Crime & Punishment

This is my first submission. I would like to thank xtchr for the very patient editing and the remarkable job he did catching my bad capitalization and punctuation. Unfortunately I added to this after he finished so a few mistakes may have sneaked in. He also gave me much needed encouragement. That said this is fiction. Yes I borrowed some from reality, but none of these characters are real people. I hope you enjoy this and feel free to comment good or bad, but I warn you I am one of those people who thrive on criticism

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Part 1 Patrick

The jury came back, half of them looking at the defendant and the other half looking away. It had been a tough case. I should know. I'm Patrick Sullivan, assistant district attorney for Van Patten County. I had prosecuted Leroy Johnson for assault. He was a hard-working man, a good father, and until recently a loving husband, none of which helped my case. But for some bad luck, Leroy and I might never have met. I sometimes wonder how my life would have gone if that had happened.

Leroy worked for Best, Marks and O'Reily, a good size contracting firm. He was a union carpenter, known for the quality of his work, and the 110% effort he gave. He worked sixty hours a week to support his family: a wife and two kids. He was a dark-skinned black man on the small side, about 5'6", but strong from the work he did.

On the Friday before Labor Day, the union decided it was time to strike over the painting subcontractor's non-union status. It was just one of those things. The general contractor had no choice but to go with a non-union firm, and the union couldn't let it pass. So by mutual agreement they quit early on that Friday. Everyone knew it in advance. They just failed to inform Mrs. Johnson.

Arriving home some four hours early, Leroy discovered his wife in bed with another man. Leroy might still have avoided a messy trial had the interloper just done the decent thing and left quietly when Leroy told him to get out. The six-foot four-inch 260-pound white man decided to contest his right to be in Leroy's home fucking his wife. Unfortunately for him, two times a week in the gym was no-match for six days a week of hard physical labor and an incensed husband. The first powerful blow from Leroy's right arm put the bigger man down. Leroy having lost all control at this point began kicking the shit out of his opponent. Concerned that her husband would maim or kill her lover and end up in jail, Mrs. Johnson tried to intervene. As she tried to pull her husband away, Leroy gave her a hard shove sending her careening against the thick headboard of their dishonored marital bed. She hit hard and received a mild concussion.

The case against Leroy was all about the injury to his wife. The assault on the larger man was a hopeless cause, no jury was going to convict Leroy of defending himself in his own home against the assault by the much bigger man. However, the laws on domestic violence are such that Leroy could not completely escape the consequences of the injury to his unfaithful wife. Nevertheless, few juries were likely to convict in the circumstances.

That is where I came in. My boss Stan Kondos wanted to run for the Supreme Court (oddly the lower Court in New York where the Court of Appeals is the highest Court). He needed to appear tough on crime and to be a firm prosecutor of domestic violence. His problem was simply that he was as useless in a court room as any attorney could be. I owed my position in his office to the fact that Stan needed all the trial help he could get. Stan had assigned the Leroy Johnson case to me with the simple admonition that I get some conviction and he didn't care to what.

For the Leroy Johnson trial I pulled out my A game and played my cards perfectly. It would have been easy to make Leroy the bad guy but that was not going to fly. All three of his bosses came in to say what a good man he was. When Leroy testified, he told what happened just the way it went down without trying to make himself look better than he was. I had to work around the obvious fact that his actions were the result of extreme provocation. It was a tough trial. When the Foreman of the jury rose to read the verdict, it was anybody's guess.

"On the first count of the indictment, Assault in the First Degree... how do you find?"

"Not Guilty"

"On the second count of the indictment, Assault in the Second Degree... how do you find?"

"Not Guilty"

"On the third count of the indictment, Assault in the Third Degree... how do you find?"

"Guilty"

Assault in the third degree is a misdemeanor with a maximum penalty of one year. I could not see Judge Anthony Drego giving anything other than probation in these circumstances especially since Leroy had a family to support, but sentencing would come on another day. Right then Stan Kondos, the DA of Van Patten County had his conviction which was all I needed. I was happy the verdict had not come in with the more severe counts, I would have felt guilty if it had.

