Nicole waited up until midnight, hoping Josh would return so they could talk things out. She was still awake an hour later when her phone dinged with a message: “Spending the night at Dirk and Denise’s. Need to think.” There was no “Love, Josh,” no sign-off at all.
It was a jolt when morning came and she woke up alone. She started to give him a call, then reconsidered. Best let him cool off. When he thought it over, she told herself, he’d realize he was being unreasonable. The Josh she knew was kind, loving, and bore no resemblance to the stranger who used his fingers to count off her shortcomings.
As soon as she got to her office, she put in another call to Doshan’s lawyer. This time the receptionist refused to connect her with Sperantza’s secretary or even take a message. Since Nicole had left a message the day before, the woman told her, there was no point in leaving another. Someone would get back to her.
She was getting the runaround. The office was probably inundated with calls that no one was going to return. All at once she remembered Sue mentioning that she knew Sperantza. She called Sue and asked if she’d intervene. As always, Sue was willing to help.
When Nicole’s phone rang a few minutes later, it was Sperantza’s secretary. She sounded rushed, but not unfriendly. “Mr. Sperantza has a busy day in court. But he can meet you for a quick lunch at City Tavern. It’s downtown on Figueroa. You want the address?”
“I know the place,” Nicole said. “What time?”
“12:15.”
“I’ll be there. Thanks.”
She looked up David Sperantza on his lawfirm’s website, on Google, and on her own firm’s database, searching for background and a photo so she’d recognize him. He was a nice-looking man with wavy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His expression was solemn and a little grim. She found his professional affiliations. He’d served as president of the Association of Southern California Defense Counsel. He volunteered at the Loyola Law School Project for the Innocent, an affiliate of the Innocence Project. She also learned that he had a good credit rating and no liens, arrests, or convictions. He was 38, divorced, the father of three.
Traffic was bad, and Nicole arrived at City Tavern five minutes late. The place was large and decorated in minimalist style. She was familiar with this stark design concept, which had reached the height of popularity a decade before. A bank of windows produced glare while failing to provide much light inside the restaurant. With its dark-wood paneling, wood floors, high ceiling, and lack of acoustical tiles, the place seemed designed to magnify sound. Background music, some kind of rap, was pumped up to full volume, making it hard to think. Nicole had read about marketing studies that showed people felt they were having a good time if a restaurant was noisy, even if they had to shout to make themselves heard.
Sperantza was already there, seated at a table near a long, faux-antique bar. He seemed to recognize her and waved her over. As she reached the table, he stood. They shook hands and sat down.
“Sorry I couldn’t do this in my office,” he said, handing her a menu. “I’m between court appearances. We’d better order. I’ve only got forty minutes.” He raised his arm to summon a waiter while Nicole gave the menu a quick look. Sperantza ordered a burger and an iced tea.
“I’ll have the grilled veggie salad and a Coke,” she said. After the waiter was gone, Nicole told Sperantza about Mary Ellen’s decision to recant.
When she was done, she could see that he was stunned. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, as if he was mulling over the impact of this development on the case.
“This could be a real game changer,” he finally said. “On the other hand, there are certain aspects that are problematic. The most serious is that your testimony is hearsay.
“I know that, but Sue thought you might find a way around it,” Nicole said. “Mary Ellen herself told me she was going to recant. She was the plaintiff in the case. Now she’s dead and can’t speak for herself.”
“True, but in Mary Ellen’s case, it’s further complicated by the fact that she’d already testified under oath that Doshan did rape her. Say we’re able to get around that, there’s another issue,” he went on. “It’s been reported that the girl was extremely upset under cross-examination. The prosecution could say she was just looking for an excuse to get out of returning to court. And finally, as you probably realize, Doshan didn’t know she was going to recant, so he still would have had a motive.”
