A Case of Self Defense

"And during that time, you have received extensive training in cataloguing the process of your investigation, correct?"

"Yes," Robinson croaked, seeing Knight drop his head to counsel table and bury his face in his arms. Looking back at Rebecca, he noticed she was still looking straight at Judge Feldman, a smile now beginning to curve her lips as her voice got louder.

"And part of that process is preparing and filing police reports of each and every interview you conduct during the course of the investigation, correct?"

Robinson hesitated. They were dead.

"Correct?" Rebecca repeated.

"Correct," he agreed.

"And you prepared police reports of each and every interview with each and every one of these twenty-three women, correct?"

Robinson looked around. All eyes were now on him, including an obviously very angry Judge Feldman's piercing stare.

"Correct," Robinson said.

"Then can you explain why none of these police reports were ever turned over to the defense or listed on any of the discovery documents provided to the defense?"

Robinson's answer was drowned out by the new uproar in the courtroom, and Robinson hung his head.

"Counsel," Judge Feldman roared. "Chambers, now."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"So what happened in chambers?" Ben asked her, his feet kicked up on her coffee table and a glass of wine in his hand.

"It's going to be over first thing tomorrow is what happened," Rebecca replied. "Feldman went nuts, and he's going to be spending the entire evening researching and writing his mistrial statement. He's not going to get this wrong and run the risk of it coming back to bite him in the ass. He's going to make sure Knight's ruined over this."

Ben laughed. "Arrogant prick," he said. "Serves him right."

Rebecca smiled.

"Penny for your thoughts," Ben said, sipping the wine and looking at her curled in the chair opposite.

"I'm still worried about how this is going to play out tomorrow," she said. "You know, after the trial's over. Is it going to go down like we're planning? Is there going to be another sudden turn of events to deal with?"

Ben smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "It's going to play out perfectly. Now come over here and give me a kiss."

She did, and it was getting easier every time they touched. Gone was the hesitation, the fear of contact. Though she was still tentative at first, she soon relaxed as their tongues explored each other's mouths and his hands brushed lightly over her stiffening nipples.

My God, she thought, it's taken nine years since that terrible night. What if she'd been more patient the first time and hadn't thrown him out? Would they have stayed together and had children of their own?

Still, she was getting a second chance here–that they were getting a second chance–and she vowed not to mess it up this time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jennifer stood as the jury filed into the courtroom and took their seats in the jury box. Judge Feldman, she noticed, had a severe look on his face, and he glared several times at Knight. This had to be good, she knew, but Rebecca was playing it close to the vest. She had moved for a mistrial, Rebecca had told her yesterday before Jennifer had been returned to the cell she'd lived in the past five and a half months.

Jennifer had spent the night in her cell praying. Praying that the motion for mistrial would be granted; that this long ordeal would finally be over; and, most of all, that she'd be able to again hold and hug her beautiful little girls that she hadn't seen all this time. She and Ben had agreed at the outset that they didn't want the girls to see her like this, and Ben promised he'd tell them that she was out of town on business for a long time, but would soon return. Both Ben and Rebecca had shared pictures of the girls during that time, but the aching in her heart only grew with every passing day.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Judge Feldman intoned, quieting the courtroom murmur, "in light of yesterday's testimony, defense counsel made a motion for mistrial in chambers. The Court has heard the arguments of both the defense and the prosecution, both for and against defense counsel's motion. Before the Court rules on the motion, it would like to make the following findings."

Feldman shuffled through the papers before him, read a page, then began speaking, looking throughout the courtroom as he did so.

"First, the defense has, from the outset of this action, given notice of its intent to raise the affirmative defense of justification to the charge of murder. That justification is premised on self defense to a sexual assault."

"Second," Feldman continued after glancing at his notes, "under the Due Process Clause as enunciated in the Fifth Amendment of the United States Constitution, the prosecution is obligated to turn over to the defense, in a timely manner, all evidence in the prosecution's possession that either is, or can reasonably be construed as, exculpatory to the defendant's guilt."

