Capitol Offense by William Bernhardt

duly appointed officers of the law. Our boys in blue. The heroes of 9/11.”
    Ben was pretty sure Detective Sentz had nothing to do with 9/11, but he let it slide. “I notice, your honor, that the distinguished district attorney has said absolutely nothing relevant to whether my client should be granted bail. The standard is whether he presents a flight risk or any potential harm to society. There is no flight risk. Dennis Thomas has lived in Tulsa all his life except for a few years in college and has no criminal record whatsoever. He has a teaching job at the University of Tulsa and he owns a home in Skiatook. And frankly, his face has been so showcased by the television media that I doubt there’s anywhere he could go without being recognized. He has no desire to run. Only to clear his name and see justice done.”
    “The man is a murderer,” Guillerman said. “Case closed.”
    “Furthermore,” Ben continued, “there is no reason to believe he poses any risk to society. Even if you accept the blather the DA has been peddling, my client acted out of grief in retaliation against the man he believed responsible for his wife’s death. She’s gone now, dead, so there’s no chance of those circumstances arising again.”
    “If a man is dangerous enough to strike once, he can strike again,” Guillerman said.
    “You could use that argument to preclude anyone ever getting bail,” Ben replied.
    “Which would be just fine with me. How do we know this man’s vendetta is over? Maybe he wants to take out the whole police department.”
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    “Says who?” Guillerman turned to face Ben. “You yourself said the man was crazy.”
    “I said we plead the affirmative defense of temporary insanity. Emphasis on the ‘temporary.’ It’s over.”
    “How convenient.” Guillerman turned to face the judge. “You honor, how long are we going to allow this gamesmanship to continue? We all know what happened here. The facts are not in dispute, not to any appreciable degree. This nonsense about temporary insanity is nothing but a cynical attempt to let a man get away with murder.”
    “Excuse me,” Ben said, taking a step toward the bench, “but I thought we were arguing bail, not making closing arguments. There is nothing cynical about this plea. My client poses no flight risk or danger to society. That is a fact. And not even the distinguished DA can bury the facts, no matter how hard he may try.”
    Ben paused. The reporters were furiously scribbling down his every word.
    Well, Guillerman was playing to the media. He would have to play the same game.
    Ben turned to face the gallery, though still technically addressing the judge. “Here’s a fact they can’t deny—this man’s wife died because the police did nothing. We can argue about whether they woulda coulda shoulda, but that’s the bottom line. They could have saved her and they didn’t. How long did it take them to find her once they finally sprang into action? About three hours. But instead of being rescued in three hours, she suffered for seven days. