The Heavens May Fall (31 page)

“So that’s Jennavieve’s . . .” Ben’s hand began to tremble slightly. “That’s her blood?”

“That’s her blood,” Boady said. He pulled out a photo that showed the knife. “And that’s the knife that killed her.”

Tears filled Ben’s eyes, and he wiped them on his sleeve. “That’s the knife from our bedroom, the one Everett Kagen gave her.”

“There’s more.”

Ben looked up from the picture, the path of his tears disappearing into the stubble on his cheeks.

Boady lifted out the picture of the used condom.

Ben looked confused. “I don’t understand. Why is there . . .” Boady waited for Ben to make the connection, and when he did, his eyes bloomed with understanding. “She was having an affair?”

“I’m sorry, Ben, but that’s how it looks.”

“I . . . I can’t believe it. Who was it?”

“They don’t have a match, but they know it wasn’t your DNA. If I had to bet, I’d put my money on Kagen.”

Ben shook his head slowly as he contemplated this possibility. The furrow in his brow slowly melted away, and he gave a slight nod. “I liked Everett. We had him and his wife over for a barbeque a number of times. I never saw it. Did Dovey do a search warrant for Kagen’s DNA?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

Now Ben sat up, and Boady saw a fire in his eyes, one that had been out since Judge Ransom read the guilty verdict. “Why the hell not? If it is Kagen, then he lied his ass off. He was the last person to see her alive. How can Dovey not apply for a warrant?”

“I’m on your side here, but I think Dovey’s right. Where’s the nexus? I don’t think Dovey has enough to get a search warrant. He was with her that evening, but the only evidence that puts him at the scene of the crime is Malena Gwin saying that she saw a red sedan pull up and a man—who she originally said was you—walk toward the house. Think about it. If you were Kagen’s attorney, you’d get that thrown out.”

Ben sank back into his chair. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” He turned his attention back to the photos.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t get his DNA,” Boady said. “I’m going to hire an investigator, a guy I worked with in the old days, to follow Kagen around. If he spits out a wad of gum or throws a used coffee cup away, we’ll get Kagen’s DNA. In the meantime, I promise you, our motion for a new trial is a lock.”

“You really think so?”

Boady had never been more certain of any promise he’d ever made, short of his own wedding vows. And when he and Dovey appeared before Judge Ransom later that day, Boady’s confidence was born out. Dovey’s objections landed harmless, like the kicks of a petulant child.

“Your Honor,” Dovey argued. “The defendant is grasping at straws. There is no basis here to overturn the verdict of those jurors.”

“No basis?” Boady countered. “They found the murder weapon wrapped in the bloody sheets where Jennavieve fell after being fatally stabbed. Also in those sheets they found a used condom and the DNA of an unknown man the State knows to be someone other than Ben Pruitt. We can establish that whoever left that DNA was at the Pruitt house after Ben Pruitt left for Chicago. That puts an unknown man in Jennavieve Pruitt’s bed within hours of her death. The jury never heard this evidence. The State can make no credible argument that this new evidence is nothing short of a game changer.”

“Your Honor,” Dovey said. “If there was another man in Mrs. Pruitt’s bed, that only strengthens Mr. Pruitt’s motive to murder his wife. It changes nothing—”

“Mr. Dovey, let me stop you right there.” Judge Ransom held up his hand in a stopping gesture. “If I were a juror, I believe this new information would be important to a proper verdict. I don’t see any viable argument to the contrary. I’m granting the defendant’s motion for a new trial.”

With that small victory in his pocket, Boady pivoted to his next argument. It had been Ben’s idea.

“If Ransom grants the new trial,” Ben said, “we should waive the jury.”

Boady hadn’t been completely on board at first, but Ben convinced him
.

“It’s the right move,” Ben said. “If he grants the new trial, he’s indicating that he sees enough weight in the new evidence that a jury might have reasonable doubts. I’ve had court trials with Ransom before. He’s not a rubber stamp. If he sees reasonable doubt, he’ll acquit.”

“But what’s the advantage of giving up our twelve-person jury?” Boady asked. “With a jury, we only need one holdout. There has to be a good reason to give that up.”

