Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [95]
“We’ll have subpoena power.”
“Eventually.”
“Any hint as to whether they’ll seek a grand jury?”
“None, but they’re liable to. Gets them off the hook if twenty-three grand jurors vote to indict a senator’s son instead of the politicos having to make the decision on their own.”
“Did LeCour mention a lineup?” Smith asked.
“He says the police want one. What do you think?”
Smith grimaced and looked back to where Annabel and Sue Becker were admiring Sue’s award-winning rose garden. The police obviously had what they considered an eyewitness. According to what Smith had heard, though, he was an alcoholic street person, hardly what a savvy prosecutor would want to present at trial. Still, Smith had tried enough criminal cases in which a so-called eyewitness identified his client, and despite the witness’s shaky character and debatable reliability, the jury had believed him.
“We really can’t stop them,” Smith said. “If we try, they’ll use it as an example of our having something to hide, of consciousness of guilt on his part. I’ll make sure it’s a legit lineup. And if it isn’t, we can use that to our advantage if this ever goes to trial.”
The Beckers’ yellow Lab joined the two attorneys, laying his head on Mac’s lap and giving his hand a lick. Yale left to refresh their iced teas. Mac massaged the dog’s neck as he sat back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the sun on his face.
He’d been troubled when he’d gone to bed the previous night. Now, engaged in a strategy discussion with another attorney for whom he had great respect and personal affection, he realized how much he was enjoying the experience. He loved teaching, found it immensely challenging, particularly when dealing with an especially promising student who forced him to dig deep into his intellect and knowledge. But so much was theoretical.
Being part of Jeremiah Lerner’s defense team was real, nothing theoretical about it. This was criminal law as the textbooks never described it. Yes, there were time-honored, Constitutionally guaranteed principles to be adhered to, and local laws to be followed, and Smith knew them like the back of his hand, and taught them. But lecturing, and navigating them as an advocate for a young client facing a lifetime behind bars, was another matter.
IN GEORGETOWN on this sunny Sunday, Clarise Emerson stayed at home with her drapes drawn, and an answering machine screening callers. She’d chosen to not answer most calls, including three from Sydney Bancroft, but had picked up at the sound of her ex-husband’s voice.
“How are you handling things, Clarise?” he asked.
“Dreadfully,” she said.
“The press camped at your doorstep?”
“Of course. A TV crew, too.”
“I think we’d better talk.”
“About what?” she snapped, anger on the rise.
“About our only son, goddamn it! Look, I know we have differences, and I’m not suggesting we discuss them. But we’ve got to present a united front as his father and mother, stand behind him publicly, take the initiative with the press, and express our belief in Jeremiah and his innocence. I met late last night with Andrew and Janice, and we—”
“Your staff?”
“Yes. We believe that sitting back and waiting for things to happen is the wrong approach. Andrew is drafting a statement for the press to come from both of us. We’ll put that out tomorrow morning. We’ll hold a press conference a day or two after that, when we’ll make a joint statement. That’ll be drafted, too, and we’ll hold a briefing session prior to it to try to anticipate questions that might be asked.”
“A briefing session.” She said it as though it were a guilty plea. “That’s all I seem to be doing these days, Bruce, being grilled at briefing sessions for the NEA hearing. I don’t think I can take another.”
“Well, Clarise, I suggest you suck it up and make yourself available for what I’ve put together. Don’t forget, this is for our son. I’ll be at the house for the rest of the day. Call me. Make it five. I’ll have more details then.”
The next call she took was from Joyce Drummond, President Nash’s White House aide responsible for the administration