“I was a habeas clerk once too, though I have to say, at the

time, they were expending a lot less energy trying to give the accused a fair shot. I actually got in trouble for always trying to find a reason to grant relief and let the guys off death row. Those conservative judges didn’t take too kindly to it. Got threatened with losing my job even because I tried to push them too far for the poor suckers sentenced to die . You know, judges are supposed to be impartial and all.”

“Wow,” Steve said, genuinely stunned. “What did you do when that happened?”

“I worked harder, and then, at the end of my term, went to work making sure that the accused had every chance I could provide to prevail against a system that was built against them. That job is why I am doing what I do now, instead of handling corporate matters and hanging out at the country club. Let’s have breakfast next week and visit a bit.”

Steve nodded his head yes.

Over the next sixteen months, Ackerman became not only a mentor, but also a surrogate father for Steve.

Steve knew Ackerman could help him on the case, but his first call was unfruitful. Ackerman was in court and would not be available until later in the day. He sent a text message asking the old warhorse to call him back as soon as possible. Although Steve knew the law, he would need Ackerman’s help to ensure he gave the best possible representation to Scottie.

About a minute later, his phone buzzed. “Mr. Death Penalty Attorney, you have a real lawyer on line three,” Carol called out over the intercom. “I’m glad to see you are getting help from someone who actually knows the difference between his ass and the evidence code.”

Steve did his best to ignore her and reached for the phone.

“Hello, Frank, how are you doing?”

“I’m great, young man. How are you today?” Ackerman asked.

“I was just appointed by Judge Henry to represent Scottie Pinkerton on his federal habeas appeal.”

“Congratulations, that is quite the assignment,” Ackerman said with pride before becoming serious again. “Son, you do realize you are now that poor soul’s last line of defense—the only thing that stands between him and the needle? I assume you plan to work your tail off for that man.” Ackerman’s voice rose. “You must represent him as if he were your own brother. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “That is why I called you before I did anything else. I would like to know your thoughts on how to best do this job.”

“Well, this is different from working for the Court, analyzing these matters under the auspice of neutrality. First, the most important thing in any death penalty representation is to gain your client’s trust. You must get him to tell you the truth. You have to know what happened that day, no matter what it is, in order to effectively represent him. You must get his entire version of events and then try to prove it a lie. That way, you know if you need to argue the facts or the law or both, because if he actually killed her, then you are left with just arguing the law. You understand?”

Steve nodded and said over the phone, “Yes. Can you tell me what you know about the case?”

It was common knowledge among local criminal defense attorneys that Ackerman knew all the publicly available facts of every murder case in the area for the past forty years. All you had to do was mention the name, and he could recite the details of the case with ease. Additionally, due to his favorable relationships with the defense bar attorneys, he usually knew information that wasn’t public knowledge.

“Of course, I remember that case; it happened just a few miles from my house. That poor soul had some bad facts. 911 call, DNA evidence, his shoes found covered in blood. I recall he killed his wife while their baby was in the home. I was almost appointed on it. The judge called me when it occurred, but I was in the middle of a double homicide trial in Osage County and couldn’t take it. The court ended up appointing Jason Hixon—a lazy, overconfident son-of-a-bitch not qualified to first chair a jaywalking trial, let alone a capital murder. I’ve always felt bad that I wasn’t available to accept that appointment, although with those facts, I doubt Clarence Darrow could have kept that young man from a death sentence.”

“Yeah, from the little I have read on the internet, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be arguing factual innocence to the court at any point.” Steve paused, considering how serious this situation was

becoming by the minute. “Thanks for your ti—”

“One last thing before you go,” Ackerman interrupted. “There is something you should know—I remember hearing a rumor at the Oklahoma Criminal Defense Lawyers Association convention that your boy originally claimed he didn’t do it, but Mr. Hixon didn’t believe him and never put up much of a fight on his behalf. Like I said before, you need to find out what actually happened that day to do your job proficiently. Good luck, and work hard for that young man. You never know, you just might be arguing for his innocence someday.”

CHAPTER 3

As Steve contemplated what Ackerman had just told him, the intercom buzzed again. “Not sure if you have time for your small fish anymore, Mr. Capital Punishment, but Mr. Hamilton is on line four.”

Steve wished he had the authority to fire Carol; however, she was hired by the landlord who ran the office share arrangement where Steve rented. Regardless of how much Carol’s quips got under his skin, other client, Steve knew he had to take this call from Hamilton. Jordan Hamilton, one of Steve’s many divorce clients, worked in an upper management position at a local manufacturing company.

Steve answered the phone. “Jordan, I have a few questions about the possessions that your wife wants, some of which you might want to reconsider letting go of just to move things forward.”

Hamilton responded, breathing heavily, “Steve, I think I’m in big trouble. I was just informed that the state is investigating me for a felony embezzlement charge. There are police officers at my office right now. The owner of the company is with them, and he is giving them my computer. They say I have to go with them to my house and give them my home computer as well. Can you help me?”

“Yes,” Steve responded calmly. “I can help you. Have you been arrested?”

“No. Will they do that?”

“Well, I guess it depends on what they find on your computers. Most importantly, at this point, don’t talk to them at all about this case, or anything at all for that matter. Tell them that, under

the advice of your attorney, you refuse to speak. I am on my way to your house right now. I will meet you there.”