“Mary Ellen said she wasn’t raped,” Nicole said. “Doshan knew he was innocent, so why would he kill her? He’d have reason to think the trial would clear him. Besides, he’d have to be monumentally stupid to murder someone when he’d be the prime suspect.”
“True, true. Actually, this is the best news we’ve had so far,” Sperantza said. “But here’s the bad news. When Doshan was brought in, he let the police question him without a lawyer present. I can’t go into what he said, but it’s hard to tell a story the same way twice, especially when you’re being questioned by the police, who do their best to trip you up. By agreeing to talk, Doshan made things worse for himself. If you’re ever in that position, don’t say a word without a lawyer present.”
“Good advice,” she said. “Oh, I just remembered. Before Doshan was charged, Mary Ellen’s roommate gave me a journal Mary Ellen was keeping. I turned it over to the Santa Monica police. The journal stops about a month before the alleged rape, so it may not help, but I thought you’d want to take a look at it.”
Sperantza pulled a notebook out of his jacket and wrote in it. “I’ll get my hands on it. Even if it doesn’t have anything pertaining to the rape charge, it might provide us with the names of people we can talk to.”
“About Doshan,” Nicole said. “I really do believe he’s innocent, and I want to testify if it might help.”
“It just might. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your coming forward. It gives us more to work with.” Just then the busboy arrived with their food. Sperantza glanced at his watch, doused his burger with a good amount of ketchup, and took a bite.
“If I testify,” Nicole said, “I’d like a favor.”
“What’s that?” he said.
“I want my name withheld from the witness list. I’m concerned about being held hostage by paparazzi and the tabloids. That happened to me before when—”
“I know,” he said. “I followed that story in the news. It was, when? A year ago? What a nightmare!”
“Truly.”
“Well, as for keeping your name confidential, we can ask. But the judge has to approve it.”
“How likely is that?”
“Have you received any threats?” he said.
“Actually, I have.” She took the note from her purse and handed it to him. “I meant to give this to you.” She also told him about the young man who’d been fiddling with her tires in Oceanside’s parking lot just before she discovered the note.
Sperantza read it. “How do you suppose they knew which car was yours?”
“A bunch of students passed my car when I first arrived. They noticed me and gave me a bit of harassment. You know, the way young men sometimes do, imagining they’re being funny. I can only guess that one of them recognized me from the news. Maybe he’s mixed up in this, or maybe he just did it for the fun of it.”
“Whatever the case, I need to turn this over to the police,” Sperantza paused to put the note in his pocket. “This kind of threat is illegal. And it’s something tangible to help ensure the judge allows your name to be left off the witness list—especially since Miss Barnes’s statement to you suggests someone else had reason to kill her. But if there’s a chance the real killer is still out there, I’d suggest you give it serious consideration before you agree to testify.”
“I’ve already done that,” she said. “When will the trial take place?”
“Doshan wants it as soon as possible, so he can go back to playing ball. He’ll probably be getting out on bail. The alumni are offering to cover it. They believe he’s innocent and want him in shape and back on the team when the season begins in September. I don’t know if that’s possible—we have a lot of preparation to do. I can’t predict when we’ll be ready. I’ll be in touch. What’s the best way to reach you?”
She got out her card, jotted her cell number on the back, and handed it to him.
After another glance at his watch, Sperantza placed his napkin next to his plate and stood up. “I have to leave. Thanks again. You’ve given us another direction to explore. You’ll be hearing from us. Meanwhile, why don’t you write down what you remember of Ms. Barnes’s confession. As time passes, these memories fade, and we want to be as precise as we can.” He put some bills on the table to cover the meal.
“I’ll pay for mine,” Nicole protested.
“No worries. The firm is paying. You’ve done us a huge favor.”
As Nicole walked back to her car, she thought of Josh. Remembering how angry he’d been, she felt sick. She loved him so much; she’d do almost anything for him. But he couldn’t expect her to keep quiet about this. It wasn’t in her to stand by and do nothing when she had the power to help someone in trouble.
