to both the crowd and the excitement. Farley had no problem with the limelight and being in it every night on the evening news. In fact, he was probably backstage right now, chomping at the bit to come out and ruin someone’s day in front of a TV audience.

She looked over at the jury box as she made her way up the aisle and into the gallery, but the in-custody defendants had not yet been brought over and the box was empty. She settled into a seat against the wall on the State’s side. Karyn was chatting with an ECU prosecutor by the podium, and Julia flashed her a smile, but all she got backwas a cool, indifferent nod. It was hard not to take it personally; things had definitely been strained between them since the First Appearance. Thankfully, the strange, potentially contagious aloofness that Rickhad warned her to watch out for had not spread to anyone else in the office yet. Of course, it was only the arraignment, and her involvement on the case certainly hadn’t been announced to the world.

She glanced over at the still-empty jury box. Although she’d seen his face in photos and on the First Appearance tape, in just a few moments she would finally get to see Dr David Marquette in person. She’d never been as curious, as excited, as angry, or as scared to meet one of her defendants before. A million strange emotions charged the adrenaline that pulsed through her veins.

Julia had seen killers before – chained and shackled and only steps away in a jury box or behind a defense table. In Miami courtrooms, they were not that uncommon a sight. But even though she’d met more than her fair share of bad people on this earth, she still needed to lookwhenever a murderer was brought into the room or stepped up to the podium as the prosecutor called out priors. Look and see the person who’d taken someone else’s lifeblood with the pull of a trigger or the quickjab of a knife. Look and see if there was anyone there, if there was anything left that was human in his eyes. She always expected those defendants – the murderers – to lookremarkably different somehow, to sound different, to bear a sign or a disfiguring stain or a mark– something, anything that one could immediately recognize as that of a killer. Of one who was
capable
of committing murder. But more often than not, it was frightening how completely normal a killer could look …

Outside in the hallway, the press must’ve pounced on prey. Everyone turned to lookas the doors swung open and Dr Alain Marquette and his wife both hurried in, closely tailed by Mel Levenson and Stan Grossbach. Insistent reporters, held back at the door by Corrections, continued to shout out questions that were not being answered. Dr Marquette kept his arm protectively around his wife’s shoulders as he ushered her to the front row of seats. But even with her head hung low, it was hard to hide the yellowing bruises under her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the white bandage across her nose – long-lasting souvenirs, presumably, from her fall outside Ryder. Julia watched them for a long moment. Nina Marquette was a large, statuesque woman, elegantly styled, with strong features and squared shoulders. Julia suspected she dominated a room on most occasions. But not today. Today she looked frightened and overwhelmed, small for her size. She looked like a woman who had been crying for days, maybe even weeks, on end.

How did it feel to be the parents of a killer? How did it feel to have created a human being so reviled, so loathed – a person who would grow up to murder his own children in cold blood? She wondered if the Marquettes felt any sense of responsibility for the sins of their son. Were there warning signs that they chose to ignore over the years? Was there anything that they could have done that might have made a difference? She supposed it must be doubly hard for them – they’d violently lost their daughter-in-law and grandchildren. They had them to mourn, too, although she knew that friends and family closest to Jennifer had discouraged their presence at the funerals. Now they stood to lose their son – not to a prison cell where they could maybe visit once a week, but to a needle that would stop his heart and kill him, too. And they would not be allowed to mourn him when he passed, either. They were just supposed to watch quietly with the rest of the witnesses when the warden pulled the blackcurtain back and the crowd outside the prison gates began to cheer.

The door to the jury room suddenly opened, pulling her out of her troubling thoughts. A human chain of defendants shuffled into the courtroom, chains rattling and mouths running as Corrections barked instructions. Fresh from the farm across the street, most looked mean and tough and larger than life somehow – no matter the physical stature – with their tattoos and piercings and gangsta attitudes. All except one. Towing the back of the line, and separated from the others by a few chain lengths, was a slight man in physical comparison, wearing a red jumpsuit, looking down, his face hidden from view. An electric murmur ran through the spectators as they asked each other, ‘Is that him? Is that the doctor?’

Without any warning, the door to the judge’s hall opened and Jefferson, the bailiff, stepped out. Before he could even open his mouth, the courtroom rose to its feet as a sour-faced Judge Farley rushed from behind him to the bench.