Steve retrieved Hamilton’s file and typed his address into the mapping system on his phone. He could be there in about five minutes, maybe even before the police and Hamilton got there.

Steve rose from his desk and headed towards the elevator like a firefighter to his truck. As he passed Carol on his way out, she said with a wry smile, “Don’t run too fast. I would hate to see you trip and scuff those purty shoes.”

Hamilton’s house is a modest blue home near downtown with an white porch in front and a detached garage in back. Steve arrived before anyone else so he was sitting in his car playing Words with Friends on his phone when his client and an entourage of police units arrived. He also noticed he had a Snapchat from an unknown number on his office phone. He approached one of the Tulsa police officers and asked politely, “May I speak to whomever is in charge? Can I see a warrant?”

The patrolman pointed to an officer giving out orders nearby. The fiftyish-looking man in a crisp, beige suit noticed the exchange and turned to Steve. “I’m Detective Meyers, and you are?”

“Steve Hanson, Mr. Hamilton’s attorney. Are you in charge?”

“I am,” Meyers replied. “And we have a search warrant which you are free to review.” Meyers handed it to Steve, who began perusing it. This was the first time Steve had ever reviewed a search warrant while in the field. He was nervous, but his knowledge of the law, coupled with his desire to support his client, gave him the courage to appear as if he had done this a million times before.

“Everything looks in order,” Steve said to Detective Myers as he handed back the papers. He then took Hamilton aside and spoke softly in his client’s ear, “You need to let them in and show them where your computers are located. The warrant gives them the right to take possession of your computers and search your house for bank records. I suggest you show them directly where you keep your bank statements; otherwise, they might ransack your whole house, and you will be the one left to clean up. I had a client busted for drug possession last week who came home from jail to one hell of a mess.”

Hamilton pulled the key from his pocket and led the group of officers into his house. While Steve was waiting on the front porch for others to get inside, a white Hyundai Sonata Hybrid pulled up to the scene. Out stepped a woman who was probably in her late thirties. Her jet-black hair was gathered in a bun, her nose was sharp, and her black-rimmed glasses framed a pair of blue eyes that could freeze mercury. Despite the gravity of his client’s situation, Steve still felt the “Wow” slip from his mouth.

He immediately knew this woman was all business. She was dressed in a navy-blue suit jacket with matching skirt and plain black heels—a single strand of pearls hung around her neck. She lit a cigarette as she exited the vehicle and walked toward the front porch with the confidence of a champion prize fighter walking into the ring.

As she strode toward Steve, she reached out her hand. “Good morning. I am Dr. Emily Babbage, computer forensic investigator.”

Though not a guy with a technical background, Steve had a good grasp of why she was here—to root through Hamilton’s computers and other electronics. Steve shook her hand, and a strange jolt traveled through his arm and down to his crotch the moment their hands touched. The sensation electrified his groin and a similar story could be seen behind her eyes.

He gathered himself and, in his best Perry Mason monotone, responded, “Hello, Dr. Babbage. I am Steve Hanson, Mr. Hamilton’s attorney.” For a split second, he swore to himself he saw a smile on her lips before she returned to her stoic demeanor.

Dr. Babbage exchanged a few courteous pleasantries with the officers waiting outside before abruptly dropping her cigarette on the porch and grinding it out with the toe of her black stilettos. “Myers inside?” she asked them while walking through the front door without waiting for an answer. Steve overheard her instructing Myers on what she needed from the residence, rattling off a laundry list of electronic items and documents. A few minutes later, she walked out with a laptop computer, several zip drives in plastic bags, and an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. Behind her, a patrolman lugged a desktop computer.

Steve watched as the rest of the police team spent the next several hours searching Hamilton’s home for anything they could use against him—opening drawers, looking under furniture, peeking behind paintings, and even tapping on the walls and floor looking for hidden spaces. Eventually, the police finished their inspection, and, drained of both strength and emotion, Steve drove back to his office.

Although he was exhausted from being “on point” during the entire search, he couldn’t get Dr. Babbage out of his mind. He simply had to learn more about this woman, not only because she would be key in the prosecution’s case against Hamilton, but also because she was smoking hot.

Steve sat down at his desk and typed “Dr. Emily Babbage computer forensics” into the search bar, the smell from the half full coffee cup he left earlier wafted into his nostrils giving him a slight jolt of energy. The first thing he learned was that she’d received her PhD from the University of Tulsa. After graduation, she worked for a large forensic firm before she struck out on her own, mainly working as an expert in court proceedings. He clicked the link for “What is Computer Forensics?” on her web page.

Computer forensics is a branch of digital forensic science pertaining to legal evidence found in computers and digital storage media. The goal of computer forensics is to examine digital media in a scientifically accepted manner with the aim of identifying, preserving, recovering, analyzing, and presenting facts and opinions about the digital information.

Looking next through her biography, he saw that, for the past two years, she regularly testified in federal and state prosecutions. Although her website stated she would provide services and testimony for defense or prosecution, Steve couldn’t find a single case where she had worked against the state.

Taking a detour from her professional web presence, Steve checked Babbage out on social media.

Not married. Doesn’t even look like she has a boyfriend currently. He smiled to himself and briefly hoped this case would afford another opportunity to meet his new favorite scientist. He wondered how ethical it would be to date someone who was trying to send his client up the river and decided he could cross that bridge when he came to it.