60
For Marge, the two days before attorney Greg Barber returned from Atlanta were interminable. She had told Father Frank that Detective Wilson had insisted on talking to Jamie without her being in the room. “I don’t know what Jamie told him or how the detective could have twisted it,” she said, “but I’m so frightened.”
“Marge, the appointment with Greg Barber is the day after tomorrow at ten o’clock. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty and we’ll ride over together. Greg is a top-drawer defense lawyer. I can assure you of that. I know you’ll feel better after you speak to him.”
Jamie intuitively knew she was upset. Three or four times he asked her, “Mom, are you mad at me because I told our secret? Mike said it was all right.”
“I’m not angry at you, Jamie,” Marge repeated each time. When he asked her that, it reminded her of how trusting he always is, and how easily he could be led when questioned.
As he had promised, Father Frank picked her up promptly at 9:30. “Greg Barber’s office is around the corner from the courthouse,” he explained.
When they passed the courthouse, Marge looked at it and cringed. This was where they brought Alan Crowley, she thought. She recalled seeing the pictures of him on television in the orange jumpsuit. She imagined Jamie wearing it and couldn’t bear the possibility.
They arrived ten minutes early, but the receptionist brought them immediately into Greg Barber’s private office.
Marge liked his appearance. He was about fifty years old, with thinning gray hair. His horn-rimmed glasses made him look more like a schoolteacher. He walked out from behind his desk to greet them and motioned them to a small conference table.
After they sat down, Barber came directly to the point. “Mrs. Chapman, Father Frank gave me some information about your son. I understand he has special needs, an intellectual disability?”
Marge nodded, then burst out, “Father Frank and I were planning to go with you to the police and tell them what Jamie saw, but then that blabbermouth Tony Carter started bragging about the fact that he had solved the murder, that my Jamie had killed Kerry Dowling. Because of that, the detective came to our house and insisted on talking to Jamie in his room upstairs while I was downstairs. God only knows what he tricked Jamie into saying.”
“Mrs. Chapman, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Miranda warnings. Did the detective ever tell you or Jamie that you didn’t have to speak to him?”
“I don’t remember him saying anything about that. I have no idea what he said to Jamie upstairs.”
“How old is Jamie?”
“He’s twenty.”
“Did Jamie go to school?”
“Oh, yes. He went to the local high school, Saddle River. He was in special classes the four years he was there.”
“What is the nature of his disability?”
“When he was born, it was a difficult delivery. He was deprived of oxygen. The doctors told us he has brain damage.”
“Jamie lives with you now?”
“Of course. He couldn’t be on his own.”
“Jamie’s father?”
“He died when Jamie was fifteen.”
“Does Jamie work?”
“Yes. He bags groceries five days a week, four hours a day, at the local Acme. That’s where he told Tony Carter that he went swimming with Kerry the night of her party.”
“Mrs. Chapman, parents of children who have intellectual disabilities often make a decision around the time the child turns eighteen. To protect the child they apply for a guardianship which makes their child, in the eyes of the law, a permanent child. Did you do this on Jamie’s behalf?”
“At school they suggested I apply for a guardianship. I did.”
“So you went to the courthouse, appeared in front of a judge, and he granted a full guardianship, you make all decisions for him?”
“Yes, it was a few months after his eighteenth birthday.”
“Good. Do you know where your guardianship papers are?”
“I have them at home in the top drawer of my dresser.”
Father Frank said, “Marge, give them to me when I drop you off.”
“Why do you want them?” she asked Barber.
“Because I want to determine whether the detective had a right to question Jamie outside your presence and without your permission. Beyond that, even though Jamie wasn’t under arrest or in police custody, I think I can make a strong argument that, since he was a suspect, he didn’t have to speak to the detective.
“But that’s for later. Now, let’s start from the beginning, with the night your neighbor had a party and the young girl was murdered. Tell me everything you recall about that night and the following morning, right up until when the detectives came to your house last week.”
Step by step Marge related everything that had happened. Finding Jamie’s wet clothes and sneakers in his closet. Seeing Steve Dowling carry Kerry’s body out of the pool. In a panic washing the clothes and sneakers. Making Jamie swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone about going in the pool that night. She told Greg Barber about Jamie telling her that he had seen Alan talking to Kerry and then leaving.
And her concern about Jamie saying that the Big Guy hit Kerry and pushed her in the pool, and that she had felt guilty ever since Alan Crowley was arrested.
She finished by saying, “Father Frank will back me up on this. I was planning to go to the police, but I wanted to speak to you first. But then that Tony Carter told everyone that he had solved Kerry’s murder and that Jamie did it.”
“Mrs. Chapman, there are some circumstances in which I would be concerned that two family members whom the police are scrutinizing should have separate lawyers. I think, however, that for the time being, I can be the attorney for both you and Jamie. Do you have any issue with that?”
“Oh no, Mr. Barber. I know you’ll do your best for both of us, but it is Jamie that I am worried about.”
“All right, fine. We’ll work out the financial details later. For now leave it in my hands.”
Barber turned to Father Frank. “Father, when you drop Mrs. Chapman off, would you please leave those guardianship papers in my home mailbox.”
“Of course,” Father Frank said.
“Mrs. Chapman, I cannot stress strongly enough what I’m about to tell you. If anyone contacts you or Jamie wanting to talk about this case, do not say anything. Just give them my name and phone number and tell them to contact me.”
“Mr. Barber—”
“Please call me Greg.”
“Greg, I’m so relieved and grateful. Please call me Marge.”
He smiled. “Marge, Father Frank speaks very highly of you and your son. We will get through this. I want you to come back tomorrow at one P.M. with Jamie. I need to go through everything with him.”