"Third," Feldman continued, his voice now rising as he pushed his notes aside, "the prosecution has, in this case, intentionally and with flagrant disregard of the Constitution and the defendant's rights thereunder, withheld key evidence from the defense. That evidence so intentionally withheld includes videotapes that show the victim had a long history of possible sexual assault as well as police reports of interviews with numerous other persons who all had motive and possible means to commit the offense charged. Worse, the prosecution intentionally engaged in a pattern of conduct designed to insure the defense would know absolutely nothing about the existence of any such persons altogether."

"Fourth, there is now great doubt in the Court's mind that any of the evidence thus far adduced–and granted, the prosecution has not yet concluded its case in chief, but I can't see it getting better–that any of the evidence thus far adduced in trial points solely to the defendant as the perpetrator of this crime. To the contrary, we now have at least two other possible suspects, the identity of whom was not disclosed to the defense until Detective Robinson testified yesterday at trial. As a matter of fact, and I want to make this clear, were it not for the truthful testimony of Detective Robinson under less than ideal circumstances, none of this would ever have come to light. For this, Detective Robinson is to be commended."

Judge Feldman gave a nod to Detective Robinson, who was sitting next to Knight at the prosecution's table. Then Jennifer watched as Judge Feldman's gaze swivelled and rested on hers. Without conscious thought, she felt her chest constrict as she held her breath.

"In all of my years on the bench," he said, his gaze unwavering and his facial features softening, "I have never witnessed such gross prosecutorial misconduct. Any evidence presented that may point to the defendant being the vehicle of Mr. Broussard's death–and it's highly unclear whether she was, in fact, the person responsible for that death–but any such evidence points more so to the likelihood that the defense she raised is valid."

Feldman's face now hardened as he turned to Knight. "Given the level of prosecutorial misconduct and the severe prejudice thus inflicted on the defendant's rights after the commencement of this trial, this Court has no alternative but to grant defense counsel's motion for a mistrial." The courtroom erupted, but was just as quickly silenced when Judge Feldman slapped his palm on his bench. "Such mistrial being predicated on prosecutorial misconduct after the jury has been sworn in, the charges are furthermore dismissed with prejudice."

This time, no amount of shouting from the bailiff would quiet the courtroom. Jennifer watched Judge Feldman scribble his signature to an Order form and hand it to the clerk before leaving the bench. She turned and watched Knight slam his briefcase shut and storm from the courtroom, ignoring the questions being shouted at him by a dozen or more reporters..

"What does this mean?" Jennifer asked Rebecca, who was leaning back in the chair beside her, rubbing her face as the intense energy visibly left her petite frame.

"It means you're free," Rebecca said. "It's all over."

Jennifer felt the hot tears sliding down her cheeks as the empty pit in her stomach was filled with hope. She turned and looked at Ben, who smiled at her. She could only smile back, not trusting her voice to speak.

"Miss Bradford," the bailiff said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. She turned, and he continued, "Could you come with me, please? We're just going to go back and get your things now and we'll have you out of here in no time, okay?"

She nodded, then turned back to Ben. "We'll wait for you," he said.

When Jennifer stood and followed the bailiff, she looked back at Ben, who was now hugging Rebecca. Rebecca, she noticed, was hugging him back just as fiercely. Strange, Jennifer thought. He didn't hug me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Outside the courthouse, Detective Bradford waited near the throng of reporters for Benjamin Bradford to appear. When the door swung open, Ben was leading Rebecca toward the microphones, standing to the side as she answered all questions put to her.

"Can I speak with you for a minute?" Robinson whispered into Ben's ear.

Ben turned and smiled at him. "Why of course, Detective."

They walked unnoticed to a deserted area fifty feet away.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Robinson said without preamble.

Ben's smile got bigger. "Knew what, Detective?"

"The videos and the police reports. You've had them all along, haven't you?"

Ben only smiled in response.

"You played us," Robinson insisted, trying to get a response. "You–and she–knew this would happen, and you played us."

A cloud of anger passed over Ben's face, then the smile returned. "Detective," he said, "assuming what you say is true, how could anyone have possibly known Knight would withhold all of that evidence? That he'd play right into our hands?"

