Crime & Punishment Pt. 04

Brandt came to see me. To put it succinctly he had been interviewed by the FBI, fortunately they had only asked about the evening of the attack on me. What he had seen and what he had done.

"I'm worried," he said, "no one with all the facts would believe that biker gang retaliation story. The guy I shot was no biker."

"Relax you've no part in any criminal activity. So long as you had no prior knowledge and took no action later to hide the activity, you're clear of it. The main thing to avoid now is a conspiracy charge," I said.

"That's easy to say, but just because I avoid indictment does not mean I'm clear. I'm high in the Sheriff's office now. When the current Sheriff retires I could run to replace him. If you are on the ticket we could easily win. Worst case scenario I go out with a big pension. But all that goes to shit if that piss-ant talks."

It all came down to that. Everyone who knew or suspected Laura and Patterson's had an affair could point a finger. If you knew that I set him up and took that cheap bastard for the money that made me DA as retribution you could easily see what happened next. Patterson took his shot, but he only wounded me. It certainly was not over, but the FBI was now the wild card. If the Bureau learned of Laura's affair she and Patterson would come under suspicion for the attack on me.

"That guy pissed himself the night I arrested him. He's not going to last five minutes facing an attempted murder charge. We need to do something," Brandt went on.

"No you stay out of this. Too many heads are on the line already."

The irony of a special prosecutor for corruption being caught in this situation was not lost on me. Something needed to be done. I was having trouble going there. The thing just kept escalating.

I hoped I had calmed Brandt down. I understood his concerns. This thing had started with his daughter in trouble, but now he had moved up and stood to move higher. It's hard to go back down because you get caught in a scandal brought on by a fool who doesn't know he was let off easy. His last words did not let me rest easy.

"You're not the only one I warned," he said.

Phil was in my office when I got back. He had it all written out in pencil on three sheets of yellow legal paper. I knew why it didn't go into a computer. Some of it was illegally obtained and that was the good stuff.

"Ok give me the material from the prison in an official report leave the rest out. I'll blanket the prison and the hospital with subpoenas. But we'll only need the wife and the Reverend in all probability to get an indictment. I figure Senator Hoffman will plead after that, once he knows that we know," I said to a very quiet Sloane. He had done a great job, but he did not look proud of himself.

"You Ok Phil?" I asked.

"Yea, just a case of guilt," he said and I did not probe into it.

Two days after I served the subpoena for Mrs. Hoffman to testify, I received an unexpected visitor. I had made arrangements to start presenting evidence to a Grand Jury. The AG had one seated for a commercial frauds case. I was borrowing this for my presentation of the Hoffman case. You can present anything you want to a grand jury so long as you have jurisdiction.

"Well Steven what brings you here?" I said looking at my best friend.

"I represent Janet Hoffman," he said calmly as if he had asked me to lunch. Mary Ellen who was seated to my right taking notes near fell out of her chair. I asked her to observe as I did not want claims of favoritism later, but I had thought he was coming for the husband, the accused not the victim.

"Well what can I do for your client," I asked.

"Quash your subpoena," he said. There was a force in his voice that said he was deadly serious.

"Sorry can't do that," I said.

"Then I'm here to tell you my client will invoke her Fifth Amendment rights," he said cool and matter of fact. I thought Mary would have apoplexy, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Fine I'll give her immunity," I said trying to be just as cool as her was.

In that case she'll invoke spousal privilege," he said, an unbidden smile cracking his face. He was clearly enjoying this.

It was too much for Mary she broke in. "You can't invoke spousal privilege for a crime against the spouse," she said with a decided smirk at her textbook evidence law.

"That's enough Mary," I said giving her a frosty stare and then I turned to Steven, "thank you for the heads up counselor—I appreciate the warning," I said.

"My pleasure Pat, after all we're friends," he said.

After he left Mary was apologetic for her outburst, but adamant that Steven was bluffing.

"I think not. He was delivering a message," I said.

"Ok I'll bite, what was the message?" she asked.

"That's the riddle; let's see if we can solve it. You go over Slone's official report and I'll search his notes."

