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McRose - the writing team of highplainswoman and janlaw
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Date Posted: 06:55:10 04/15/07 Sun
In reply to:
McRose
's message, "Doppelgänger" on 19:52:35 04/06/07 Fri
Doppelgänger Chapter Five
Judge’s Chambers
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The Honorable Thomas Leonard rubbed his brow, absently wondering if it would help if he summoned his third grade teacher to deal with the D.A. and his Navy twin – really unbelievable, the two not only looked identical, but were identically contributing to his monumental headache. Might the Chief Judge authorize combat pay?
“Mister Conlon. Mister Rabb. Back to your corners, both of you. My turn.” The Honorable had nearly had it, and it showed.
Harm and Jimmy spoke automatically and simultaneously. “My apologies, Your Honor.” At least the voices were different, he could tell them apart by making them talk ….squash that thought!
“Let me summarize where I think we are. Then, you can agree on the best course of action, or we can go into my courtroom, I’ll hear from both of you, and I’ll announce my decision, all in open court, of course. The Press is out in force, I do believe.”
Eyeing both attorneys sternly, he continued. “O’Malley commits crimes, eventually O’Malley is caught, and eventually – like yesterday – O’Malley is convicted. Carjacking, kidnapping, rape, and both murders. I’ve set the sentencing hearing to start next Monday. Those are the basic facts, right?”
Without waiting for a response, “Now, I certainly understand that the State is most unhappy that this Petty Officer Morrison nearly cost you your conviction with his fabricated alibi testimony, but the fact is, the Navy helped you out with information and a Navy lawyer to back it up. Ms. Chase then did her usual brutally brilliant job on cross-examination, turning Juice O’Malley into so much pulp. I doubt Tropicana will put him on their cartons.” His Honor chuckled wryly at his attempt at humor.
“Not funny to you, gentlemen? Okay, listen up.” The judge’s tone sharpened. “Jimmy, you’ve got Sailor boy on perjury, maybe obstruction of justice. Mister Rabb -- what are you called?”
“Harm, Your Honor.” Listening to the judge, Harm decided to play it straight, very straight, although “Captain Rabb” had nearly rolled off his tongue! Cringing slightly, he couldn’t decide whether this judge reminded him more of RADM Chegwidden or RADM Morris!
“Harm. You tell me the Navy would charge the Sailor with perjury, obstruction of justice, unauthorized absence, missing movement – that better not be a potty joke, young man – and false official statements/fraudulent enlistment. Correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I haven’t read the transcripts, of course, but from what CDR Manetti told me, only minimal investigation would be necessary –mainly determining Morrison’s real name and social, etcetera.
“And what would be the maximum sentence possible if he’s convicted of all that?” Judge Leonard was honestly interested now
“Mmmmm…I think 16 ½ years, Your Honor.” Harm decided again to play it straight and continued, “I have to say, though, a pre-trial agreement for a lesser sentence in exchange for guilty pleas is likely in this type case.”
“Jimmy?”
Conlon sighed. He’d always prided himself on knowing when to fight and when to cave. Rabb had gotten his New York dander up from the git-go, looking just like him, waltzing in and demanding his Sailor back!
“The People are prepared to cede jurisdiction, Your Honor” Turning to Harm, he shotgunned the questions. “What rights would Morrison have? Would he have a lawyer? Is there a jury? Is there a judge who’s a lawyer?”
“Lots; yes, yes, and yes.” Harm was terse. He knew very well that James Conlon could care less what rights O’Malley would have, and couldn’t resist continuing “scholars who’ve compared the military justice system with the typical State criminal system conclude that accuseds – defendants – have greater rights in the military than in the civilian criminal systems.” ‘So there, Mr. D.A.!’
“Enough.” His Honor warily eyed them both.
****************
A short time later
On the Courthouse steps
The sun was shining brightly and it was one of those days where there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The reason there wasn’t a cloud in the sky was apparent when a glance at the flagpole standing outside the courthouse showed the flags waving totally unfurled. The crowd of reporters and camera people standing in front of the podium clutched their respective coats a bit tighter and glances at each other exposed the common thought among the crowd—the authorities were going to have trouble keeping papers straight and from flying from hands if they were going to read prepared statements. There was a secret hope, too, that the authorities weren’t going to be too long in the great outdoors—there was a “bite” to the wind that could chill a person to the bone if not bundled up to a considerable degree.
