there."
He shoved his briefcase in my arms so he could finish the belt, then
started to steer me into the hallway. We never made it to the door.
"Nice of you to join us this morning, Mr. Szlipkowsky." Prescott was
out of her chambers and ready to go.
"My apologies, your honor. I was delayed at security."
"And yet everyone else managed to be here on time. Amazing. Don't let
it happen again." As she was telling the sheriffs deputy to bring
Jackson in from the holding cell, Slip continued to throw me eager
looks. He definitely wanted to talk.
"I'm sorry, counselors, is there a problem?"
We both shook our heads like kids who've been caught roughhousing in
the classroom. Whatever Slip had to say to me, it was going to have to
wait.
Jackson took his place at the defense table, looking the worse for wear
after nearly a week in jail.
Prescott called the case and put us back on the record. "OK, when we
left on Friday, it was unclear whether the parties intended to call
additional witnesses before I ruled. Where do things stand now? I see
Jim Thorpe is with us this morning from Dunn Simon."
Thorpe started to rise, but Slip beat him to the punch. When a court's
viewing a dispute cold, it's always better to get your side out
first.
"Your honor, last night my investigator delivered subpoenas to Larry
Gunderson and William Minkins. Larry Gunderson is president of
Gunderson Development, which owns the property where Ms. Easterbrook's
body was found and where my client was employed as a landscaper. Mr.
Minkins is an employee at Gunderson and hired my client to work at the
site. As I have investigated this case, it has become clear to me that
both Mr. Gunderson and Mr. Minkins hold relevant evidence that casts
serious doubt on the guilt of my client. Just to give you one example
"
Prescott cut him off. "Wait a second. No need to get into your
proffer before there's been an objection. Mr. Thorpe, why don't you
go ahead and approach? Your clients may remain seated."
"Good morning, your honor. Jim Thorpe from Dunn Simon, representing
Gunderson Construction, its principal officer Larry Gunderson, and its
employee William Minkins. I understand that your honor quashed a
subpoena on Friday in this case after Mr. Szlipkowsky tried to haul in
a member of the Metro Council for a fishing expedition. This morning,
he's at it again with my clients. They know nothing about this case,
have been pulled away from business on absolutely no notice, and wish
to be relieved from this court's jurisdiction forthwith."
Forthwith? That's why big-firm lawyers often get their asses handed to
them in jury trials. Who the hell says forthwith?
Prescott sighed and gave Slip a look to kill. I wasn't sure how she'd
done it, but somehow it seemed as if her bun had been pulled back even
more tightly during Thorpe's statement. "Now, Mr. Szlipkowsky, why
don't you proceed with your proffer "
"Excuse me, your honor," I interrupted. "I just wanted to make sure
all the parties realized that the media are present in the
courtroom."
I gestured toward Dan Manning from the Oregonian at the back of the
room, sitting with a few others who presumably were also reporters.
Cameras aren't permitted in Oregon courtrooms, and lawyers who don't
spend a lot of time around the courthouse don't always recognize the
media. Just me, trying to be helpful.
It got the response from Thorpe that I wanted. "In that case, your
honor, we request that the proffer be delivered in chambers. Whatever
Mr. Szlipkowsky is about to say is groundless speculation, and the
damage to my client would be further aggravated if it were repeated in
the media."
Thorpe, Gunderson, Minkins, Slip, and I followed Prescott through the
door behind the bench. I got a better look at Minkins when he passed
me. He could definitely be the guy from the library, but I still
wasn't positive.
Since Roger was there as Townsend's attorney, he had to stay outside.
All to the good, since he knew better than Thorpe how devious I could
be. Jackson stayed put too. I'd long gotten used to the criminal
justice systems practice of leaving the defendant at the counsel table,
just in case he was beginning to think his presence was relevant.
Slip and I were at the back of the pack, and no one seemed to be paying
attention to us. He scribbled something on the corner of his legal
pad, ripped it off, and passed it to me as I walked through the door
behind him. By then, Prescott was sitting at her desk, so I slipped
the page into a folder. If the teacher caught us passing notes, we'd
get the grown-up equivalent of detention, and whatever was on that
piece of paper would be public information.
"Let's hear it, Mr. Szlipkowsky."
"Melvin Jackson is presumed innocent. So presume just for a moment,
your honor, that someone other than Melvin Jackson killed Clarissa
Easterbrook. If that's true, as I believe it is, then let's be honest
that someone did a pretty good job setting up my client. My client was
upset with the victim, he worked where the body was found, paint from
his van was found on her dog, and then, of course, the weapon's the
icing on the cake. As I delved into the question of who might be in a
position to accomplish such a setup, I kept coming back to the
construction site in Glenville."
Slip continued to spell out the coincidences for her. Jackson, his
landscaping business a fly-by-night operation in the penny newspapers,
suddenly gets a call from Minkins asking him to work on a
multimillion-dollar project by Gunderson Development. Minkins sees him
take paint from the property, and later that paint turns up on
Clarissa's dog. When Clarissa's body is found at the property, it's
Gunderson Development that makes sure the police get Melvin's name. And
then it turns out that Jackson's not the only person with business in
front of Clarissa Easterbrook; a case in which Easterbrook ruled on
behalf of Gunderson had her troubled enough that she kept a copy of the
case file under lock and key.
Prescott raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by the amount of detail
in the proffer. The problem was that the proffer was enough to raise
eyebrows, but Slip still didn't have enough to tie everything together.
It was, in Thorpe's words, pure speculation. Prescott's ruling could
go either way. Convincing her to pull the trigger and put the
witnesses in the chair would be a matter of strategy.
First, we had to sit through Thorpe's diatribe. "To suggest that my
clients had anything whatsoever to do with Ms. Easter-brook's murder
is outrageous. Mr. Szlipkowsky should be grateful that Mr. Gunderson