For the People Chapter 1
"Lauren Amell, I must say this is an astonishing book," Declan O'Connor declares. "Your description of your career, and its years-long derailment by what you describe as a rape by Alfred Baird, jumps off the page and in the case of the rape, grabs the reader by the throat. But why now, after all these years?"
"Considering that Baird could be a nominee to run for president of the United States, I felt it was vital to put my story before this country before it's too late," Lauren explains. "A man like that should never be in line to wield that kind of power. I'm hoping that when the public learns the truth, the voters will find a better choice."
"If what you say is true, almost anyone would be a better choice. But I'm going to pose the questions I'm sure most viewers have on their minds. Why didn't you bring charges when the rape occurred? Why wait all these years to disclose it, and why not bring charges now?"
"Back then, I told two of my closest friends," Lauren replies. "One of them told me to go to the police, but the other said that I didn't have enough evidence to make the charges stick and Baird would destroy me for making the accusation. I realized she was right. Baird and I were alone in a changing room at Bloomfeld's. No one was around to hear us, and there was no video. I couldn't prove a thing. The only sign of what happened was the – you know – white sticky stuff on the front of the coat dress I'd been wearing."
"Baird's semen?" O'Connor inquires.
"Yes. I haven't been able to touch that dress since, not to take it to the cleaners or even wash it. It's just been hanging in the far end of my closet."
"If that is Baird's semen, then you do have evidence of the rape," O'Connor points out. "Back then there was no technology to identify the DNA. But there is now. Labs can get DNA out of fossils, and a dress that's been hanging untouched in a closet wouldn't pose much of a challenge. And if you did tell two friends at the time, they could testify that you're not making up a story to sell books now."
"Declan, even if I did have the DNA analyzed, what good would it do?" Lauren demands. "The statute of limitations must be long passed."
"I admit that it's been a long time since I practiced law. But as a legal analyst for ZNN, I have to keep up," O'Connor returns. "There's been a push in New York to change that statute since 2005, and it recently did change. For first-degree rape, there is no time limit to press charges. If the DNA on your dress belongs to Baird, that along with the testimony of your friends should be enough to indict him. After that, it would be up to the DA to dig up anyone who might have seen you and Baird at Bloomfeld's and whatever else supports your story."
"Wouldn't the DA need a sample of Baird's DNA for comparison?" Lauren wonders.
"Yes. But," O'Connor opines, "it shouldn't be that tough to get one."
Standing in front of Gidon Shapiro's file-covered desk, Kate waits to hear why she's been summoned. "Beckett, I want you to second chair the rape case against Alfred Baird. The press is going to be covering every second of this trial, and we need all our ducks in a row. With your investigative experience, you can make sure that they are."
Kate gazes questioningly at her boss. "Who's first chair?"
"I am. Baird's been slipping the net in this city for years. We've been close to charging him before, but somehow the women involved have always been convinced not to testify."
Kate sighs. "And a defendant is entitled to face his accuser."
"Right," Shapiro agrees, resecuring his yarmulke with a bobby pin. "But that's not going to be a problem this time. Lauren Amell is determined to go through with the trial, and I've assigned protection to her to keep Baird's people from getting close."
"How about her witnesses, the women she told?" Kate queries. "Their names have to be on our list. Baird could go after them."
"I'll have protection for them too. And I'll want them to testify as soon as possible. Once they've been heard, Baird will have nothing to gain by tampering with them. Still, we'll need more. Baird has a very high-powered team. He just hired Hiram Kaplowitz."
"The Hiram Kaplowitz who got C.J. Stempson off?"
"Thanks be to His Name, there's only one. But Kaplowitz isn't the only heavy hitter. Baird also has Barry Lennox."
"The DNA attorney. Who's our expert?"
"Normally, we'd use someone from CSU. You know that. But for this trial, the defense will paint anyone who works for law enforcement as biased and possibly in a position to fake the results. So we'll need an outside expert. I'm going to leave finding one up to you. Doesn't your husband have a famous consultant he uses for his books?"
"He has several," Kate confirms, "But only one who deals with DNA and isn't on the public payroll. It's Samuel Oglesby from the Natural History Museum. We've been to several fundraising events with him. He's quite a character."
"How do you think he'll come across to a jury?" Shapiro questions.
"As a character. But if he's willing to testify, I think they'll believe him. My husband's got Oglesby's private contact information. I can get it from him tonight."
"Get it from him now, Beckett," Shapiro commands. "Kaplowitz is pushing for an immediate trial, hoping we won't be prepared. The clock is ticking."
"Yes, Sir. I'll call him right now."
Rick smiles at Kate's image on his phone. "A call in the middle of the day. With the way Shapiro's been cracking the whip, I'm amazed! I don't suppose you have time to meet for lunch?"
"Not unless it's ten minutes sitting in front of the vending machines."
"We can sit in front of the vending machines but how about if I bring you something that's actually edible to eat while we're there?" Rick proposes.
"That would be great, but I really need something from you right now."
"Phone sex?"
"No, but that would be a lot more fun than what I have in mind. I need whatever contact info you have for Sam Oglesby."
"I can call him for you," Rick offers. "The museum always accepts calls from Platinum Circle Patrons."
"Which is exactly why I can't let you call him for me. This has to be official business, with no hints of patronage attached. I need him as an expert witness."
"OK. I'll text the info to you. Meet at the vending machines in a half hour?"
"Sounds good."
"Kate Beckett, does Castle know you're calling another man behind his back?" seventy-five-year-old Sam Oglesby teases. "I hear he is quite accomplished with the sword. I wouldn't want him challenging me to a duel."
"Unless you're up for playing Obi-Wan Kenobi in a light saber battle, I doubt he would," Kate responds. "I'm calling to ask if you'll be an expert witness in a case I'm prosecuting. We have a DNA match for a rapist, and we're afraid the defense is going to try to muddy the waters. I need someone who can explain to the jury exactly how a DNA match works. I've seen you explain it to donors after their fourth trip to an open bar. I know you can do it, Sam."
"And you're sure there's no chance your lab screwed up?" Sam probes.
"You can look the work over yourself before you decide whether to testify," Kate offers.
"Then, pending that, you have a witness, Kate."