My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(52)
“They want to know why a Seattle homicide detective sworn to serve and protect the public is working to free a piece of shit like Edmund House,” Nolasco said.
“These are the haters,” Tracy said. “They live for this. Are we going to start making decisions to appease the fringe now?”
“The Seattle Times, NBC, CBS, are they also the fringe?”
“We’ve been through this. They’re interested in sound bites and ratings.”
“Maybe,” Nolasco said, “but in light of recent events, we believe it prudent the department issue a statement on your behalf.”
“We’ve prepared something for your consideration,” Lee said.
“Consideration,” Nolasco said. “Not approval.”
Tracy motioned for Lee to slide the single sheet of paper across the table, though she had no intention of signing anything. They could issue what they wanted. They couldn’t make her attach her name to it.
Detective Crosswhite has had no official role in the investigation or in the proceedings to obtain Post-Conviction Relief for Edmund House. Should Detective Crosswhite be called upon to participate in these proceedings, it will be as a member of the victim’s family. She has not, and will not, officially or unofficially use her position as a Seattle homicide detective to influence the proceedings in any manner. She will have no comment on the proceedings or the results of those proceedings now or in the future.
She slid it back. “First you want me to comment. Now you’re forbidding it? I don’t even know what this means.”
“It means you will testify if subpoenaed,” Nolasco said. “That will be your only involvement. You are not to serve in any manner as a consultant for the defense.”
“Involvement in what?” She glanced to Laub and Williams, but they looked as confused as Tracy felt.
“We thought you knew,” Nolasco said, looking suddenly uneasy.
“Knew what?”
“The Court of Appeals granted Edmund House’s Petition for Post-Conviction Relief.”
Kins stood as Tracy hurried back to her cubicle to gather her things. “What happened?”
Tracy slipped on her coat, still not fully comprehending what she’d just heard. She’d waited twenty years, but now it seemed as if everything was moving too fast. She was having trouble processing it.
“Tracy?”
“The Court of Appeals granted the petition,” she said. “Nolasco just told me.”
“How the hell did he know?”
“I don’t know. I need to call Dan.” She grabbed her phone from her desk and started from the bull pen.
“When’s the hearing?”
“I don’t know that either.” She rushed to catch the elevator, seeking a private place to call Dan and take a moment alone to absorb everything. She felt like she’d taken a punch to the head and was still clearing cobwebs. The post-conviction relief hearing was the platform Tracy needed to demonstrate that the inconsistencies in the testimony and the evidence introduced at Edmund House’s first trial raised serious questions about his guilt. If Dan could get a judge to agree, the court would be forced to order a new trial, bringing Tracy one giant step closer to getting the investigation into Sarah’s death re-opened.
As the elevator descended, she squeezed her eyes shut. After twenty years, Sarah might finally get justice, and Tracy might finally get answers.
[page]PART II
. . . there is nothing so dangerous as a maxim.
—C. J. MAY, “Some Rules of Evidence: Reasonable Doubt in Civil and Criminal Cases” (1876)
CHAPTER 37
Judge Burleigh Meyers chose to hold the preliminary hearing in the temporary chambers assigned to him rather than open court because of what he called “the significant media interest in the matter.” Dan had asked for, and Meyers had agreed to, Tracy’s presence at the hearing, though Meyers noted it was an unusual request for defense counsel. He was clearly familiar with the nuances of the case. Dan’s background check of Meyers indicated that that was no accident.
Meyers had served more than thirty years on the bench in Spokane County, mostly to critical acclaim, before retiring. The Spokane County Bar Association gave him high marks for the manner in which he had conducted himself and his courtroom. Dan had also learned that both Meyers’s clerk and bailiff had retired rather than be assigned to work for another judge, which he took as a good sign. He’d found home numbers for each and called to pick their brains. They had both described Meyers as a man who worked long hours, conducted much of his own research, and who could agonize for days over his decisions, though he was not afraid to pull the trigger. He was what Dan and Tracy had hoped for, an intelligent judge willing to make a tough call. They also said Meyers ran a tight ship and would not be influenced by the media attention, which was likely why the Court of Appeals had asked him to preside over the hearing.
Tracy sat off to the side watching as Meyers wheeled the leather chair from behind the desk, its wheel squeaking. He positioned it so he faced O’Leary and Clark, who sat side by side on a cloth sofa. To Tracy the office had the feel of an austere stage production, the walls devoid of any paintings or photographs and not a scrap of paper to be found anywhere in the room. Dan had told her that Meyers’s clerk had also said the judge’s willingness to come out of retirement was definitely not because he was bored. Apparently Meyers owned a sixty-acre cattle ranch and did much of the heavy lifting himself.