“I figured as much.”
“But this time there’s an element of good news and bad news,” Stanley said. “Which do you want first?”
“Let’s just shoot the works. Give me both.”
Stanley smiled softly and gently pursed her lips. “Okay.” She paused another beat, as if trying to decide where to start. It made Battles wonder if the news wasn’t actually bad news and really bad news.
“First, I’ve been advised that after considerable debate, the ethics investigation is not going to recommend proceeding to a court-martial.”
Battles breathed a sigh of relief, but it was brief. She knew what “considerable debate” meant. “So they don’t believe they have sufficient evidence to convict me.”
“They can’t definitively say what happened to the videotape,” Stanley confirmed, “and they can’t draw a conclusion without something more substantial to base it on. The tape could have simply been misplaced, discarded inadvertently, or taken by someone for nefarious purposes. Under the circumstances, there’s insufficient evidence to bring a charge as serious as dereliction of duty.”
“So their decision has nothing to do with guilt or innocence.”
Stanley shook her head. “The decision will specifically state there was insufficient evidence to proceed to a resolution.”
Battles sat back. “Insufficient evidence,” she said, mulling over the words. She briefly contemplated telling Stanley she wanted a hearing, growing confident she could defeat the charge, but she recognized that a decision made in haste, when she was emotionally upset, would not be wise.
“I know it’s not exactly what you were hoping for,” Stanley said.
“No, it’s not,” Battles said.
“But with Trejo’s death, there’s just no way for anyone to be certain about what happened to the tape. And the surveillance tape for this building is inconclusive.”
“I could have hidden the tape in my backpack,” Battles said.
“Everything is circumstantial,” Stanley said.
Battles looked at an abstract painting of the Seattle train depot, a view from outside her apartment window. It was one of her best paintings, but she doubted she’d ever appreciate it. She’d painted it during her recent hiatus. “So is that the good news or the bad news?”
“I guess that depends on how you consider it.”
“I’m hoping it’s the bad news.”
Stanley sat back. “You’re being transferred,” she said. “That’s not necessarily bad news, except for me. I need you here, Lee. You’re my best defense attorney.”
The news came as a surprise, even in a profession where transfers were frequent. Battles was not just a good attorney, she’d twice been named the Defense Counsel of the Year. This was clearly not a decision that had anything to do with performance or merit, which meant they were getting rid of her, sending her away, basically implying to everyone that she was guilty but they couldn’t prove it.
“Command doesn’t believe you can fulfill your duties as a JAG officer here, in light of what has transpired. They think it best that you be transferred to another base.”
“Where am I going?”
“DSO North.”
“Washington, DC?” They couldn’t have picked a spot farther from Seattle if they’d tried, or closer to the ethics panel. They were, in essence, pulling her back, close to home, where they could keep an eye on her by no doubt sticking her at some meaningless desk job.
“Yes.”
“Will I still be trying cases?”
“Not initially.”
“Will I at least be in a DSO office?”
“No. Not initially, but I understand you will be reevaluated, in time.”
“So . . . No,” she said, seeing the handwriting on the wall. She’d be deskbound until her commission expired. Then she’d be sent on her way. Maybe it was for the best. She could get out of the Navy and get a real job, earn some real money defending cases for clients with a lot to lose. Maybe she’d hang her own shingle.
“I’m sorry to see you go, Lee. I hope you know that I did what I could to keep you here. But Washington, DC, is a terrific city.”
“When do I ship out?”
“Your last day here is the end of the month. You’ll have two weeks to report to DSO North.”
Battles nodded, taking it all in. It wasn’t like she had a choice. She’d pretty much forfeited freedom of choice about where she lived and worked when she’d been commissioned.
“Take some time to clear your head. Travel a bit before you get settled.”
She’d have to find a new place to live and a new Krav Maga studio. She suspected she would need the energy release after a week of meaningless filing. “Maybe.”
“You were never going to make the Navy a career,” Stanley said. Before Battles could protest, Stanley continued, “You’re too good an attorney, and for the good attorneys, this job is always a means to an end. You’ve gained a lot of experience, trial experience civil attorneys your age rarely get. Any number of the top law firms in any city would love to hire you.”
“I guess,” Battles said, thinking perhaps that it had all been worth it, despite the consequences. “What about Trejo?”
“What about him?”
“What have they determined? I saw the police detective here yesterday.”
“I don’t know. She did tell me that she doubts Trejo killed himself.”
“She thinks someone killed him? Did she say why?”
“No. She asked for a copy of the security tape for the building. I told her I’d already viewed it and didn’t see anything concerning.”
“But she asked for the tape anyway?”
“She had a warrant.”
Battles sat back, wondering what Tracy Crosswhite was doing, and why.
Stanley stood. “Come on. Let me buy you a drink. We can go to The Bulkhead.”
Battles was still deep in thought. If Crosswhite wanted the videotape, it meant SPD was continuing to pursue the matter. Why? Trejo was dead, which was seemingly their only involvement. The security tape was a Navy matter. She thought again of her conversation with Crosswhite at the Bremerton Police Department, about how Trejo could have brought something on and off a ship without anyone knowing. Then she thought again of the tape.
“Lee?”
“What’s that?”
“Let me buy you a drink.”
Battles had gone out with Stanley before, but usually at lunch to discuss her cases. They’d never gone out after work. “I appreciate the offer,” she said.
“This will be what you make of it, Lee. DC could be a great move for you. It’s a military town and there are a lot of opportunities, especially for someone young and talented.”
“Thanks,” Battles said, though she noted that Stanley had stopped short of offering a letter of recommendation.
Stanley noticed Battles’s bike. “We can put your bike in the back of my car and I’ll drop you off at the ferry after we’re done. Have you looked outside lately?”
“No,” Battles said.
“The weather is brutal. It’s raining hard and the wind is gusting. You don’t want to be riding a bike in this weather, not on that road. It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”