Free Capitol Murder by Phillip Margolin Page B

whether the state had violated Clarence’s legal rights, not whether Clarence had murdered someone. In preparing for the postconviction hearing, Millie had focused more on the legal issues than on the facts. At Clarence’s new trials, the issue the juries would decide was whether Clarence had killed the two girls, so Millie was rereading everything from a different angle. The more she read, the more uncomfortable she felt.
    The state did not have overwhelming evidence that Clarence had murdered Benford or Poole, but the evidence against him was disturbing. Of course the evidence against Clarence in the Erickson case had been very persuasive, and he was totally innocent of that murder. Still . . .
    Millie refilled her coffee mug and walked over to the kitchen window. The leaves on the trees that lined her street were starting to turn from green to gold, and the sun looked cold. Fall was visiting Oregon, and months of rainy, dark days would soon follow.
    Millie took a sip of coffee and thought about the jar of severed pinkies that had been discovered while Clarence was on death row. The evidence was significant because the pinkies in the jar matched every one of Clarence’s alleged victims except Laurie Erickson. It was strong circumstantial evidence that the person who had placed the pinkies in the jar had not killed Erickson. The contents of the jar and other evidence pointing to the real murderer had led the state to concede that Clarence had not killed Christopher Farrington’s babysitter.
    The discovery of the pinkies had cleared Clarence of one murder, but it raised a disturbing question in Millie’s mind.
    An attorney could not be compelled to tell the authorities anything a client confided, but a lawyer had a duty to turn over physical evidence that came into his possession if it related to a crime. One police report mentioned that Brad Miller had given the jar with the pinkies to Paul Baylor, a private forensic expert, to make sure they were properly preserved, and a partner in Miller’s firm had told the authorities where to find the bodies. Everyone assumed that Brad Miller had unearthed the jar and the two decomposing bodies that had been buried in the Deschutes National Forest.
    If it was Miller who had unearthed the bodies and the jar, who had told him where they were buried? Millie had looked through the file searching for the answer. It was nowhere to be found because there was no record of an interview with Brad Miller. What upset Millie was the possibility that Clarence had told Brad where to find the evidence. That would explain why no one had interviewed Miller, who would have been compelled by law to assert the attorney-client privilege to protect his client.
    Had Clarence been lying to her all along when he claimed he was innocent? That was the only conclusion she could draw if Clarence knew where the bodies and fingers were buried. The impressions Millie had formed while representing Clarence convinced her that he was a victim. All of a sudden, she wasn’t so certain.
    Millie considered other possible explanations. Brad Miller would have asserted the attorney-client privilege if another client revealed the location of the evidence. And he could have asserted his own Fifth Amendment right to be free from self-incrimination if he was afraid he’d committed obstruction of justice because he had moved the jar and uncovered the corpses. Neither of these explanations made a lot of sense.
    The easiest way to find out who had told Brad where to find the fingers and the bodies would be to ask him. Millie had mailed Clarence’s letter to Miller care of United States Senator Jack Carson. It was seven o’clock in Portland, which made it ten o’clock in Washington, D.C. Millie went on her computer and found the phone number for the senator’s office. When the receptionist answered, Millie asked to be put through to Brad.
    “Brad Miller.”
    “Thanks for taking my call, Mr. Miller. I’m Millie Reston, a