Just then, the courthouse doors opened and everyone looked up in eager anticipation. There were the “usual” suspects when it came to a press conference involving the prosecutor’s office—Jimmy Conlon, Annabeth Chase and her supervisor, “Mo” Scofield as she was known throughout the community, the two staff investigators known to be the closest among the tight-knit “inner circle,” and one addition to the crowd. It was the tall man wearing a Navy Captain’s uniform who caught the crowd’s attention. There was more than one sharp intake of breath when the facial features of the two men came into sharp focus—if it weren’t for the hair style and clothing, the two men could have been identical twins!! There was a slight stirring among the press and a nervous titter from the crowd could be heard as that fact was absorbed. It was Jimmy who stepped up to the mike first.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” He grinned a little, laid the papers he held in his hand down on the podium—and brought out a couple of glass paperweights to lay on the papers. There was a slight chuckle from the front-line people in response. The wind was tossing that dark hair about in circles, but Jimmy ignored it. “I won’t keep you long—I know it’s cold out here, despite appearances.” A slight grin graced his handsome face and then he became serious and started reading from his prepared statement.
“Eight months ago, we lost two of our own here in Indianapolis. Tatiania Olevenowski was a world famous figure skater, coaching and mentoring tomorrow’s star skaters, including her ten year old daughter, Rina.”
“It wasn’t their time to die, certainly not to be brutally murdered. Petr Zolokoff lost his beloved wife and daughter. Vasily and Ekaterina Olevenowski lost their only daughter and only grandchild. We share their grief and loss. The criminal involved was clever—it took months for the forensic and fiber evidence to lead to the murderer - ‘Juice O’Malley’.” He looked up and the reporters present could see the glint of grey, cold steel flashing in those green-blue eyes. He glanced down and began to read again. “As you know, we were in trial when a Petty Officer Morrison stepped forward and ‘volunteered’ the so-called ‘alibi’ that Juice couldn’t have committed the crime since Juice was with him the night the crimes took place.” He paused, took a sip of water from the glass someone—privately, Jimmy wondered if Annabeth had taken care of that little gesture—it would have so like her to be so thoughtful—had set under the podium, glanced around at the quiet and respectful crowd, and continued. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Naval officer in their midst. The thought occurred to Jimmy that Captain Rabb looked very much out of place in Indianapolis—a long way from either coast. “Despite this Navy Sailor’s perjured testimony, two of my finest, most tenacious prosecutors persevered and Juice O’Malley was convicted of all charges yesterday afternoon.”
Jimmy paused, seemingly lost in thought. He bent his head a little and then tossed a look towards the Naval officer. “May I introduce Captain Harmon Rabb, Navy JAG Corps, from Naval Criminal Investigative Service, San Diego, California. He has traveled a long way to be with us today. The Navy has expressed a desire to prosecute Petty Officer Morrison for perjury, obstruction of justice, and several military crimes. After much consideration and discussion with Judge Leonard earlier today, this office has decided to yield to the Navy.” He took another sip of water. It galled him, even at this point, to think he had lost on this issue and he was “making lemonade out of lemons” when he added the next point. “After much thought, I decided to save the taxpayers of Indianapolis and Indiana the expense of trying Petty Officer Morrison when the Navy has volunteered to do that task for us.” He glanced over to the other tall man on the dais and leaned into the microphone. While he was politically ambitious, his instincts told him the Naval officer was not—and furthermore, was not totally comfortable in front of cameras, especially since the people behind the cameras were strangers to the officer—but not to him. It may have been petty, he admitted to himself, but, having lost the “war,” he would dig when he could—even if the digs were extremely petty in nature. “Captain, do you have anything to add?”
