“Mr. Hellman, some would say that this is just a ploy on the part of a clever defense attorney to create reasonable doubt for his client. You produce another possible suspect, and then the jury is confused and can’t return a verdict beyond a reasonable doubt. You’ve done that several times in the past-”
“I’m not here to discuss my past cases,” Hellman said. He paused for a moment, then continued. “And this is not defense ploy. I believe that not only is Dr. Madison is innocent, but that once we have all our tests completed, this case will not be going to trial. So there’ll be no jury to ‘confuse,’ as you put it. The prosecutor, Mr. Denton, will drop the charges.”
“You’re that sure of your evidence.”
“I’m that sure.”
“How can the People be sure that your test results will be accurate?”
Hellman looked over at Chandler.
Chandler leaned forward. “The facility running the tests is reputable, I assure you.” He suddenly realized he had not told Hellman where he’d taken the samples. “And the DA would of course be free to conduct his own tests.”
“This brings me to another topic I wanted to touch on. What’s the story behind those rape charges?”
“First of all,” Hellman said, “there never have been any rape charges. Second of all, rape has nothing to do with this case-”
“But it goes Dr. Madison’s credibility, doesn’t it, Mr. Hellman?”
“Dr. Madison has never been charged with anything except the charges he is currently facing,” he said.
“But he was the subject of a rape case.”
Chandler realized that Hellman was cornered. However, the trump card was their ability to edit out anything they did not find acceptable.
Hellman shifted a bit in his seat. “There was an investigation the police conducted involving a complaint on the part of a woman, but the police later closed the case and she withdrew her complaint. There was no truth to any of it.”
“Was the woman paid off, Mr. Hellman?”
“I believe you’ve heard the saying ‘crime doesn’t pay,’” Hellman said, “and since the complaint was filled with lies, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.”
The reporter leaned forward. “By that do you mean that this woman did not receive a payoff to keep quiet and drop the charges?”
“She did not benefit one red cent,” Hellman said.
Chandler looked over at Hellman and saw a thin trail of perspiration rolling down the side of his face. If a copy of the Harding-Ehrhardt contract Hellman had drawn up had made it into Mather’s hands, it would be an uncomfortable revelation-regardless of whether or not it was later edited out of the final cut. The existence of the document would still make it onto the eleven o’clock news. And if Mather had a copy of it, others in the press could get their hands on it as well-and then the task of preserving and restoring Madison’s reputation would require something bordering on divine intervention.
The rest of the interview consisted of a few mundane questions about facts already known by the press; Mather requested more depth and information where none existed. Although this appeared to frustrate the reporter, it allowed Hellman to conclude the interview without incident.
Afterward, Chandler, Madison, and Hellman accompanied Mather into an edit bay, a small six-by-six room with large digitized video machines. They watched as the seven-minute interview was edited down to three, and concluded that the final product served their purpose. They looked confident and cool, and did not give away any valuable information; however, it provided enough for Mather to bill it as an exclusive interview with new information on “The Madison Murders.”
As they began to walk out of the studio, Chandler pulled out his cell phone-which had plenty of juice left-and called Kurt Gray while Hellman detoured to the restroom. It had been a little over an hour since he had last called, and this was when Gray was-hopefully-going to be able to talk.
“Yeah, I remember when you called last,” came the less-than-enthusiastic reply from the receptionist. “Hold please,” she said.
Chandler tapped his foot while he waited, then turned to Madison. “This guy better not be playing games-”
“Mr. Gray says he’ll have to talk to you tomorrow,” the receptionist said.
“Tomorrow?” Chandler took a breath. “Please tell him I need to talk to him now.”
“Hold please.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Tomorrow. That lying son-of-
She came back on. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you please tell Mr. Gray that I spoke with Lou Palucci today up at his cabin in Tahoe, and he told me that if Gray didn’t cooperate, he’d come back early from his vacation and set him straight personally.”
“If you know where the guy was, why don’t you just have him call?” Madison asked.
Chandler cupped the phone and motioned for him to be quiet.
The next voice he heard was Kurt Gray’s. “I got a match on the lip prints. Now, will you leave me alone?”
“How much of a match?”
“Ninety-five percent,” Gray said without enthusiasm.
“I like that better than seventy.”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re happy with the results. Can I go now? I’m busy.”
“The DNA. Are you running the DNA on that cigarette?”
“Don’t push your luck. It’ll get done when I have to get it done. You’re not my boss, and I’m giving the receptionist specific instructions not to put through any more of your calls.” Without further comment, he hung up.
“Yes!” Chandler said. He turned to Madison and Hellman, who had returned from the restroom, and motioned them outside.
They walked out of the building and stood at the mouth of the parking lot.
“The lip print from Harding’s cigarette is a ninety-five percent match to the lip print taken off the can of beer that was found in the back of the car.”
Hellman’s face was spread into a broad smile.
“What does that mean?” Madison asked.
“It means, Phil,” Hellman said, “that we’re one step closer to getting this case dismissed.”
CHAPTER 48
The interview was aired as part of a four-minute segment on the noon news. It caught the attention of the rest of the media, and Hellman suddenly had a list of calls to be returned to reporters from the Herald, the Bee, the other four television news stations, and a few out-of-town papers. Bloggers were beginning to take notice and write pieces likening the case to other perceived instances of prosecutorial incompetence.
There was also a call from Judge Calvino: Hellman was to report to his chambers in an hour.
When Hellman arrived, Denton was sitting on the stiff leather couch adjacent to the wall of law books, a magazine opened across his lap. Calvino’s mood was etched in the deep furrows of his brow. It was evident that he and Denton had not been conversing.
Calvino was in no mood for a discussion. His orders were clear: no more trying this case in the media. Denton attempted to argue, no doubt about to say that he had not contacted nor spoken to the press. But Calvino did not give him the opportunity to speak.
“The next person who gives an interview, leaks information to the press, or comes within five feet of a reporter will be held in contempt. I’m doing it as much for the ability to empanel an impartial jury as to preserve Phillip Madison’s reputation should he be found not guilty.”
Hellman knew that Calvino could not give a damn about Madison, but he figured the judge was at least trying to give his decision an air of impartiality and fairness.
“The fewer juicy tidbits the media can get their hands on,” Calvino said, “the less publicity there’ll be. And the less publicity, the greater the chance that everyone will forget the case shortly after its resolution. There are a few emotionally invested groups interested in this case, and the last thing I want is another O. J. Simpson fiasco.”
Hellman and Denton thanked the judge, then left his chambers like dogs that had been properly disciplined. They walked down the hall toward the elevator bank, silent at first.