decent guy who’s had some bad luck, is sounding like Hitler. He’s got a petty larceny bust in Ohio, some juvie bullshit down in Florida, GTA in—”
“What’s that?”
“Grand theft auto. So suddenly, the ADA’s making him sound like he’s head of the Gambino family. He—”
“Where was the gun?”
“Let me finish, willya? He said he was with this guy picked him up hitchhiking, a guy who was into some kind of credit card scam. This guy goes to buy some hot plastic and Boggs is waiting in the car. He hears a shot up the street. He gets out of the car. He sees Hopper lying there, dead. He turns and runs smack into a police car.”
“He had the gun?”
“The gun was off a ways, in some bushes. No prints but they traced it to a theft in Miami about a year before the killing. Boggs had spent time in Miami.”
“Who was this other guy?”
“Boggs didn’t know. He was hitchhking along the Taconic and the man picked him up. They drove into the city together.”
“Good,” Rune said. “A witness. Excellent. Did you find him?”
Megler looked at her as if enthusiasm and the flu were pretty much the same thing. “Yeah, right. Even if he’s real, which he isn’t, a guy who’s involved in a credit card boost’s gonna come forward and testify? I don’t think so, honey.”
“Did Randy describe him?”
“Not very well. All he said was his name was Jimmy. Was a big guy. But it was late, it was dark, et cetera, et cetera.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“Believe, not believe—what difference does it make?”
“Any other witnesses?”
“Good question. You want to go to law school?”
If you’re the end product I don’t think you want to hear my answer, Megler. She motioned for him to continue.
The lawyer said, “That was the big problem. What fucked him—excuse me, what did him in was this witness. The cops found someone in the building who described Boggs and then later she IDed him in a lineup. She saw him pull out a gun and ice Hopper.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.”
“What was the name?”
“How would I know?” Megler opened a file cabinet and retrieved a thick stack of paper. He tossed it on the desk. Pepsi cans shook and dust rose. “It’s in there someplace. You can have it, you want.”
“What is it?”
“The trial transcript. I ordered it as a matter of course but Boggs didn’t want to appeal so I just filed it away.”
“He didn’t want to appeal?”
“He kept claiming he was innocent but he said he wanted to get the clock running. Get his sentence over with and get on with his life.”
Rune said, “I saw in the story that the conviction was for manslaughter.”
“The jury convicted on manslaughter one. He showed reckless disregard for human life. Got sentenced to fifteen years. He’s served almost three. He’ll be eligible for parole in two. And he’ll probably get it. I hear he’s a good boy.”
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Is he one of your guilty clients?”
“Of course. The old I-was-just-hitchhiking story. You hear it all the time. There’s always a mysterious driver or girl or hit man or somebody who pulled the trigger and then disappears. Bullshit is what it is. Yeah, Boggs is guilty. I can read them all.”
“But if I found new evidence—”
“I’ve heard this before.”
“No, really. He wrote me a letter. He said the police dropped the ball on the investigation. They found the witnesses they wanted and didn’t look any further.”
Megler snorted cynically. “Look, in New York it’s almost impossible to get a conviction overturned because of new evidence.” He squinted, recalling the law. “It’s got to be the kind of evidence that would’ve changed the outcome of the case in the first place and, even then, you have to be able to show you made diligent efforts to find the evidence at the time of the trial.”
“But if I do find something would you handle the case?”
“Me?” He laughed. “I’m
“What’s that?”
“Grand theft auto. So suddenly, the ADA’s making him sound like he’s head of the Gambino family. He—”
“Where was the gun?”
“Let me finish, willya? He said he was with this guy picked him up hitchhiking, a guy who was into some kind of credit card scam. This guy goes to buy some hot plastic and Boggs is waiting in the car. He hears a shot up the street. He gets out of the car. He sees Hopper lying there, dead. He turns and runs smack into a police car.”
“He had the gun?”
“The gun was off a ways, in some bushes. No prints but they traced it to a theft in Miami about a year before the killing. Boggs had spent time in Miami.”
“Who was this other guy?”
“Boggs didn’t know. He was hitchhking along the Taconic and the man picked him up. They drove into the city together.”
“Good,” Rune said. “A witness. Excellent. Did you find him?”
Megler looked at her as if enthusiasm and the flu were pretty much the same thing. “Yeah, right. Even if he’s real, which he isn’t, a guy who’s involved in a credit card boost’s gonna come forward and testify? I don’t think so, honey.”
“Did Randy describe him?”
“Not very well. All he said was his name was Jimmy. Was a big guy. But it was late, it was dark, et cetera, et cetera.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“Believe, not believe—what difference does it make?”
“Any other witnesses?”
“Good question. You want to go to law school?”
If you’re the end product I don’t think you want to hear my answer, Megler. She motioned for him to continue.
The lawyer said, “That was the big problem. What fucked him—excuse me, what did him in was this witness. The cops found someone in the building who described Boggs and then later she IDed him in a lineup. She saw him pull out a gun and ice Hopper.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.”
“What was the name?”
“How would I know?” Megler opened a file cabinet and retrieved a thick stack of paper. He tossed it on the desk. Pepsi cans shook and dust rose. “It’s in there someplace. You can have it, you want.”
“What is it?”
“The trial transcript. I ordered it as a matter of course but Boggs didn’t want to appeal so I just filed it away.”
“He didn’t want to appeal?”
“He kept claiming he was innocent but he said he wanted to get the clock running. Get his sentence over with and get on with his life.”
Rune said, “I saw in the story that the conviction was for manslaughter.”
“The jury convicted on manslaughter one. He showed reckless disregard for human life. Got sentenced to fifteen years. He’s served almost three. He’ll be eligible for parole in two. And he’ll probably get it. I hear he’s a good boy.”
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Is he one of your guilty clients?”
“Of course. The old I-was-just-hitchhiking story. You hear it all the time. There’s always a mysterious driver or girl or hit man or somebody who pulled the trigger and then disappears. Bullshit is what it is. Yeah, Boggs is guilty. I can read them all.”
“But if I found new evidence—”
“I’ve heard this before.”
“No, really. He wrote me a letter. He said the police dropped the ball on the investigation. They found the witnesses they wanted and didn’t look any further.”
Megler snorted cynically. “Look, in New York it’s almost impossible to get a conviction overturned because of new evidence.” He squinted, recalling the law. “It’s got to be the kind of evidence that would’ve changed the outcome of the case in the first place and, even then, you have to be able to show you made diligent efforts to find the evidence at the time of the trial.”
“But if I do find something would you handle the case?”
“Me?” He laughed. “I’m
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