“There is,” Ben said. “Speed. With a court trial we won’t have to go through the entire trial all over again. Ransom’s already heard the evidence. I’m betting we could get Dovey to stipulate a lot of the prior testimony. If we’re not starting from scratch, we can push Ransom to set a trial date before the end of the year. I could be out by Christmas.”

Boady laced his fingers together and thought this over. “You’ve got a point, There’s really no reason to call all those witnesses again if they’re just going to say the same thing.”

“Exactly.”

“But Dovey’s going to think we’re pulling a stunt. He objects to everything we ask for. It’s his default setting.”

“Then we need to make it seem like his idea.” For the first time since he came to Boady’s front porch back in that last week of July, Ben Pruitt sounded like the fearless attorney Boady had known for all those years. “He has to get all his witnesses subpoenaed and back to court to testify. And with the holidays coming up, that’s going to be a nightmare. If we show him the way, he’ll run down that path. I’m sure of it.”

After waiving the jury, Boady began to drop bread crumbs for Dovey to follow.

“I’d like to remind the Court,” Boady said, “that Mr. Pruitt’s demand for a speedy trial still stands. We’re asking that the Court put it on the trial calendar immediately.”

Ransom nodded and said, “As a matter of fact, I just had a speedy trial settle for next week. We can put your trial into that slot and get this matter heard and concluded before the end of the month.”

Dovey’s eyes went wide. “Your Honor, I can’t possibly have my witnesses lined up that quickly. And I’ll need time to prepare my case. You have to give me at least sixty days to prepare.”

Boady interjected a suggestion. “There shouldn’t be all that much prep work. We’ve already gone through this whole trial once before. Most of the testimony is going to simply repeat what this Court has already heard. If nothing else, Mr. Dovey could pull his notes from the previous trial and ask the exact same questions. Heck, I might do that myself.”

“Your Honor, the problem isn’t formulating the questions,” Dovey said. “I agree with Mr. Sanden that most of the retrial will be repetitive of the last trial. The problem is lining everyone up—especially with the holidays coming up. People take vacations around Thanksgiving. It’s going to be difficult, if not impossible, getting everyone here on such short notice.”

Judge Ransom said, “Mr. Dovey, you have subpoena power. I expect you to use it. I’m not going to delay this trial. You’ll just have to make it work.”

“Your Honor,” Boady addressed the court as though he were thinking aloud. “I have witnesses who . . . well, I know that nothing in their testimony will change from the last time they testified. If it’s okay with the Court and with Mr. Dovey, I might ask that we stipulate to their testimony—unless the State has a problem with that.”

Dovey started to object. “Your Honor, I . . . um . . .”

“Yes, Mr. Dovey?” said Ransom.

Boady could see the wheels spinning in Dovey’s head, just like Ben predicted. “Your Honor, if I could have a moment.” Dovey rubbed his chin as he thought through Boady’s idea. “If you think about it, Your Honor, now that this is a trial to the Court and not a jury trial, there may be a number of witnesses who could be stipulated to. I mean, Your Honor has already heard their testimony. You’re already in a position to make a credibility determination. We could probably stipulate to a great deal of the prior testimony.”

Ransom turned to Boady. “Mr. Sanden, your thoughts?”

“Let me confer with my client.” Boady leaned in to Ben and whispered, “You think we set the hook deep enough?”

Ben nodded so that Ransom could see it and whispered back. “Reel away, Counselor.”

Boady turned to address the judge again. “I believe that Mr. Dovey’s suggestion makes some sense, especially given our demand for a speedy trial and the problems of scheduling witnesses on such short notice. I suspect we could stipulate to much of the previous testimony. If the witnesses have nothing new to add, there’s really no reason not to use their prior testimony. The witnesses we call at the new trial can be those who can add something new to the record.”

Again, Judge Ransom nodded. “I have no problem with such a stipulation. We’ll put it on the record at the start of the new trial. Just so we’re clear, neither side is required to stipulate to a witness’s prior testimony. And each side has the right to call any witness they want to call to make their record. Is that understood?”

Dovey and Boady both agreed.

The judge adjourned the hearing and everyone left the courtroom except Ben and Boady and the bailiff, who stood in the back waiting to take Ben back to his cell. Ben turned to Boady with the look of a man who’d just been handed a reprieve. He put a hand on Boady’s shoulder and, in a voice choked with emotion, said, “You know what this means?”