*****

The next day I had nothing but a bad feeling that I had missed something crucial and a wife who was climbing the walls as the FBI began talking to people at her office. She was a suspect of course we had been in a divorce action until I was almost ridden down. They were clearly not convinced that drug dealers were after me.

"This is completely my fault," Laura said that night over the spaghetti dinner I cooked. I had strictly forbidden her to enter the kitchen. She was not even allowed to make coffee or boil water. She lit the stove up cooking steaks. Burned out the microwave with baked potatoes and managed to destroy a five hundred dollar fancy Cuisinart food processor from William Sonoma. The last I could not even figure out. We were having spaghetti because she had a craving for it.

She is normally useless in the kitchen, but since the pregnancy she is positively dangerous. With the exception of her legal work she seemed to walk around in a perpetual fog. How she managed at the office was a mystery to me, but Saul assured me she was fine there.

After each doctor's visit, her OBGYN called me to complain that I needed to take better care of my wife. Her pregnancy was not easy in any respect. She was constantly horny and alternately sick. I defied anyone to get over with a very pregnant woman who orgasms almost as soon as you touch her. The sex was frustrating on my side and I was still a long way from getting past what she had done with Patterson. We were together in an uneasy relationship that I meant to end after the birth, hopefully with her consent to the inevitable.

"It's only partly your fault and as much as I hate to admit this you're the least responsible party involved," I said.

She calmed down a bit with that. She wasn't looking all well. I wanted to hire household help, but she refused and I was broke. She was not sharing her money with me. I knew she was desperately afraid I would leave her given the chance and the funding. It was a difficult situation all around.

"What do I do if the FBI wants to talk to me," she asked.

"You tell them no, that they can put any questions in writing and you will answer them in writing after you speak to your lawyer."

"But that'll make me appear guilty," she said.

"Laura you are guilty. You had an affair. You stood by and let your husband extort your lover. Then you kept silent when your lover tried to murder your husband," I said.

"That's not true, Frank would never do that," she screamed. The conversation was cut off because as I warned her it would, the spaghetti came back up.

She had morning sickness all day long and it did not stop after the first few months. When the conversation resumed, she continued to insist that Frank could not have done what I knew he did. She was caught up in her guilt and I had too much pride to roll over and accept what she had done. We left it there and went to sleep in our separate beds, two exhausted and troubled people.

The following day I found the missing piece in the Hoffman case. My good friend Steven knew already what was there, but he was in no position to tell me while he represented the Hoffmans. But there it was buried in one of the police forms from the night Mrs. Hoffman was treated at the hospital. One of the cops had examined Senator Hoffman's car. It was the car he used to bring his wife to the hospital. There was blood on the passenger side seat and floor. They felt free to inspect the vehicle because it was a state owned vehicle and no search warrant was needed. A dubious assumption, but I had no need of the cars contents.

The police after inspecting the vehicle made no arrest that night because Mrs. Hoffman stuck to her story of falling. But why did Hoffman have the state car? The answer was easily found. He had spent the early evening at a public meeting in Rochester, having driven there directly from a similar meeting in Syracuse. In fact he had been traveling all over Upstate New York selling his unpopular position on fracking for natural gas. I did the math and I knew. The Senator had in fact never been interviewed just accused. Neither had he defended himself.

*****

Frank Patterson was sure that a car was following his. The vehicle was a rather non-descript late model sedan, and it was there and gone, but back again as he looked in his real view mirror. His Mercedes GT was not a hard car to follow through city traffic. He was worried. There had been rumors about an FBI investigation. He needed to be careful.

Since seducing Laura Parker, Frank's life had not been his usual carefree overindulgent existence. That husband of hers had proved to be something out of the ordinary. Usually the husbands had to suck it up when he bedded their wives. Frank was a well off partner in a powerful law firm. He was both good looking and the confident type women are attracted to. How could he be setup and extorted by a second rate ADA and his wimpy defense lawyer buddy? It was humiliating. When you considered that this happened in the backwater that is the Capital of New York where everyone knows everyone else, it was not acceptable. He had to retaliate.

