45

Would you please state your name for the record?”

“Michael Patterson.”

“And would you tell the court your profession.”

“Special agent, FBI.”

The judge broke in. “Let’s dispense with the formalities, Mr. Campanella, and get to the central issue, shall we? I know who Agent Patterson is.”

Campanella nodded up at the bench. A streamlined approach was okay with him. The facts were simple, and the quicker this went, the better.

“Fine, Judge.”

Agent Patterson was sitting in the witness box, at about two o’clock from the podium where Campanella was standing and about fifteen feet away. Judge Norcross was straight in front of him, at noon. Ames was behind him at the defense table at around five o’clock. During the break, Campanella had consulted with the senior assistant U.S. attorney in his office and, in a moment that still warmed him, had received a compliment for his quick and effective response to Ames’s motion to dismiss. This short evidentiary hearing would make the record clear and set the trial back on track.

“How long have you been working on the Cranmer case, Agent Patterson?”

“I first learned about it a little over a year ago and was formally assigned to the investigation about eleven months back.”

Agent Patterson was the perfect law enforcement witness—a physically impressive, well-dressed, serious-looking man, who radiated competence and reliability. The jurors, when they heard his testimony tomorrow, would be eating out of his hand, and Campanella was fairly confident that even Judge Norcross would find Patterson’s charisma magnetic.

“And you participated in the initial search of the defendant’s residence, isn’t that true?”

“Yes. I was the lead agent. We came in following a controlled delivery of a contraband DVD.”

“Now, Agent Patterson, would you please tell the court how it came about that you made the controlled delivery on the morning you seized the DVD?”

“An earlier investigation had picked up Professor Cranmer on a website used by pedophiles. Somewhere down the line, the postal inspector sent him a flyer supposedly advertising DVDs containing pornography with prepubescent subjects. When the flyer came back, my team got involved. We assumed—”

Campanella said, “Please don’t tell us what you assumed. Just tell us—”

Ames stood. “Defense has no objection to testimony about the witness’s assumptions, Your Honor. That’s what this hearing is about—incorrect assumptions.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Norcross nodded at the witness. “Okay, Agent Patterson. What did you assume?”

Campanella was pleased to have the judge getting involved. It was always helpful, when the flow was in the right direction, to have the court get in the canoe and paddle.

“We assumed, Judge, when the flyer came back, that Professor Cranmer had filled it out with his information, including his credit card data, and sent it in. Once we had what we thought was his order, I organized the team handling the delivery of the DVD.” Patterson paused and folded his hands in front of him. “The plan was to conduct the search immediately after the delivery, to ensure we didn’t lose control of the contraband. So, as soon as Your Honor approved the warrant, we moved quickly. We wanted that DVD back in our hands ASAP.”

Campanella waited while Norcross scribbled down a short note, then continued with his next question. “And would you tell the court if there was anything else that made you assume that this defendant had been the one who sent the flyer in, ordering Exhibit One?”

Patterson shifted in his chair so that he was directly facing Judge Norcross.

“Well, Professor Cranmer immediately accepted the package when it was delivered with no questions, and he started to open it right away. He told the agent posing as the UPS employee something to the effect that he was expecting the package. As I said before …” He paused. “Is it still all right to say what I assumed?”

“I believe so.” The judge looked at Ames, raising his eyebrows.

Ames half rose, leaning over the table. “No objection.”

“We assumed when we saw him through the window that he was hiding the DVD when he saw us coming. Then, when I spoke to him, he never denied ordering the DVD, and he said he wasn’t surprised when it showed up.”

“Uh-huh, and …”

Ames broke in. “Your Honor, I’d object …”

Patterson continued. “At least, that was my interpretation of what he said.”

“Aha. With that clarification, I withdraw my objection.” Ames sat down.

Campanella pressed on. “Now, in the months leading up to this trial, did your assumptions with regard to the defendant’s role in sending the flyer in ever begin to change? Did it ever, ever, occur to you, even remotely, that someone else might be involved in sending it in?”

“At some point, yes.”

This was not quite the answer Campanella was expecting, but he had no trouble clarifying. “And that was when you learned this morning that an Amherst College undergraduate had made some kind of confession, isn’t that right?”

Ames’s voice piped up again. “Objection, leading.”

