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“Plus you’re married to a dreamboat of a guy.”
“Oh right,” Terese said. “That too.”
The white-bearded news anchor with the wire-framed spectacles announced that they had breaking news. Myron sat up and leaned forward. The woman at the podium was none other than the founder of Fisher, Friedman and Diaz, Sadie Fisher. On Sadie’s right, no more than a foot behind her, was the recently abducted Bo Storm. Myron couldn’t help but feel relief. The kid looked healthy enough.
Sadie, ever in her element, looked out into the audience as though she might devour it. Bo looked the direct opposite of all that.
On the bottom of the screen, the banner conveyer-belted the words BREAKING NEWS: LIVE FROM LAS VEGAS across the lower part of the screen.
“Thank you all for coming,” Sadie Fisher began.
She wore the fashionable eyewear and bright lipstick. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, giving her even more of the fetish librarian vibe. Her white blouse was extra white against the form-fitting black suit. Her chin was high.
“Our judicial system is founded on certain bedrock principles, none greater than the presumption of innocence. In our country, you are innocent until proven guilty. This idea is sacrosanct in our society. No man or woman should ever, ever, be denied their freedom, unless and until the government proves their case beyond a reasonable doubt. No exceptions.”
Terese leaned close to Myron. “I feel like ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ should be playing in the background.”
“And of course,” Sadie-on-the-screen continued, “few things shock the senses of all decent people more than an innocent man or woman serving hard time for a crime that they didn’t commit. If an overzealous or, worse, an overly ambitious prosecutor convicts someone wrongly by accident—takes away their freedom—that, to me, is still a crime. It may not be murder, but it is still very much manslaughter. But if we find out that prosecutors not only wrongly convicted a human being but let them languish in prison after—after—they learned the conviction was a mistake, it is unconscionable. Correct the mistake—don’t cover it up. Own up to it. Do not let your victims spend even one more day behind bars.”
Sadie put her hands on both sides of the podium and gripped the wood.
“We are here to talk about an outrage and a danger to the entire public.”
Terese whispered, “She has a gift for hyperbole.”
“She’s a lawyer,” Myron replied.
On the screen, Sadie nodded toward Bo. He slid forward a bit, his eyes darting everywhere but straight ahead.
“This young man was forced by an overzealous prosecutor to testify falsely in a murder trial. The Clark County District Attorney’s Office threatened him with criminal prosecution, even though they knew that they were demanding he lie. But the corruption goes deeper than one rogue prosecutor. The Clark County DA, in conjunction with other law enforcement agencies, have colluded to keep innocent people incarcerated. They know, for example, that not only did they force my client to testify falsely but that Joseph Turant, who has been imprisoned for four years for the murder of Jordan Kravat, is innocent. If they didn’t know it at the time of his trial, they know it for certain now.”
She paused, fixed her glasses, turned her eyes back toward the camera.
“There are at least six other murder cases nationwide where innocent people are currently languishing in prison—and the FBI knows it. The latest involves the murder of Cecelia Callister and her son Clay Staples—a case where the innocent man currently being railroaded is my client Greg Downing. And I stress this—the FBI knows he didn’t do it.”
There was a sudden burst from the reporters at the press conference. This was how it always happened. Most people are followers, staying in check until one of them breaks the fence. Then they all flow in…
“Where’s your evidence?”
“Why would the FBI do this?”
“Are you saying the FBI is intentionally imprisoning innocent people? Why?”
Sadie Fisher held up her hand and waited until everyone was quiet. When order was somewhat restored, she continued. “It is my belief that most of these prosecutors originally tried these cases in good faith. They believed that they had the right perpetrators, and that the convictions would be righteous. Not here in Clark County, however. Here, they were so blinded by the idea of convicting a man who they believed had significant ties to organized crime, that they ran afoul of all rules and ethics. They used Bo Storm to gild the lily, to make sure a strong case was a slam dunk.”
Sadie Fisher raised her hand again, preempting the next explosion of questions.
“But now, as I stand here today, the FBI knows that those incarcerated for these murders are innocent. They are doing nothing about it. They are dragging their heels—”
“Why?” a reporter shouted. “Tell us why.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the press corps. Sadie looked out at the sea of reporters. She had strung them along long enough.
“They are dragging their heels,” she repeated, “for two reasons. One”—she raised her index finger—“overturning and admitting error in those murder convictions will cause tremendous embarrassment and damage careers. Yes, I find this disgusting and so do you, but we all know it’s often the reason for prosecutorial cover-up, but—”
“Any evidence?”
“But two,” she continued, making a peace sign with her fingers now, “the bigger reason for their silence is…”
