The Burning Man (32 page)

As soon as the jurors were settled, the bailiff pressed a button at the side of his desk to signal the judge.

Everyone stood when judge Kuffel entered the courtroom. When he was seated, the judge turned toward the jury box.

"Ladies and gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?"

Em st Clayfield, a farmer, stood slowly. He held a folded sheet of paper in his hand.

"We have," Clayfield answered grimly.

"Please hand your verdict to the bailiff," the judge commanded.

Clayfield held out his hand and the bailiff took the verdict form from him and gave it to the judge. Kuffel unfolded it and read it once. Then he looked at Gary.

"Will the defendant please stand," he said in a subdued voice. Gary jumped up, but Peter felt dizzy from tension and his legs were weak. It took an effort to get to his feet.

"Omitting the caption," judge Kuffel said, "the verdict reads as follows: "We the jury, being duly impaneled and sworn, find the defendant GUILTY as charged."'

There was complete silence for a moment, then Peter heard Alice Harmon moan as Donna softly cried out, "No." He was looking down at the courtroom floor and did not see the wide smile of satisfaction on Becky O'Shay's face. A babble of voices filled the air.

judge Kuffel gaveled for silence, then asked, "Do you want the ury polled, Mr. Hale?"

Yes," Peter managed. He touched Gary's shoulder and slumped down in his seat as the judge asked each juror if he or she agreed with the verdict.

"What happened?" Gary asked.

"They found you guilty, Gary," Peter said. "They think you killed that girl."

Gary looked stunned. He rose slowly to his feet and stared at the judge. The guards started forward.

"I didn't do it," Gary said. The judge stopped polling the jury and said, "Please sit down, Mr. Harmon."

"I didn't hurt that girl," Gary cried out, his voice breaking.

"Mr. Harmon," the judge repeated as the guards drew closer.

"I'm a good boy," Gary wailed. "I want to go home."

Peter stood and placed a hand on Gary's shoulder.

Behind him he could hear Donna's sobs.

"I wanna go home. I want my mamma. I don't like that jail. I wanna go home."

Peter wrapped his arms around Gary and held him.

Gary's body shook as he took gigantic breaths and wailed like a confused and frightened child.

777 Gary had been transferred to the security block in the Whitaker jail as soon as the guilty verdict was received.

It consisted of a row of fifteen narrow cells. Each cell was wide enough for a bunk and a bunk's width of floor snace. At the back of the cell was a toilet. Outside the row of cells was an area where the inmates could take their only exercise by walking back and forth along the bars. A color television was affixed to the bars high up, in the middle. The guards controlled the programs and the viewing hours. Gary hated his narrow cell. It was like a coffin.

Entry to the security block was made through a sally port. Gary heard the grating sound of the sally port door sliding open and strained through the bars of his cell to see the visitor. When Peter was safely inside the sally port, the outer door slid shut and the guard opened the inner door electronically. The other inmates were locked down while Peter visited. They stared as he walked by.

Life on the block was so dull that any change in routine was as great a diversion as a Broadway show.

Gary's cell door was operated from the same master control that opened the sally port gates. When Peter was in front of the cell, the guard opened it and Peter stepped inside. He had planned on a cheery greeting but Gary looked so sad that all he could manage was "Hi, Gary" In a voice so subdued that he wasn't certain he had even said the words aloud.

"Can I go home, Peter?"

Peter ignored the question.

"Sit down, Gary. There are some things we have to discuss."

Gary sat on the bunk and Peter joined him. There was no other place to sit in the cell, except the toilet, which had no lid.

"You're going to have to stay in this cell for a while."

"Why? Why can't I go back to my other cell? That cell was bigger."

"That cell was for when you weren't convicted. Now you are. The penalty phase of your trial will start next week and the sheriff is afraid You might try to escape, so he wants you here."

"I won't try to escape, Pete. I promise. Tell the sheriff I won't tr to escape."

"I did tell him, but he has rules he has to follow if a person is convicted. You know about rules, right, Gary?

if there are rules, you have to follow them."

