Free Sullivan's Law by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg Page A

kind of additional information she could dig up on his case. The man’s claim that he knew her had spooked her. He’d left his room number at the Seagull on her answering machine the night before. She didn’t want to end up fighting off a rapist, or have the guy whip out a gun and shoot her. And then there was all that crazy talk about physics and having his own lab at the prison.
    Ah, she thought, slipping on her headset and dialing the number for Chino. She could clear up at least one delusion.
    â€œWarden Lackner here,” a deep voice said. “My secretary told me you had a question regarding a former prisoner named Daniel Metroix.”
    â€œYes,” she said, relating what Daniel had told her.
    â€œMetroix is a decent fellow. We never experienced any behavior problems during the time he was here.”
    â€œWasn’t he being treated for schizophrenia?” Carolyn asked, riffling through the file and pulling out the paperwork from the prison. “People with schizophrenia generally exhibit a myriad of behavior problems. Who made the diagnosis?”
    â€œHe claimed he was hearing voices,” the warden said. “Our staff psychiatrist checked him out and felt he could benefit from medication. Then Metroix heard about some new drug. We couldn’t get the board of prisons to approve it, so Metroix paid for it himself. If I remember correctly, one of his relatives left him some money.”
    â€œDid you verify that?”
    â€œI can’t keep track of everything that happens inside this facility,” Lackner answered defensively. “Why don’t you call and speak to Dr. Edleson?”
    â€œForget the money for the moment. Did you provide Daniel Metroix with a lab?”
    â€œOh, that,” the warden said, emitting a nervous chuckle. “Prisoners have a way of exaggerating things. It was an old storage closet. Daniel was good at fixing things. You know, appliances and things we use here at the prison. He was a trustee, so I let him set up a little shop. A few other trustees worked there as well.”
    Carolyn was about to conclude the call when she glanced down at a report written by the warden in Daniel’s behalf. Having a warden on your side should have made the prison gates instantly swing open. In a twelve-year-to-life sentence, most individuals were paroled after approximately eight years. Unless they tried to escape or killed a guard or another inmate, all prisoners received good time and work-time credits, credits which cut their prison terms almost in half. Daniel Metroix had been incarcerated for twenty-three years, a sentence that was equivalent to forty. She’d known multiple murderers who’d served less time.
    â€œWhy was this man repeatedly denied parole?” she asked. “You recommended that he be released over fifteen years ago, citing him as a model prisoner.”
    â€œYou’ll have to speak to the parole board,” Lackner said. “I have to take another call now.”
    Carolyn disconnected, then looked up the number for William Fletcher, Daniel’s attorney. After she emphasized her credentials, the man’s assistant patched her through to him at his home. Fletcher was semiretired and specialized in estate management.
    â€œI can’t divulge information without a signed consent from Mr. Metroix.”
    â€œCome on,” Carolyn prodded. “I don’t need numbers and details. All I want is a yes or no. Did Daniel Metroix receive an inheritance from his grandmother?”
    â€œYou’re a smart lady, Ms. Sullivan. The fact that I’m his attorney should tell you something. Don’t call me again until you have a signed release from my client.”
    Carolyn made an exception and ate lunch in the cafeteria. Then she spent most of the afternoon in front of her computer screen, reading through every document she could find related to the arrest, trial, and conviction of Daniel Metroix.