"And the court should have decided at such a hearing if Villalobos's account was trustworthy enough to justify a new trial-not whether the convictions should be set aside," Repass said.
"Yet, Breman ignored legal precedent and set up you, the NYPD, and the city to take a fall," Marlene mused as she swirled a red cabernet around in her glass. "But why?"
"Ah, that's what we'd all like to know," Stupenagel said.
The women sipped their wine silently for a minute before Repass, who was opening the fourth bottle, spoke. "The thing that really bothers me is that we would have won at trial again, using the defendants' own words. We went through an exhaustive month-long Huntley Hearing before the trial to determine the voluntariness and admissibility of their confessions, took testimony from over twenty prosecution witnesses, and heard from the defendants and their families and friends. The court concluded that the statements were properly and legally obtained and that no improper methods were employed to secure them."
There were tears in Repass's eyes when she looked at Marlene and, slurring somewhat from the wine and emotion, added, "You trained us well, Marlene. We won those convictions fair and square. The only thing that would have changed at a new trial would have been that we'd be able to tell the jury who the sixth man was-although, of course, Villalobos waited until the statute of limitations had run out so he couldn't be prosecuted for it."
Stupenagel tossed in her two cents. "From what I understand, there's no trick that Hugh Louis or any other scumbag defense lawyer could have pulled to simply have those confessions thrown out. The Huntley decision had already been tested at the appellate level and sustained. He had to get Breman to vacate the convictions."
The reporter, with the two prosecutors' concurrence, said she suspected that Villalobos had "confessed" as a favor to the Bloods or under threat. "What we can't figure out is why Breman capitulated so easily-"
"Except that she would do anything to appease the minority population," Repass said. "But even then there's got to be more to this."
Corporation Counsel had set them adrift. As soon as Sam Lindahl settled, they and the individual police officers would be sitting ducks.
"At stake, of course, are our reputations and future job prospects," Russell said. "But I know Robin agrees with me that the most important issue here is justice for what those pigs did to Liz Tyler."
Marlene was quiet for a moment and then she asked, "But what do you want me to do?"
Repass brightened. "Maybe you could sign on as our private investigator for the time being. You could back out later, but you could do some of the poking around that Lindahl won't do," she said. "We got a tip from an anonymous caller with some sort of Euro accent that there may have been an inmate who heard something that would discredit Villalobos."
"Maybe you can get that big shot husband of yours to weigh in," Stupenagel added. "Part of the problem now is that no one is speaking out for the other side and there's a perception in the public-from which the jury will come-that it's a slam dunk case against these guys."
Marlene shook her head. "I'm willing to do a little, as you say, poking around," she said. "But I wouldn't hold out much hope that Butch will weigh in through the media. As you know, if the media was a snake, he'd get a stick and beat it to death."
At about the same time, the man in question was back home, talking to John Jojola, who'd been resting on the couch when they walked in.
"Off to bed," Karp had ordered the twins, who were tired enough that they didn't complain, although Giancarlo stopped at the entrance to the hall and said, "Thanks, Dad, I really liked class tonight."
"Butt kisser." A voice, Zak's, had come from farther down the hall. Giancarlo disappeared in that direction and the sound of a brief scuffle ensued.
"To bed!" Karp yelled, but smiled and winked at Jojola, who was shaking his head.
"Hey, I think it's great they have each other," Jojola said. "My boy, he's got me and the extended family of the tribe, but there are things you can only tell a brother."
"Where's Charlie?" Karp asked.
"Staying with his Auntie Maria," Jojola said. "She's not really his auntie, just a nice neighbor woman who sometimes comes around a lot."
"Comes around a lot?" Karp said, wiggling an eyebrow.
"Never mind, just a friend," Jojola said.
"I believe you're blushing," Karp said.
"Indians don't blush," Jojola said, trying to scowl but not doing a very good job of it. "This is our natural color, remember? Anyhow, this time of year, my tribe sort of pulls into itself. The Taos Reservation is closed to all but our people, and families-most of whom live in modern houses the rest of the year-take up living in the old pueblo. Sort of a way to touch base, tell stories, and remember who we are. I don't like taking Charlie away from the res during this time, I want him learning the ways of his people."
"Sounds like something the rest of us have lost," Karp said a little sadly.
"Oh, you have it, only it's shorter and the reasons for it sometimes get lost in the other stuff…Christmas and Hanukkah…a time to come together and celebrate the past, and remember who you are as a people. When it gets cold outside, ancient peoples from all lands have always seen winter as a time for gathering together-if for no other reason than body heat and to keep from going stir crazy when the snow gets too deep for going outside. They have also always seen it as a time for introspection and deep thoughts."
Jojola stopped talking and smiled. "Sorry, didn't mean to pull the Indian medicine man out on you."
"No, not at all," Karp said, sitting down in his favorite chair and kicking back with his feet up on the coffee table. "I just came from telling a bunch of Jewish kids about Jesus…you don't get more controversial than that. I confess that I'm more interested in some of these matters now than I ever was back in the day."
"It can take an entire lifetime to find out what you really believe in," Jojola said. "As for the lecture on comparative religions, I find it fascinating that we all have such similar ways of thinking and so much of it is tied to the seasons. In winter, we all seem to have traditions of family gatherings and touching base with our spirituality, if you will. In spring, my people celebrate with the New Corn Festival, which is based around the renewal of the earth and its plants and animals; Christians have Easter, the rebirth of Jesus, following the emptiness of winter. They both represent hope for the future in either culture. Then in fall, we dance in celebration of the harvest that will get us through the winter, and feast; European Americans feast after the harvest, too, at Thanksgiving.
"Yet, for all we have in common, religion is so often at the root of war. But why? Jews, Christians, Muslims all call the same man, Abraham, the father of their religion, and yet they have slaughtered each other for centuries. Hindus slaughter Sikhs. Chinese Buddhists kill Nepalese Buddhists."
Jojola laughed again and slapped his knees. "There I go again, running off at the mouth," he said. "Must still be jumpy from the plane flight. Anyway, that was the long answer to your short question asking me about my son."
Karp laughed too. He felt comfortable around Jojola. It wasn't just that what you see is what you get with the man-he was certainly deeper than might be expected of the police chief of a small Indian reservation. Karp wondered if the other members of his tribe were as introspective and insightful. Probably no more than the other members of my tribe are all wise as Solomon, he thought.
"Where have you been, my friend?" Jojola said when he saw that Karp was back from his reflection.