Gary looked glum. "I guess if it's the rule, he has to follow that rule."

"Right. Now I have something serious we have to talk about, so listen hard."

(60kay, I'm listening."

"Do you know what happens during the penalty phase of your trial?"

"No, Pete. What happens?"

"You ... you've, uh, been convicted of aggravated murder. That's the most serious crime in Oregon. The jury is going to listen to the D.A. and your lawyer and decide which of three punishments to give you. Two of the punishments are life sentences. One life sentence lets you have a possible parole after thirty years. One life sentence doesn't have parole. That means you can't get out ever."

"I don't like that. I want to get out."

Peter started to explain to Gary that he could not get out of prison, but he stopped himself. It was all so futile.

"There's another punishment, Gary. You could receive a death sentence. The jury could say that you shouldbeexecu.. killed.Doyouunderstand?"

"I don't want that one," Gary said. He sounded -A scared.

"And I don't want you to get that punishment either, Peter said, his words catching in his throat. "That's why we're having this talk.

"Now pay close attention, Gary. It's very important that you have a really good lawyer in the penalty phase and I don't think I should be your lawyer."

Gary looked surprised, then even more frightened.

"Don't you want to be my lawyer? You're a good lawyer." 

"I'm not so sure about that, Gary. I haven't done very well with this case so far. I.. . I've never tried a penalty phase. If I told the judge that I'm not good enough to six represent you, he'd get you a good lawyer."

"No, no," Gary said in a panic, "you're my lawyer. "Yes, Gary, but I think you'd do better with another lawyer."

"Oh no. You're the best lawyer," Gary said with conviction. "And you're my friend. My best friend. You'll save me. I know you won't let them give me those bad punishments."

"Jesus, Gary .. ." Peter started, but he did not have the heart to go on.

"Think about it, will you. Really THE t Think about it. Because, I don't know .. . Just think FLATLANDS about it."

April

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN.

judge Kuffel set the start of the penalty phase for a week from Monday, which gave Peter very little time to recover from the trial. On Sunday, Peter woke up a little after nine from a restless sleep haunted by unsettling dreams. He did not want to spend the day in his depressing rental house and he did not have the energy for a run, so, after a shower and breakfast, he went to the office.

Peter had no plan to save Gary. He spent the first half hour aimlessly stacking everything in his case files on his desk. He had been through the police reports, the autopsy report and witness statements several times. The only new things were Donna's neatly typed investigative Peter picked them up and went through them reports.

without enthusiasm. He found nothing of interest until he read Donna's summary of her interview with Marjorie Dooling. Something she'd written triggered a memory and Peter shuffled through the police reports until he found David Thorne's statement.

As Peter entered the Stallion, a man in a Pittsburgh Steeler uniform spun away from two Oakland Raider defenders and gained five yards before being brought down by another Raider. Several patrons groaned and several more cheered. The bartender turned away from the television when the Steelers called a time-out.

"Dave Thorne?"

"That's me," the bartender answered with a smile.

"I'm Peter Hale, Gary Harmon's lawyer."

The smile disappeared. "Tough loss, man," Thorne shook his head. "I have a hard time believing Gary could do something like that."

"I don't think he did. That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask you about something you told the police. It was in the statement you gave to Dennis Downes."

"I remember that."

"I was interested in what you had to say about Sandra Whiley. She was sitting at the end of the bar farthest from the door, right?"

"Yeah, near my station."

"So you saw her for a while?"

"I wasn't paying that much attention. I was pretty busy."

"Right, but in the report you said that there was a time when she seemed nervous or frightened."

,I did?"

Peter gave him a copy of his statement and Thorne read it carefully. He stopped at a section of the report that Peter had highlighted in Magic Marker. Thorne read it twice, then nodded vigorously.

"I remember now. What do you want to know?"

"You said that she was watching two men who were walking toward the back door and she seemed frightened. Tell me about that."

"It was after I called Steve Mancini. When I turned around, Whiley looked shocked or scared. I thought she was staring at two guys on the level above the dance floor, up there."

