Almost every prosecutor and criminal defense attorney in the state considered Frank Ackerman to be the best trial lawyer alive. He was a second-generation practitioner who now handled nothing but first-degree murder cases. Anytime a judge in Oklahoma needed a lawyer to represent an indigent defendant facing the death penalty, said judge’s first phone call always went to check Ackerman’s availability.
Ackerman, a sixty something year old man with a face covered in a snowy white beard and mustache that matched the hair on top of his head, spoke with the eloquence of a Southern gentleman who’d just stepped out of a History Channel docudrama. He would constantly recite legal precedent from memory, as if the case books were in his hand. In the hallways of the courthouse, he could always be recognized by his trademark—a simple, yet elegant, straw cowboy hat with a colorful band around the base. Sometimes, even when you couldn’t see him in the courtroom, everyone knew he was nearby because his hat was resting on the counsel table with a worn leather briefcase underneath it. He was the epitome of class, and his courtroom brilliance was legendary.
Steve had met Ackerman at a fundraising event a couple years ago, and the two formed a unique bond that night. Initially too shy to approach the esteemed lawyer, Steve was startled when Ackerman initiated the conversation.
“So, you’re the new habeas clerk working with the federal judges,” Ackerman had said, smiling.
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Steve stammered. “It’s an honor to meet you sir.”
“I was a habeas clerk once too, though I have to say, at the
time, they were expending a lot less energy trying to give the accused a fair shot. I actually got in trouble for always trying to find a reason to grant relief and let the guys off death row. Those conservative judges didn’t take too kindly to it. Got threatened with losing my job even because I tried to push them too far for the poor suckers sentenced to die . You know, judges are supposed to be impartial and all.”
“Wow,” Steve said, genuinely stunned. “What did you do when that happened?”
“I worked harder, and then, at the end of my term, went to work making sure that the accused had every chance I could provide to prevail against a system that was built against them. That job is why I am doing what I do now, instead of handling corporate matters and hanging out at the country club. Let’s have breakfast next week and visit a bit.”
Steve nodded his head yes.
Over the next sixteen months, Ackerman became not only a mentor, but also a surrogate father for Steve.
Steve knew Ackerman could help him on the case, but his first call was unfruitful. Ackerman was in court and would not be available until later in the day. He sent a text message asking the old warhorse to call him back as soon as possible. Although Steve knew the law, he would need Ackerman’s help to ensure he gave the best possible representation to Scottie.
About a minute later, his phone buzzed. “Mr. Death Penalty Attorney, you have a real lawyer on line three,” Carol called out over the intercom. “I’m glad to see you are getting help from someone who actually knows the difference between his ass and the evidence code.”
Steve did his best to ignore her and reached for the phone.
“Hello, Frank, how are you doing?”
“I’m great, young man. How are you today?” Ackerman asked.
“I was just appointed by Judge Henry to represent Scottie Pinkerton on his federal habeas appeal.”
“Congratulations, that is quite the assignment,” Ackerman said with pride before becoming serious again. “Son, you do realize you are now that poor soul’s last line of defense—the only thing that stands between him and the needle? I assume you plan to work your tail off for that man.” Ackerman’s voice rose. “You must represent him as if he were your own brother. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “That is why I called you before I did anything else. I would like to know your thoughts on how to best do this job.”
“Well, this is different from working for the Court, analyzing these matters under the auspice of neutrality. First, the most important thing in any death penalty representation is to gain your client’s trust. You must get him to tell you the truth. You have to know what happened that day, no matter what it is, in order to effectively represent him. You must get his entire version of events and then try to prove it a lie. That way, you know if you need to argue the facts or the law or both, because if he actually killed her, then you are left with just arguing the law. You understand?”
Steve nodded and said over the phone, “Yes. Can you tell me what you know about the case?”
It was common knowledge among local criminal defense attorneys that Ackerman knew all the publicly available facts of every murder case in the area for the past forty years. All you had to do was mention the name, and he could recite the details of the case with ease. Additionally, due to his favorable relationships with the defense bar attorneys, he usually knew information that wasn’t public knowledge.
“Of course, I remember that case; it happened just a few miles from my house. That poor soul had some bad facts. 911 call, DNA evidence, his shoes found covered in blood. I recall he killed his wife while their baby was in the home. I was almost appointed on it. The judge called me when it occurred, but I was in the middle of a double homicide trial in Osage County and couldn’t take it. The court ended up appointing Jason Hixon—a lazy, overconfident son-of-a-bitch not qualified to first chair a jaywalking trial, let alone a capital murder. I’ve always felt bad that I wasn’t available to accept that appointment, although with those facts, I doubt Clarence Darrow could have kept that young man from a death sentence.”
“Yeah, from the little I have read on the internet, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be arguing factual innocence to the court at any point.” Steve paused, considering how serious this situation was
becoming by the minute. “Thanks for your ti—”
“One last thing before you go,” Ackerman interrupted. “There is something you should know—I remember hearing a rumor at the Oklahoma Criminal Defense Lawyers Association convention that your boy originally claimed he didn’t do it, but Mr. Hixon didn’t believe him and never put up much of a fight on his behalf. Like I said before, you need to find out what actually happened that day to do your job proficiently. Good luck, and work hard for that young man. You never know, you just might be arguing for his innocence someday.”