Page 8 of The Accomplice
First, it confirms the incredible ability of these killers to mask their true nature from everyone, including those closest to them. Second, it makes people uneasy. If it could happen to those women, couldn’t it happen to anyone ? How well do you know your partner, your brother, or your father ? But the public always think it’s the woman’s fault. That she was blind to the truth.
That had it been them in the same situation, they would’ve known.
Psychological barriers in jurors are often impossible to break down. All the DA had to do in this case is strengthen the juror’s preconceived belief that Carrie Miller knew her husband was a killer and helped cover for him. And Carrie’s so-called suspicion only helped the DA. An easy win even for a mediocre prosecutor.
While the case against Carrie Miller looked a lot stronger if they could prove she knew he was a killer, that wasn’t the real reason Peltier had to find her alternative representation.
‘Mr. Peltier, you could have saved a lot of time if you had just been honest about this. We would’ve found out if we had agreed to take the case.’
‘Of course, but by that stage it would’ve been too late. You would’ve already agreed to take the case and been added to the court record as counsel for the defendant.’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Denise. ‘Just because the DA has your old files doesn’t mean you can’t represent Carrie Miller.’
‘There is a consequence of the DA having my files,’ said Peltier.
I knew what it was, straight away.
‘You can’t be her lawyer anymore. You can’t act as a lawyer in this trial at all,’ I said.
Peltier let out a long sigh.
I said, ‘Carrie Miller told you she suspected her husband was a serial killer. That makes you the star witness for the prosecution.’
CHAPTER THREE
EDDIE
While Peltier followed in his Mercedes, Bloch drove us out of Manhattan in a cream Grand Cherokee Jeep. The midday traffic wasn’t so bad, and Bloch cruised the big SUV along the blacktop. Harry sat up front so Kate could argue with me in the back. Forty-five minutes took us to the end of the Grand Central Parkway as it flowed into the Long Island Expressway. A sheet metal sky hid the low November sun. It was getting cold, but not yet cold enough for me to break out my overcoat.
Kate said, ‘I think Carrie is just another victim of the Sandman. It’s important to me that we show the world the truth. Give her a voice. I believe her. I think you will too.’
‘I’ll talk to her, but if I’m not convinced – we walk away. Agreed ?’
‘You know this is not the way normal lawyers practice, right ?’
‘If someone admits to what they’ve done then I’ve got no problem representing them. I’ll tell their story to the court and ask for the appropriate sentence. Sometimes that’s probation, sometimes I wish them all the best as they go to prison. Everyone makes mistakes, and it’s good that they admit it, but I decided a long time ago I’m not going to be the one responsible for putting a dangerous person back on the street.’
‘But you’re not the one doing it. The jury decides. Everyone is entitled to a defense, that’s the way the system works …’
Kate was a hell of a lawyer already, even though she hadn’t been in practice very long. In a few years she would be the best, but the law hadn’t kicked her in the guts yet.
‘The system can be manipulated. Usually by us. Look, I said I would talk to Carrie Miller. If I think she’s telling the truth, then we’ll take the case.’
‘I don’t understand you, sometimes,’ said Kate, turning away to look out the passenger window. I hoped she never would come to understand my reasons. In the justice game it’s the lawyers who really wear the blindfolds, not the statues of Goddess Justicia standing atop the courthouses with a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other. Criminal lawyers don’t ask their clients if they’re guilty. They tell the clients when they should fold their cards and plead, and when to fight. But if you win a case for a guilty person – that victory has a price, and I don’t mean legal fees. A little bit of that lawyer dies. Do it enough times and you’re a zombie. Then one day you get a client off and they walk straight out of court and kill somebody – and that’s when the kick in the stomach arrives.
About five years ago I was in that same situation. Only I was able to stop the guy before he finished off his victim. I had put him back on the street. It was my fault. Everyday I pay for that mistake. I had learned to carry that pain without sharing the load with a bottle of Jack.
I turned away from Kate, stared out at the trees that lined both sides of the expressway. Bloch took us to the exit and quickly into a residential area of Old Westbury. I had driven through this part of Nassau County maybe twice in my life. Never stopped by to take a look around. Each time, there were film crews nearby. If you’re shooting a movie and you need a mansion location, you come to Old Westbury. With the exception of the Silicon Valley suburb of Atherton, California, it was probably one of the most affluent areas in the country. Tree-lined streets, with vast houses that sat way back off the curb.
Carrie Miller lived in a small, gated community on Meadow Road. There were maybe twenty people outside the gates. News channel vans lined the sidewalk, but it wasn’t just reporters making up the crowd. Five or six people stood holding banners. They were chanting something. I cracked open the window to hear it.
GUILTY BITCH !
GUILTY BITCH !
GUILTY BITCH !
The banners weren’t much better. Bloch hit the horn and the reporters and protestors turned to give us the once over. I hid my face with my hand. The crowd moved aside. Otto’s Mercedes pulled in behind us and the gates parted.