Peter looked where Thorne was pointing.

"Did you get a good look at the men?" Peter asked.

"No. It was dark and I only glanced at them. Things were pretty frantic up front."

"Can you describe them at all?"

Thorne thought for a second. Then he brightened.

One guy made no impression, but the other guy was huge. I remember thinking he looked like a pro wrestler."

Marjorie Dooling had appeared briefly as a witness in the state's case-in-chief. Peter asked her no questions, but he remembered what she looked like. It only took him a few minutes to locate her in the Whitaker State I College library, where her landlady said she was studying. Dooling was hunched over a history text at a large table next to a row of bookfilled stacks. The seat across from her was empty and Peter took it.

"Miss Dooling, my name is Peter Hale." He handed in her a bus' ess card. "I represent Gary Harmon. You testified at the trial." Dooling's features clouded. "You were kind enough to talk to my investigator the other day, and there was one small item in her report that I wanted to clear up."

"All right," Dooling sighed. "One question. But that's all. I have a test tomorrow."

Peter showed Dooling the section of Donna's report where she had mentioned the man who came to the house to pick up Sandy. of him." ::You said you thought Sandy was frightened She was real nervous all day. When he honked the horn for her, she seemed scared to me."

"Can you remember anything g more about the man in who picked her up? His hair color, his size?"

Dooling started to shake her head. Then, she stopped as something occurred to her.

"I only saw him from the second-floor window and he was in his car. But there was something. When Sandy came out of the door, his arm was restin on the car window. I only saw it for a second, because he brought it inside as soon as he saw her.

"What about the arm?"

"He was wearing a short-sleeve tee shirt and I could see part of his biceps and his forearm. They were really big, like a weight lifter's, and they were covered by tattoos."

"Can you describe the tattoos?"

Dooling closed her eyes. When they opened, she said, "I'm not certain. Like I said, I was looking from a second-floor window and I only saw his arm for a moment, but I think I saw snakes and a panther."

Peter drove back to his office in a fog. Sandra Whiley knew, and was afraid of, Christopher Mammon. Was Mammon monitoring Gary's trial to make certain that he was not implicated by any of the evidence? Mammon had the opportunity to commit the crime. He left the Stallion around the time that Whiley left the bar. If Peter could show that a monster like Mammon had a reason to harm Whiley, Gary Harmon would cease to be the only viable suspect in her murder.

As Peter parked in front of Mancini's building, he remembered Amos Geary telling him to read Mammon's file before the preliminary hearing, but Peter had only given the documents in the file a cursory glance. Now he wished he had been more thorough. There might have been something in the file that would help Gary.

Asking Geary to see the file would be useless. He doubted Geary would even talk to him. Besides, the file was confidential and Peter no longer worked for Geary.

However, Steve Mancini represented Kevin Booth in the case involving the Whitaker State bust. He would also have the police reports.

All of the closed files in the office were in a large room behind the secretarial station. Peter turned on the lights.

Mancini's files were arranged alphabetically, so Peter found Booth's file quickly. It was not that thick, since the case had not gotten past the preliminary hearing.

There was a table with a reading lamp at the front of the file room. Peter sat down and opened the file. He took out the envelope holding the police reports and piled them on the table. He read through the reports slowly, but discovered nothing helpful until he found two reports halfway down that looked strange. They were different in form from the other report's and seemed neater. It did not take Peteir long to figure.out why the reports looked different. They had not been written by the Whitaker police or the campus police.

They were reports written by agents of the DEA, the federal Drug Enforcement Administration.

The first report detailed the activities of an unnamed, confidential, reliable informant, or CRI, who had been busted with cocaine and had agreed to work off the case by setting up Kevin Booth. The report was a chronological history of the contacts between Booth and the CRI in Whitaker. The CRI was to purchase increasingly larger amounts of cocaine from Booth until Booth was unable to supply the CRIS demand and had to agree to put the CRI in touch with someone who could.