It was after seven when I left the Courthouse. I was due to attend the Christmas party being held by my wife's firm. It had officially started at 6 p.m. If I hurried, I could get to the west side of Albany where the party was being held in just under half an hour. I would be late but hopefully not so late that Laura would be upset. Laura and I have been married for almost five years. She is almost six years older then I and much more successful. As a financial lawyer, specializing in bonds, at the second largest law firm in New York, she makes more than three times what I do.

Laura is at the top of the legal totem pole. A Yale honors graduate she has been working for Brentwood & Stringer for seven years. It is how we met. I was in my second year at Brooklyn Law School when I interviewed for a summer job at her firm. She had come to the school to conduct interviews on behalf of Brentwood & Stringer. I was her last interview of the day. The placement office had specialized interview rooms. They were small eight by ten rooms with an under sized table with six to eight utilitarian chairs. As I entered the interview room, I was confronted by an exceedingly attractive young woman dressed in a dark pinstriped business suit. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders and framed the white collar of her blouse which showed off her pretty neck. She had dark eyes and a smile that would melt an iceberg. She rose and extended her hand.

"Mr. Sullivan I am Laura Parker, thank you for coming." To this day I do not know what I said in response. I can only remember taking a deep breath and being somehow unable to let it out. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but I will not dispute that I was enraptured by my first sight of Laura.

The interview was a lost cause even before I was smitten by this beauty at first glance. She asked all the standard questions. I had all the pat answers ready, even if I was mumbling my responses. This was supposed to be just practice. I was interviewing for a summer intern job at a Wall Street firm. The kind of firm that hired strictly from the Ivy League not places like Brooklyn Law. The interviews from the firm were a matter of courtesy. It was a kind of practice for both sides so that the interviewers and interviewees could both gain experience. The school got to say the big firms came and the big firms could say they looked at the local schools. It was a game that both sides played. Laura was getting experience asking the questions and I was honing my skills at answering. Unfortunately, just being in her presence put my heart firmly in my throat.

At some point Laura began asking about Edward Kincade, the former secretary of Housing and Urban Development, the son of the late Nebraska Senator Arnold Kincade, and Debra Cassidy, whose father was the ambassador to England and as rich as they come.

"I see you are in Edward Kincade's class?" she asked.

"No, he is my mock trial coach. I don't take any classes with him."

Steven Fitzgerald (my oldest and best friend) and I were two thirds of an unbeatable mock trial team. The third member was whoever Ed Kincade decided to put on the team that week. Kincade loved to win and we were his winning duo. You could not say that Steve or I were great students, but we were fast on our feet in a court room and were the best. Kincade loved trials. He could critique every trial ever held and see the flaw in every prosecution and defense. He was a great observer and a great coach. But I always saw him as someone who could teach without being able to do it himself. I recalled when my father taught me to swim. I wasn't even four when Dad led me into the water and taught me to hold myself under all the way. Then he took me to the side of the pool and had me practice kicking my feet. When I mastered this, he moved to the arm strokes. Then he had me put it all together. By the time I was five I could laterally swim for miles. My father was the best teacher of beginning swimming to the uninitiated there was. He could teach anyone - but himself. A childhood incident that he never shared had left him with a phobia. He knew mentally how to swim, but he was unable to lift his feet off the bottom for more than a few seconds. Edward Kincade knew every trial trick that was ever used and taught me some that had not been used, but he never tried a case himself.

"They say he is going to run for Governor?" she asked.

"Don't know about that just know we face Harvard next week and Kincade says we are going to crush them," I replied. She went on about Kincade, talking and questioning me for a good hour. I didn't mind I was infatuated.

Somehow I'm not quite sure how it happened, we ended up going for drinks after the interview. It was the last interview of the day and lasted more than twice as long as I had expected. She just seemed to want to keep talking. I do not remember inviting her out but somehow I guess I did.

