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  After her release from prison, where she'd earned her GED and even took several college credit classes, Newbury noted, Zulu went to New York University and after graduation, to law school in Georgia. "The press was invited to her law school graduation ceremonies, where she consented to a dozen interviews, all of them some version on her mission in life being to 'take on The Man in his own backyard.' Ever since, she's been at the forefront of criticizing this office, as well as DAs throughout the five boroughs, and of course races to sign up any African-American family that feels wronged by the police…if Hugh Louis doesn't beat her to the punch. And she is, of course, at the forefront of any antipolice rallies, especially if she knows the television crews will be there. So it's pretty interesting that Shakira, not to mention these other firms who've made one side of their living by shafting the police and this office, were given these other cases."

  Newbury paused for dramatic effect before wrapping up his presentation. "However, so far we haven't been able to make a case that these law firms have done anything illegal in recommending these settlements and recommending that this office not pursue criminal charges against the officers involved," he said. "After all, this office-and its previous tenants Mr. Bloom and Mr. Keegan-were not obligated to accept the recommendations."

  Karp grimaced at the mention of his predecessor. It didn't surprise him that Bloom had been a crook from the beginning. In fact, Karp had helped put him in prison, where he remained. However, Jack X. Keegan had been one of his mentors, the head of the famous homicide bureau that he'd aspired to as a young prosecutor. When Keegan replaced Bloom, he'd chosen Karp to be his number two and then recommended that the governor promote him to the top spot when Keegan was appointed a federal judge.

  Karp took over from Newbury. "Anyway, I've asked V.T. to hold off on pursuing the cases against the cops-at least where we're not worried about the statute of limitations running out-until we get a handle on how this relationship among the Corporation Counsel, these other law firms, and this office worked. To me, something smells worse than Guma's old gym socks."

  "Hey, hey…cheap shot, paisan," Guma complained, though with a smile. "I haven't been to a gym since they gutted me like a trout."

  As the others in the room chuckled, Murrow cleared his throat to speak. "I'm sorry to be the one who always has to mention the political considerations here, but I do think it's important to point out that Hugh Louis and Shakira Zulu pretty much control the black vote. Not to mention that Butch is already walking on thin ice with the NYPD because of what happened with Kane's little cadre of killer cops. Those guys in blue don't like anybody else cleaning their house. I'm not saying we ignore all this, but perhaps-since we're delaying things anyway to look at these law firms-if we took our time before we stirred up these hornets' nests it might help improve Butch's chances of remaining in this office. We're less than a year from the election and I think-"

  Kipman interrupted Murrow. "And lose a few more of these cases to the passing of time?" he scoffed. "Or, take a chance that some of these people get wind of Newbury and his gang's line of questioning and skip town? Since when do we let political expediency dictate how this office prosecutes the bad guys?"

  Murrow rolled his eyes. "Oh, since about the mid-1800s, if I remember my history of Manhattan," he said. "I know we'd all like to live in a world where Butch wouldn't have to walk on eggshells, but I think we all also agree that in the end, it's keeping him in office that will do the most good for the most people. Pursuing these cases-especially if we end up butting heads with several of the biggest, or at least most vociferous, law firms in the five boroughs-could take years. But if Butch gets tossed out on his ear next November, who's to say if they don't just go away again?"

  "It's a matter of principle," Kipman replied.

  "Principles don't do you any good if you're on the outside looking in," Murrow shot back.

  Kipman started to retort but Karp interrupted him. "All right, all right, break it up you two," he said. "I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. I want us to hold off on filing charges against these cops until we see if we can't find out how this whole thing worked and if there are others who deserve our attention-so long as we don't lose any of these cases to Father Time." He looked at Murrow. "We'll do our best to keep this all low-key, and we won't go forward against these law firms until we're sure, but I can't do my job if I'm hung up over the political ramifications."

