“In all seriousness,” Booger continued after they’d shared a laugh, “it sounds like you have a lot of work to do in the next twenty-four hours. You know the state is not going to just roll over and let you get that police file without a fight. This threat may have gotten you a quick hearing, but the state won’t care. They will still fight you tooth and nail on this one. They don’t like turning over investigative files in any case, let alone a murder investigation.”
“Yes, I know. See you tomorrow at the courthouse.”
Steve had a divorce mediation set that afternoon and some DUIs set for plea the next morning. He was able to move them to a later date by telling the state court judges he had just been informed that Judge Henry, a federal judge, had set an expedited hearing the next day, and he needed to prepare. It was common for state court judges to defer to federal court judges when it came to conflicting schedules. Steve went home to his war room, which until the Scottie appointment had merely been his dining room. He spent the rest of the day preparing for the hearing.
First, he printed copies of the relevant case law he wanted to use in support of his arguments. He had done all of the necessary research while preparing the motion, so it was easy to find the
CHAPTER 27
cases. Next, he highlighted and tabbed the specific sections of those cases he wanted to read to the court.
Having read numerous briefs while working for judges, Steve knew that, oftentimes, rather than making up the wording of your entire argument from scratch and citing cases, the most effective way to persuade the court was to use direct quotes from a similar case or situation, especially when the case had come from a judge who was superior in the judicial system to the judge you were appearing in front of. Luckily, Steve had already found a few cases that he thought fit squarely behind his position.
He finished his oral argument preparation by outlining his thoughts and organizing the quoted material in conjunction with his outline. He did this so he could easily shift from the specifics of his case to the quoted material in support without delay.
Once he had his argument in focus, he put an empty box on his dining room table. He arranged his notes and copies on it to simulate the lectern he would be standing behind in the courtroom. He practiced over and over until he essentially had the entire argument memorized.
Steve did not usually practice this much for a simple motion hearing, but he knew the police file contained the key to finding the true killer. If he and Booger were not allowed to see the file, all would be lost. It would be almost impossible to investigate the murder seven years later without knowing everything that had been discovered when the investigation was still fresh.
If you don’t win this case, your client will die. This was the thought that kept popping up in the back of Steve’s mind; this was the thought that drove him to work as hard as he could. He had to win tomorrow.
CHAPTER 28
Steve arrived at the federal courthouse at 11:45 a.m. He checked in with the clerk’s office and made his way to Judge Henry’s courtroom where he saw Booger sitting on a bench in the hallway. The investigator mockingly looked at his watch as Steve approached him.
“Are you always this late to court, son? Or is it just when you appear in federal court?” Booger asked with a grin.
Steve smiled back as they shook hands. “I guess my ‘early’ is not everyone’s early,” he said as Booger opened the door to the courtroom.
Judge Henry was the senior federal judge at the courthouse for the U.S. Federal Court of the Northern District of Oklahoma. His courtroom was on the third floor of the federal building in downtown Tulsa—the same floor Steve worked on for two years just before going into private practice. The courtroom itself was a much larger and more ornate version of the floor plan used in the Rogers County courtroom where Scottie was originally convicted. But instead of the seal of Oklahoma above the judge’s bench, there was a large seal of the United States of America.
Because of the size and aura of the courtroom, some lawyers were intimidated by federal court and would never practice there. If they secured a client who needed help in federal court, they would refer it to a colleague. Steve, on the other hand, actually felt more comfortable in this setting because of the countless hours he had spent working here with these judges. The federal court would always be his first home.
As he walked down the aisle between the rows of pews in the gallery, Steve saw a well-dressed woman sitting at the opposing counsel’s table. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with auburn red hair, glasses, and a frumpy build. She looked up and stood when he came in. As Steve crossed through the small swinging doors separating the gallery from the courtroom, she approached him with her hand out.
“Hello, Mr. Hanson,” she said. “I am Assistant Attorney General
Julie Bass. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bass,” Steve said as they shook hands.
“I heard you were young but didn’t realize how young. Of course, I should have guessed when I read your motion about a ‘threat.’ Only someone as inexperienced as yourself would make up some Snapchat threat to try to persuade the court to give him a police file from a case that was about as open and shut as they come.” Ms. Bass gave him a disapproving frown. “Scottie Pinkerton killed his wife. That is clear. Why are you wasting time trying to pin the case on someone else?”
Steve started to answer, but Ms. Bass interrupted by raising her finger at him. “Don’t answer. That was a rhetorical question. For the record, your brash exuberance and your ‘emergency’ are causing me to miss my son’s science fair.”
Then, while continuing to glare at him, she said, “Let me give you a little free advice. When there is this much evidence and the jury has already convicted your client, you are better off making constitutional arguments about some alleged trial error rather than trying to find a ghost killer. And more importantly, always ask opposing counsel before you get anything set for hearing. Some of us have lives outside of the courtroom and, occasionally, activities occur that actually take precedence over our careers. It’s called ‘professional courtesy.’ You should ask Ackerman about it sometime; I hear you know him.” With that last jab, Ms. Bass briskly turned and walked back to her seat.