The second report detailed the arrest of Kevin Booth and Christopher Mammon on the Whitaker campus, but it contained information about the arrest that was new to Peter. The CRI was supposed to be bringing thirty thousand dollars to Booth for two kilos of cocaine. After the sale went through, the CRI was going to up the ante to a point that would force Booth to use his contacts to supply a very large amount of cocaine. It was hoped that this deal would be handled directly by Booth's supplier. From the report, it appeared that the arrest by campus security had been totally unexpected and neither the DEA nor the Whitaker police wanted the arrest to occur.

J Peter was certain he had never seen either of the DEA reports in Geary's file. Why would Mancini have them, but not Geary? Peter reread the reports.

A thought occurred to him and he felt himself grow cold. What if Sandra Whiley was -not simply an innocent bystander who was murdered by mistake?

What if she was working off an arrest for cocaine and had betrayed Christopher Mammon to the DEA? That would give Mammon a huge motive for murder.

Peter put the envelope with the police reports back in the file. He was about to close it when he spotted a telephone message slip that Mancini had clipped into the folder on the left side. The slip was dated the day before the preliminary hearing. The letters ASAP underlined in red and written in capital letters caught Peter's eye.

Peter read the message carefully. It was from Becky O'Shay. She wanted Steve to call as soon as he came in-ASAP-so they could discuss a deal in the Booth case. Peter wondered what the deal had been. Maybe that's what Steve and Becky had been discussing when he saw them in the hall outside the courtroom before the prelim. But the deal had obviously fallen through because Booth had not pled guilty.

Peter replaced the file and was about to leave the file room when another thought struck him. -Becky O'Shay must have given Steve Mancini the DEA reports That meant she knew about the existence of the CRT. Did she also know the identity of the CRT? If Whiley was the CRT and Becky knew it, but kept it a secret, Peter could use that fact as a basis for a motion for a new trial. But before he confronted O'Shay or filed a motion, he had to find out if Sandra Whiley was the CRT and Peter thought he knew how he could do that.

"I don't know, Peter. I could get in a lot of trouble," Rhonda Kates said.

"I know that. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"Why don't you just tell the district attorney that you need to talk to Booth. Don't they have to let you talk to witnesses?"

"They do. But the D.A. would insist on coming along or she'd convince Booth to refuse to see me."

"I thought that was illegal."

"The reason I have to sneak Booth's room is because I think the D.A. has already done something illegal. Becky will do anything to win.

"Look, all you've got to do is get the guard away from Booth's door. I only have one question to ask him. I'll be in and out."

"This is a lot to ask."

I ; "Rhonda, Donna's brother may be innocent. If Kevin Booth says what I think he will, I may be able to set Gary's verdict aside and give the police the real killer. If I don't get in to see Booth, Gary will most probably be on death row by the end of next week."

Kevin Booth had been moved to a room at the Whitaker hospital two days before. A guard sat in front of his door at all times. Peter waited in an alcove a short distance from Booth's room and used his cellular phone to call the hospital. He asked for the extension at the nurses' station farthest from Booth's room. Rhonda picked up on the first ring and pretended to carry on a conversation. Then, she placed the receiver down and told the other nurse to make sure the phone was not hung up.

Peter watched as Rhonda told the guard that there was a call for him. He seemed nervous about leaving his station, but Rhonda said the call was from the station house and the caller had said it was urgent. As soon as -the policeman got up, Peter slipped into Booth's room.

Booth's hospital gown covered most of his burns, but here and there Peter saw patches of shiny, bright red and purple skin surrounded by bunches of scars. Booth's face was still covered with cream.

"Hi, Mr. Booth. I'm Peter Hale, Gary Harmon's lawyet," Peter said with what he hoped was a winning smile. "We met in Portland."

"What are you doing here?" Booth asked. His speech was normal now. "I thought the case was over."

"It is. Actually, I had a question about the Whitaker State bust. The one you beat."

"Why do you want to know about that case?"

"Chris Mammon still has to go to trial on it.

"Well, fuck him. I don't give a rat's ass about Mammon."