At 6:00 that night, Josh arrived home. When he saw her, he pulled her into his arms. They held each other a while without speaking. Finally, he said, “I really hate to see you putting yourself out there. But I respect your right to make your own decision. Just promise one thing: This will be the end to it. You’re not going to get involved in any other way.”
Nicole nodded, almost dizzy with relief. “Once I testify, that will be it. I promise.” And at that moment, she really did mean it.
§
While Nicole appreciated a return to normality—for the most part—she was still uneasy about Josh’s attitude toward the trial. Whenever news of it came up on TV or in conversation, Josh would clam up or fiddle with his phone. It was like he was putting his fingers in his ears, pretending not to hear.
Sometimes she caught him studying her, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to work out. One night, when they were reading in the living room, she noticed Josh had closed his book and was staring at her. Finding it hard to concentrate, she said, “Why do you keep looking at me that way? It makes me feel like you’re deciding whether I’m worth the trouble.”
He moved over closer and put his arms around her. “What trouble?” he laughed, kissing the top of her head. “Of course you’re worth it. Everything’s fine.” But she could tell it wasn’t fine. He was still bothered by the impending trial.
It was several weeks before she heard from Sperantza again. The call came from Michelle, his secretary. “Mr. Sperantza wants to speak to you.”
After a click, Sperantza himself came on. “Hi, Nicole. There are a couple of things I’d like to tell you. First of all, Doshan has been released on bail, and he’d like to thank you in person for offering to testify. Let’s set up that meeting first.”
For a moment, Nicole was too surprised to answer. She hadn’t expected gratitude; she was only doing her duty. But she was curious about Doshan and more than willing to meet with him.
Sperantza went on, “We also need to set up another meeting so we can go over exactly what Ms. Barnes said about recanting. I’ll prep you on what the prosecutor might ask in cross-examination.”
“Then I am going to appear?”
“It looks like it, unless we can prevent Ms. Barnes’s testimony from the civil trial from being introduced. That doesn’t seem likely.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to prevent it?”
“If her testimony is thrown out, it would greatly weaken the prosecution’s case. But I don’t think the judge will rule in our favor on this. I’m pretty sure you’ll be testifying.”
They set up the meeting with Doshan for Monday of the following week. Later Nicole told Josh about it. He nodded and looked away without comment.
When Nicole arrived at Sperantza’s office, she was asked to sit in the waiting room, which was large and almost as posh as the reception room of the law firm where she’d once worked. She waited only a few minutes before a woman in a fitted beige sheath came out and called her name. The woman had light-brown curly hair, rosy cheeks, and a warm smile.
“I’m Michelle, Mr. Sperantza’s secretary. I think I spoke to you on the phone a while ago. Sorry if I blew you off, but the phones were going crazy.”
“I completely understand,” Nicole said.
“Just follow me.” Michelle led Nicole through a long corridor and turned right. Through a doorway, she could see a large corner office. “They’re waiting for you. Go on in.”
Three men stood when Nicole walked in. She recognized Doshan, who immediately reached out to take her hand. He shook it very gently while she gazed up at him. His height was the first thing she noticed. The second was his big, friendly smile. It emanated such warmth that it was impossible not to smile back. She’d seen him in the courtroom, of course, but he hadn’t been smiling then, just staring straight ahead. Now she could see the charisma she’d read about in the papers.
“Nicole,” he began. “Can I call you that?” When she nodded, he went on, “I want to thank you for what you’re doing. Before you spoke up nobody really believed I was innocent. Not even my family. I don’t think David here really believed me. So I wanted a chance to meet you face-to-face and tell you how grateful I am.”
He released her hand and gestured toward the young man standing next to him. “This is my buddy, Andy Drummond. He’s one of my character witnesses and is here to go over his testimony with David.”
