The Perfect Marriage(78)

“How much?” Wayne asked.

“Somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty grand? Maybe a little less. But in that ballpark. But to be perfectly frank, you’d be throwing good money after bad. My advice would be to preserve your resources for the trial. I’ve spoken to Lisa and she agrees. You need to be thinking about the long-term defense, not every battle. A trial is going to cost you at least two hundred grand. Unless you are really liquid, I wouldn’t spend any money you could put toward the defense on a near-hopeless appeal.”

Jessica was now in tears. All she heard from Alex’s legal analysis was the word hopeless.

“Are they going to arrest him?” Jessica asked. “I mean, when they find that his DNA matches.”

Alex didn’t answer at first. It was almost as if the question had surprised him, although it couldn’t possibly have. This was the only question that mattered, after all.

“I assume they will,” he finally said. “They’ll have the same evidence against Owen that they had against Wayne at that point. No, they’ll actually have more because they’ll have the DNA match too. So, yes, I think you need to prepare yourself for Owen being arrested after the DNA comes back as a match.”

Jessica sobbed into the phone, wishing she hadn’t asked the question.

“But—and this is the key thing, Jessica. And you too, Wayne. You need to focus on the positives. If Owen is arrested, we’ll fight like hell for him to stay confined in the hospital and then be released on bail, or, at worst, kept under house arrest. The prosecution will resist. They don’t want it to look like white kids of means get to stay at home and kids of color rot on Rikers Island. But, at the end of the day, I’m confident that we’ll be able to keep him out of jail pending trial. At the same time, it isn’t too early to start thinking about a plea. Involuntary manslaughter carries a three-and-a-half- to fifteen-year sentence.”

“Oh my God,” Jessica said.

“What’s the charge going to be if he doesn’t do a plea?” Wayne asked.

“Murder in the second, which is the most serious charge for a murder that is premeditated but not involving a police officer. That carries a life sentence, no possibility of parole. The DA will probably hedge its bets and also include a first-degree manslaughter charge as a lesser included offense. If convicted on that, Owen would get a sentence of five to twenty-five years.”

Jessica could barely comprehend what Alex was telling them. All she heard was that her son would be in jail for a very long time.

“Just tell me one thing, Alex,” Jessica said. “Can Owen win at trial?”

She heard their lawyer sigh. Never a good sign.

“I’ll do everything I can to make that happen,” he said.

No one said anything for a good ten seconds, then Alex continued, “I know I’ve given you a lot of information all at once, and I also know that the stakes couldn’t be higher. You don’t have to make a decision about even the appeal now. And as for the plea, that’s premature right now too. So let’s do this one step at a time. Talk to each other about the pros and cons of the appeal on the DNA warrant. On that, I need to hear from you no later than tomorrow. If you decide not to pursue the appeal, there’s nothing for us to do until Owen’s DNA comes back as a match. At that time, we can turn to discussing the best time to raise a plea discussion or if we want to go that route at all. And, of course, Owen is the decision maker here, so I’m going to need to get his sign-off on any plea.”

Wayne called Jessica back right after they got off the phone with Alex.

“We should get Owen out of the country,” he said. “To Paraguay or Venezuela or some other place without an extradition treaty with the United States.”

“That’s just not possible, Wayne,” Jessica said. “He’s in the hospital, and will be for the foreseeable future.”

“So what are we supposed to do? Just let them convict our son of murder?”



Owen’s parents told him that the police were coming. In fact, that was why his mother and father were both in his room, like sentries on the castle walls. They’d told him that they couldn’t do anything to prevent him from being forced to provide a DNA sample, that they’d done everything they could, and the judge had ordered it to happen.

The exact day and time for Owen to provide his DNA had been agreed upon in advance. Even with the warning, Owen was still startled when he heard “NYPD” following two loud knocks on his door.

“Come in,” his father said.

His mother held his hand, their skin-on-skin contact prevented by her latex glove. He could tell that she was terrified. His father too, despite the bravado.

The man at the door was wearing hospital scrubs. He looked no different from any of the dozens of doctors Owen had seen but for the shimmer of silver around his neck. Owen’s memory flashed back to the crime scene and the cop with the swagger who had worn his badge on a chain.

“I’m not going to come inside, but I’m sure your mother explained why I’m here, Owen. My name is Lieutenant Velasquez. I’m a police officer with the NYPD. A judge has granted us permission to take a sample of your DNA.”

“Please don’t talk to my son,” Wayne said, firmly. “Just do what you came here to do and then leave.”