Bury the Lead

14



I AGREE TO DO THREE interviews from the list of thirty or so requests that Edna has received. During the course of the day, each of the shows promotes my appearance as an “exclusive” interview. I assume this means that at one particular moment, I will be talking only to their interviewer. It certainly can’t mean that I am going to say something unique to any one of them; what I say to one I will say to all. It would be nice if I could figure out what that will be.

I arrive at the studio in Fort Lee from which the interviews will be conducted over satellite or tape or whatever it is they use. The three cable news networks, Fox, MSNBC, and CNN, have pooled their resources, and all the interviews will be done in succession from this one place.

My interviews would be better suited to the E! Network, providing “E” stands for “evasive.” Or maybe the Sleep Channel, if there is one. What I should have done was brought Tara and gone on Animal Planet.

The interviewers are moderately competent at their craft, though there is certainly not a Ted Koppel among them. They all ask the same questions, trying to gain insight as to the evidence against Daniel and the strategy we will use to combat it.

I’ve always been a political junkie, and the time I’ve spent watching politicians being interviewed has not been wasted. The trick is to decide what you want to say and then say it, without any real regard to the question asked.

Some typical examples:

Question 1: How is your client going to plead?

Answer: He is going to plead not guilty because he is not guilty. He’s looking forward to a full vindication in a court of law.

Question 2: What is the evidence the prosecution has against your client?

Answer: That’s not completely clear right now. But what is clear is that we will mount a vigorous defense. My client is looking forward to a full vindication in a court of law.

Question 3: What did you have for breakfast this morning?

“I’m glad you asked that, because I had eggs, pancakes, and bacon. My client wants me to be well nourished and strong for the fight ahead, since he is looking forward to a full vindication in a court of law.”

On the last show, I am part of a panel of “experts,” all of whom are defense attorneys and/or former prosecutors. They wax semi-eloquent about the case and have two things in common. None of them has the slightest knowledge of the facts, and all of them think Daniel will be convicted.

The host takes calls from viewers, and their comments and questions are considerably more troubling. On my previous high-profile cases, while the public naturally assumed the accused was guilty, they weren’t worked up about it. In this case, passions have been stirred, and their hatred of Daniel and by extension his lawyer, me, is palpable.

I leave the studio and go home, where Laurie is waiting for me. She’s gone to the trouble of making me a late dinner, which is why I neglect to mention the thirty-five thousand potato chips I had between interviews.

We stare at each other during dinner. I’m staring at her because she possesses a casual beauty that quite literally and quite frequently takes my breath away. Since she doesn’t do much gasping when I enter a room, my guess is that she’s staring at me for a different reason.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Andy.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you take on a case, you jump in with both feet. Like you can’t wait to attack it. And the tougher the case, the more anxious you are. But not this time. This time you’re a different kind of anxious.”

I nod. “I feel like Scott Norwood is lining up to kick a field goal.”

“That’s a little too cryptic for me,” she says.

“I’m a big Giants fan, you know that, and when they were in the Super Bowl against the Bills, I was pumped. I mean, I really wanted them to win. But I also took the over, because I thought it was a very good bet.”

By now Laurie must realize this is not going to be the most intellectual of discussions, but she plows on. “What is the over?” she asks.

“You can bet on whether the two teams combined will score over or under a certain number of points. I thought the Giants would win a high-scoring game, so I took the over.”

“Got it,” she lies.

“So it gets to the end of the game, and the Bills kicker, Scott Norwood, lines up to try a field goal. If he misses, the Giants win, but the game would stay under the number. If he makes it, the Giants lose, but it would be over the number. So if the Giants win, I lose the bet. If the Giants lose, I win the bet.”

“Andy, I think it might be time to get to the point.”

“Okay. I hated that moment. I hated being torn, rooting both ways. When I win, I want to win, no reservations. I don’t feel that way about Daniel yet. As his lawyer, I have to fight for his freedom, but I don’t know if he should be out on the street.”

“So maybe you should drop the case.”

“Maybe I should. But then maybe I shouldn’t be a defense attorney. Because that’s what defense attorneys do: We represent people that might be guilty. And only by giving them the best defense possible do we get to find out if they really are.” I’m lecturing her with condescending bullshit, and I force myself to stop.

“He’s got money. He’ll get a good lawyer. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“That’s true,” I say unconvincingly.

“But his father’s your friend.”

She is right, of course. It’s all about Vince. She can see right through me. “You make me feel naked,” I say.

She looks at her watch. “I was hoping by now you would be.” She comes over and kisses me, takes me by the hand, and starts leading me to the bedroom.

“Now, this I have no reservations about,” I say.

“What?” she asks.

“I never think about Scott Norwood when we’re making love.”

“I do,” she says.