Patterson’s answer came out before Norcross had a chance to rule on Ames’s objection. “Well, no, I had some suspicions before then.”

Ames popped up. “Objection withdrawn.”

Patterson’s answer was a thumb-size cloud on the edge of Campanella’s clear horizon, a smudge he could wipe away.

“In your work as an investigator, it is part of your job to keep in mind all kinds of hypothetical possibilities, correct?”

“Yes, but this was different. I became concerned some months back that—”

“So, as a conscientious law enforcement officer, you simply—”

Ames was standing again. “Wait a minute now, hold up. Let’s let Agent Patterson finish his answer. He was saying something about concerns some months ago.”

Judge Norcross folded his hands and leaned toward Patterson. “Yes, please explain your concerns.”

“Well, Your Honor,” Campanella interrupted. “I’d object to that.” Something was happening with Patterson. His eyes had gone hard, and he was looking to the side.

Judge Norcross did not sound happy. “You object to your own witness’s testimony?”

“Well, Your Honor, I’d like to conduct the questioning in my own manner.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Campanella. It’s true that this is your witness, but this”—Norcross tapped himself on the temple—“this is the brain that will be making the decision here. And I’d like to know what Agent Patterson’s concerns were some months ago.” He turned to Agent Patterson. “Would you please tell us what these concerns were?”

“Your Honor, I object.”

“You’re objecting to my question now, Mr. Campanella? I think it’s an excellent question. Objection overruled.” Norcross turned to Patterson again. “Please tell us when you had these concerns and what they were.”

Campanella could do nothing but stand there resting his hands on the podium. He’d been abruptly dumped from his pilot seat, and the water was cold.

“Well, like I say, a few months ago, I began thinking there was something funny about this case. Professor Cranmer was certainly eccentric, and it turned out that, like a lot of men, he looked at pornography. But he was quite successful professionally, which is not the usual profile, and I was, frankly, a little surprised to find someone like him interested in really hard-core prepubescent material.”

“I see.” Norcross jotted something on his pad.

This was agony. If Campanella interrupted again, Norcross was likely to fling a lightning bolt at him. All he could do was fall back on nonverbal advocacy. Campanella began furiously jotting notes, scribbling extra hard to let Norcross know just how many excellent questions he had, praying that his performance would be distracting.

Patterson continued. “Eventually, after I made some inquiries, I found there were a number of other people who might have had access to the defendant’s home and computer and possible motives to injure Professor Cranmer.”

“Can you give me examples of these other people?”

“There were several. Elizabeth Spencer, his research assistant, was refusing to talk to us. Two colleagues, Professors Harlan Graves and Darren Mattoon, clearly didn’t like Professor Cranmer and could possibly have been involved. There was a housecleaner and, I believe, a carpenter on the premises. And then, of course, there was Ms. Spencer’s boyfriend, Ryan Jaworski.”

“Did you follow up on these leads?”

“Not for quite a while.”

“Why not?”

Patterson took a breath and looked at his hands, appearing to struggle. Finally, he spoke. “From the beginning of the investigation, Mr. Campanella led me to believe he didn’t want to hear about other suspects.”

This was too much. Campanella couldn’t restrain himself. “Your Honor …”

Norcross didn’t raise his voice, but his tone went steely. “Please sit down, Mr. Campanella. You’ll have your chance in a moment.” The judge pulled on his nose and sniffed. “Mr. Campanella told you this?”

After a pause, Patterson said, “Yes.”

“He told you he didn’t want to hear about other suspects?”

“Yes, I believe those were his exact words.”

“And why didn’t he want to hear about them?”

“Well, he was sure that Professor Cranmer was guilty. I was pretty sure, too, in the beginning. And he told me if I broadened the investigation, it might generate written documents, witness statements and so forth, that he would have to turn over to Attorney Ames. It would complicate the case, he said, and make it harder for him to get a conviction.”

A clatter told Campanella that Ames had tossed her pencil onto her table in what was probably a gesture of disgust. The hearing was drifting out of his control.

“Anything else?” Norcross asked.

“He said if I broadened the investigation, I would just be manufacturing red herrings that Ms. Ames would use to distract the jury.”

“And Ryan Jaworski was one of these possible red herrings?”

