Free by Reason of Sanity by Gene Grossman Page A

almost done cooking.”
“Okay Petey, you get an acquittal on this case
and I’ll buy you dinner at the club on Maui.” She can call me Petey as much as she wants,
as long as it’s accompanied by an offer to go to Maui
with me. The last time we were in Maui together was
during our first few years of marriage, and it was really great. Maybe because that’s before she started law school.
Now I’ve got some extra incentive to win this case. Even if the court only awards me fifty bucks an hour, by the time the trial is over I’ll have about two hundred hours invested. Ten grand will help to make it like a second honeymoon - and we’ll go first class. Now, all I have to do is figure out some way to win an impossible losing case. No problemo. I’m sure
that with the dog’s help, it’s in the bag.
During dinner I browse through the still
pictures that were ‘frame-grabbed’ from the hospital
security tapes. There are several that I requested and
they clearly show Harold walking into the hospital
room, standing by the closet door, walking over to
the vacant bed next to Drago’s, picking up the pillow
from the vacant bed, lowering the pillow onto
Drago’s face, pressing and holding the pillow down
on Drago’s face, and then putting the pillow back
onto the other bed.
There were another few minutes or two of
photos I didn’t ask for, during which time the nurses
ran into the room and tried to revive Drago.
Evidently, his flat line showed up on the nurses’
station computer, letting them know that they’d lost
another customer, so they rushed into the room.
When they ran in, Harold hid behind the vacant bed’s
curtain and then walked out while they were trying to
revive Drago. That’s when he looked up at the
hallway security camera outside Drago’s room. According to the added time-code on the
bottom of the photos, the whole act took no more
than two minutes. The hospital staff used those electric paddles and spent several minutes trying to
bring Drago back to life, but it was to no avail. I spread the ink-jet printed pictures out on the
coffee table in chronological order and scan back and
forth over them, looking – I don’t know for what –
just looking.
The Saint Bernard is coming out of the
forward stateroom with his leash in his mouth. This is
the signal for me to do the trick he taught me. When
he brings his leash over to me like that, I’m supposed
to attach it to his collar and take him for a walk. As
I’m fastening the leash, he drools on one of the
pictures, completely obscuring the upper portion of
the one that shows my client lowering the pillow onto
Drago’s face. No problem. That’s a picture I’m not
particularly fond of.
On the way back from our walk, I can’t help
but notice Laverne smiling in our direction from her
window. I hope it’s me she’s smiling at. I let the dog
go back to our boat by himself, and smile back at
Laverne. Aw, what the hell. I’ve worked hard today –
I might as well take a break from normality. If I
perform the tricks that she taught me, I’ll get
rewarded with French toast for breakfast.

10
I
    ’ve received the bank’s security tapes and just like the hospital cassettes, they were digitized into a computer somewhere. I now have a single tape that contains all the action in the bank concerning Drago’s fall. Because there’s constant traffic in the bank, there aren’t any dead spots with no motion, so all I’m concentrating on is the thirty minutes before and after the fall.
    This one-hour cassette is not a compilation of footage – it’s the actual real-time account of what happened in the bank the hour of the accident. I see a kid spilling his coke on the floor near the counter where the deposit and withdrawal slips are. I see Drago come in and walk over to the counter. Boom! He goes down on his ass. Once down, he just lays there with a grimace on his face. People come over to help him up but he waves them off, obviously in pain and afraid to be