Presumption of Guilt Read online

  Still, she had promised Donna she’d meet with her. She thanked Melanie, then headed back to her office to return Donna’s call.

  “I didn’t always believe Molly was innocent.” The woman sitting opposite Dani was dressed just as impeccably as she’d been the first time they’d met. Now, though, her brown eyes were rimmed with red as she dabbed at her tears with a crumpled tissue. “In fact, from the time she was arrested, all through the trial, I’d convinced myself she’d done it. Murdered our parents. After all, she’d confessed.

  “But a few months ago, I got this letter. That was when I first contacted your group.” She opened up her black Gucci tote, which was adorned with gold-tone studs, and pulled out an envelope. Carefully, as though she were handing over precious jewels, she placed it in front of Dani. Then, with her head hanging low, she whispered, “I should have believed her. She recanted, said she didn’t do it. She’s my sister, my only sister. I should have believed her.” Once again, tears flowed down Donna’s cheeks.

  Dani pulled the letter from the envelope. It was in a standard font. Nothing about the paper or writing was distinctive. She put on her glasses, then read: Dear Mrs. Garmond. Your sister didn’t kill your parents. I know the people who were responsible.

  That was it. Nothing more. Dani turned over the envelope and saw a postmark from White Plains.

  “That’s all? Because of this letter you’ve changed your mind? It doesn’t seem like much here. Any one of Molly’s friends could have sent this to you.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought at first. Then”—Donna opened up her bag once more and pulled out a second letter—“I got this last week.” She pushed the envelope over to Dani.

  Once more, Dani pulled a single sheet of computer-printed paper from the envelope and read. Same font, same paper. Look into the county jail. That’s what it was about. She put the letter down and looked at Donna. “Do you know what he means by this? What would this have to do with your parents?”

  “My father’s company built the new jail in Hudson County. It was very controversial and pretty much divided over political party lines. After it was finished, the delays and cost overruns were so high the state investigated, but they found nothing amiss.”

  “So your father was cleared of wrongdoing?”

  “My parents had been murdered before the state finished its investigation. But yes, he was cleared.”

  Dani’s fingers found the ends of her long, dark curls and twisted them between her fingers as she thought. She knew what she was supposed to do: commiserate with the woman, make apologies for HIPP, then send her on her way. Yet the letters intrigued her.

  The sparkle of the large diamond on Donna’s right hand reminded her of her task.

  “Donna, I would like to help, really I would. But HIPP only takes on cases of indigent prisoners. And it’s clear that you have the money to help. If your husband chooses not to, well—that’s not something we can factor in.”

  “But I’m not the one who’d be your client. Molly is. And she has nothing.”

  “Your parents were well-to-do,” Dani reminded her.

  “Molly didn’t get any of their money. She couldn’t—once she was convicted her share was forfeited.”

  “So you got it all?”

  “Half. And that’s gone. My husband used the money to start his business.”

  “But the other half? What happened to that?”

  “It’s in a trust. Molly had a baby in prison. A little girl.”

  CHAPTER

  4

  Dani knew she was sunk. The thought of a baby, taken from her mother—cruelly and unfairly if Molly had been wrongly convicted—broke down her resolve. “What happened to her daughter?” she asked, knowing she was only digging a deeper hole for herself.

  “I tried to get custody, but the father fought me. You know how it is—blood rules. Although if I’m really honest with myself, I didn’t push too hard. I had just finished college when she was born, barely able to take care of myself, much less a baby. And I resented Molly for putting me in this spot.” Donna reached into her bag once more and pulled out her wallet, opened it, and retrieved a picture. She handed it over to Dani. “This is Sophie. She’ll be twelve soon.”

  An angelic-faced child with straight blonde hair brushing her shoulders and eyes the color of crème de menthe. It looked to be a school photo; Sophie sat erect in front of a generic blue background, her hands clasped in her lap.

  “Do you get to see your niece?”

  Donna nodded. “Once in a while. If there’s something special in our family, Finn will let me take her.”

  “Finn?”

  “He’s the father.” Donna looked away from Dani and fixed her eyes on the diplomas hanging on the wall. When she finally turned back, she said, “He testified against Molly at her trial. I’ve never forgiven him for that.”

  Dani wondered if it was Finn she wouldn’t forgive, or herself, for not believing in her sister’s innocence for so long. She’d seen so much anger in her job—anger at the lawyers, the judge, the victim, the defendant’s own family, her friends. Almost always it was misdirected. The prisoners were really angry at themselves. Even when it wasn’t deserved.

  “He’s married now,” Donna continued. “Has a son with his wife. Kim. That’s her name. She tries to be a good mother to Sophie, I suppose, but—”

  “Yes?”

  “But her son is her son. And it’s clear she treats Sophie differently.”

  Dani glanced at her watch. She’d allotted thirty minutes for Donna and they were going on an hour. She wanted to reassure this woman who was so clearly in pain that everything would work out for Molly, even when it was likely it wouldn’t. She’d felt this need since childhood—to try to fix things for others, to make them feel better. That’s why she entered college expecting to work toward becoming a psychologist, until events steered her onto another track.

