Capitol Murder (43 page)

After the drama of Beatrice’s testimony, closing arguments were almost anticlimactic—but still
of critical importance. Perhaps more than in any previous case in his career, Ben realized that
everything could hinge on them, as the jury tried to weigh the credibility of Beatrice’s
astonishing testimony, whether it could possibly be true, whether it was enough to overcome all
the evidence that pointed to Todd Glancy as the killer.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Padolino began, “when all is said and done, it comes down
to this. Which is more likely: that Veronica Cooper was killed by a man who knew her, worked with
her, had an illicit affair with her, was being blackmailed by her, had scheduled a meeting with
her, left a meeting just before the time of her death, and controlled the hideaway in which she
was found? Or that she was killed by some hitherto unknown person with no knowledge of or access
to the Senate, who the defense wants you to believe was a—” He rolled his eyes. “—a
vampire
, covering up the evil deeds of his equally diabolical coven. Which one sounds
like the truth, the world as we know it, and which one sounds like a preposterous fantasy cooked
up by a desperate defense? In the final analysis, I don’t think it’s all that hard a question to
answer.”

Padolino proceeded along those lines for nearly an hour, reviewing all the evidence that had
been presented during the case and never missing an opportunity to remind the jury of the
unsavory secrets that had been revealed about the defendant. “Using a typically disreputable
defense tactic, they have attempted to save the defendant by trashing his victim—but it didn’t
work, did it? They say the victim had an active sex life—the implication being that this makes it
okay for Senator Glancy to have sex with one of his young employees, perhaps even to murder her.
A detective was called to provide more slander. Even the senator’s wife was called to talk trash
about poor dead Veronica Cooper—but in each case, what we learned about Senator Glancy was far
more illuminating. That he has had not one but many affairs. That he favors aberrant, sickening
sexual practices—practices which in many respects resemble the wounds found on the victim. Worst
of all, that he has engaged in sexual promiscuity with a minor—a seventeen-year-old girl—and
subjected her to the same ugly perversions as the others. That he cut her on the neck, just as
Veronica Cooper was cut—fatally. Good God—” Padolino’s voice swelled. “You saw that video. What
isn’t
this man capable of doing?”

Padolino turned, pivoting, then walked slowly to the edge of the jury box and laid his hand
upon the rail. “Don’t misunderstand me. My heart bled just like yours did when we heard the
testimony of that poor woman, Beatrice Taylor, when she told us about the torment, the horrors
that she and her friends endured. But that had nothing to do with the supernatural. That had to
do with a megalomaniacal drug pusher. He wasn’t controlling those girls with the hypnotic power
of his vampire eyes—he was controlling them with drugs. And whether he drank blood or not, it
doesn’t change the fact that there is no such thing as a vampire and there is no evidence—not the
slightest shred of evidence—that this man was ever on the grounds of the Senate, not on the day
Veronica Cooper died or at any other time. Ms. Taylor suggests that he bribed a guard to get into
the Senate building without recording his name on the daily registry. Well, isn’t that
convenient? I’ve heard that you can’t see vampires in a mirror. Apparently you can’t see them in
the United States Capitol building, either.”

He paused, looking at each juror in turn. Ben could tell he was winding up for the grand
finale. “You know what this is? It’s the Big Lie Defense. Tell a little lie, and people may be
suspicious, think you’re just trying to get yourself off. But if you can concoct something huge,
something outrageously unlikely, people are actually more likely to buy it, on the theory that no
one would dare tell a tale that tall unless it were true. That’s what has happened in this trial,
my friends. They couldn’t give you another likely suspect. So instead—they gave you Count
Dracula.”

He stepped closer, and even though his voice grew softer, it seemed more urgent, more
insistent. “But you’re not that gullible, are you? You’re not that easily misled by courtroom
shenanigans. You can still distinguish right from wrong, truth from fiction, the likely from the
impossible. You know in your hearts what really happened. Senator Glancy and Veronica Cooper were
having an illicit sexual relationship. She tried to blackmail him. So he killed her and dumped
the body in his private hideaway till he could think of something better to do with it. It’s that
simple. And that’s why I know you’ll do the right thing—and find the defendant guilty of the
murder of Veronica Cooper. Guilty of murder in the first degree.”