‘All rise! No beepers, no cellphones! No children, no talking! Court is now in session,’ Jefferson hesitantly shouted. ‘The Honorable Judge Leonard Farley presiding. Be seated and be quiet!’ Jefferson was relatively new to his job. He looked back at the judge for a nod of approval, but Farley was giving out none of that today.

The courtroom quickly settled into quiet as the judge stirred his coffee and surveyed his kingdom, seemingly oblivious to the cameras and the crowd presence. Even the defendants in the box shut up, as the judge’s reputation for not taking shit stretched across the street and upstate, as well. Julia saw John Latarrino and Steve Brill slip in the back of the courtroom and move to a spot up against the wall, next to Dayanara, who’d popped in for support and to get a lookat ‘the sonofabitch’ herself. Lat smiled and gave a short wave. She smiled back. Allies, finally.

‘Alright,’ Farley began after a moment, studying the long line of attorneys that already snaked behind the podiums. ‘It looks like we’ve got a full house today. Let’s get this party started. Who’s first, Ivonne?’

31

Julia prayed that Rick would walk fast as Ivonne called calendar and the parade of defense attorneys slowly worked their way up to the podium. Farley hated passing cases for attorneys who weren’t present, and she definitely didn’t want to be the first one to face his wrath this morning. Just as the room began to get really hot and Stan Grossbach moved into the number-three position, the muffled shouts of the press started up in the halls once again. The courtroom door opened, the crowd hushed momentarily, and Rick strode in, well-dressed and ready to save the day.

‘Mr Bellido,’ Farley said, raising a lip – the closest Julia had ever seen to a smile. ‘Let me guess. You’re here on—’

‘The State versus David Marquette. Page nine. Good morning, Your Honor,’ Rickanswered back smoothly as he made his way up the aisle. ‘Ricardo Bellido for the State,’ he said to the court reporter with just a hint of a Spanish accent that Julia had not heard before. Somehow he’d gotten to the head of the line and no one had complained.

‘I heard this was coming my way,’ said the judge, waving off the defense attorney at the podium, whose mouth was still open and in mid-sentence. Mel lumbered his way up and bumped the fly-catcher back into line.

‘Good morning, Judge,’ Mel said gruffly. He flashed a familiar smile at the judge as Stan headed over to the jury box. ‘Mel Levenson and Stan Grossbach for the defendant, Dr David Marquette. I’ve already filed my appearance.’

‘Good to see you, Mel. I heard your office was handling this,’ Farley said. ‘Looks like we’ve got quite a crowd.’ In between careers as a prosecutor and then a defense attorney, Mel Levenson used to be a Circuit Court judge. In fact, he’d had the courtroom down the hall from Farley. That was a number of years ago, but the Good Ol’ Boys Club offered lifetime memberships. The judge leaned back in his seat and raised his lip once again. ‘I’ll tell you, gentlemen, this is going to be some match-up. Tyson versus Holyfield. Alright, let’s get this party started.’

‘Page nine,
State vs. David Alain Marquette,
felony case number F05-43254,’ said Ivonne. ‘Today is the twenty-first day, Your Honor.’

‘Is the defendant present?’ asked the judge, looking at the box.

‘He is,’ said Mel. ‘As are his parents, Your Honor.’

Farley didn’t bother acknowledging them.

Julia craned her neck, but Marquette’s face was still obscured. Someone began sniffling loudly. It was Marquette’s mother.

‘Please stop that,’ said the judge, annoyed.

‘As I think you know, the Grand Jury has indicted the defendant on four counts of first-degree murder. The indictment should be in the court file,’ said Rick, looking around the courtroom. His eyes caught Julia’s and he discreetly motioned with a nod of his head for her to come up beside him.

‘I have a copy of the indictment. We wave formal reading, enter a plea of not guilty and demand discovery,’ responded Mel.

‘Fifteen days,’ said the judge, taking a slug of his coffee. ‘Ivonne, what’s my calendar looking like?’

Julia tooka breath and walked across the gallery to the podium as Ivonne began to toss out dates. She felt Karyn and the other prosecutors watching her, some probably wondering what she was doing up there. Others, as Rick had warned, perhaps jealous that she was.

Across the room, David Marquette finally looked up.

