Chapter Thirty
The political scene continued to be rocked by the trickling scandals of power in the following week. Infidelities, money for favor schemes, back-channel funding of causes, election rigging, voter intimidation campaigns… It seemed no one was safe, and no politician with questionable dealings had anywhere to hide. The Senator kicked off an emergency review, to be led by Alex Cochran from inside, and independently by a trusted adviser and friend from the outside.
The initial outburst of attention about Alyson Crawford’s death started to wane off as it was revealed the police have a primary suspect and district attorney had all the evidence needed to get a conviction. In the public eye, the secrets yet to be revealed weren’t nearly as salacious as seeing dignified politicians fall from grace. The diverted attention was certainly something Detective Sloan appreciated since as the days passed on, he had grave doubts about the infallibility of the case he had built. As soon as he held his news conference announcing to the world about the breakthrough in the case, the overzealous district attorney had picked up the case with much fanfare and run with it.
Sloan watched with horror as further evidence accumulated. Besides the fact that there was no evidence indicating Bernie Lindberg was nowhere close to the crime site, with an assailable alibi of being on another continent, a stash of evidence had been unearthed on the second scan through the house in Newton. Hidden behind a bookshelf were stashes of letters and photographs dating back many years showing an intimate exchange between the deceased and the man.
Professions of adoration and love on the part of a young and impressionable girl looking up to the fame artist with irresistible charm. The picture painted was one of illicit contact to be sure, but one that appears to be consensual and pursued by the deceased. All this was before Sloan had the opportunity to talk to Bernie Lindberg, who in spite of legal advice to stay out of the country, decided to face the charges and clear his name.
Instead of sitting around and waiting for the whole case to crumble with irreparable harm to his reputation, Sloan started pursuing his secondary hypothesis. Could it be possible the pregnancy and associated DNA evidence had nothing to do with the murder? Who were the other individuals present in the house?
The straightforward next step was to bring in Keith Lloyd along with Andre Palermo and get them tested. On the strength of Keith’s testimony, Caroline McKenzie was to be questioned next. The trouble was the media was abuzz about her wedding ceremony, to be held in St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, in New York City.
To avoid any further embarrassment, Sloan broadened his inquiry and looked to interview all known friends of the deceased. The request he made to Senator McKenzie’s office reflected this intent, gathering background narrative for the case on hand in preparation for the trial.
“I want to caution you from running too fast with this thing, Jerry,” Sloan said to the District Attorney, who had just been elected to the office and was looking to prove himself with a big case.
“I don’t get it. This is a slam-dunk case. We have everything we need. Seeing the judge to discuss pre-trial motions. I am going to request a speedy trial.”
“I worry the man may be telling the truth. He was likely not in the country when the crime happened.”
“Are we going to take his word over DNA evidence?”
“The thing is what if it is mixed with newer evidence? All the evidence might tell us is the girl had a relationship with the man. That is pretty much it. Check this out!” Sloan handed Jerry a box filled with letters, postcards, and Polaroid and regular pictures.
“What is this?”
“Love confessions. The girl was seriously in love with the man. You can read this and thing she didn’t know what she was doing. Nothing in here to show that it happened before she turned eighteen. I hate it as much as the next guy, but it is not proof the man killed her.”
“This is fucked up, Sloan. Why are we discovering this after we paraded the case to the media?”
“It was a working hypothesis. Everything seemed to click. Until we found the guy supposedly left the country days before the girl’s passing.”
“I still don’t buy this. What if the travel is faked? Did he know she was pregnant? How do you think a man of his stature and scandalous ways would react to that kind of news? I need to talk to him under oath. Can’t go back now.”
“Just in case, I am going to question her friends and anyone else that might have been involved that night.”
Over the next two days, Keith Lloyd and Andre Palermo were brought in and questioned. Keith repeated everything the father had told Sloan. There was an uncanny precision in how well the testimonies matched. Andre Palermo said little while his lawyer, Roberto, aggressively pushed back against any suggestion of involvement on the night in question. The judge on the case allowed gathering of DNA from the two individuals on the premise of probable cause. The results came back as perfect matches to the two of the three unknowns.
“Time for your man to sing, Roberto. You have hindered this investigation long enough,” Sloan announced on his first call after the results came back. Roberto arrived at his office in less than thirty minutes.
“My client has nothing more to prove. He had explicitly indicated he met the girl earlier in the evening and had consensual contact. From there on, he spent his night with another person. That has been and continues to be the story.”
“Who is the person? When are you going to reveal the identity of the individual? Or, is it one of your fictitious characters?”
“No, you don’t want to go there, Sloan. From the very first day since my client was harassed and dragged through your incompetence, I have worked with you. When the time is right, he will say who it is. Trust me, I am doing you a favor. You had better look elsewhere.” With that, Roberto barged back out of the office.
Staring at his investigative board, it hit Sloan that his entire case was built on the premise that what Keith Lloyd had said was accurate. The kid seemed to know too much. What if he isn’t telling the truth? From the call to the police implicating Andre Palermo to definitively linking the house in Newton to the crime, everything hinged on what was said being true. He didn’t have much time to dwell on his doubts as he was alerted by his assistant there was a news conference in progress.
Sure enough, featured prominently in dark suits alongside the infamous celebrity lawyer who had a knack for publicity control, Bernie Lindberg stood looking sternly at the camera.
“My client has nothing to fear. He has nothing to hide from. When the facts of the case are properly aired, it will be proven conclusively that my client is innocent beyond a shadow of a doubt. The reason this news conference is held is to bring to attention the misinformation campaign that has been run by the District Attorney to drag the name and reputation of my client through the mud. This is beyond unfair. It is unjust and should never be tolerated. As my client grieves his loss, we ask for a speedy consideration of this case and look forward to clearing my client’s name as urgently as possible.”
This was what Sloan had feared. It might have been easier if Bernie Lindberg was fleeing from the country. What if he truly has nothing to fear?
“Albert?” Sloan asked. He had to call repeatedly to reach the Lloyd family.
“Yes, how can I help you?”