Robinson shook his head. "That didn't matter if you had all of that evidence though, did it? No, that just made it faster for you, and helped to bring Knight down in the process. Either way, even if it had all been produced, you had us."

"Then why were the charges pressed in the first place, Detective?" The look of anger returned to Ben's face, and his voice was now a hiss. "You knew what a rotten bastard Broussard was, and you still brought these charges and did your level best to convict her. Like the world's a worse place without that . . . that . . . that fucking animal going around destroying all those lives. Oh yeah, who's the bad guy here, Detective?"

Robinson said nothing. Bradford was right.

"Assuming we had all of this from day one," Bradford continued, "and I'm not saying we did, but if we did, then yeah, we weren't really all that worried."

"But again, Detective," Ben said, spitting out the last word with venom, "the real question is why? Why did you bring these charges? You of all people knew what a monster Broussard was. Why did you put us through this?"

Robinson shook his head. "I didn't," he finally said. "I begged Knight to drop it, but he wouldn't. Said he needed this win, needed it to stay in office."

"That's bullshit," Ben said. "You could have leaked all of this to the press months ago. It would have gone away, and you goddamned well know it. No. Instead, you just played right along with this . . . this . . . this fucking farce so you and Knight could get your backs patted, get your elections won and your promotions approved. Well touche, Detective, I guess it didn't work out quite the way you planned, did it? And if you want someone to blame, start by looking in a fucking mirror."

Robinson said nothing to this. What could he say? He just watched Ben storm off toward Rebecca before himself turning and walking back into the courthouse.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"Where are we going, dear?" Jennifer said, looking at Ben.

"We've got to stop by Rebecca's, Jen," he said. He was tight lipped, his face a mask, and Jennifer was uneasy.

"But I want to see my babies," she said. "Ben, please, can't it wait?"

Ben shook his head.

"Ben, baby, what's wrong?"

He shot her a glance, and Jennifer felt a shiver run down her spine. Oh God, she thought, this can't be happening.

She bit her lip as the car pulled into a parking garage. They were silent riding the elevator to the top floor, where they got off and Jennifer followed Ben down the hallway to a door. He pulled a key and unlocked the door, motioning her inside. Seeing him unlock the door to Rebecca's condo, Jennifer felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.

"Sit," he said, pointing at the dining room table.

She slid into a chair and watched Ben. He was running wires to and from a laptop computer and an external hard drive. Then he fired up the computer and clicked on some folders. She couldn't see the screen, but she feared the worst. Seeing the videos in the courtroom had paralyzed her with fear, but she thought she was free and clear after hearing the testimony and figuring out that she hadn't been in any of them. Now she wasn't so sure this was all over yet.

"Here already?" she heard, and turned to watch Rebecca walk in the door and toss her jacket over a chair.

"Just getting ready now," Ben said.

Rebecca smiled and flipped the latches on her briefcase. "Then we'll need these," Rebecca said, pulling a thick manila envelope from the briefcase and setting it on the table in front of Jennifer.

"What's going on here?" Jennifer asked, looking at the two of them as they sat at the table.

"Let me tell you a story," Ben started, typing on a couple of keys on the laptop, then clicking the mouse.

"Once there was a family, and they were very happy. At least the husband thought so. They seemed to have it all. He had a good business that was just starting to take off, and she was rising rapidly through the ranks and getting promoted faster and faster. This couple had two beautiful little girls, and things couldn't have been better."

Jennifer watched Ben as he spoke, and she saw tears welling up in his eyes.

"Then one day, at a party," he continued, "I was hired by your boss to audit your computer security. You seemed so excited at that, so happy for both of us. And I was happy, too. I wanted to make you proud, let you see what I really do and how well I do it. So I gave it my all, and in no time, I was in your systems."

Jennifer felt a tightness in her chest. He'd broken through. She'd tried to monitor him, tried to find out how far along he was, but he'd never tipped his hand. She'd underestimated him, she realized. She'd relied far too much on Jeff Richard's bland assurances that all was well.

Ben smiled through the tears now running down his cheeks. "You only made one mistake, Jennifer, and it was a very small one."

