in his lap, uncomfortable in the company of cops, court watchers and other types with whom he did not normally associate. On occasion, Tracy caught Bradford staring at his son in disbelief. Elaine Livingstone pulled into herself, be coming more distant, pale and fragile every day. When the judge pronounced sentence, the couple seemed to age before Tracy's eyes.
After court, there was a tearful meeting between Joel and his parents, then an exhausting meeting between the parents and Matthew, which Matthew handled with great compassion.
It was almost seven when Tracy joined Reynolds in the hotel dining room for their final dinner in Atlanta. Tracy noticed that Reynolds was indifferent to food and every night had ordered steak, a green salad, a baked potato and iced tea. This evening, Tracy was as disinterested in food as her boss. She was toying with her pasta primavera and replaying the events of the day when Reynolds asked, "What's bothering you?"
Tracy looked across the table. She knew Reynolds had said something, but she had no idea what it was.
"You've been distracted. I was wondering if something was wrong," he said.
Tracy hesitated, then asked, "Why did you convince Joel to take the deal?"
There was a piece of steak on Reynolds's fork. He put the fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair. "You don't think I should have?"
Reynolds's tone gave no clue to what he was thinking. Tracy had a rush of insecurity. Reynolds had been trying cases for twenty years. She had never tried a case and she had worked for the man she was questioning for all of one week. Then again, Reynolds struck her as a man who welcomed ideas and would not take offense if she had a sound basis for her views.
"I think Folger made the offer because he was afraid he might lose our motion to suppress the confession."
"I'm sure you're right."
"We could have won it."
"And we could have lost."
"The judge was leaning our way. Without the confession, we might have had a shot at manslaughter. There's no minimum sentence for manslaughter. Joel would have been eligible for parole anytime."
"There's no minimum sentence with death either."
Tracy started to say something, then stopped. Reynolds waited a moment, then asked, "What was our objective in this case?"
"To win," Tracy answered automatically.
Reynolds shook his head. "Our objective was to save Joel Livingstone's life. That is the objective in every death case. Winning is one way of accomplishing that objective, but it must never be your main objective.
"When I started practicing, I thought my objective was always an acquittal." Reynolds's lips creased into a tired smile. "Unfortunately, I won my first three murder cases. It's difficult to avoid arrogance if you're young and undefeated. My next death case was in a small eastern Oregon county. Eddie Brace, the DA, was only a few years older than I and he had never tried a murder case. The rumor was that he'd run for DA because he wasn't making it in private practice. The first time we were in court, Brace stumbled around and spent half his time apologizing to the judge.
"The night before we were to start motions, Mr. Brace came to my hotel, just like Folger did. We jawed for a while, then he told me flat out that he felt uncomfortable about asking a jury to take a man's life. He wanted to know if my client would take a straight murder if he'd give up the death penalty. Well, I had a winnable case and I'd gotten not-guilty verdicts in every murder case I'd tried, so I figured what you figured with Folger, that Brace was afraid to lose. I knew I was so good I'd run right over him."
Reynolds looked down at his plate for a moment, then directly at his associate.
"The worst words a lawyer can hear is a verdict of death for his client.
You don't ever want to hear those words, Tracy. I heard them for the first time in the case I tried against Eddie Brace."
"What went wrong?"
"Only one thing. Brace stumbled along, I tried a brilliant case, but
After court, there was a tearful meeting between Joel and his parents, then an exhausting meeting between the parents and Matthew, which Matthew handled with great compassion.
It was almost seven when Tracy joined Reynolds in the hotel dining room for their final dinner in Atlanta. Tracy noticed that Reynolds was indifferent to food and every night had ordered steak, a green salad, a baked potato and iced tea. This evening, Tracy was as disinterested in food as her boss. She was toying with her pasta primavera and replaying the events of the day when Reynolds asked, "What's bothering you?"
Tracy looked across the table. She knew Reynolds had said something, but she had no idea what it was.
"You've been distracted. I was wondering if something was wrong," he said.
Tracy hesitated, then asked, "Why did you convince Joel to take the deal?"
There was a piece of steak on Reynolds's fork. He put the fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair. "You don't think I should have?"
Reynolds's tone gave no clue to what he was thinking. Tracy had a rush of insecurity. Reynolds had been trying cases for twenty years. She had never tried a case and she had worked for the man she was questioning for all of one week. Then again, Reynolds struck her as a man who welcomed ideas and would not take offense if she had a sound basis for her views.
"I think Folger made the offer because he was afraid he might lose our motion to suppress the confession."
"I'm sure you're right."
"We could have won it."
"And we could have lost."
"The judge was leaning our way. Without the confession, we might have had a shot at manslaughter. There's no minimum sentence for manslaughter. Joel would have been eligible for parole anytime."
"There's no minimum sentence with death either."
Tracy started to say something, then stopped. Reynolds waited a moment, then asked, "What was our objective in this case?"
"To win," Tracy answered automatically.
Reynolds shook his head. "Our objective was to save Joel Livingstone's life. That is the objective in every death case. Winning is one way of accomplishing that objective, but it must never be your main objective.
"When I started practicing, I thought my objective was always an acquittal." Reynolds's lips creased into a tired smile. "Unfortunately, I won my first three murder cases. It's difficult to avoid arrogance if you're young and undefeated. My next death case was in a small eastern Oregon county. Eddie Brace, the DA, was only a few years older than I and he had never tried a murder case. The rumor was that he'd run for DA because he wasn't making it in private practice. The first time we were in court, Brace stumbled around and spent half his time apologizing to the judge.
"The night before we were to start motions, Mr. Brace came to my hotel, just like Folger did. We jawed for a while, then he told me flat out that he felt uncomfortable about asking a jury to take a man's life. He wanted to know if my client would take a straight murder if he'd give up the death penalty. Well, I had a winnable case and I'd gotten not-guilty verdicts in every murder case I'd tried, so I figured what you figured with Folger, that Brace was afraid to lose. I knew I was so good I'd run right over him."
Reynolds looked down at his plate for a moment, then directly at his associate.
"The worst words a lawyer can hear is a verdict of death for his client.
You don't ever want to hear those words, Tracy. I heard them for the first time in the case I tried against Eddie Brace."
"What went wrong?"
"Only one thing. Brace stumbled along, I tried a brilliant case, but
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