  Murrow started to protest, but Karp held up his hand. "Let's just let this be until we have to deal with it. Right now, we have a staff meeting to get to."

  The others took that as a signal, rose from their seats, and wandered out the door. Murrow hung back until the others had left. He pointed to the boxes. "You want to tell me what those are doing here? A Brooklyn case?" But Karp just clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "All in good time, Gilbert. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I have to do this my way, understand?" Murrow nodded but Karp knew it was more out of politeness than because he agreed.

  The pair walked together into the meeting room, a long, wood-paneled space with paintings of previous New York district attorneys on the walls, an American flag and the flag of New York City in opposite corners, and a long, narrow table in the middle surrounded by black chairs. Karp took a seat at the head of the table with Kipman on one side and Murrow on the other.

  The bureau chiefs and their assistants were quietly talking to one another or nervously shuffling their papers, preparing to present their cases for dissection by the others. Karp glanced toward the other end of the table, where Rachel Rachman, the chief of the Sex Crimes Bureau, sat staring glumly at the ceiling as she clenched and unclenched her hands. She'd always had a tendency to dress in neon-bright colors-today a pantsuit the color of a plastic Halloween pumpkin-that belied a personality as devoid of color and warmth as an ice cube. However, she was a tough courtroom litigator and neither asked for nor gave quarter when prosecuting rapists and child molesters.

  "Okay, let's get started," Murrow said. He enjoyed the role of moderator while Karp sat back and listened. "Harry, you want to start by telling us the latest with the People vs. Salaam and Mohammed, otherwise known at the Columbia Basketball Players Rape Case."

  Butch noticed that Rachman suddenly sat forward, her eyes narrowed and focused on Kipman, who didn't bother to look her way. Their mutual dislike was no secret.

  Kipman adjusted his half-moon reading glasses on the end of his long nose, then looked up over the top of them at Karp. "I'll begin with a brief rundown of the case, which, as Gilbert has so colorfully quoted from the media, involves two now-former basketball players from Columbia University. As you know, one night last February a young man named Khalif Mohammed had consensual sex with the complainant, Rose Montgomery, in her bedroom during a party at an off-campus apartment she shared with two other women. Neither side disputed this during the trial, nor the fact that the young woman was intoxicated.

  "The gist of our case was that after sexual intercourse, Mohammed left the room, which was dark, and then his friend and teammate, Rashad Salaam, entered and, pretending to be Mohammed, had nonconsensual sex with her. The complainant swore in both her statements to the police and on the witness stand that she did not even know Salaam, with the inference that she would not have had sex with a stranger.

  "At trial, the defense argued that the young woman had sponsored a party at the apartment to which members of the basketball team had been invited. Evidence was presented that the complainant passed around a bowl full of condoms 'just in case'-"

  From her end of the table, Rachman snorted. "Like that's some sort of crime." She stopped when Butch looked at her sharply and dropped her head and sat glaring at the tabletop.

  "During pretrial motions, the defense tried to introduce evidence from the defendants that the complainant not only knew Salaam but had consensual sex with him several days prior to the incident in question," Kipman said. "However, we argued that there was no corroborating ev
idence of such a relationship, and we were able to prevent that information from being introduced at trial-"

  Again Rachman interjected. "It didn't matter. Previous sexual history is not relevant under our shield laws," she said before again falling into a sulky silence due to another stern look from Karp.

  "Apparently, the New York Court of Appeals disagrees with that contention, especially when there was corroborating testimony that not only were the defendants telling the truth, but that the complainant was using the allegations to get back at Salaam, who apparently had rejected her after their first sexual liaison," Harry said dryly. "Most damning, according to the justices, was that we did not hand over this corroborating evidence to the defense so that they could at least bring it to the judge at a motion hearing and have the judge rule on its admissibility. This evidence consisted of statements given to the police by the complainant's roommates that Salaam had spent the night in the complainant's bedroom several days prior to the incident."