She looked confused while he waited for her to guess.

"Your only mistake," Ben said after seeing she wouldn't answer, "was at the party when you identified Broussard to me as a prick. And just for shits and grins, I decided that he was the one I was going to break in through. You see, it's those people, the arrogant know-it-alls, that usually make the biggest mistakes. They think they're invincible, and they don't bother to listen to all the peons about little things. Little things like password security and overall systems security. And because you pointed that out to me right off the bat, I was unknowingly pointed in the right direction to uncover the whole sordid scheme."

He slid the laptop in front of her and she looked at the screen. "First, there was this," he said, clicking the mouse and calling up a series of e-mails. "E-mails between Broussard and Richards. E-mails between a head of systems security and a head of commercial paper that shouldn't be there. They probably didn't talk to each other five times a year, and suddenly we've got them e-mailing each other two, three times a day."

Ben clicked the mouse again, and a specific e-mail popped onto the screen. "So that leads me to this," he said. "An e-mail from Broussard to his own home computer."

Ben clicked again. "And that led me to this." Jennifer looked at the screen and watched as Ben scrolled down the thousands of deposits from Jensen National to the series of offshore accounts.

"And this," Ben said, clicking the mouse again. A folder was called up giving all of the information about each of the offshore accounts, including balances and account passwords.

"So it was you," Jennifer whispered.

Ben nodded. "You didn't think I was that bright, did you?"

She said nothing, amazed he'd uncovered the whole scheme so quickly. He was right, she'd clearly underestimated her own husband. Then again, she had no idea what he really did or how he did it. Instead, she'd relied on Richards to foil any attempted intrusions.

"The problem was," Ben continued, "I knew there were three of you, but I could only identify Richards and Broussard. Frankly, I figured for Susan Flowers as the third. The third was clearly a female, and just as clearly worked in auditing. I remembered you saying that she and Broussard had a thing going, and I was sure as hell positive that she was the one."

Ben clicked the mouse and a list of folders appeared, all women's names with numbers behind them. "Then I ran across this," he said. He clicked on one marked Susan 9, and a video appeared and started playing. "This confirmed my suspicions," Ben said, turning to the screen. Susan was enthusiastically riding Broussard's cock, in the throes of orgasm.

"But there are none of me on there," Jennifer said, scanning the list of videos. "So what's this all about?"

Ben smiled. "No, Jennifer, there are none of you on here." He scrolled the screen with the mouse, running up and down the hundreds of video files. "This is what the police have had since day one."

"Then you know I'm innocent," Jennifer pleaded. "Please, Ben, I don't understand what's going on."

Ben's look of sorrow vanished, and she watched as pain and anger contorted his features.

"Jennifer," he said, his voice hoarse, "this is what the police had because I took these out."

He clicked the mouse and six video files appeared. They were labeled Jennifer 1 through 5, and the last one was labeled The Murder. Jennifer shivered at the last one.

Ben scrolled the arrow to Jennifer 5 and double-clicked. "This is the video that changed my life," he said. She watched the screen. There she was, naked and in front of Broussard, detailing the scheme to take millions, to seduce Jeff Richards, to make her dreams of wealth finally come true.

"You did it all for the money, didn't you?" he asked.

She nodded, watching the screen.

"No matter what it took, you just wanted the money. Fuck me, fuck our marriage." His voice cracked as she turned to him. "To hell with our little girls, right?"

She gasped at the last. "No, Ben, it was because of them that I did it. So they'd never have to want for anything. So they'd not go to school in hand-me-downs like I did, with cheap haircuts and not enough money for a homecoming dress. So they'd never have to worry about living in a trailer house." She felt the tears streaming down her face. "No, you're wrong there," she said, "they were why I did it. And every time I did something I didn't want to do, I thought of them and how they'd never have to grow up like I did. Ashamed of myself and my family, the butt of everyone's jokes at every dance and football game and class and everything."

Ben's face was now awash in tears, and Jennifer looked at Rebecca. She thought Rebecca looked sympathetic, but she couldn't tell if it was for her or for Ben.

"You slept with more, didn't you?" Ben accused.

She nodded her head.