Fat Tuesday(2)

Burke snuffled a self-deprecating laugh. Because he could identify with the futility of a housefly, he knew he'd hit rock bottom.

When the knock came, he and Pat glanced first at each other, then toward the door, which a bailiff opened. She poked her head inside.

"They're back."

As they moved toward the door, Pat checked the time, murmuring, "Son of a gun. Ten minutes." He looked at Burke."How'd you do that?"

But Burke wasn't listening. His concentration was focused on the open doors of the courtroom at the end of the corridor. Spectators and media streamed through the portal with the excitement of Romans at the Colosseum about to witness the spectacle of martyrs being devoured by lions.

Kevin Stuart, husband, father, damn good cop, and best friend, had been martyred. Like many martyrs throughout history, his death was the result of betrayal. Someone Kev trusted, someone who was supposed to be on his side, furthering his cause, backing him up, had turned traitor.

Another cop had tipped the bad guys that the good guys were on the way.

One secret phone call from someone within the division, and Kevin Stuart's fate had been sealed. True, he'd been killed in the line of duty, but that didn't make him any less dead. He'd died needlessly.

He'd died bloody. This trial was merely the mopping up. This trial was the costly and time-consuming exercise a civilized society went through to put a good face on letting a scumbag go free after ending the life of a fine man.

Jury selection had taken two weeks. From the outset, the prosecutor had been intimidated and outsmarted by the defense attorney, the flamboyant Pinkie Duvall, who had exercised all his preemptory challenges, handpicking a perfect jury for his client with hardly any argument from the opposition.

The trial itself had lasted only four days. But its brevity was disproportionate to the interest in its outcome. There'd been no shortage of predictions.

The morning following the fatal incident, the chief of police was quoted as saying, "Every officer on the force feels the loss and is taking it personally. Kevin Stuart was well respected and well liked among his fellow policemen. We're using all the resources available to us to conduct a complete and thorough investigation into the shooting death of this distinguished officer."

"It should be an open-and-shut case," one pundit had editorialized in the Times Picayune the day the trial commenced."An egregious mistake on the part of the N.O.P.D has left one of its own dead. Tragic?

Definitely.

But justification to pin the blame on an innocent scapegoat? This writer thinks not."

"The D.A. is squandering taxpayers' money by forcing an innocent citizen to stand trial for a trumped-up charge, one designed to spare the New Orleans Police Department the public humiliation that it deserves over this incident. Voters would do well to take into account this farce when District Attorney Littrell comes up for reelection."

This quote was from Pinkie Duvall, whose "innocent citizen" client, Wayne Bardo, the Bardeaux, had a list of prior arrests as long as the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway.

Pinkie Duvall's involvement in any court case guaranteed extensive media coverage. Everyone in public service, every elected official, wanted to hitch a ride on the bandwagon of free publicity and had used the Bardo trial as a forum for his or her particular platform, whatever that might be. Unsolicited opinions were as lavishly strewn about as colored beads during Mardi Gras.

By contrast, since the night of Kev Stuart's death, Lieutenant Burke Basile had maintained a stubborn, contemptuous silence. During the pretrial hearings, through all the motions filed with the court by both sides, amid the frenzied hype created by the media, nothing quotable had been attributed to the taciturn narcotics officer whose partner and best friend had died from a gunshot wound that night when a drug bust went awry.

Now, as he tried to reenter the courtroom to hear the verdict, in response to the reporter who shoved a microphone into his face and asked if he had anything to say, Burke Basile's succinct reply was, "Yeah.

Fuck off." l Captain Pat, recognized by reporters as someone in authority, was detained as he tried to follow Burke into the courtroom.

Pat's statements were considerably more diplomatic than those of his subordinate, but he stated unequivocally that Wayne Bardo was responsible for Stuart's death and that justice would be served only if the jury returned a guilty verdict.

Burke was already seated when Pat rejoined him."This can't be easy for Nancy," he remarked as he sat down.

Kev Stuart's widow was seated in the same row as they, but across the center aisle. She was flanked by her parents. Leaning forward slightly, Burke caught her eye and gave her a nod of encouragement.

Her return smile was weak, suggesting no more optimism than he felt.

Pat waved to her in greeting."On the other hand, she's a trouper."

"Yeah, when her husband's gunned down in cold blood, you can count on Nancy to rise to the occasion."

Pat frowned at Basile's sarcasm."That was an unnecessary crack.

You know what I meant." Burke said nothing. After a moment, with forced casualness, Pat asked, "Will Barbara be here?"

"No."

"I thought she might come to lend you moral support if this doesn't go our way."

Burke didn't wish to expound on why his wife chose not to attend the proceedings. He said simply, "She told me to call her soon as I know."