Page 28 of Precise Justice

“Let’s start with the two who will sign statements about what she said.

“I have this for you,” Marc said handing her Robbie’s list.

Maddy knew what the case was about and even most of the details. Marc explained the list then sent her off to hear what they had to say.

When interviewing a potential witness, you don’t write up a detailed statement. That would be something to share with the prosecution. Maddy Rivers knew her business about writing reports.

TWELVE

Dear Diary:November 4th

We have a hearing tomorrow in court. Marc wants me there. I’m really scared about it. Marc told me there is nothing to be afraid of. He thinks we can get the charges dropped or dismissed or something like that.

I have to get ready for bed now. I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep.

I finished in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized, or admitted, why I am afraid to go to court.

What if I have to testify in front of a crowd in the courtroom? The fairy princess that people will laugh at. I can’t stand the thought. When will this nightmare be over?

Marc, along with Maddy and Robbie, was patiently waiting for the Omnibus Hearing to begin. He had filed a notice contesting the evidence against Robbie which required anevidentiary hearing. The prosecution would have to put on witnesses to show probable cause for the arrest and the charges.

Normally, a defendant would not necessarily put on any witnesses. This hearing is used by the defense to see the witnesses and assess their testimony.

Marc had filed a Rule 9 notice that the defense was going to assert self-defense. He had three witnesses lined up and prepared. The teacher, Ms. Debra Gillian and Robbie’s tablemate, Stephanie. If necessary, he was prepared to put Robbie on the stand as well.

The gate to the gallery crashed open as a man came through it. He was followed by two others, another man in a tailored, expensive suit and Jennifer Moore, the assistant county attorney.

The first man through the gate was the elected Hennepin County Attorney, Craig Slocum. In his early fifties, Slocum was a balding, medium height white man. He grew up with money, his suits were tailored and his gold-rimmed glasses were real gold. Slocum was a politician who believed the world was set out for him. Slocum also had a burning hatred for Marc Kadella and with good reason.

A psycho serial killer had terrorized the Twin Cities about a year and a half ago. Slocum had personally tried the case. A case he believed would get him his party’s nomination for governor.

Marc had the case drop in his lap. Not only did Marc win the case, but he also made Slocum look like a fool in the process. On top of it, subsequent events would prove the defendant was guilty. Slocum took the wrath of the media for blowing the trial and letting the man go free.

Trailing closely behind Slocum was the victim’s father, Harold Lane. Harold was a law school classmate and friend of Craig Slocum. Lane was a senior partner in a downtown, white-shoe corporate law firm who contributed to Slocum’s political campaigns.

Last one through the gate was the only one who had business in court this morning. Jennifer Moore had been assigned to prosecute Robbie Craig-Powell. Slocum and Harold Lanestopped at Marc’s table. Jennifer went the other way to the prosecution’s table.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Kadella?” Slocum snarled, on the verge of screaming, a vein pulsing on his forehead.

Marc stood, held his hand out to Slocum to shake and said, “Hello, Craig. How’ve you been? You should watch your blood pressure, that vein’s about to burst.”

Ignoring Marc’s attempt at civility and medical advice, Slocum waved a piece of paper at Marc while saying, “What kind of bullshit is this? You drop a subpoena on me two hours ago while I’m leaving my house? You got a lot of goddamn nerve!”

“Is it my fault you’re so hard to find?” Marc asked.

Marc turned to Maddy Rivers who handed him an 8x10 color photo.

“Ms. Rivers here is the one who was assigned to serve you. She did at one- time, almost get you.”

Marc showed Slocum the photo. It was a picture of Slocum leaving a motel room. Standing in the doorway of the room was a woman. She was much younger, twenty-something, and quite attractive.

“That is you, isn’t it Craig? Helping that young law school student study for the bar exam?”

A breathless Craig Slocum stood silent, his face turning crimson, for almost twenty seconds.

Harold Lane moved closer, then looked over Slocum’s shoulder and said one word, “Nice.”

“You sonofabitch! You slimy gutter crawling bastard. I’ll have you disbarred for this.”

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