Redress of Grievances (21 page)

"But
Sharon is."

"She's
afraid of everything."

"You're
responsible for the shootings, aren't you?"

"I
didn't shoot anyone, Harriett," Jan smiled. "Those people killed
themselves."

"You're
culpable, which means..."

"I
know what it means. I'm not stupid," Jan snapped.

"Sorry.
I forgot that Sharon taught law as part of her class."

"Sharon
didn't teach shit. She couldn't hack it any more."

"You're
teaching her classes?"

"For
about two years. It's kinda fun. I was teacher of the year, you know."

"I've
seen a video of you in action. Very impressive."

Jan
performed a mock bow from her seat and smiled.

"Where
is Sharon while you're teaching?"

"Resting,
I guess."

"But
it is Sharon who goes home every evening?"

"Of
course. After a long hard day at the office, you think I want to go home to
that asshole Frank Taggart? Pul-eeze," Jan said, rolling her eyes.

Harriett
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I'm
going to request a psychiatric evaluation."

"For
what? I ain't nuts. Besides, I thought you said the other day that this was a
bogus charge."

"Not
if you did it."

"But
Sharon didn't do anything. We don't need any shrinks in here fuckin' everything
up and askin' how Sharon got along with dear old Mommy and Daddy or how
traumatic her potty trainin' was."

"If
you're a personality separate from Sharon, we could amend the plea to NGRI. A
psychiatrist would be able to testify that Sharon has a mental defect."

"And
then what, spend the rest of my life in a mental institution?" Jan asked,
getting up from her seat. "No, thank you. I only came out today because
you pushed Sharon too far. But I'm not talkin' to any shrinks and neither is
she. At least if we go to jail, we'll be away from everyone who's ever hurt
us."

"She
needs help."

"To
get rid of me you mean. But you know what, I kind of like it here."

"I'll
bet you do. Do anything you want and let Sharon take the blame."

"Look,
I've been takin' shit for her for over twenty fuckin' years, and all I've got
to show for it are bad memories. You know what it's like to have nothin' but
bad memories? I'm thinkin' about stayin' out."

"What
about Sharon?"

"What
about her? She'd never be able to protect herself anyway. I can just let her go
to sleep. Let her go somewhere where she won't have to worry about pain and
anger anymore."

"If
you're the one who suffers the pain and anger, won't you be one-sided without
her? After all, she created you."

"Because
she couldn't handle life in the big bad world. She'll never be able to. So
what's the point of her even stayin' around?"

"Time's
getting short," Harriett said. "I haven't been able to convince the
prosecutor to lessen the charge. Sharon could face the death penalty based on
the physical evidence they have, and I have no doubt the State will demand it."

"What
are you sayin'?"

"I'm
saying that I'm not left with much except an insanity plea on her behalf, but I
can't do that without Sharon's permission."

"Do
you think she's crazy?"

"I
think she has some problems that would qualify as a legitimate affirmative
defense. She'll have to give the okay, and then you'll both have to trust
me."

"What
happens if they don't believe she's crazy?"

"She
could be just as bad off. This is a last resort defense. She'll have to be
evaluated by psychiatrists from both sides."

"I
already told you I wasn't gonna talk to any shrinks," Jan said.

"We
don't have a choice, Jan," Harriett said calmly. "If I can't go
forward with this defense, Sharon will be executed and you'll both die."

"You're
askin' me to commit suicide anyway by going away."

"I'm
asking you to let me save Sharon. Then maybe you and she can come to grips with
one another. You're strong, Jan. She needs that part of herself. And I think
you need her."

"She's
a pathetic weakling."

"She's
a caring, gentle person. If she's executed will you come out to take the
punishment? Or will you leave her alone and bewildered?"

"I'll
do what I have to to protect myself."

"Then
do it now. When people understand what happened to her, they'll get help for
you, too."

"You
know what happened to her?"

"No,
but from what I've read, it must have been a childhood trauma of some kind. Is
that right?"

Jan
smiled at Harriett. "I guess that depends on your point of view."

"Will
you let her agree to a change in the plea?"

"Why
not? I like to shock people anyway."

Pulling
a paper from her briefcase, Harriett laid it on the table and handed a pen to
Jan.

"Sharon
has to sign this."

Taking
the pen, Jan said, "She doesn't do anything I don't want her to do."

Signing
the paper, Jan handed the pen back to Harriett. "Now what?"

"I'm
requesting a change of venue as well," Harriett said as she glanced at the
signature before slipping the document back into her briefcase. "I hope to
get the case moved to Travis County."

"Where
the hell is that?"

"Austin.
It's more liberal, and a jury might be more open-minded to the plea than a
Dallas jury."

"Whatever.
When does the shrink arrive?"

"The
first one will probably be here tomorrow sometime."

"The
first one! How many fuckin' people do I have to talk to?"

"I'm
arranging for three, and I don't know what the prosecution will bring in."

"Shit,
why worry about pleadin' insanity. By the time they get through, we won't have
a brain left worth keeping."

"I
don't want to mislead you," Harriett said. "This won't be a walk in
the park. Juries don't like this plea, and the burden of proof is on us."

"You
mean you have to prove she's crazy."

"Yes.
And that whichever one of you pulled the trigger didn't know the difference
between right and wrong."

"That's
some swell job you got, Harriett."