The glance he received told him in spades Rabb knew what he had done and what he was up to—nevertheless, he would “play the game.” He stepped forward. “I have nothing to add—except the Navy will make sure its Sailor receives a fair trial and, if convicted, an appropriate sentence.” Harm stepped back from the microphone with a tight grim smile tossed Conlon’s way as if to say, “So there!! Take that, you bastard!” In the privacy of his own mind, a flashback to the little confrontation between Mic Brumby and himself so many years ago as Mac was being charged with killing her husband flitted through his mind. A little twinge of guilt slithered through his consciousness—Mac hadn’t liked the alpha-male thing then, and he seriously doubted she would like it any better now.
Ignorant of the little byplay going on in the Captain’s mind, Conlon stepped forward. “We’ll take any questions you may have.” He stepped back, fully confident of his own ability to “handle” the press and looking forward to seeing how much, if at all, the Captain would squirm.
Among the many hands raised, Jimmy pointed towards a red-haired petite middle-aged reporter. “Yeah, Jenny?”
“Mr. Conlon, what sentence do you expect Juice O’Malley to get? And what will happen to Petty Officer Morrison?”
Jimmy stepped up to the microphone. “Jenny, that’s two questions, not one.” The frown was false, and all of the reporters present knew it—a few in the front of the crowd snickered. Jimmy continued. “Obviously, the so-called alibi proved to be phony, and Juice was convicted. The sentencing hearing starts Monday. The prosecution will seek the maximum sentence.”
“A follow-up, please. What will happen to the sailor??’ Jimmy waved his hand towards Harm, who stepped forward and leaned, much in the same way Conlon himself had, to answer the question.
“He will remain in the Marion County Jail until escorts from the Navy Personnel Command arrive to return him to San Diego. A decision will be made whether to put him in pre-trial confinement in the Brig at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.” A tight, grim smile illustrated the Captain’s handsome face. “My command – Naval Criminal Investigative Service - will complete the necessary investigation and he’ll then be charged with violating the Uniform Code of Military Justice – the probable charges are perjury, obstruction of justice, UA – that’s unauthorized absence - and missing movement.”
“Uhhh… what’s ‘missing movement,’ Captain?” The reporters tittered as Harm answered: “That’s when your ship leaves the pier and you’re not on it.” Harm smiled tightly.
Conlon stepped forward. He added (with a “malicious thought a forehand”—he thought he would twist the knife a bit more in this little mini-war between him and the Navy lawyer), “My office has promised the Navy every courtesy and all the cooperation necessary to aid in their prosecution.”
Annabeth thought she saw the handsome Captain flinch a little, but if she had, it had appeared just for an instant and was gone so suddenly, she wondered if she had seen it in the first place. Captain Rabb added, “The Navy also promises to keep the Indianapolis D.A.’s Office fully informed of all proceedings involved in this matter.” She and Mo exchanged glances—the Navy Captain was certainly quick on his feet and apparently no novice in discerning inter-office politics and rivalries.
A tall, young, strawberry-blond reporter had caught Harm’s eye and he pointed to her. “Yes?”
“Are you guys related or something? I mean—you guys look like identical twins!”
The Captain shook his head, firmly in control of his facial expression. Conlon had no way of knowing the inner turmoil roiling in the other man’s mind. “So far as I know, no, we’re not. My family comes from Pennsylvania and California.” For the first time since meeting Conlon, he tossed a smile of commiseration towards Conlon. “I don’t know his background or where he hails from – Id never met Mr. Conlon until yesterday.”
Conlon stepped in. “Folks, it’s getting cold out—I’m calling a halt to these proceedings. If you have any more questions, my office will be glad to answer them for you.” He nodded towards Harm. “Captain? If you would be so good as to follow me. . .” and he stepped away from the platform, turned, and walked purposefully and with deliberate speed towards the glass doors of the prosecutor’s offices. He had forgotten the Captain had the legs to match his stride which, Harm noted, had the delightful (from his perspective, anyway) effect of Conlon discovering he had left his younger and shorter female colleagues in his wake—but not him. Childish though it may have been, Harm couldn’t help the tiny little snicker bubbling up from within the deep recesses of his chest.
Score: Navy two. D.A.: zero. Game, set and match!
End Chapter Five
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