“Let’s get one thing straight right up front,” Ben said, as he approached the jury box. “This
case does not come down to which of Mr. Padolino’s scenarios you think is most likely. In fact, I
will tell you—and the judge will reinforce this later when he gives you your formal instructions
before deliberation—that it makes no difference whatsoever which you think is most likely.
Because the standard before you is not ‘what’s more likely.’ The standard is whether the
prosecution has proven Todd Glancy’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. If they have done anything
less—regardless of what you think is most likely—you must acquit.

“The prosecutor has done his best to belittle the evidence we have presented—even though we
have presented tons of it, with one consistent witness after another. Let me tell you something.
I am well aware that there is no such thing as a vampire. But what I am telling you is that this
nut thought he was a vampire, that he behaved as a vampire, that he led others, with the force of
his personality, his sexual prowess, and his drugs, to believe that he was a vampire, and induced
them to become a part of his vampiric cult. It is undisputed that he killed Colleen Smith as well
as Amber Daily, and more to the point—that he had a motive for killing Veronica Cooper. So let me
rephrase Mr. Padolino’s question. Which is more likely: that Veronica Cooper was killed by a
sadistic maniac who was responsible for the deaths of at least two of her friends and the torture
of numerous other women? Or that she was killed by a United States senator, a man with no
criminal record whatsoever.”

Ben reminded the jury that the evidence against his client was mostly circumstantial.
“Contrary to what the prosecutor has said, there is no evidence directly pointing to Senator
Glancy. They did all the pointing—the police and the prosecutors—because he was the most obvious
and easiest person to accuse.”

“Your honor,” Padolino said, rising, “I object. This isn’t relevant and it slanders the good
men and women who are devoted public—”

“Sit down,” Herndon said firmly. “And don’t get up again.”

Ben jerked his thumb toward the prosecutor. “Mr. Padolino thinks it’s unfair for me to
insinuate that the police investigation of this case was lazy. But ask yourselves this: why
didn’t they discover the vampire coven? Why didn’t they discover Stigmata, a club the victim had
been habituating for months? Why didn’t they know she was a drug addict? Why didn’t they know she
frequently traveled with three other young women—all of whom disappeared? My investigator was
able to uncover these secrets—why couldn’t they? Answer: because they didn’t look. Senator Glancy
wasn’t arrested because of any overwhelming evidence. He was arrested because the true killer had
the sense to implicate someone he knew the cops—and the public—would be predisposed to distrust.
Because he was a politician.”

Ben faced the jury squarely and ratcheted his voice up a few decibels. “Is this important? You
bet it is. Sure, the majority of law enforcement officers in this country are good honest people
and we owe them our respect and our thanks. But every time I turn around, it seems as if our
civil rights are eroding. We overlook police procedural violations, police brutality, because
after all, the suspects are almost always guilty, right? The Second Amendment supposedly protects
us from unwarranted intrusions, search and seizures, arrest without charge or probable cause, but
every day we see those rights whittled away. We pass laws we know aren’t constitutional, but
shield the offense by giving them names like the Patriot Act—as if there was something patriotic
about violating the constitutional freedoms that are the bedrock upon which this country was
founded.

“Is this important?” Ben asked again, this time his voice was even louder than before. “You
better believe it. Because this is the United States of America. We created the modern democracy.
We invented the Constitution, a written document that guarantees the people’s rights—and
restricts the powers of the government. I love this country, but every time we let another
constitutional right be trampled upon, every time we look the other way while some wrongful act
is committed in the name of homeland security, or national defense, or patriotism, we become a
little less American. The erosion of one civil right only leads to another, and I would suggest,
ladies and gentlemen, that’s exactly what’s happening here—and it’s wrong. Because here in the
United States, we don’t lock people away because it’s fashionable to think the worst of
politicians. We don’t arrest people because a crime is committed in their workspace. And we don’t
prosecute people without performing a thorough investigation that has convinced
us—
convinced
us—that we have the right man.”

