WOODY EMERGED FROM the holding cell in the orange jumpsuit he’d worn earlier, as well as handcuffs and leg irons. Micki yelled loud and long enough for the deputy to unlock Woody’s restraints and allow us to give him a cup of coffee. As soon as we were settled, I began.
“Woody, there’s been a new development. I’m going to let Micki explain things because she’s more passionate about what you should do. Listen to her. There’s no hurry.”
Sitting next to Woody, Micki couldn’t help smiling. “We got a huge break today. In the rush to bury the senator, there was no autopsy. Neither was there a ballistics test on the weapon, and the bullet was not found. There weren’t even any rudimentary tests performed to establish that the gun in your hand was the murder weapon. These are monumental errors.
“Without this proof, Sam is on the horns of a dilemma. He tried to convince Marshall they’d met their burden for going to trial, but Marshall correctly told him that he wouldn’t rule on that issue yet. If they rest and Marshall holds they didn’t establish probable cause, or an appeals court says they didn’t, you’ll walk. No jail, no death penalty—you’re a free man.”
Micki was violating the rule against getting too optimistic, but it was okay, considering the circumstances. She kept rolling.
“Now … Marshall or an appellate court could rule that the video was enough, but they’ll still have to exhume the body for an autopsy. Sam has proposed two alternatives to his immediate problem. The first is that you stipulate to the cause of death for this preliminary hearing. The second is that he continues to examine his string of eyewitnesses while he gets an order for exhumation. I’m certainly not going to let you concede the cause of death. So, he’s got to exhume the body, and I think his case may be in big trouble. The funeral home is bound to have tried to cover up the damage the bullet did. If they’re lucky, Sam finds the bullet and the ME agrees it caused the death. But by then, we’ve embarrassed his office, and he’ll want to deal for a lesser sentence. More likely, his office will continue to make mistakes, the press will be all over Sam, and down the road, you get a reduced sentence. You’ll be out of prison relatively soon, certainly not stuck there forever.”
Woody kept his eyes on her, but didn’t react. Micki was frustrated.
“Do you at least see what I mean when I say we got a huge break?” she asked. “I couldn’t see a way out of this at first, but they’re no longer dealing from absolute strength. They’re vulnerable.”
Micki looked at me for help, but I was noncommittal.
“Jack played the nice guy today—he promised the judge and Sam he’d present the stipulation issue to you, and I’m glad he did. No reason to kick Sam when he’s down.”
Uh-oh—wrong analogy.
“Anyway,” she continued, “agreeing to the cause of death is out of the question. They’ll have to dig up the body at some point anyway.”
“No, they won’t,” Woody said.
“Wha … what do you mean?”
“I mean they won’t have to exhume the body if I plead guilty.” He looked into Micki’s eyes coldly, as though she were one of his former girlfriends he’d caught cheating on him. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let this go any further. I know you mean well, but I want it over. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Oh, Woody—I can’t let you do that. You can’t just roll over. We have a chance, a real chance to have you out of jail really soon.” Her exasperation was obvious.
“If you can’t let me plead guilty, then I’ll fire you,” Woody said sadly. “I appreciate how much you care, but I’ve made up my mind. If it were anyone but me, I’d be right there with you, all the way. But I can’t allow you to inflict further pain on my behalf. I’m not going to embarrass Sam. I did that once, and I almost destroyed him. And no matter what I think of Lucy, she and her children don’t need to see Russell dug up and sliced open. For what? To prove I killed Russell when the whole world saw me do it, and I know I did it? No, I’m pleading guilty.” He turned to me. “Call Sam, and tell him to stop any attempt to exhume the body. I won’t allow it. If you won’t, I’ll fire you too, and I’ll do it myself.”
Micki had done her best, but I’d known all along that Woody wouldn’t go for exhumation. For him, exhumation only prolonged the inevitable.
Woody’s original plan had been for me to discover why he’d killed himself. Either a frightened and horrified Russell would do whatever was right, or I would force him to. Every bit of his plan was about undoing damage, not creating more. Now that Russell was dead and Woody was still alive, Woody had to undo the damage as best he could by dying. I’d been late to learn, but I had at last figured out Goldsmith. It was in the second verse:
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lovem
And wring his bosom, is—to die.
I said softly, “It’s okay, Woody—calm down. I’ll call Sam. I’ll follow your lead on the exhumation.”
Micki flinched and her mouth popped open, but I continued before she could interrupt. “But I’m going to be your lawyer for one more day like you promised. Then you can fire me, or maybe I’ll quit. All Marshall and Sam want is for you to agree that the cause of death was the bullet fired from your gun. That’s it. Then I get my turn.”
“What do you mean your turn? I’m telling you, I’ve done enough damage. I’m through.”
“You won’t believe me if I say the damage isn’t yours, Woody, so I won’t try to convince you. What I need you to hear is this: Sometimes when the train gets rolling, it’s almost impossible to stop. You tried when you brought a gun into the capitol that day, but it was no use. Now it’s time to put a stop to all of this.”
Woody didn’t respond. He knew I had homed in on the truth.
“I can’t let you refuse, Woody. It’s not just for you—you’re going to do it for me, and for Sam, and for Marshall. And yes, for Angie. It’s time we closed that chapter in our lives. It’s been over twenty-five years—way past time. You know I’m right, Woody. You owe me, and I’m here to collect.”
Woody looked at me and then hung his head, “I do owe you, but—”
I knew what he was going to say.
“No media, I promise. It’ll just be me talking to three old friends. When I’m through, I’ll make a proposal. If anyone disagrees—no harm, no foul. If there’s no agreement, you can plead guilty. Hearing me out won’t hurt a soul. I won’t say anything that will hurt Russell’s family. I promise you that. Tomorrow, you’ll listen to me for a while. You won’t say a word. You won’t interrupt. Then we’ll have fulfilled our obligations to each other. I’m going to do it, whatever you say. But Woody, grant me this one request—say, ‘Okay, Jack, you get your turn. You get your day.’”
I waited, watching him think it over.
He let out a deep breath. “Okay. You get your turn.” He turned and reached out to hug Micki.
I smiled and thought to myself, some things don’t change. Woody still gets the girl.
After the guards took him away, I turned to Micki, who hadn’t said a word or moved a muscle. I was suddenly worried she might be the one to quit.
“Sorry, partner. I didn’t consult you on this one.”
She looked me straight in the eyes. “You knew he wasn’t going to allow an exhumation, didn’t you? But you let me try. If Woody changed his mind later on, a sharp lawyer would say he shouldn’t have been allowed to stipulate, that his lawyer should be disbarred. But no ethics committee could ever claim I didn’t try to get Woody to fight.”
I studied my shoelaces.
“You’re always full of surprises, Jack. But haven’t you taken on a lot? Now that we’re going to stipulate, I don’t see Sam budging. It looks like you’ve lost your leverage. Although, you’ve proved me wrong before. … I hope I’m wrong again.”
“So do I.”