Anyway that is how we met. We were married while I was still in law school. She simply refused to wait until I graduated, pointing out that she was working, earning good money and that we gained nothing by waiting. By then we were already sleeping together, and I was feeling obligated. I got a strong sense that she saw my wanting to wait as evidence that I was just using her which was not the case. I was deeply in love, but kind of afraid of the eternal commitment I perceived marriage to be. I was after all raised Catholic.

After I graduated, I followed her to Albany when she took the municipal bond position. Laura felt it offered the best opportunity for a partnership. The firm had seven offices. The Manhattan and Washington Offices were staffed by the cream of the Ivy League like Laura. But the smaller offices had less upscale competition. Laura had worked her way into municipal finance where the margins were small, but the numbers very large. A third of a multimillion dollar personal injury law suit sounds like a lot, but the expenses are huge and you handle a lot of losers for one winner. Bonds always pay off and while half a percent looks small you must realize that a billion dollars in bonds are involved. Millions can be made on each deal and the expenses are paper, ink and overpriced restaurant meals. There are other hidden, under the table costs, but those are never spoken of at least not in public.

Moving to Albany created a problem for me. There just were not that many jobs for a lawyer whose only skills involved trial techniques. The general public misunderstands about lawyers. They see the big name trial lawyers and don't realize that they are rarer then move stars. Only a very few make it and they need more luck then skill. Most lawyers make their living avoiding Courtrooms. I finally found a part-time assistant ADA job at Van Patten County. They needed a warm body to cover Night Court three nights a week.

Laura always worked long hours which meant my nights working were only a minor inconvenience. When Van Patten's chief trial attorney died suddenly, I was offered a full time job because by then it was clear that in a court room there were not many who could best me. It seemed for a while that things worked pretty well for Laura and I, but in the last year she has been making a special effort to achieve a partnership in her firm. I know that she feels that this year is do-or-die on the partnership. Her added incentive is that she wants to start a family. If she gets pregnant before she becomes a partner she may not get it so she has been holding off until she is made a partner. At 32 her biological clock is starting to chime and not in a good way.

My part is to play the dutiful husband and attend every social and professional function and support her effort by relieving her of any domestic obligations when the baby arrives. I have tried to keep up my end on the social obligations as the dutiful spouse of a prospective partner, but sometimes the ADA's job interferes. I don't always work the hours she does, but when there is a trial on I need to put everything else aside. Laura has tried to understand. We see very little of each other since I now have long hours during the day and still catch Night Court once or twice a week, and she is determined to get her partnership.

It is always, "Just a little longer baby and we will have it all."

I hurry to the restaurant where the party is being held. It is a big old place off Wolf Road called the Briar Patch, first opened about thirty years ago. They started the place by putting some used train cars together. Over the years they have just built and rebuilt the place into a kind of maze. There is a big central room with a long bar to one side and a series of rooms that lead off this like spokes from a wheel. I arrived just before eight. Entering I found the party in full swing. There appeared to be about a hundred of the firm staff, family, and friends all celebrating. Laura was nowhere to be found. I searched the crowd in the main room and then began to search the extensions. I was just about to give up and call her cell phone when I walked down a narrow lane of booths at the end of one of the rooms. It appeared empty but I could see it reconnected to the main room at the opposite end. I was about to walk through when I heard her voice.

"Stop that someone will see." It was Laura and her plea was followed by a giggly laugh.

I froze unable to move. My wife did not sound in distress, quite the contrary.

"Come on Laura there is no one back here. You know you want me as much as I want you." It was a man's voice, a deep baritone.

"Please I am married Frank, my husband could come at any minute what would he say if he saw your hand up my dress?"

"He's not here and wouldn't do anything if he was."

I began to move forward then, but her next words stopped me.

"I know that he isn't the successful and distinguished man you are, but I don't want to hurt him."