Drummond was almost as big as Doshan. He was fair-haired with a flat-topped marine-style haircut. He looked familiar, and as Nicole shook his hand, she recognized the snake’s head tattoo peeking out from under his collar. He was the guy she’d seen in the spectator section the day she attended Mary Ellen’s civil trial. He was the one who’d winked at her.
“Good to meet you,” Drummond smiled. He seemed friendly enough, but her glance was drawn back to Doshan. With his amazing charisma, Nicole thought, he must be the center of any gathering. Did that mean he’d have to be “on” all the time? She wondered what that would be like—ego-gratifying or exhausting.
Sperantza came around his desk to shake hands next. “Thanks for coming in,” he said. “You three sit, and I’ll have Michelle bring in some coffee. Oh, and I’d like you to meet my investigator. At some point, he’ll want a sit-down with Nicole to go over his own questions.” Sperantza went to the door of his office and said a few words to his secretary, then returned to his desk where he picked up the phone and dialed an extension.
While he was busy, Nicole turned to Doshan. “I’m glad you got bail.”
“Thank God,” Doshan said. “Conditions in the Twin Towers jail are unimaginable. I had no idea. They throw so many people in there just because they’re mentally ill. That’s the real crime. I’m thinking of switching my major so I can help people like them—social welfare, maybe, or even law school.”
“Aren’t you planning to play professional football?”
“If I’m lucky enough to get chosen, yes. But that career is only good for a decade at best. Once you’re past your prime, you have to figure out what to do with the rest of your life.”
“Have you been going to classes?” Nicole said.
“Yes. I don’t want to get behind, and I’m working with a personal trainer to keep in shape, so that’s all good. Want to be ready for fall.” He was silent for a long moment, and a corner of his mouth twitched downward, as if he were thinking about something unpleasant. “When people heard I was a suspect in the murder, I had to move out of the dorm. I couldn’t take the disrespect. Not that anyone said anything.” He looked at Drummond. “My friend here spoke up for me when I wasn’t around. I couldn’t stand the way people looked at me, like they believed I was guilty. Some of the women acted like they were afraid of me. Me! I’d never hurt a woman. Fortunately, one of the alums is letting me use the apartment over his garage. It’s not far from campus.”
At this point, a heavyset man walked into the office. He had a ruddy complexion and was wearing khakis and a baggy, gray T-shirt. “Nicole,” said Sperantza, “this is Don Slater, our investigator.”
Slater’s steel-rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose. He pushed them back before he reached out to shake Nicole’s hand. “How ya doin’,” he said, barely glancing at her. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the two young men. Slater nodded at Drummond and clapped Doshan on the back. “There’s the man,” Slater said. “See they got you out of the joint.”
The joke—if it was a joke—fell flat. Doshan gave Slater a polite smile and a nod. “Good to see you, Don,” he said.
Greetings apparently over, Slater looked at Sperantza. “Well, back to work,” he said. He left the office without another a word to Nicole.
“Excuse his manners,” Sperantza said. “He’s not much on charm, but he’s a good investigator. He’ll be giving you a call in a few days.”
By now Michelle was back with a tray that held three mugs of coffee, cream and sugar, and an assortment of cookies. Nicole took one, while Doshan and Drummond heaped up their plates.
They sat and made small talk for a while. Then Doshan turned to Nicole and said, “So Mary Ellen told you she’d been lying.”
“That’s right. She felt terrible about it. She told me someone blackmailed her into accusing you.”
Doshan turned to Drummond and they exchanged a look. It made Nicole wonder if these two knew more than they were saying. After a moment, Doshan turned back to her. “Yeah,” he went on. “David here told me about that. But she didn’t say who the blackmailer was or what he had on her, did she?”
“She didn’t say who, but she said he had a video, the kind you wouldn’t want posted on the web. Mary Ellen said it would ruin her with everyone, especially her parents and her minister. In the end, she couldn’t live with her lie. No matter what the consequences, she was determined to recant.” Nicole was quiet a moment before she went on. “But she never got the chance.”