  Rachman made a sighing noise, but Kipman ignored her and instead read from a transcript of one of the roommate's interviews with a detective. "She told me that she was angry with Rashad because she felt he'd just used her for sex. He wouldn't return her calls. She said that if she ever got the chance to get even, she'd 'cut his balls off.'"

  Kipman looked pointedly at Karp. "However, for some reason, this interview was never disclosed to the defense. In fact, it was 'lost' until a private investigator working for the appellate lawyer located the roommates and conducted his own interview. In the meantime, Salaam and Mohammed had been convicted of sexual assault and conspiracy to commit sexual assault, respectively, and sentenced to prison."

  Kipman closed his file and looked around the table. "Upon review, the court of appeals held that the roommates' interviews were relevant in that they could have been brought to the witness stand to impeach the complainant, who testified at the trial and apparently lied under oath."

  Rachman slapped the table with her hand and half rose from her seat. "It's bullshit," she said, "and just like a bunch of old men, which describes our court of appeals, to ignore twenty years of precedent that establishes under the shield laws that the previous sexual history of the victim is not relevant and cannot be brought up at trial."

  Harry remained seated but his voice grew more heated. "The court of appeals, the highest appellate court in New York State," Kipman stated, glancing over at Rachman, "has ruled more than once that shield laws were not intended to protect someone who perjured herself on the witness stand when asked a direct question, such as 'Did you know Rashad Salaam prior to the night of the alleged assault?' The complainant told the jury that she'd never met him before that evening and, if I remember from her testimony, that she would never have consented to sex with a stranger."

  "So what?" Rachman spat back. "How would you like to sit in front of a jury, not to mention half of the media in Manhattan, and let a defense attorney make you out to be a whore? Of course, only a woman is considered 'loose' and therefore not deserving of protection under the law if she has sex with more than one partner; a guy does it and he just gets to put another notch on the bedpost. The judge should not even have allowed the question of whether she had met Rashad before that night. The only relevant issue is whether a man entered the victim's bedroom under pretense of being someone else and while she was very intoxicated, and without so much as a 'May I?' proceeded to have sex with her. In fact, she did not discover that she'd been duped until Mohammed reentered the room and turned on the lights. It was just a big game to them."

  "She lied on the witness stand," Kipman countered. "If she didn't tell the truth when asked that question about even knowing Rashad, what makes you believe that she was telling the truth about whether the sex was consensual? Why would you simply dismiss the statements of the two roommates, who in separate interviews stated that she'd told them that she was going to get back at him because he didn't want to be her boyfriend?"

  "Typical male response!" Rachman shouted. "The woman's a whore so she doesn't deserve our protection." She turned to Karp. "I plan to refile the charges and this time put those two rapists in prison where they belong for ten to fifteen."

  Kipman also looked at Karp. "I don't believe that best serves the interests of justice in this case. 'Full disclosure' has long been the policy of this office, even when doing so may make our job harder. We should have turned the police interviews over to the defense, and then argued their relevance in front of the trial judge at a hearing. But this was not done and instead, Ms. Rachman took it upon herself to rule on its relevance and then hide the existence of these interviews. In the meantime, the lives of these two young men have been irrevocably damaged-they were expelled from the university, even before the trial and without a hearing, lost their basketball scholarships, and I doubt will find any other takers out there, even if we don't pursue another trial…"

  "Poor babies," Rachman sneered. "They won't get paid to play a game while the victim-"

  "Complainant; she's not a victim if the charges haven't been proved," Kipman interjected.

  "…the victim," Rachman continued, "has to defend herself from being called a whore by the people who are supposed to protect her."

  "She's certainly a liar," Kipman retorted. "So if one follows the other…"

  Rachman turned almost purple with rage. "See! See!" she shouted. "This office is a reflection of the same old Neanderthal thinking-"

  "As I was saying," Kipman said, "lives have been ruined here on what may have been nothing more than a jilted woman's revenge. The coach of the team was placed on administrative leave, essentially labeled a pimp by the press because he was somehow supposed to monitor what his players were doing off-campus, and then, when the shit hit the fan, defended these two young men by telling the press that he believed them and not the complainant."