How could he just let it go? He could see that pretty little cuckold Fitzgerald laughing at him because Sullivan got the best of him. Frank was born to be top dog. He was big physically, had gone to the best schools, had always been well off financially; but those two had taken his money and hurt his pride. Afterwards Saul Solomon had dressed him down like a school boy, and warned him to keep his pants zipped. Solomon told him to stay away from Sullivan. He said that prick was going places and was dangerous. What then was Frank, a second rate loser?

"You always drive this slow?" asked the attractive brunette in the Mercedes passenger seat.

The girl was not his usual type. He preferred them more upscale and married if possible. The waitress Trina, was good looking, but single with kids. He had met her originally in a bar where she worked, and then recently in the little coffee shop around the corner from his office. At the bar she had been cool toward him, but later from behind the coffee counter she was all smiles and come on. She was not in his class, but since he had been shut out of the office pussy pool by that prick Solomon, he had to take it where he could. She also knew how to party and where to find the goods.

"Just being careful- want to get us there in one piece," he said.

"It's just that I thought you would be more anxious," she said moving her hand up his thigh and giving a little giggle.

In spite of himself he sped up.

*****

"Mr. Rosencrantz, PLEASE ENOUGH!" Judge Thompson pleaded.

"But your Honor my client is being denied his constitutional rights," Attorney Matthew Rosencrantz said for about the tenth time. Matt wasn't a bad lawyer he simply had a bad case. He was a tall distinguished fifty something lawyer who had graduated Cornell law at the age of twenty-seven and proceeded into the family legal business. Where he had a modest career based on his unusual persistence and generally likable disposition. But he had worn-out Judge Thompson's patience.

"For the last time, if Mr. Sullivan is so misguided as to grant your client immunity from prosecution in this matter he cannot refuse to testify," His Honor said, then turned on me with invective.

"Don't think I won't report this matter to the proper authorities Mr. Sullivan. I'm not sure what dirty political deal has been made, but I for one am not going to keep silent." The Judge had a bit of a temper I thought, but then people say I do as well.

In the Grand Jury room, Senator Hoffman's attitude was equal parts fear and anger. The members of the jury did not view him with much sympathy. I had been taken aside by one of the Deputy Attorney Generals that had been working with this jury and given a briefing on its makeup.

"They're a little on the old side, not unusual. They've been sitting awhile and it's easier if they don't have pressing obligations. The foreperson is an Asian-Indian woman in her sixties, a naturalized citizen, very proud of that fact, serious about her obligations here. Apparently she read up on the Grand Jury procedure and knows she can ask questions. A bit difficult, if I had to do it over I wouldn't pick her. The rest can be led if you need," she said.

The Deputy AG then gave me another up-and-down look and one of those come-on smiles I had been receiving from nearly every female on the AG staff. It had gotten so bad that Sid Levy took me aside and asked if I wanted him to take some action. I begged him not to since I was desperately trying to have my little staff treated well by his. I did not need any friction over some looks, a few suggestive remarks, and the occasional unnecessary physical contact.

He walked away shaking his head and saying, "Life was a bit simpler when all you needed to do was protect the females on the staff." His problem was that he had a sixty-forty split favoring female attorneys, with his good guy effort to be an equal opportunity employer in an era when more females are graduating law schools than males. Problem was they were attorneys and aggressive and they spent most of their adult lives studying to get ahead, now they were either looking for partners or some fun. A lot of his male staff was gay, some inherited from predecessors and other attracted by the good working conditions for gays. The result was a ratio of heterosexual males consistent with a night at a Broadway theater. The unattached males were few indeed. Great for the guys-unless you had a jealous, pregnant, and emotionally fragile estranged spouse.

As I walked into the jury room to do battle with Senator Hoffman, I was thinking that if it went well I might-just might be able to get my own office space. When sworn in, the Senator immediate asserted spousal privilege.

"To what Senator?" I asked.

"To everything," he said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Indian lady taking notes.

"You have to wait until I ask a question," I said trying to sound slightly amused. "Care to confer with your attorney on that."

"No," he said.