“Yes.” Patterson looked sadly over at Campanella and then up at Norcross. “Judge, it’s not easy for me to go into this. I’d just like to say that—”

Ames quickly stood. “Objection!”

“Overruled. Please continue.”

“I have to say that I’m sure Mr. Campanella meant no harm. He was positive Professor Cranmer was guilty, and, like I said, I pretty much agreed with him at first. He was focused on what he thought were the interests of justice and was trying to keep the case simple.”

“I understand. Did you at any point pursue the investigation of these other possible suspects?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell Mr. Campanella?”

“I told him about my conversation with Ryan Jaworski.”

“And what was his reaction?”

“He seemed pleased initially because …” Patterson paused, sighed, and looked up at the bench. “Judge, am I permitted to reveal the name of the confidential informant whose information led to the second search?”

Campanella started to stand, but the judge nodded him down. “No need to be explicit. I think it’s now obvious.”

“Okay, well, Mr. Campanella was pleased that we had the information to support a second search. But he didn’t see any reason to pursue Mr. Jaworski further.”

“Did you pursue other leads?”

“Yes.”

“And did you tell Mr. Campanella about this?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t have liked it. It was his case. He might have called my superiors.”

“What happened when you spoke to the other people on your own initiative?”

“It all started with the interview of Mr. Jaworski at his condo. At first, he said he didn’t want to talk to me, which was not surprising, but then, after he agreed to talk, he started volunteering information I knew was false.” Patterson hiked his body up, getting more comfortable. “He lied to me at the beginning of our interview about even knowing Professor Cranmer. Then he admitted, when I pressed him, that he’d actually taken a class with him. He also lied about the grade he’d gotten from Professor Cranmer, which I knew was a C-minus, the lowest grade on his transcript by far. He told me he’d gotten a B or B-plus.”

This was too much. Campanella clutched the podium to anchor himself. “Your Honor, could I point out that—”

“You’ll have your chance in a minute, Mr. Campanella.”

“I only want to point out—”

“I’ve told you several times now, Mr. Campanella. Now I’m instructing you to take your seat.” Judge Norcross nodded at Campanella’s empty chair and took a moment to complete another note. Campanella stepped away from the podium and sat, tossing his yellow pad on the table a bit harder than necessary. Norcross looked up at him sharply. “I want my questions answered right now, Mr. Campanella. I’ll hear what you want to point out in a minute.”

Norcross turned again to Patterson. “Did you reach any conclusions as a result of your interview with Mr. Jaworski?”

“I was confident that he was hiding something, that he might somehow be involved.”

“Did you tell Assistant U.S. Attorney Campanella about this?”

“I tried to.”

“What happened?”

“He asked me to put nothing in writing and not to pursue this any further.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Well …” Patterson looked to the side, frowning.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Early on, we talked about the possibility of checking out other suspects. This was before I’d even spoken to Jaworski. Mr. Campa­nella asked me not to do it. And he also said …” Patterson stopped and looked at Campanella.

Norcross pressed the question. “What did he say?”

“He said, if anyone ever asked me, I should be careful not to reveal his instructions to me.”

“About not pursuing other suspects?”

“Yes. He said it might get him into trouble. It was kind of a joke, really. We were laughing.”

“It was a joke?”

“It was kind of a joke. About red herrings.”

“What was the joke?”

“That the red herrings might swim up our behinds.”

No one laughed. Campanella made an impatient noise and started to stand, but Norcross waved him down. Then Ames began to get up, but Norcross shook his head.

“No, not yet.” The judge’s mouth had gone taut. Campanella had not seen this expression before. “Did anything else come out of your further inquiries?”

“I spoke to Professor Graves and also Professor Mattoon. Halfway through the interview with Mattoon, I began to suspect he might be hiding something, too. He made it clear he didn’t like Professor Cranmer. He knew Ryan Jaworski. I thought there might be some connection.”

“Did you mention this to Mr. Campanella?”

“No. No, I didn’t say anything about Mattoon. I wasn’t sure about my suspicions, and by that time, I knew Paul would be very unhappy about my even talking to him.”

“But you had, as you say, suspicions?”

“Yes.”

“And now we know that Professor Mattoon had a role in persuading Ryan Jaworski to send in the flyer?”

“It appears so, yes. That’s what Mr. Jaworski says.”