Chapter
Twenty-One

IT
WAS NINE-THIRTY that evening by the time Harriett returned to the Hyatt. As
soon as she entered her room, she collapsed on the bed. Sitting up a few
minutes later, she called Wayne and Nick, arranging to meet them in the bar for
a drink.

When
they had all been served, Harriett took a long drink.

"What
do you think?" she asked looking at the two men.

"She
agreed?" Nick asked.

"Someone
signed her name to the document. Lassiter won't fight the insanity thing. He
doesn't have to prove a damn thing, so his job will be easy."

"Too
bad the rules changed, or he'd be busier than a shithouse rat," Wayne
said.

"Did
you look over the papers I gave you?"

"Yeah,"
Nick said. "But you're still stuck with the right-wrong standard."

"Well,
she admits she did it, but she doesn't think she did anything wrong. Malicious
mischief at best. The victims overreacted."

"She
had to have known people might get a little overwrought if they were being shot
at," Nick said.

"But
did they know that?" Harriett asked. "How would the average driver
cruising down the highway know they've been shot at?"

"A
bullet zippin' through the windshield would probably be their first clue,"
Wayne snorted.

"Why
not a blowout? Or a rock hitting the windshield? Have we got the accident
reports?"

"Yeah."

"Did
the reports mention a bullet hole in any of the windows?"

"The
cars were pretty messed up, Harriett. Ever seen what's left after a head-on
collision with a light pole or another car at fifty or sixty miles per?"

"So
how would the prosecution know the cars were even shot at? If bullets went
through the windshields they had to have lodged somewhere inside the vehicles.
Lassiter has to be withholding something to act as sure as he is.
Wayne..." Harriett began.

"Yeah,
yeah, I'll look into it. I know someone at ballistics."

Harriett
smiled at the older man and patted his hand.

"You
know someone everywhere, thank God," she said. "I want to see where
these accidents took place. And at the same time of day."

"She
told you she shot at the cars, Harriett," Nick said.

"But
Lassiter doesn't know that, Nick," she nodded.

"Well,
you can't have it both ways," Nick said over his glass. "You can
either disprove their evidence or go for insanity. But you can't do both."

"I'm
betting they have more than the one bullet they told me about. If Lassiter is
holding them back and I can prove it, I want him off the case. I'm going to
hold the insanity motion for a while."

"You
can check out the scenes of the crime tonight if you want to," Wayne said.
"They all happened after dark."

WAYNE
DROVE HARRIETT'S truck as he took her and Nick to the sites where the accidents
had taken place. Each faced a bridge or embankment. As Harriett made her way
around the areas overlooking the highways, she had an unobstructed view of the
oncoming traffic. At the scene of the Kaufmann accident, the last shooting, a
steep grassy embankment ran between the main highway and an access road.

"Where
did the witness say she saw Sharon?" Harriett asked as she looked around.

"Claims
she saw her coming from up there," Wayne said as he pointed up the grassy
area.

Harriett
climbed up the embankment and lay down on the grass. Wayne and Nick joined her
a moment later.

"Good
view," Wayne said.

"Where
did Mrs. Sanchez see the car?"

"On
the access road," Wayne said, motioning over his shoulder.

"I
want pictures of this whole area at night." Looking back at the traffic,
Harriett asked, "How fast do you estimate those cars are going?"

"Over
the speed limit. Maybe sixty-five or seventy."

"Could
you hit an oncoming vehicle at this range, Wayne?"

"Probably.
The car ought to run into the bullet."

"Lassiter
said they took a slug from a telephone pole here at the Kaufmann scene. Where
did the vehicle end up?"

"It
hit the median and flipped over a couple of times. Finally came to rest down
there in that culvert."

Harriett
raised her body to see the spot Wayne had indicated.

"I
only see one telephone pole between
here and there. The rest are aluminum light poles. I wasn't very good in
geometry, but from this angle I don't see how a slug could make it into that
pole."

"It
might have ricocheted off the pavement and then hit the pole," Nick
offered.

"I
bet you believe the magic bullet theory from the Kennedy assassination,
too," Wayne chuckled.

Looking
at her investigator, Harriett said, "I'm beginning to think that either
this wasn't where Sharon was lying in wait, or that bullet didn't come from any
telephone pole. Have you seen it yet?"

"I
saw what they claimed was the slug," Wayne said. "Right caliber, but
the ballistics report was iffy about whether or not it came from the Taggart
Browning."

"Was
it damaged, like it had struck a pole?" Harriett quizzed.

"I
seen worse. A telephone pole ain't that dense," Wayne shrugged.

"Why
would they show us a bogus bullet?" Nick asked. "That would be
stupid."

"Riley,"
Harriett answered as she got up and started down the embankment toward her truck.

"Riley
hates Harriett because of what happened in the Wilkes case," Wayne finally
answered as he sat up. "Hell, for all I know, he's squirreled evidence
away that Lassiter don't even know about yet. Harriett nearly ruined Riley's
career back then. She used information from me to get the case thrown out of
court. Not long after that Wilkes killed again. She's had a hard time living
with that one."

"The
Wilkes case was just one of those things."

"Yeah,
well, the prick got off on an NGRI. That's why she's been hesitant about usin'
it for this case."

"Sometimes
it's the right thing."

"And
sometimes it ain't."

"It's
been over eleven years, Wayne. Besides, they couldn't possibly have known
Harriett was going to take the Taggart case."