Julia sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t what she saw. The young, handsome doctor with the soft face and easygoing, trusting smile that she’d seen in the hallway pictures was gone. His light skin was sallow and pale under the courtroom’s harsh lights; shadows made his well-defined cheekbones appear drawn and sunken, and either Corrections had purposely sized his jumpsuit wrong – which they were known to do on occasion with child molesters and other particularly repugnant inmates – or David Marquette had lost a lot of weight since he’d moved in. His tousled blond hair was now stringy and long, his face a matted carpet of blond/gray stubble. He clenched the jury-box railing so hard that Julia could see the raised vein lines in his chained hand. His strange, light-gray eyes stared out at nothing, vacant and lifeless, like that of a mannequin in a department-store window – watching everything but seeing nothing.

Stan stood next to the box, whispering in his ear, most likely explaining the proceedings and the charges in the indictment. But whatever Stan was saying – whatever it was his client was hearing – the words were having no effect. When Farley began to recite some of the more grisly facts from the indictment after Mel requested a bond, the man didn’t even blink. A strange wave of goosebumps erupted across Julia’s skin, leaving her cold and clammy, and she finally had to lookaway. The whole strange scene reminded her of some nineteenth-century traveling circus that’d come to town and had finally unveiled the show’s main attraction – the hideous Human Monster, a freakchained and shackled to his stage. The terrified, fascinated audience gaped in fear and disgust at the very sight of him.

‘Look,’ Judge Farley said with a shake of his head, holding his hand up to silence Mel, ‘I’m not giving him a bond. If you want an Arthur Hearing, take your arguments to Judge Solly. That’s what she does and that’s all she does. If she wants to give you a bond, I guess I won’t have a problem with it. Although,’ he finished, looking over at Rick with a smirk and a smug lookin his eyes, ‘I’m pretty confident Mr Bellido will.’ The judge finally noticed Julia at his side. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she swore his bushy brow furrowed slightly.

‘Correct, Judge,’ Rick replied coolly. He reached across the aisle divide and, with a snap, handed a piece of paper to Mel. ‘Especially since the State intends to seek the death penalty in this matter. I’ve already filed my written notice with the court.’

‘I’ve got it right here,’ said Farley.

‘Naturally, we will be strenuously objecting to any release,’ said Rick.

Another electric murmur buzzed the crowd. One of the defendants in the box started to cackle and another let out what sounded like a ‘Whoo-Whee!’ The judge shot them all a testy look. ‘I think your client might need to find someone to take care of both his patients and his houseplants for a while longer, Mr Levenson,’ he said when the courtroom had settled down. ‘Alright, let’s set a trial date. Give me something quick, Ivonne. I don’t want to die before I get a chance to try this thing.’

‘February ninth for report. February thirteenth for trial,’ replied Ivonne.

‘Whose weekis that?’ asked Farley.

‘That’s a B week.’

‘Fine. February ninth for report—’

Julia looked at Rick. She was still a bit shocked over seeing Marquette and then there was the death-penalty announcement, which had just come as official news to her. ‘Julia Valenciano for the State,’ she interrupted, moving into the podium and clearing her throat. ‘Judge, excuse me, but that’s my week. I’d like to request you set Marquette down in an alternate week.’

Farley frowned. ‘Ms Valenciano, this decision doesn’t concern you. Step back.’

Obviously the judge had not yet heard the news. How ironic was it, she thought as she nibbled on the wall of her cheek, that of the twenty criminal Circuit Court judges in Miami that were assigned to handle the county’s forty thousand felony arrests each year, it was the Honorable Judge Leonard Farley who the computers had randomly spit out to hear this one. In a case that could catapult her career into another stratosphere, she’d beaten Las Vegas odds to get the one judge hell-bent on destroying it.

‘Ms Valenciano will be second-chairing this with me, Your Honor,’ Rickcoolly cut in. ‘I thinkwe’ll need a date that can accommodate her trial schedule as well.’

The judge said nothing for a long moment while the courtroom sat in silence. Julia felt like she was naked in a room full of leering voyeurs. ‘Okay, Ivonne. Give me another date,’ he finally said. ‘One in an A week, please.’

‘February sixteenth for report. February twenty-first for trial. That’s the Tuesday after President’s Day.’

‘The sixteenth it is, people. I’ll see you all then,’ said Farley. ‘Motions in thirty. And no delays.’ He peered menacingly over his glasses. ‘As I’m sure Ms Valenciano here can tell all of you, I’ve got a very busy docket.’