Free Unintended Consequences by Marti Green Page B

expensive. Tommy took the original rental to Hammond, Illinois, in the opposite direction.
    She hated driving in strange cities with no satellite radio, only unfamiliar stations. She hated country music, which inevitably was the only music she could find on the dial outside New York. But she also hated driving without music; the silence unnerved her.
    Meeting the attorney who had handled the trial of a death-row inmate usually made for an uncomfortable situation. Most were defensive. Some started out cooperatively, but when the investigating attorney dug in deeper, they retreated into familiar justifications for the jury verdict. The worst was the one Dani had gotten from Wilson: His client was guilty.
    She pulled up to Wilson’s address and found just what she’d expected: a storefront on a back street, with a peeling sign out front and worn furniture inside. Small-town defense attorneys usually weren’t well paid for their efforts. After introducing herself, his secretary pointed her toward an office down the hall. “Go on back, dear. He’s expecting you. Just knock on the door.”
    Dani entered and they exchanged pleasantries. Wilson appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He had on a light-gray suit, although his jacket was draped over a hanger on the back of his office door. Despite the deep crease lines in his face, he carried the reminder of someone who’d been attractive in his youth. His office was no different from the reception area, perhaps even more shopworn. A large walnut desk was littered with files, and a nearby wastebasket overflowed. Other than a diploma from Indiana University School of Law, the white walls were bare. Dani got down to business. “Bob, is there anything about this case I should be aware of that’s not in the files?”
    “No,” he answered quickly. “It’s all there.”
    “So, no one attempted to identify the child in the woods, other than by Sallie’s confession?”
    “Well, they couldn’t do a run for finger- or footprints. The body was too badly burned.”
    “And no DNA?”
    “Keep in mind defense attorneys didn’t usually do DNA testing back then. And what’d be the point? Sallie said it was her daughter.”
    “But George insisted it wasn’t.”
    Wilson leaned back in his chair and looked her over. “Sweetie, you big-city, ivy-towered lawyers think money grows on trees,” he said with a smirk. “It costs big bucks for DNA testing, especially back then. When you do criminal-defense work, you get a sixth sense. You know when a client is hustling you and you know when they’re laying it all out. George was no innocent—I knew that right away. No point in throwing money away chasing dead ends. Sallie said that was their daughter, and no matter what any testing showed, the jury damn sure would believe her.”
    Dani felt her anger rise. She wanted to throttle Wilson’s neck and shout, You were representing a man facing death. How dare you decide to give up on him? How dare you take his case if you weren’t going to do everything within your power to find the truth? How dare you practice criminal law, you worthless excuse for an attorney? Instead, she asked calmly, “Did you believe Sallie told the truth?”
    “Well, I admit, she was harder to read. She couldn’t manage a sentence without bawling. But I had no reason to disbelieve her.”
    “How about her mental processes? Did you try to have a psych evaluation done on her?”
    “I keep telling you, these things cost money. I didn’t receive a whole lot of money for representing him, and he didn’t qualify for pauper status, so the court wasn’t giving away money for all these tests you think should have been done.”
    “Tell me, then, if you were so convinced of George’s guilt, why didn’t you encourage him to take a plea?”
    Wilson got up from his chair and looked out the window. After a moment, he turned back to Dani. The belligerence was gone from his voice when he answered. “I’d