They were in the booth right in front of me, but I stopped. What did this mean? Did she want this man more than me? I slid into the booth one shy of theirs and pressed myself into the back.

"You want to be a partner that means making decisions that sometimes hurt others, but it comes with the territory. Besides he has all the benefits of being married to a successful woman. You're entitled to the benefits of being successful," he said.

"I know but I'm not sure that Pat will accept the kind of arrangement you are suggesting," she said.

"So what can he do about it, he won't leave his meal ticket," he said

Laura laughed, "You don't know Pat. He will never let money stand in his way, he just doesn't think in dollars and cents."

"Look you have me on the string, if not tonight then when and where?"

There was a long pause then she said almost too quietly for me to hear.

"Wednesday, your place I guess. I'll tell him I have to work late, but I will still have to be home by eleven. Ok?"

Then I hear what could only be a long lingering kiss.

"Now let's go," she said.

"Wednesday," he said in a demanding tone. Then they got up and headed back to the main room.

I sat there transfixed not knowing what I should do. Had I heard my wife being intimate with another man? Did she actually make a date with him? Laura and I never had an actually equal relationship. I suspect in every marriage there is what could be called a dominant member. I don't mean that in some kinky sexual sense. Laura was a few years older, six in fact. She had a better paying job. It paid more than three times what I made and had substantial room for advancement. The best I could hope for was a chief deputy job that might pay me three quarters of what she was already earning. Nothing was ever said out loud, but she was the head of our household. She picked the house and drove the new BMW. It was only in the bedroom that we were a couple. The sex was, I believed, good for both of us. I could not imagine it being better, but then she was the only one I had ever been with and I knew the reverse was not true. I had never asked how many had come before and she had never offered. I had always assumed that we were now faithful to each other. Now I knew that assumption was either just wrong or about to be tested on Laura's part.

I got out of the booth and walked back through the restaurant the way I came. When I reached the main room, I had no trouble finding Laura she was standing next to a tall good looking man. I would say he was about six three a good two inches taller than I. He was older. I would say forty plus or so giving him at least fifteen years on me. He was just a bit out of shape; some spread in the middle, but not fat. Anyway the expensive tailored suit hid most of that and there was no denying he was the kind of man that women are drawn to.

Laura introduced me to Frank Patterson, the new head of the municipal finance group at the firm, the section where Laura did most of her work. She was just beaming as she stood with her boss. Frank gave me a smug smile that left me in little doubt of what he thought of me. We made small talk about the trial I had just completed and the victory I had. Laura was singing my praises as a trial lawyer. Frank, I could see was unimpressed. I wanted to knock the smug smile off his face. I knew I could take this guy, put him down good. He was soft. I thought of Leroy Johnson. What was the difference between us? That of course was easy, he was an honest carpenter. I was a heartless ADA and I would find a better way to deal with my problem.

Laura soon separated us and began leading me around in what is the necessary glad handing of her peers and betters at the firm. These parties are more about office politics then a pleasant time. Laura was pushing for her junior partnership and that was essentially why I was here. It did occur to me that part of Frank's appeal was his position in the firm, and what he could do for one aspiring to junior partner. Eventually we worked our way around to Saul Solomon and his wife, Martha. I was by then not the least bit interested or in anything like a social mood. Laura didn't notice. Martha Solomon did, asking me if anything was wrong. I assured her that nothing was and put my best smile on my face. I did not need her saying anything to her husband. The firm was generally just referred to as Brentwood and Stringer, but there were actually seven names in the title one of which was Saul Solomon's. Saul whose friends called him Sal was a lawyer but I doubt he had practiced in years. He was probably the premier lobbyist in the State Capital. He is a rather short, friendly man whose obviously Jewish name and descent are belied by his dark complexion and his Hispanic features. Martha is taller than her husband, a big woman in all respects. She is as outgoing as her husband and just as genuinely friendly. I had liked them both from the first time we met.