“What?”

“It means that I’ll get to testify,” he said. “Ransom already knows about my sanction. It won’t matter if Dovey tries to impeach me with it. I can’t tell you how hard it was to not take the stand last time. I know it was the right decision, but it hurts. I’ve regretted that decision every second since then. Even if it falls on deaf ears, I want to take the stand and tell the world that I had nothing to do with Jennavieve’s death.”

Chapter 53

Back in the day, when Boady rode the highest of waves through the courtrooms of Hennepin County, the county had a prosecutor named Elizabeth Moore whom many lesser attorneys feared and mocked behind her back. She had a reputation as being ruthless, but in truth, she was just damned good at her job. She came to the table prepared. She made a single, reasonable plea offer, and if you didn’t take it, she prosecuted the case as promised. She was never one to fold on the morning of trial. For that straightforward resolve, a trait some attorneys, like Boady, saw as a mark of integrity, she earned the moniker “Dragon Lady.”

In the summer of 2002 and again later that fall, Boady had trials against Elizabeth Moore. One case was a burglary, the other criminal vehicular homicide. Both were close calls, cases that could have swung guilty as easily as not. Boady won both. No one had ever beaten the Dragon Lady back to back. And so, fittingly, other defense attorneys began to call Boady “St. George,” referencing the Catholic saint who, as legend has it, slew a dragon in order to bring Christianity to a town in Libya.

Boady feigned humility at the name and accepted it with pride. He began to privately read up on the tales of his namesake. In his arrogance, Boady would sometimes imagine himself holding Ascalon, the sword that St. George used to slay the dragon, as he marched into the courtroom to defend his clients.

That was before Miguel Quinto.

As Ben Pruitt’s second trial commenced, Boady began to experience an old sensation, one that had gone dormant years ago. With each new witness, he could see the wound in the State’s case grow wider and deeper. It was as though he wielded Ascalon once again.

The influx and efflux of morning witnesses included Mr. Brumble, Detective Niki Vang, the crime-scene technician Douglas Thomas, and a scientist from the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension named Donna Price, who confirmed that the DNA in the sperm sample did not belong to Ben Pruitt. Dovey kept his questioning short, focusing on his trial theme of “so what—it doesn’t change the fact that Ben Pruitt killed his wife.” So Jennavieve Pruitt might have been having an affair. So another man’s semen was found at the scene of the crime, literally next to the murder weapon. So what? It only shows how clever Ben Pruitt was in pulling it off.

But Boady turned each witness into a weapon for the defense. Another man in the house on the night Jennavieve Pruitt was murdered went against everything they had testified to in the first go-around. They convicted Ben Pruitt on the argument that he was the only man with motive and opportunity. Now that theory didn’t fit, and with each new slash of his sword, Boady exposed the depth of the State’s hypocrisy.

By noon, Boady had damaged the State’s case but had not yet destroyed it. It still breathed. It was still a dangerous beast that could rear up and kill. As Boady walked with Lila down to the cafeteria, he fought against the overconfidence that welled up in his chest. He tried to flush the image of Ben’s reunion with Emma from his head.

This isn’t over
, he told himself.
Don’t let your guard down
.

Boady had lost sleep after seeing how Ben had been beaten by the other inmates. His friend had barely been able to survive a couple months in a cell. He would not live long in the system. Boady had to remind himself to breathe whenever he thought about the possibility of losing the case a second time. How could he ever face Emma?

The one loose end that continued to eat at Boady was Everett Kagen.

Boady had hired a retired cop named Bill Kotem to follow Kagen around. All he needed was a single sample of the man’s DNA.

Kotem had followed Kagen for twelve days and could report that Kagen only left his house one time in those twelve days. With Jennavieve Pruitt dead, he had no job. He didn’t go to church or to the store. He never even crossed the road to spend time in the park. The one time he left his house, Kotem saw Kagen loading garbage bags into the trunk of his car. He then drove to a shredding facility, a warehouse in Northeast Minneapolis, where Kagen loaded the garbage bags onto a conveyor belt. The bags traveled up the belt and fell into a hopper the size of a dump truck, where Kagen’s trash was shredded into a pasty mulch and mixed with a ton of the other shredded material. There would be no retrieving a DNA sample from that mess.