Sandy said, “We’ve got someone talking to your two flunkies in another room.”
“So?”
“No telling what they’re saying right now.”
“The same thing I’m about to say.”
I said, “What’s that?”
“The magic words: I want to talk to my attorney.”
He gave us another smirk, because he knew he’d just shut down this interview.
At least I made it through without punching a guy in handcuffs.
Chapter 66
Late that afternoon we found ourselves sitting on a hard bench at the Penobscot Judicial Center. It may not have been as expansive and historic as a New York City courthouse, but it had the same sense of power. There were still people sitting around us, upset that a relative had been arrested. There were still well-dressed attorneys waiting at the side of the courtroom to step forward when their clients were called.
Dell Streeter sat with the other two men facing Judge Lauren Furtado. A young, skinny man had been arrested for shoplifting, and an older, tired-looking man had been arrested for failure to pay child support.
Courtroom activity was pretty much the same everywhere.
When Dell Streeter’s case was called, a woman dressed in a sharp Armani pantsuit stepped confidently to the podium. She was probably around thirty-five, and her hair fell to her shoulders.
She announced herself as Arlene Greenberg.
Sandy knew her and clearly wasn’t a fan.
The lawyer wasted no time once the preliminary items were handled by the judge.
The lawyer said, “Your Honor, I move that this case be dismissed and that my client Mr. Streeter be released immediately. Based on the affidavit submitted by Detective Coles, I see very little probable cause. In fact all I’ve seen and heard about today is outrageous police conduct.”
The lawyer turned and looked back at Sandy and me sitting together in the front row.
She said, “I have affidavits from two of Mr. Streeter’s friends who were beaten mercilessly by the police. They say the house they all share was trashed. Mr. Streeter himself has told me he was held in a freezing room
and deprived of a shirt. He was ridiculed and threatened. It was the closest thing to torture I have seen in my entire career.”
I was stunned to see the ADA sitting at the prosecution table and not saying a word or objecting as the lawyer spit out these lies.
Judge Furtado said, “What do you have to say about that, Mr. Albanese?”
The pudgy ADA slowly rose to his feet and said, “I…well…um. I certainly would never condone that sort of behavior.”
I wanted to jump up and shout that this was bullshit. I fidgeted in my seat, and Sandy read my mind. She put her hand on my leg to keep me seated. She knew me pretty well.
The well-dressed defense attorney said, “Your Honor, this entire case is based on a statement from one witness. A witness who has a history of drug use as well as a mental and physical disability. Mr. Streeter is a businessman and has worked from his house repairing appliances without any complaints for several years.”
Now the ADA stood up and said, “We do have five bodies.”
The attorney shot back without waiting for the judge to say anything. “But nothing tying them to my client.”
Now the judge looked at the ADA and said, “Is this true, Mr. Albanese?”
The ADA took a painful amount of time to answer. It made whatever he said look fabricated. Finally he said, “Technically, for now, we have not developed forensic evidence to tie the bodies to the defendant.”
The judge said, “Do you think it might be best to wait until you have evidence? I see that Mr. Streeter owns his house and has been a resident of Maine for almost three years. Would it be such a big risk to withdraw the charges and investigate further?”