  "Just more evidence of the good ol' boys club, which as we all know has plenty of members in this room," Rachman added bitterly. "The only concern is whether two rapists have lost their scholarship and a coach his job because the university did the right thing and supported this young woman."

  "We have an obligation to present the truth, and not grind our little personal axes," Kipman fired back. "It's my recommendation that we dismiss the charges. We have a witness who has shown that the complainant will perjure herself while under oath. I believe these young men have already suffered enormously for what appears to be nothing more than promiscuous behavior."

  Rachman's eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the last remark and she looked as if she might rush down the length of the table to strike Kipman. Karp decided it was time to put an end to the rancor. "Enough!" he said in a voice loud enough to silence both attorneys. "I think it's time to cool off. Let's take a look again at ALL the evidence and, when we can discuss this without the personal invective, we'll decide whether to refile the charges."

  Kipman nodded and Rachman took her seat. "So, Rachel," Karp said as if it was time to turn the channel on a television, "tell us about the Michalik case."

  Rachman looked up at him with a frown and then quickly at Kipman as if she expected this to be a trick. Seeing no indication that Karp's query was anything more than it was, she shrugged and said, "Pretty straightforward case of sexual assault by a person in a position of trust…sort of like the priest cases.

  "The victim"-Rachman glanced at Kipman, who seemed to be absorbed in reading through one of his files and did not challenge her use of the word-"Sarah Ryder, is a graduate student at the NYU school of Russian studies. The perp, Alexis Michalik, is a professor of Russian poetry and here on a work visa. Over a period of several weeks, he engaged in a pattern of flirtation clearly meant to seduce Ms. Ryder, until she finally asked him to stop. He seemed to get the message, so she felt comfortable calling to ask him to help her with her master's thesis. He told her that he could meet with her after hours at his office on the campus. Upon her arrival, he offered her a beer, which she recalls had a 'funny tast
e' but at the time made nothing of it. The next thing she remembers is that she's been bound over a couch, her wrists tied to the legs of the furniture, and Michalik is engaging in anal intercourse with her."

  Rachman paused as though to calm herself. "When he was finished, he told her that he loved her, but that if she told anyone, he would deny it and make sure that she was drummed out of the department and the university-that all her hard work would go down the drain. The victim reported the incident to the university, which, as required by law, reported it to the New York Police Department. She was transported to a hospital, where she was examined by a doctor, who reported that she had 'lacerations and contusions to both her vagina and anal area consistent with forced sexual intercourse.'"

  Rachman sifted through the papers in her file and held up one. "We've just received the results of DNA testing of a semen stain found on the victim's blouse; it's a match for Michalik. Also, finger-prints found on a half-empty glass of beer discovered by investigators match those of Michalik and Ms. Ryder. The beer was tested and shows traces of rohypnol, the so-called date rape drug."

  Satisfied, Rachman stopped talking. Karp asked, "Questions?" It had been the practice since the days of Garrahy for those who attended that meeting to put their fellow prosecutors through an interrogation meant to discover any weaknesses in a case that a defense lawyer might later exploit. The practice had pretty much disappeared under Bloom, who couldn't have cared less, and had been at best desultory under Keegan, who was occupied with his own political aspirations. But the practice was renewed with vigor when Karp was appointed.

  "Anything to place Michalik and Ms. Ryder in the building at the time in question?" one of the young assistant chiefs asked.

  Rachman smiled like a student at a geography bee who just got asked her favorite question. "As a matter of fact, a witness-one Ted Vanders, a graduate student in the English department-came forward after the story appeared in the newspapers and told the police that he saw the victim as she was leaving the building that night." Rachman put on a show of again rifling through her papers before finding what she sought and began to read.