Chyłka sketched out the situation to her client and told him what his father expected, watching his face carefully. Like a stone mask, Langer’s face did not move.
The trial was just a day away, and in that time, it would be impossible to think up anything that might tip the balance in the defendant’s favour. Not when there were three adversaries pitted against the defence lawyers: the court, which was fully convinced of the defendant’s guilt; the defendant himself, who was not cooperating; and his father, who was paying them.
She would probably have been able to deal with the court – not perform a miracle, but in the right circumstances she would have been able to find enough flaws in the inquest or investigation for the initial verdict to be called into question.
Chyłka had done all she could to get permission to go down that route. She’d pestered Langer Senior with phone calls, trying to convince him that bringing forward two witnesses might cast doubt, if not in the minds of the judges, then at least the lay assessors. But Piotr didn’t even want to hear about it.
Now she was sitting opposite his son, trying to read his face. He was as intransigent as his father. She had told him everything he needed to know, and was waiting for his response. The prisoner stared at her in silence.
‘Do you think I’m innocent?’ he said finally.
His words sounded menacing, as if he was aggrieved that she’d even think in those terms.
‘What does it matter what I think?’ she asked.
He didn’t reply.
‘I’m supposed to defend you by all legal means, and I’ve devoted my full attention to this case. That has nothing to do with whether you’re innocent or not.’
‘Nothing?’ he asked, and took a deep breath.
‘Does it for you?’
He leaned back. Chyłka tried to gather her thoughts so as not to waste the meagre opportunity of exchanging a few words with him. He was clearly displeased by the fact that they had spoken to Powirska and the shopkeeper, so she decided to stay with that.
‘What did you eat for those ten days?’ she asked. ‘And what did you drink?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘We checked your rubbish,’ she lied. ‘It appears that the last things you threw out included empty Dr Pepper cans.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘You bought them at the local shop, two weeks before the murders. You didn’t have enough food to feed yourself throughout the time you were allegedly sitting in your apartment.’
Langer made no comment.
‘But that’s not all we’ve learned.’
‘Really?’
‘Powirska and the shopkeeper will provide further evidence.’
Any witness statements given by those two wouldn’t solve Langer’s problems, but they would open the way to calling other residents as witnesses. If it turned out that none of them had seen the accused in that period, it would give Joanna a strong card to play with.
‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Piotr.
‘What your father pays me to do.’
Langer paused to think, as if he were considering the consequences of the line she was proposing to take – consequences too far-reaching even for Chyłka to discern. But the longer he remained silent, the greater the hope he might say something that would lead her to the truth. ‘You have a legal obligation not to act against the accused.’
‘I am not acting against you. Your father wants you to plead insanity, and I have no choice. This is not about a strategy for the trial, but about the fact that you’re mentally ill. I can’t stop your father trying to prove it in court, can I?’
‘I am not mad.’
Of that, she was not exactly sure.
‘It’s not for me to judge,’ Chyłka said. ‘That’s a job for the experts.’
‘I shall prove to the court that I’m perfectly sane.’
Chyłka was silent.
‘Insanity is not an option,’ he added.
‘In that case, you’ll get life, because I’ve got no other line of defence.’
Piotr nodded his head.
‘Unless your father pays the experts.’
He responded with silence. Joanna saw that any common ground they’d managed to establish was fading fast.
‘Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?’
No answer.
‘Perhaps you have a score to settle? Maybe you want to do away with an inmate who’s got under your skin?’
‘No.’
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t have killed two people and sat with their corpses. There are easier ways to get locked up. So what are you trying to achieve?’
She wasn’t expecting an answer. Although she had managed to engage with Langer earlier, she saw his interest had now all but disappeared. But she tried nevertheless.
‘Will you plead guilty?’
‘No.’
‘Will you testify that you didn’t kill those people?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m consistent.’
She had hoped something might change just before the trial. Now she saw she had been deluding herself.
Nothing about this case made sense. The evidence showed that he had killed those people. He didn’t seem to care about defending himself, and yet he flatly refused to say anything that might incriminate him. Then there was his father, who was doing everything he could to close the case as fast as possible.
And what about the shopkeeper? Where would Langer have done his shopping during those ten days if not on the estate, in the local shop? There were plenty of shops outside the estate, but the police had questioned the security guards at the gate; they said that for ten days they had not seen Langer’s car or Langer himself. So had he gone earlier to stock up at Makro or Selgros? That would mean it had all been planned in advance, and if that was the case, then the victims could not have been random strangers – and all the more reason they should not have ended up in Langer’s home. Not even the most callous psychopath would assume they could spend so much time alone with two corpses. This didn’t make any sense at all.
‘If we go for insanity, I won’t have anything to appeal against,’ she said. It was her last remaining argument.
She was now acting against the express wishes of Langer Senior, but it didn’t really matter to her at that particular moment. Disciplinary issues were of secondary importance – her conscience was at stake.
‘Do you understand, Langer?’
He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
‘I don’t think you do,’ she said. ‘To appeal against that would be mere formality. Even the greatest miracle worker wouldn’t be able to change the ruling.’
‘I’m perfectly aware of that.’
She shook her head, with a sense of helplessness.
‘Do what the law says,’ he added, and the stony expression returned to his face.
Chyłka knew she would get nothing more out of him.