  “Look, Donna. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll talk to our director about Molly’s case. I have to warn you, though; it’s unlikely he’ll change his mind.”

  Donna grabbed Dani’s hands and squeezed them. “Please, try to convince him. The police homed in on Molly almost immediately and never looked for anyone else. There’s something going on; I know there is. Why else would I get those letters?”

  “Well, it could be from some crackpot. I’ll press Bruce on it, I promise. If he okays it, then whatever attorney is assigned will follow up with you.”

  The color drained from Donna’s face. “But wouldn’t you handle it? I’d want you to be the attorney.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a capital appeals specialist. Prisoners on death row. But all the attorneys in the office are excellent.”

  “No,” Donna said, shaking her head. “Can’t you make an exception? I feel comfortable with you. You understand what it means to have a child that needs help, just as I do. And Sophie needs help.”

  Dani sighed. “Let’s take one step at a time. First, let me talk to Bruce about HIPP taking the case.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If he gives the go-ahead, we’ll need Molly to sign a retainer letter. I assume you’ve talked to her about this.”

  Donna stiffened. “Molly doesn’t speak to me.” Suddenly, the small office filled with silence. Donna stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap, then looked back up at Dani. “At first, when I thought Molly had murdered our parents, I was furious. How could she do this to me?” She shook her head. “I only thought about myself, never about what Molly was going through. Even when I learned she was pregnant, I refused to visit her in prison. In the beginning, she begged me to come. Wrote me letter after letter saying she was innocent. I never answered.

  “After I married and had children of my own, I realized how cruel I’d been to her. Even if she was guilty, she was still my sister. I tried to see her then, but she
wouldn’t put me on her visitor list. We haven’t seen each other or spoken since she was sent away.”

  Dani eyed the woman sitting opposite her. Life seemed full of conflicting emotions, she thought. The excitement of a new job coupled with the fear of not performing well. A young teenager’s wish for independence coupled with the need for parental approval. A working mother’s enjoyment of a fulfilling career coupled with guilt for leaving her child’s care to another. Dani could see how Donna’s conflicting feelings for her sister had wreaked havoc on her. The sadness in her eyes attested to her pain.

  Dani wasn’t certain where to go with this matter. The likelihood of Bruce agreeing to take it on was small, but even that slight chance disappeared if the prisoner didn’t want help.

  Her intercom buzzed and broke the silence. She picked up the phone and heard her secretary say, “Don Phelps is on line three.”

  “I’m finishing right now. I’ll get back to him.” When she hung up the receiver, she told Donna she’d let her know the agency’s decision, one way or the other.

  “Just one more thing,” Donna said as she stood up to leave. “Whatever hard feelings Molly may have for me, only one thing matters. Sophie needs her mother. Her real mother.”

  Dani returned her phone call, then dictated a letter to a prisoner whose plea for help had been granted. She enjoyed giving good news, and cringed when she had to turn down a prisoner whose case had merit. It often seemed arbitrary to her, the choices that were made, just as the justice system itself at times seemed arbitrary. Was every last defendant guilty because twelve men and women had deemed it so? Judges certainly treated it that way. A defendant who showed no remorse at sentencing was often rewarded with a stiffer term. Yet, at such times, contrition was impossible. A wrongfully convicted defendant raged at the injustice. That very rage, that lack of remorse when a jury determined guilt, led to more years behind bars. Guilt or innocence wasn’t an absolute truth. It was what a jury found as its truth.

  As the afternoon wore on, Dani tried, unsuccessfully, to push back thoughts of Molly. Her love for Jonah was so overwhelming that the thought of losing him was honestly unimaginable. If Molly hadn’t murdered her parents, if she’d been thrown into a prison of hardened criminals, deprived of her youthful promise, that was an injustice. To have her daughter taken away from her, raised by another woman, made it a tragedy. Dani didn’t know if she could find out the truth. And in any event, Bruce was certain to deny her the chance to try.

  Finally, her desk cleared of the pressing matters, Dani made her way back to Bruce’s office. He sat at his desk, his long legs stretched out to the side, his eyes buried in a brief.

  Dani stepped inside. “Got a moment?”

  Bruce put down the thick set of papers and looked up. “Sure. Take a seat.”

  She eased herself into the chair opposite his desk.

  “Uh-oh. Something’s bothering you,” Bruce said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because every time you’re worried, you twirl your hair.”

  Dani smiled. “I think we’ve been working together too long. You know me too well.”

  “Well enough. What’s going on?”

  Dani unwrapped her strands of hair, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. “Remember Molly Singer? Melanie talked to you about her case a few months ago?”

  “Not really. What’s it about?”

  “A young girl, at least she was young back then, when she was convicted. Just eighteen. She confessed, then recanted. Found guilty of murdering both parents and sentenced to consecutive twenty-five-to-life terms.”

  Bruce was quiet for a moment, then he slowly nodded. “It rings a bell. We turned it down. No DNA in that case, if I remember correctly. Without that it would be hard to disprove. It was the sister who wrote, right?”

  “Yes, that’s the case. I met with her sister today. Donna Garmond.”