Ben took a few steps forward and laid his hands gently upon the rail. “Let me ask you, ladies
and gentlemen of the jury. Are you convinced that they have the right man? Has the prosecution
proven to you—beyond a reasonable doubt—that Todd Glancy killed Veronica Cooper? Or is it just
possible that it was someone else? Is it just possible that it happened exactly as described by
Beatrice Taylor, the closest thing we have to an eyewitness in this case, the woman who knows
more about what went on in Veronica Cooper’s life than anyone else in the world. Is it possible?
Do you have a reasonable doubt? Because if you do—if, when you walk back into that jury room, you
have a reasonable doubt about what really happened, then you must find my client not guilty. Why?
Because this is the United States of America.” He let several seconds pass before he added,
quietly: “And that’s the way we do things here.”

“Holy smokes, Ben,” Glancy said, shaking his head. He was waiting, with Ben and Christina, in
a small room just a few doors down from where the jury was deliberating. “If you can give a
speech like that every day, you should run for President.”

“You’re too kind.”

“No, I’m a politician—or was, anyway—and I’ve heard enough orations to know a good one from a
bad one. That was a humdinger. All you needed was some facile remark about family values and the
invocation of the deity and it would’ve been perfect.” He stopped, then his voice dropped a few
notches. “But was it enough to convince the jury?”

Ben had to be honest. “I don’t know.”

Christina jumped in. “I thought you covered all the main points. Brilliantly and
persuasively.”

“Perhaps. But we had some bad evidence. The pathetic thing is, the worst of it had nothing to
do with who murdered Veronica Cooper. But the jury still heard it.”

Glancy didn’t respond. They all knew what Ben was talking about.

“What about me?” Glancy asked. “How did I do on the stand? You never said.”

Ben chose his words carefully. “I thought you did the best you could . . . given the
circumstances.”

“You had to handle some tough questions,” Christina interjected, trying to add a more upbeat
note.

“Yeah, sure, I know all that. But did I have . . . duende?”

Ben frowned. “Would it be a good thing if you did?”

Glancy smiled. That’s Spanish. It’s like . . . charisma. The power to attract and persuade
through personal magnetism and charm. I’m asking you if I seemed . . . charismatic?”

Ben stared at him with weary eyes. Were you charismatic while you were talking about your
affair with a minor and your aberrant sexual fetishes? “Juries are more interested in what a
witness has to say than how they say it.”

Glancy blew Ben a raspberry. “Says you. Charisma is all. If you’ve got enough of it, you can
get away with anything.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.”

“It sure as heck has been mine. Haven’t you noticed how no one ever talks about whether a
White House candidate is smart or knowledgeable or experienced or capable anymore? They talk
about whether he’s electable. Whether he seems presidential.”

“The legal world operates differently.”

“Does it? Answer me this: Why did every single member of Nixon’s staff of any importance
whatsoever do jail time—except Henry Kissinger, the most active and influential of them all?”

Ben hazarded a guess. “Charisma?”

“Darn tootin’. And he was a funny-looking German Jew with an almost incomprehensible accent.
But he courted the press. He had PR people releasing statements about how he was dating Jill St.
John or whatever. Meanwhile, he orchestrated the secret and illegal bombing of Cambodia. He
authorized the Indonesian invasion of East Timor. He pushed for and got a CIA coup to overthrow
the democratically elected Allende government in Chile. If someone had done stuff like that in
Germany during World War II they’d’ve been tried at Nuremberg for war crimes. But when Kissinger
did it, what happened? Criminal charges? No. Instead, he became a wealthy businessman and a
senior statesman on CNN. And you know why?”

“Charisma?”

“Bingo. He was just so charming—no one could believe he knew about those naughty Watergate
plumbers and their friends, even when common sense tells us he couldn’t have been a part of that
administration and not have known about it. Some people think the whole reason for the Watergate
burglary was to see if the Democrats knew Kissinger had sabotaged the ’68 Democratic Vietnam
peace initiative which, if successful, would’ve almost certainly given Humphrey the presidency.
Remember, Nixon won by less than one percent of the popular vote.”