High Crimes

Claire, who’d done hundreds of trials and observed even more, couldn’t help feeling nervous. Her throat was parched. She looked around for some water. Sure enough, a glass pitcher was already in place on the defense table. She poured some water for herself and Grimes, then set down her briefcase and opened it to remove her carefully indexed file folders. Stuffed inside was a honey-colored, fuzzy Winnie-the-Pooh doll, a little gift, a message from Annie. She smiled, almost laughed out loud with pleasure.

A few minutes later Major Lucas Waldron entered, tall and lanky and dour, accompanied by his associate trial counsel, whose name, she’d been told, was Captain Philip Hogan. They were both uniformed and carrying identical bulky leather briefcases. Waldron saw Claire and Grimes and nodded at them as he and Hogan approached the prosecution’s table.

“The gang’s almost all here,” Grimes said. “Where’s the man?”

“He should be here any second,” Claire said. She saw the steel doors open and, sure enough, Tom entered, flanked by two guards. He wore a sharp, dress-green uniform. She was stunned to see him in it: it fit him perfectly, he seemed a natural in it. His ankle restraints, handcuffs, and chain belt looked like some strange funky jewelry. His shirt was immaculately pressed but was noticeably too large at the neck. He’d lost weight. He looked pale.

He looked around the room anxiously until he saw Claire, then smiled. Claire gave him a wave. He was ushered to the vacant chair between Claire and Grimes.

At three minutes before nine, Embry entered, in his dress-green uniform, and rushed over to them. “Sorry,” he said, as he sat next to Grimes.

“Late night?” Grimes said.

Embry shook his head, smiled pleasantly. “Car trouble.”

“You friendly with the prosecution?” Grimes asked suddenly. Claire winced. She’d asked him not to confront Embry, not yet.

“Not especially. Why?”

“Because, if I learn that you’ve leaked anything to them, and I mean anything, no matter how trivial or stupid, I’ll have you disbarred, and then I’ll have your testicles marinating in a pickle jar in my office, next to my bowling trophies.”

“What’s all this about?” Embry said, hurt.

Grimes looked over, saw the investigating officer enter the courtroom from his chambers. “We can talk about it later. It’s showtime.”

“This Article 32 hearing will come to order. I am Lieutenant Colonel Robert T. Holt. As you know, I have been appointed as the investigating officer under Article 32 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.” Lieutenant Colonel Holt was a career army man of around fifty, a JAG officer with clearance. Even from his seat on the bench he appeared tall; he was thin, with receding black hair, a high forehead crowning a long, narrow, pinched face. He wore squarish wire-rim glasses. His voice was husky, high, his cadences matter-of-fact. In front of him, at a low table, sat the court reporter, a stout middle-aged woman, whispering into a black rubber steno mask.

“The purpose of this investigation is to inquire into the truth and form of the charges sworn against Sergeant First Class Ronald M. Kubik, United States Armed Forces. Copies of these charges — and the order appointing this investigation — have been provided to the accused, counsel for the accused, counsel for the United States, and reporter. Sergeant First Class Kubik, have you seen these charges against you?”

He sat between Claire and Grimes at the defense table. His shackles had been removed. “Yes, sir, I have.”

“You understand you have been charged with eighty-seven specifications of murder, which is a capital crime.”

“I do.”

“You are advised you have the right to cross-examine any witnesses produced against you at this hearing. All right, now to the first order of business. Have the nondisclosure statements been signed by both trial counsel and defense counsel?”

“Yes, they have,” Waldron said.

“They have,” Grimes said.

“You all understand that anything that is said in this hearing, anything that happens here, may not be divulged outside this room.”

“We do,” Waldron said.

Grimes got to his feet. “Yes, sir, we do, but we want to assert that, by signing the statement of nondisclosure, we are in no way waiving our right to a public trial as guaranteed by the Sixth Amendment. The government has made no showing whatsoever as to why these proceedings should be classified.”

Lieutenant Colonel Holt peered at him for a few seconds and cleared his throat. “Your assertion has been noted for the record.”

Now Major Waldron rose. “Mr. Investigating Officer, the accused doesn’t need a public proceeding to get a fair hearing. As long as the defense has a full and complete opportunity to hear all the evidence, the public doesn’t have to know about it.”

“Thank you, Major,” Holt said.

Waldron remained standing. “Sir, moreover, this is a CIPA case” — he referred to the Classified Information Procedures Act — “involving national security and classified information.”

“Moreover,” Grimes mocked in a priggish whisper.