  Bruce looked startled. “Why? I already said no.” He already had his back up.

  “I ran into her at Camp Adagio. Her daughter is a Williams syndrome child, too. I guess I felt a connection with her and didn’t want to just brush her off.”

  “Okay. You’ve done your good deed and met with her. The answer is still no.”

  “There’s been a new development. Donna’s received a couple of anonymous letters that suggest a new angle.”

  “Unless the new angle gives the name of the real murderer and the evidence to back it up, we don’t have the resources to take it on. Send her a letter with regrets.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t have time to argue over this. And I didn’t think you did either. Send her a letter.” With that, Bruce picked up the brief and returned to reading. Their meeting was over.

  At twenty past nine, during the time Dani and Doug called their “honeymoon hour,” when all work was pushed aside to spend time with each other, Dani lay slumped on the couch, her head leaning against Doug’s chest.

  “I understand where Bruce is coming from,” she said. “We have to be practical when it comes to selecting cases. But she was just a child herself when it happened.”

  “If you really want to take the case, push him back on it.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know if I want the case. I don’t even know if Molly wants HIPP to represent her. Or if I think she’s guilty. But without Bruce’s go-ahead, I can’t even do the preliminary work to figure out those questions.”

  The curtains lifted with the evening breeze. Nights had finally started to cool down, and they’d been able to turn off the air conditioner. It was Dani’s favorite time of year, when the seasons passed from the hot, humid days of summer to the crisp days of autumn.

  “Unless you’re going to try to persuade Bruce to reconsider, you’ve got to put her out of your mind.”

  Dani agreed; she needed to move on. Change what you can, Ted Kennedy had said at his brother Robert’s funeral, and know what you can’t. The office was too busy for Bruce to alter his position. She had to accept that.

  “I’m going to turn in now,” Doug said. “How about you?”

  “Soon. I’ll be up in a bit.”

  Dani headed to the kitchen and filled the teapot with water, then sat reading the New York Times as she waited for it to boil. When the familiar whistle sounded, she poured the hot water into a mug hand-painted with the words “World’s Best Mom.” It had been Jonah’s Mother’s Day gift to her when he was seven, the result of a school project. One edge was chipped, but she couldn’t bring herself to discard it. If it wasn’t in the dishwasher waiting to be cleaned, it was the first cup she grabbed when she needed a hot drink.

  She dipped a green-tea bag in the water several times, discarded it, and added lemon juice. She sat back down at the kitchen table and pushed the newspaper away.

  The hot steam filled her nostrils. She loved the feel of the warmth on her face, even on the hottest summer day. Usually, it soothed her. Not tonight. She couldn’t shake the look on Donna’s face as she pleaded for Dani to take her sister’s case. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that the anonymous letters were the key to something. But what?

  CHAPTER

  5

  It was Saturday, family time. Time to spend with Jonah and Doug doing typical family activities, some mundane, like shopping, some fun, like visits to the Bronx Zoo, a favorite of Jonah’s. Instead, Dani drove on the Saw Mill Parkway north to the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility. The only maximum-security prison for women in New York State was a half-hour drive from her home. Its closeness was how she justified to herself going to meet Molly Singer when she’d been expressly told to turn down her case.

  She had done as instructed. A letter had gone out to Donna advising that HIPP would not represent her sister. It was only when Donna received the letter and called up, crying, begging Dani to reconsider, that she agreed to meet Molly. And didn’t tell
Bruce. Instead, she sent a letter to Molly saying that she’d been asked to look into her conviction and would like to meet with her. Today she was doing so.

  Traffic was light and she made good time. Dani pulled up to the visitors’ entrance just before ten a.m. She hoped to get in and out quickly and be home in time to take Jonah to the movies. Most thirteen-year-olds wouldn’t be caught dead with their parents at the movies, but Jonah still wasn’t capable of independent activities. One day, Dani hoped, but not yet.

  She passed through security, then was directed to a waiting room. It was her first time in this facility—she had far more male clients than female—but it smelled like nearly every other prison she’d been in throughout the country. It had the same odor of disinfectant, used to cover something unpleasant. She couldn’t place what—maybe sweat? Urine? Rodent droppings? She entered the room, which had one couch, a low rectangular table in front of it, and numerous chairs spread about. The sign on the door read “Attorneys Only.” The room was empty, and she made herself comfortable. She pulled her iPad from her briefcase and clicked on the Kindle app, hoping to use a few moments of downtime to catch up on her reading.

  “We’re ready for you now.”

  Dani looked up and saw a uniformed woman standing in the doorway. She followed her down a hallway, through another security checkpoint, and then to a small room, empty except for a square table with two chairs on one side, a single chair on the other. All of the furniture was bolted to the floor. Outside, she could hear the usual prison cacophony—guards yelling, TVs blaring, metal clanging. Five minutes passed before she heard footsteps approach the door on the prisoner’s side of the room. When it opened, a female guard stepped inside, her hand on the arm of a woman whose hands were shackled. The guard nodded to Dani, then brought the prisoner over to the chair opposite Dani. She unlocked the woman’s handcuffs, then stepped outside the door, where she remained posted.