that. If my mother were alive, she would say, “Whatever happens, it’s all for the best.” I never believed it when she used to say it, and I don’t believe it now. If Laurie leaves, it will not be for the best. It will be unacceptably awful, but I will accept it. Kicking and screaming, I will accept it.
I wake up in the morning resolved to focus on nothing but Kenny Schilling. My first stop is out to the jail to talk with him. He’s less anxious and frightened than the last time I saw him, but more withdrawn and depressed. These are common reactions, and they must have something to do with the self-protective nature of the human mind.
I begin by telling him that I have decided to stay on his case, though he had always assumed that I would. I lay out my considerable fees for him, and he nods without any real reaction at all. Money is not an issue for him right now, though until a month ago he was a relatively low-paid player. The Giants are sticking with him and paying him according to his huge new contract. As far as my fees go, if I get him acquitted, it will be the best money he ever spent. If he’s convicted, all the money in the world won’t help him.
With the money issue out of the way, I start my questioning. “So tell me about the drugs,” I say.
“There weren’t any. I don’t do drugs.”
“They were found in your blood. The same drug was found in Troy Preston.”
“They’re lying. They’re trying to put me away.”
“Who’s they?” I ask.
“The police.”
“Why would the police want to put you away?”
“I don’t know. But I didn’t take no drugs.”
His insistence on this point is surprising. Drug use in itself does not come close to a proof of murder. He could be protecting his public image, but his current incarceration on first-degree murder charges has blown that out of the water much more effectively anyway. It is extraordinarily unlikely that the police have conspired to frame him by faking the blood tests, though I will look into any possible motivations for their doing that.
The other possibility of course is that both the police and Kenny are being honest and that the drug was slipped to him. I need to consult an expert to find out if that is possible.
“Could someone have slipped you the drug without you knowing it?”
He grabs on to this like a life preserver. “Yeah, that must be it! Somebody put it in my drink or food or something. Maybe Troy did… he was there.”
Once again the persistent “why” question rears its ugly head. “Why would he do that?”
He shakes his head, having discovered that this particular life preserver can’t support his weight. “I don’t know. But there’s gotta be a reason.”
I have Kenny rehash his relationship with Troy Preston, starting with their meeting at the high school all-star weekend. It turns out that they also spent a couple of days together at the NFL combine before they were drafted. The combine is a place where rookies come to demonstrate their physical skills to assembled NFL executives.
Kenny claims to have racked his brain trying to think of something relevant to Preston’s murder, but he just can’t come up with anything. “There’s… there’s just nothing.”
I detect a hesitation, mainly because there was a hesitation. “What were you going to say?” I ask.
“Nothing. I’ve told you everything I know.”
I’ve gotten pretty good at reading my clients, and for the first time I think Kenny’s holding something back. Holding something back from one’s defense attorney is akin to putting a gun to one’s head and pulling the trigger, but my pressing Kenny for more information gets me nowhere.
Before I leave, I broach the subject of Adam Strickland becoming an employee of my office so that he can observe what’s going on and perhaps someday write about it.
“But he can’t write anything we don’t want him to?” Kenny asks.
“He can’t reveal any privileged information without our permission.”
“What if he did?”
“You could sue him, and nothing he says could ever be used in court against you.”
Kenny shrugs, having lost interest. He has no desire to focus on any subject that can’t get him out of his cell. “Whatever you want, man. I don’t care either way.”
I tell him I’ll decide one way or the other and then let him know. I head back to the office, where Laurie is waiting for me.