A Criminal Defense Read Online Free PDF Page A

whether it should be shared with me.”
    Jackson’s gaze moved from Navarro toward a row of file cabinets behind him, and then to Donnally.
    â€œBut we may not even have to go down that road,” Donnally said, “depending on where the investigation leads us.”
    Jackson nodded. Her finger stopped moving, but the agitation seemed to vibrate up her arm and into her blinking eyelids.
    If the eyes are the window to the soul , Donnally thought, hers are a view into a troubled one . And he suspected that over the years it had become a repository of Hamlin’s crimes and secrets, and was now occupied by a chaos of motions and emotions, of anticipated attacks and defenses, of alternating currents of grief and fear. Her fidgeting made him wonder whether she was there in Hamlin’s office twelve years earlier, as Hamlin pretried Simpson’s aunt and taught her the script for the role she would play in the trial.
    â€œDo you know where Mark was last night?” Donnally asked.
    Jackson averted her eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know for certain.”
    Donnally recognized it was a lawyer’s answer, an evasion. He imagined an opposing attorney’s objection to the form of his question and Judge McMullin ruling, “Lack of foundation.”
    He dropped back a step. “Did Mark tell you whether he was going somewhere other than to his home last night?”
    She nodded. “He said he had an appointment to meet a new client.” Jackson half smiled, more of a smirk. “And no, he didn’t say who he was.”
    â€œHe?”
    â€œHe.”
    â€œWhere?”
    Another shrug.
    â€œDid he get any calls that you can connect with the appointment?”
    â€œThey could’ve come in on his cell phone.”
    â€œWhich means no?”
    â€œWhich means no.”
    Donnally looked at Navarro, who dipped his head, acknowledging he’d get a court order from Judge McMullin to obtain Hamlin’s cell phone records for the last few weeks.
    It had been a long time since Donnally had worked with someone who was as good at investigating crimes as Navarro, and realized he’d missed it. There was a fluidity of movement and unspoken cooperation up at his café in Mount Shasta, but hamburgers and omelets didn’t carry the moral weight of life and death and justice.
    â€œWhat’s his cell number?” Navarro asked. Jackson reached into her suit pocket and handed him Hamlin’s business card. The detective accepted it and rose from his chair. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    After the door closed behind him, Donnally asked, “Why the change in attitude from this morning when you called me?”
    â€œDawn shed some light on the subject.”
    â€œWhich means?”
    â€œI want immunity before I answer any more questions.”
    â€œYou didn’t kill him, so you don’t need it.”
    â€œHow can you be sure? How do you know I didn’t call you as a dodge, a kind of misdirection?”
    â€œYou want it because you’re concerned about what may come out about what’s been going on around here for the last twenty-some years. You figure a grant of immunity in the homicide will cover all your other sins, too.”
    Jackson looked away. “Maybe.”
    â€œThen you should ask yourself something else first. Like why Mark wanted me to do this. If he trusted me, then maybe you should, too.”
    Jackson snorted. “At this point Mark’s got nothing to fear. And I don’t think it was a matter of him trusting you, but him not trusting the SFPD and the DA’s office and him not wanting someone to get away with killing him.” She smirked. “I have no doubt you’ve already heard the words ‘poetic justice’ spoken by somebody on their side.”
    Donnally locked his expression on his face, trying not to reveal how accurate she was.
    â€œBut that’s not the kind of