Ben reminded the jury that the evidence against his client was mostly circumstantial. “Contrary to what the prosecutor has said, there is no evidence directly pointing to Senator Glancy. They did all the pointing-the police and the prosecutors-because he was the most obvious and easiest person to accuse.”
“Your honor,” Padolino said, rising, “I object. This isn’t relevant and it slanders the good men and women who are devoted public-”
“Sit down,” Herndon said firmly. “And don’t get up again.”
Ben jerked his thumb toward the prosecutor. “Mr. Padolino thinks it’s unfair for me to insinuate that the police investigation of this case was lazy. But ask yourselves this: why didn’t they discover the vampire coven? Why didn’t they discover Stigmata, a club the victim had been habituating for months? Why didn’t they know she was a drug addict? Why didn’t they know she frequently traveled with three other young women-all of whom disappeared? My investigator was able to uncover these secrets-why couldn’t they? Answer: because they didn’t look. Senator Glancy wasn’t arrested because of any overwhelming evidence. He was arrested because the true killer had the sense to implicate someone he knew the cops-and the public-would be predisposed to distrust. Because he was a politician.”
Ben faced the jury squarely and ratcheted his voice up a few decibels. “Is this important? You bet it is. Sure, the majority of law enforcement officers in this country are good honest people and we owe them our respect and our thanks. But every time I turn around, it seems as if our civil rights are eroding. We overlook police procedural violations, police brutality, because after all, the suspects are almost always guilty, right? The Second Amendment supposedly protects us from unwarranted intrusions, search and seizures, arrest without charge or probable cause, but every day we see those rights whittled away. We pass laws we know aren’t constitutional, but shield the offense by giving them names like the Patriot Act-as if there was something patriotic about violating the constitutional freedoms that are the bedrock upon which this country was founded.
“Is this important?” Ben asked again, this time his voice was even louder than before. “You better believe it. Because this is the United States of America. We created the modern democracy. We invented the Constitution, a written document that guarantees the people’s rights-and restricts the powers of the government. I love this country, but every time we let another constitutional right be trampled upon, every time we look the other way while some wrongful act is committed in the name of homeland security, or national defense, or patriotism, we become a little less American. The erosion of one civil right only leads to another, and I would suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that’s exactly what’s happening here-and it’s wrong. Because here in the United States, we don’t lock people away because it’s fashionable to think the worst of politicians. We don’t arrest people because a crime is committed in their workspace. And we don’t prosecute people without performing a thorough investigation that has convinced us-convinced us-that we have the right man.”
Ben took a few steps forward and laid his hands gently upon the rail. “Let me ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Are you convinced that they have the right man? Has the prosecution proven to you-beyond a reasonable doubt-that Todd Glancy killed Veronica Cooper? Or is it just possible that it was someone else? Is it just possible that it happened exactly as described by Beatrice Taylor, the closest thing we have to an eyewitness in this case, the woman who knows more about what went on in Veronica Cooper’s life than anyone else in the world. Is it possible? Do you have a reasonable doubt? Because if you do-if, when you walk back into that jury room, you have a reasonable doubt about what really happened, then you must find my client not guilty. Why? Because this is the United States of America.” He let several seconds pass before he added, quietly: “And that’s the way we do things here.”
25
“H oly smokes, Ben,” Glancy said, shaking his head. He was waiting, with Ben and Christina, in a small room just a few doors down from where the jury was deliberating. “If you can give a speech like that every day, you should run for President.”
“You’re too kind.”
“No, I’m a politician-or was, anyway-and I’ve heard enough orations to know a good one from a bad one. That was a humdinger. All you needed was some facile remark about family values and the invocation of the deity and it would’ve been perfect.” He stopped, then his voice dropped a few notches. “But was it enough to convince the jury?”
Ben had to be honest. “I don’t know.”
Christina jumped in. “I thought you covered all the main points. Brilliantly and persuasively.”
“Perhaps. But we had some bad evidence. The pathetic thing is, the worst of it had nothing to do with who murdered Veronica Cooper. But the jury still heard it.”
Glancy didn’t respond. They all knew what Ben was talking about.
“What about me?” Glancy asked. “How did I do on the stand? You never said.”
Ben chose his words carefully. “I thought you did the best you could… given the circumstances.”
“You had to handle some tough questions,” Christina interjected, trying to add a more upbeat note.
“Yeah, sure, I know all that. But did I have… duende?”
Ben frowned. “Would it be a good thing if you did?”
Glancy smiled. That’s Spanish. It’s like… charisma. The power to attract and persuade through personal magnetism and charm. I’m asking you if I seemed… charismatic?”
Ben stared at him with weary eyes. Were you charismatic while you were talking about your affair with a minor and your aberrant sexual fetishes? “Juries are more interested in what a witness has to say than how they say it.”
Glancy blew Ben a raspberry. “Says you. Charisma is all. If you’ve got enough of it, you can get away with anything.”
“That hasn’t been my experience.”
“It sure as heck has been mine. Haven’t you noticed how no one ever talks about whether a White House candidate is smart or knowledgeable or experienced or capable anymore? They talk about whether he’s electable. Whether he seems presidential.”
“The legal world operates differently.”
“Does it? Answer me this: Why did every single member of Nixon’s staff of any importance whatsoever do jail time-except Henry Kissinger, the most active and influential of them all?”
Ben hazarded a guess. “Charisma?”
“Darn tootin’. And he was a funny-looking German Jew with an almost incomprehensible accent. But he courted the press. He had PR people releasing statements about how he was dating Jill St. John or whatever. Meanwhile, he orchestrated the secret and illegal bombing of Cambodia. He authorized the Indonesian invasion of East Timor. He pushed for and got a CIA coup to overthrow the democratically elected Allende government in Chile. If someone had done stuff like that in Germany during World War II they’d’ve been tried at Nuremberg for war crimes. But when Kissinger did it, what happened? Criminal charges? No. Instead, he became a wealthy businessman and a senior statesman on CNN. And you know why?”
“Charisma?”
“Bingo. He was just so charming-no one could believe he knew about those naughty Watergate plumbers and their friends, even when common sense tells us he couldn’t have been a part of that administration and not have known about it. Some people think the whole reason for the Watergate burglary was to see if the Democrats knew Kissinger had sabotaged the ’68 Democratic Vietnam peace initiative which, if successful, would’ve almost certainly given Humphrey the presidency. Remember, Nixon won by less than one percent of the popular vote.”