She looked at Sperantza. “How’s the case going?”
“It’s early days. I have Slater looking for people at Oceanside who Ms. Barnes might have told about the blackmail, but it appears she only confided in you.”
“She said she didn’t have many friends there,” Nicole said. “That’s not surprising with her Southern manners and all that excessive politeness. According to her roommate, she was also given to proselytizing, which didn’t fly too well with her classmates.”
Sperantza frowned. “Isn’t it a religiously affiliated university?”
“Interdenominational Christian,” Nicole said. “But in reality, it’s a party school. What do you think those kids were doing on the beach in the middle of a school night? They were drinking, smoking weed, and God knows what else. The school’s security didn’t even bother to patrol the area. The campus police are supposed to monitor that strip of beach, since it’s directly across from the entrance to the campus.”
Both Doshan and Drummond nodded in agreement. “She’s right,” Drummond said. “It’s a party school. Malibu—that’s what attracts kids. Most of them aren’t looking for religion.”
Nicole glanced at her watch and stood. “I have to get back to the office.”
Doshan got up. “Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re very welcome. Good luck. I really do think you’re going to beat this.” She shook hands all around and turned to leave.
“Oh,” Sperantza said, as she headed for the door, “I’d like to meet with you so we can go over exactly what Mary Ellen said. I’d appreciate it if you’d take a minute to make an appointment with Michelle on your way out.”
§
Two days later, Nicole was back. This time Sperantza came out to reception to welcome her and lead her into a conference room. A young woman—plump and androgynous with a helmet of short, dark hair—was already sitting in the room. “This is Tammy, one of our paralegals. She’s going to record the session. We’re just waiting for one of our junior associates. He’s new to the firm, and I wanted him to sit in on this. And here he is.”
A pale young man with very curly red hair joined them in the conference room. Sperantza said, “Nicole, this is Kevin Volk; Kevin, Nicole.” Kevin wasn’t much taller than Nicole. He was slightly built with a beaky nose and wire-rimmed glasses that gave him the look of a highly intelligent lizard. He reached out to shake Nicole’s hand and then took a seat on the other side of Sperantza.
They went over what Mary Ellen had told Nicole. She’d written it down after her first meeting with Sperantza. It hadn’t been easy remembering the girl’s exact words. After the attorney was done recording Nicole’s proposed testimony, he said he was going to ask her a number of questions. “Some may sound hostile, but I’m just preparing you for what the prosecution might ask.”
The questions were indeed unfriendly and answering them took a fair amount of thought. Most involved the issue of whether Mary Ellen was telling the truth in court—when she was under oath—or later in the hotel suite when she said her courtroom testimony had been a lie. Had Nicole herself seen or heard anything that would confirm the girl’s story? And so it went, with several of the same questions asked in different ways.
Finally, Sperantza said, “I think that will do.”
“Wait!” Nicole said. “Aren’t you going to help me make my testimony more credible?”
“No. I want you to tell the truth, exactly the way you did now.”
“But it will be a snap for the prosecution to discredit what I say,” Nicole said. “All it seems to show is that Mary Ellen was a liar. I’m wondering if my testimony will be of any value at all.”
“I’m having Slater, my investigator, look into possible corroborating evidence. But even if he doesn’t find any, your evidence introduces an element of reasonable doubt, the idea that someone other than the defendant is the guilty party,” Sperantza said. “What we call the SODDI defense.”
“Saudi?” she repeated, “as in Saudi Arabia?”
“No,” he laughed. “It’s an acronym. S.O.D.D.I. It stands for ‘Some other dude did it.’ But we do need more evidence to corroborate this as an alternate theory. I guess that’s all for now. Thanks for coming in.”
As Nicole stood up to leave, Sperantza said, “Slater will be in touch with you. Meanwhile, think about your time with Mary Ellen. Maybe you’ll remember something else she said or did that will help us.”