“No, Jen. I think he’s guilty.”
“Well, this sure as hell doesn’t prove it.” Pope shakes her head and flips through the pages again. “Look, the medical forensics and ID are solid. No reason to doubt that the bones belong to Suzanne Bonanno. Alice Woods is a good ME and even better on the stand. She might even be able to convince the jury that Suzanne was murdered. But the rest is loose. You’ve got Seabrook and a Lake Marie property that belongs to Cole Wright but nothing to connect them except a watch.”
Bastinelli squirms a bit.
“What do we know about the Lake Marie property?” she asks.
“Wright bought it when he signed with the Patriots. Planned to build a camp there.”
“And did anybody see him dig the hole? Did he order the hole to be dug?”
“Not that we know of. The caretaker didn’t even know it was there until the troopers found it.”
Pope isn’t done. “You’ve got a few people from twenty years back who say Wright used to talk tough to women. I’m sure the defense will find a dozen other people to say that he walked on water. The White House will bring out the best lawyers to fight this, Hugh. They’ll drive a bus through these cracks.”
“Jen, this case has been on ice for seventeen years. The original records are missing. We’ve had to rebuild everything.”
“Cry me a river, Hugh. Records go missing all the time. Where’s your motive?”
“It’s right there,” says Bastinelli, on the defensive. “The relationship between a player and a cheerleader was against team policy. It could have cost Wright his position with the Pats. Millions in potential income and endorsements. Maybe Suzanne was threatening to go public with the relationship. Maybe because she was pregnant with his child.”
“And so he lost his temper and killed her in a fit of rage?”
“Happens every day. I don’t need to tell you that.”
“Okay,” says Pope, leafing through the document. “Where’s the fetal DNA?”
Bastinelli scratches his chin. “There is none. No fetal remains at all.”
“The results of a pregnancy test? Interview with her ob-gyn?”
“Not that we can find.”
Pope stops turning the pages. “So we’re basing the pregnancy theory on an analysis of buried pelvic bones?”
Bastinelli nods. “Osteoclastic formation due to ligamental changes in preparation for childbirth. It’s a frequent finding.”
“Right. A finding I could find a dozen experts to piss all over.”
Bastinelli can’t argue with that. He could locate a few himself.
“Before I stick you in front of a grand jury,” Pope continues, “you need to convince me that you can place Cole Wright with Suzanne Bonanno after she left her mother’s trailer. Some indication that hewasactually the last person to see her alive. And I need some direct connection between that night and what was in that grave. Until you have that, we’re wasting our time. And don’t forget,” says Pope, “I’m going to have to brief the governor on this.”
“What kind of pushback can we expect?”
“Lots of sound and fury, I’m sure,” says Pope. “The media will go apeshit, seeing how he supported Faulkner during the primaries.”
“Right, he did,” says Bastinelli. “All the way to the convention floor.”
“And I was part of the opposition. Look, I can claim I’m neutral until the cows come home, but a lot of the media and Wright’s supporters will think this is a hit job.”
“Okay,” says Bastinelli. “I’ll see what else Gagnon can find.”
He stands up to leave. Pope picks up a small commemorativemedallion from her desk and points to an inscription. “See this?Fiat justitia ruat caelum.”
“Sorry,” says Bastinelli, “my Latin’s a little rusty.”
“It means ‘Let justice be done though the heavens fall.’”