Judge Norcross spent some time writing on his yellow pad, probably outlining something that was not going to help the government. The silence in the courtroom drew out for at least thirty seconds before Norcross stopped writing and continued.

“A couple more questions, Agent Patterson. You say Mr. Campanella told you not to reveal his instruction to you not to broaden this investigation, and you told him you’d keep your activities secret. Is that correct?”

“Yes. I told him that.”

“Yet you’re revealing your conversations with him in court now. Why is that?”

Patterson looked over at Ruby Johnson, who’d placed him under oath. “I’ve sworn to tell the truth here. The whole truth.”

“Thank you.”

After this, things from Campanella’s viewpoint descended from catastrophe to nightmare. Norcross said that, before he allowed Campanella to take up his questioning of Patterson, he had a few questions for Campanella himself. Campanella, Norcross noted, was not under oath, but as an assistant United States attorney, he was an officer of the court and ethically obligated to respond truthfully.

Campanella returned to the podium, which felt more like a very hot witness box at this point. He had heard that David Norcross, when he’d practiced law, had been a fierce cross-examiner, and now he got painful proof of this. In response to the judge’s tightly phrased questions, Campanella was forced to admit that he had, in fact, probably used the phrase, “I don’t want to hear about it,” when Patterson raised concerns about other possible suspects. He had to concede that he’d told Patterson not to pursue other lines of investigation, and not to draft any reports or witness statements that might have to be turned over to Linda Ames. He confessed that he had said something about not wanting to get in trouble and that he and Patterson had laughed about red herrings.

“And you instructed him not to reveal the fact that you’d restricted his investigation?”

“Well, I thought that—”

“Did you, or did you not, tell him that he was not to disclose your conversation?”

“I told him I’d prefer that.”

By the time Norcross concluded his questioning, and Campa­nella got a chance to try to put his conversations with Patterson in context, it was like blowing bubbles against a granite wall. Half the time, Judge Norcross wasn’t even looking at him. He just stared out the windows over the jury box at the black branches of the trees rocking against the winter sky.

When Campanella finished up and sat down, Ames rose to her feet, boiling. But Norcross just waved her down and took the floor himself.

“I will be brief. The motion to dismiss is allowed based on prosecutorial misconduct. The evidence is crystal clear. I commend Agent Patterson on his forthright testimony, which could not have been easy.”

By this time, Agent Patterson was back at the counsel table, sitting next to Campanella with his arms folded. Campanella couldn’t imagine what he was going to say to Patterson when they left the courtroom. Rage at Patterson’s betrayal was finally working its way up through his confusion and shock.

Norcross continued. “Gross negligence on the part of the government has created a situation where this case cannot be fairly tried before the current jury. Retrial, under these circumstances, would be a violation of the defendant’s Fifth Amendment rights. I will be issuing a written memorandum shortly, citing the applicable authorities in detail, but my basic rationale will not change. This case is dismissed with prejudice and without possibility of retrial.”

Campanella rose. “Your Honor, for the record, the government strongly, very strongly, objects to this ruling. I ask that the court reconsider and, at a minimum, provide the government with an opportunity for a hearing at which its supposed responsibility for this situation can be ventilated properly. I expect another assistant U.S. attorney will take over handling that hearing, since I will be a witness.”

“Is that an oral motion?”

“Yes.”

“The motion’s denied. The record is clear.”

“Then I’d ask that our rights be saved to allow us to pursue an appeal.”

“Your rights are saved, Mr. Campanella. Your objection is on the record. The indictment is dismissed for the reasons I have already stated in summary, which will be further expanded in my written memorandum. Ms. Ames, would you like to put anything on the record before the court adjourns?”

Ames restricted her response to six words: “Thank you, Your Honor. Nothing else.”

As Judge Norcross was making his way out of the courtroom, Campanella overheard Professor Cranmer speaking to his lawyer.

“What do I do now?”

Linda Ames put her hand on his shoulder. “You go home, Sid. You’re a free man now.”

It was a bush-league thing to do, and something he was embarrassed about afterward, but as he strode toward the courtroom door, Campanella pointed back at Cranmer. “Enjoy your freedom while you’ve got it, Professor. You won’t have it for long.”

Then he hurried back to his office to begin drafting his notice of appeal.