Well, ain’t she a peach, Steve thought as he sat down at his counsel table. But I guess I should have called her Monday morning to make sure she didn’t have any time conflicts this week. He made a mental note to never make that mistake again.
Steve opened his briefcase and removed the outline he had prepared. As he reviewed the argument one last time, he heard the door open at the back of the courtroom. In walked Brent Whitmore, Ashley’s brother. He glared at Steve, then at Booger as he walked down the aisle toward them. He sat in the first row directly behind the defense table, his eyes never leaving either of them.
A short time later, the door behind the judge’s bench opened and the bailiff called out, “United States District Court for the Northern District of Oklahoma, Case No. CJ-2015-347, is now in session. The Honorable Judge Michael W. Henry presiding.” Judge Henry walked through the door and took his seat on the bench, which was positioned several feet above the courtroom floor.
He looked down at the people present and said, “Good afternoon, counselors. Thank you for coming during the lunch hour for this hearing. It was the only time this week I could get you on my docket, and after what I read yesterday morning, I felt this needed to be heard sooner rather than later.
“Before we begin, I notice there is someone in the audience. Sir, normally these hearings are public record, but today, one of the motions to be considered was filed under seal. That means there is a good reason to keep it out of the public forum until further consideration. Can I please ask you to leave the courtroom? You are welcome to wait in the hallway, out of earshot of these proceedings, but I am afraid you cannot stay.”
Whitmore stood up. “Your Honor, my sister was the one killed in this case. I don’t want to do nothin’ to upset Your Honor. I just want to know what’s going on, and I feel like I have that right.
Doesn’t the Constitution or some law give me some rights?”
Judge Henry answered in a compassionate tone, “Sir, you probably have more right as a human to know about these proceedings than even myself. Unfortunately, the law has certain rules in place that give me privileges I probably don’t deserve and takes rights away from people like you that it probably shouldn’t. However, these laws do exist, and I have sworn an oath to uphold them. So, I am going to have to ask you to wait outside until we finish the sealed portions of this hearing. Marshal, please escort this gentleman into the hallway at a far enough distance from the doors that he cannot hear what is being said and stay with him until we have concluded the first part of this hearing.”
The U.S. marshal guarding the bench area raised his wrist to his face and said something as he walked toward Whitmore and escorted him out. A second marshal came out from the entrance the judge had originally entered from and took up the post the first marshal had vacated. Whitmore was clearly not happy about the unfolding events, but he knew better than to argue with a federal marshal acting upon the direct orders of a federal judge. Thus, he begrudgingly followed the marshal out the door.
“Now that the court room is clear, Mr. Hanson, please explain to me why I should order the Rogers County Sheriff’s Office to release their entire investigative file in this matter to you?”
Steve stood, gathered his notes, and approached the podium.
“Your Honor, when I was appointed to this case, everyone asked me how it felt to represent a murderer. I usually answered with some sort of holier-than-thou constitutional argument. Then, I met Scottie Pinkerton—a man who is not a murderer. No, not a murderer. He is merely a man who was wrongfully convicted of capital murder.”
Steve went on to explain, in detail, the evidence he had discovered which pointed to Scottie’s innocence. He showed the court the picture of the door and other facts that shed doubt upon the conviction. He cited other cases where questions of factual innocence of the defendant had led the respective judge in each case to grant extraordinary relief. Lastly, Steve detailed the threat made against himself. He argued it was proof that his digging around had garnered the attention of the real killer, the real killer who was still roaming free while Scottie Pinkerton sat on death row awaiting his execution.
Ms. Bass went next. She spoke clearly and authoritatively. “The evidence supporting the conviction of Scottie Pinkerton is mountainous, Your Honor. Moreover, a jury of his peers has already convicted Scottie. At this level of the appellate process, it is not appropriate to retry the case. The only true issue before this court is whether or not Scottie received a constitutionally fair trial. The police file can shed no light on that subject. To have the Rogers County Sheriff’s Office turn over the file is a waste of their time and this court’s time. Lastly, we have no true idea where this threat came from. For all we know, it may have even been created by Mr. Hanson himself to lend credibility to his arguments.”
“Ms. Bass,” Judge Henry interrupted as he scowled down at her. “I assume you just misspoke. I know you aren’t accusing a fellow member of the bar of fabricating evidence. I happen to have known Mr. Hanson for over two years when he clerked for me, and I have always known him to be a man of character. Unless you have evidence to support such a serious allegation, I would suggest you move on.”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” Ms. Bass stumbled through the rest of her argument. “I am merely saying this information can do nothing to support any constitutional arguments Mr. Hanson may make at this level. The information in those files may have been useful at the trial level, but now they are not. I respectfully request the court deny the defendant’s motion.” She sat down hurriedly.
