Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [53]
Hathaway was reluctant to allow Lerner to leave the interrogation room, but decided that considering who he was, he’d play ball. “Sure,” he said. He told Klayman and Johnson to escort Smith and Lerner to his own office. “Stay there,” he told them. To Smith: “Fifteen minutes, Counselor?”
Smith nodded.
With Johnson and Klayman stationed directly outside the office, Smith sat Lerner down in a swivel chair, and perched on the edge of the desk. “Let me tell you the facts of life, young man. First of all, I’m no longer a practicing attorney, although I’m licensed. I used to practice criminal law. Now, I teach it. I’ve known your mother for quite a while and consider her a friend. I’m here because she asked me to come. In the morning, I’ll get a hold of some top attorneys I used to work with and they can take over.
“Right now, I’m here to help you through the initial phases of the trouble you’ve got yourself in. You’re charged with resisting arrest and assault on a police officer. Did you do those things?”
“I didn’t know who they were.”
“Bad answer, son. Did you run from them?”
“Yeah.”
“When they tried to arrest you, did you resist?”
“They beat me up.”
It was as though he’d never been away from criminal law. How many times had he sat in a police station with young punks, many of them from affluent families, who considered themselves—increasingly, young women, too—tougher than the system, and who were effusive in their answers, thinking they could lie their way out of the trouble in which they’d found themselves? The oppressiveness of such situations, the futility of it all, coupled with the tragic death of his first wife and only child, had pushed him away from the system as it was, and into a less bellicose life.
“Are you saying that the officers who arrested you lied, Jeremiah?”
“Whose side are you on, man, theirs or mine?”
“I was told they came to where you worked because they wanted to ask you questions about the young woman who was murdered last night at Ford’s Theatre.”
He guffawed. “Man, that is ridiculous. I didn’t even know her.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I—I read it in the papers.”
“I see. Well, let me sum up what’s going on here, Jeremiah, and give you some solid lawyerly advice. They’ll hold you overnight because they can. Sometime tomorrow, there’ll be a preliminary hearing where the judge will decide whether there’s probable cause to charge you with resisting and assault. The lawyer who represents you at the hearing will ask for bail, which you’ll be granted. I suggest you have one of your parents with you at the hearing. I’ll tell your mother that.
“But from this moment on, Jeremiah, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. That means offering nothing, saying nothing about the charges against you unless your lawyer is present. As for their interest in you regarding the murder, my best advice is to remain silent on that issue, too. Do you understand?”
“I don’t want to spend the night in jail.”
“You don’t have much choice in the matter. Any questions?”
“Man, this sucks!”
Smith knocked on the closed door, which was opened by Mo Johnson. With him outside the office were Klayman and Hathaway.
“Have you booked him?” Smith asked.
“Not yet,” Hathaway said.
“Where will he be, in Central Lockup at D.C. headquarters?”
“That’s right, Counselor.”
Smith said, “There’ll be a different attorney for him tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait,” Hathaway said. “Show Mr. Smith out, Rick.”
The attorney and the cop went to the lobby and out to the street.
“Mind if I ask you something, Mr. Smith?” Klayman asked.
“As long as it doesn’t have to do with the young man inside and the charges against him.”
“Are you the Mackensie Smith who teaches the course at GW on Lincoln and his law career?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. I’ll be in your class Saturday morning.”
“Oh?”
“I take courses at GW, nonmatriculated. I’m already enrolled in a history course, but when I saw you were teaching a second section of the Lincoln course on Saturday mornings, I signed up quick.”
“You have a special interest in Lincoln