"Alright, when did you arrive home on March 25th, of this year?" I asked.

"I can't remember."

"You brought your wife to Mercy General at 9:46 pm.," I said showing him the admission record and the subsequent police report. "So it must have been before then."

He didn't respond so I went on.

"Witnesses say you left Rochester a little before 8 pm. CORRECT?"

"YES," he said reluctantly.

"Normally how long would it take you to get home?" I asked.

He knew where I was going and was reluctant to answer.

"Maybe forty-five minutes to an hour."

"The State Police assure me the trip would take an hour and ten minutes at least in good weather, but that night they had what is referred to as a lake effect storm in Rochester. Snow, CORRECT?"

"Yes," he said, but you could barely hear the word.

I leaned toward him. "Senator you had barely enough time to get home, find your wife in distress and get her to the hospital! If you didn't hit her who did?" We were eye to eye as I said this.

Hoffman set his jaw and responded: "I evoke spousal privilege."

I pulled back, as I did I saw the Jury forewoman's hand shoot up.

I turned acknowledging her, "Can he do that?" she asked.

I turned back to Hoffman before I answered. "Maybe- it's a close point, what he knows has to have come from his wife, which she told him because he was her husband. But whether the privilege applies here is a close point. However, he is betting that I will try to force an answer and take long enough that he will be crucified in the press and the vultures will be satisfied with his head. But I won't."

Hoffman looked at me, the anger clear and apparent. "Damn you Sullivan," he said, then turned to face the jury.

"You don't know this man; he's not the young innocent he seems. He's a political schemer of the worst kind. As a juvenile he nearly beat a priest to death. As a prosecutor he has shown that he'll do anything to win. He is a creature of our Governor and his political cronies. Please believe me I'm fighting to protect my family. You must have families, would you let them be destroyed so some politicians can pretend they believe in justice." He said this as the tears flowed down his cheeks to wet his dress shirt.

"Where was your son that night?" I said when he had stopped talking as if I'd heard nothing he'd said.

"What?"

"You heard me—Jerry junior. Your daughter Alice was in her dorm at NYU, they keep very accurate records of freshmen females. But where was your son?" I said moving closer to him again. "No privilege to invoke there."

"Goddamn you. Do you have no soul?"

"Senator by now you know, I know. The affair between your wife and the black Reverend and what it led to. -Do we need to call the witnesses to testify?" I said and then I turned to the jury.

I waved my hand broadly for effect at the jury, "these good people are intelligent, they understand that if you could not have committed the crime, then someone else did and that someone needed a similar motive," I said and could see the light bulb blinking on for the jurymen.

"So where was your son?"

Hoffman looked about crushed.

"I promised Elsa,(his wife)" he said.

"Just give us the truth there's nothing else for it now."

And with that he did. Mom had wanted her son with her when she gave the bad news about the pregnancy to Dad, but she hadn't counted on the son's reaction. Junior hit her one good hard blow; she was standing in the dining room at the time and fell the two steps into the sunken living room. She struck a small end table but appeared, except for a black eye, to have escaped injury.

An hour later the miscarriage started by then the son had left angry, but having apologized profusely for the blow he struck. When Mr. Hoffman got home his wife was bleeding and experiencing cramps. He rushed her to the hospital about ten minutes from their home. What followed was the families attempt to conceal the crime and societies need to punish the abusive husband guilty or not.

I asked the jury for a statement that no charge could be brought against the Senator. They were more than willing, but:

"Can't we indict the son?" the forewoman asked, "Is that not our duty?"

"Sorry, but I don't have jurisdiction over him, he holds no elected office and my jurisdiction is limited to those that do," I said, not exactly the interpretation of my office some would give, but what I had decided I was going to hold to.

"However," I said seeming to ponder the question, "If you wish you may refer the matter to the local DA and the State Attorney General setting forth your reasons," which is what they did.

*****

The Albany Times Union covered it on Page four. It was not a big news item and something of an occurrence that was becoming more common. A prominent attorney found dead in his home. Drugs were suspected, another tragedy in the growing trend of prominent people succumbing to addiction.