False Accusations by Jacobson, Alan (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

And I’m going to get the cold shoulder because you and I are friends; all of us are going to be looked at by outsiders with contempt.

“And it’ll damage our credibility for years to come. Every defense lawyer will harp on it: They’re corrupt. Taking evidence in through the back door. Using taxpayers’ money for personal favors for someone with connections. Preferential treatment. And then my favorite: Who knows what else they’re doing over there? Manufacturing results? Slanting reports toward the prosecution? The list of accusations will be limited only by the defense attorney’s imagination. Reporters’ll run investigative exposes for tabloid TV. Internal investigations. Shit, remember what went down at the LA crime lab after the Simpson trial? Not to mention what’s happened to the FBI lab—and their rep was impeccable.”

Saperstein paused, took a breath. Jennings was staring at the floor. “Lou has worked awfully hard to get us positive publicity. Anyone willing to listen to him gets an earful of all the good we do in this lab. He’s been a one-man public relations firm for us. We’ve got a solid rep nationwide. You’d be doing damage we may never recover from.”

Jennings continued to stare at the floor. Saperstein was not sure he was listening.

“If that’s not enough,” he said, “look at it this way. None of us is going to look after your ass.”

Jennings looked up at Saperstein with narrowed eyes.

“Is that a threat? From you?”

“A statement of fact. Look at it objectively. Do you think anyone here would be willing to do favors for you? Do you think anyone would want to work on any of your cases? And God forbid you needed something done right away. No prosecutor would want to have you on his case. You’d become a liability.”

“He’s done it to me again,” Jennings said with matter-of-fact levelness.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Chandler. Hasn’t worked here in years, he’s living on the other side of the country, and he still has more pull than me. Fucking little prick—”

“Bill,” interrupted Saperstein. “He hasn’t done anything to you. You’re in the right here. Chandler acted inappropriately. You brought it to everyone’s attention, and I guarantee you, it’ll never happen again. You’ve accomplished what any good detective would hope to accomplish. If that’s all you’re after, you’ve done the right thing and served everyone well. If you’re after revenge, then we’re done. I’ve got no sympathy for you.”

Jennings slammed the door on his way out. Saperstein sat there, not sure if he had gotten his message across. But he knew he had at least given it his best shot.

CHAPTER 56

HELLMAN STOOD on the courthouse steps, black wool overcoat covering his dark gray double-breasted suit and red tie. The air was cold with a slight wind that ruffled through his black hair. Microphones were crowding his face.

“…and the DNA that was found on the beer cans did not match Dr. Madison’s.”

Questions were shouted from a couple of reporters simultaneously. Hellman picked the one he heard most clearly: something about what the district attorney is going to do now. “In my opinion, this evidence means that the DA and his investigator have to reopen their investigation.”

Then: “Is the DA going to dismiss the charges against Dr. Madison?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Denton. But I’m confident that within the next few weeks, the DA will drop the charges against my client.”

“Why not right away?” another reporter asked.

“Again, it’s not my place to answer for the district attorney.”

“You said recently that you knew who the driver of the vehicle was. Who was it?”

“My job is to defend my client, not to accuse or charge someone with a crime. Suffice it to say that I’m confident the police will make an arrest very shortly. Right now, my client is anxious to resume the practice of medicine so he can get back to helping people and serving the public as he has done in such a distinguished manner for the past eighteen years.”

“How does your client feel right now?”

Hellman smiled. “How would you feel?”

The press conference was carried on the evening news and made the front page on several high profile websites: MSNBC, CNN, The New York Times—even the Wall Street Journal sent out a “News Alert” email to its subscribers. Legal analysts stressed the same point: that the charges were not yet officially dropped, but it looked good for Phillip Madison. Aside from issuing a statement that said they were reopening their investigation, the DA’s office had no comment.

Bill Jennings and his partner, Angela Moreno, arrived at Denton’s office at a little past five. “Detective Moreno,” Denton said, “I ordered sandwiches for us. They’re waiting down at the desk sergeant’s station. If you’d be so kind...” He moved his head in the direction of the door, motioning her out.

“Why don’t we just call down and have the clerk—”

“I’d like to talk with Detective Jennings for a moment in private, detective,” Denton said.

“That’s not necessary, Tim.”

Denton locked eyes with Jennings. “I think it is, Bill.”

Moreno, no doubt sensing the tension, rose from her seat. “I’ll go get the sandwiches.”

As the door closed, Denton walked over and stood face-to-face with Jennings. “I don’t want to hear any more about the cigarette DNA, Bill.”

“I’ve got nothing more to say on the subject,” Jennings said. “I was assured that it wouldn’t happen again, and I’m satisfied with that. I won’t be reporting it to anyone.”

“Good to know,” Denton said. He opened the door as a signal to Moreno that their conversation had concluded. He then sat behind his desk and pulled the case file in front of him. “We’re here to draw up a search warrant for Brittany Harding. You get a chance to look over the memo I sent you on what we’ve got so far?”

“Yeah,” Jennings said. “Looks good.”

Moreno appeared and took a seat next to Jennings; she set the bag containing the sandwiches on the desk.

“We’re talking about the search warrant for Harding,” Jennings said to Moreno before turning back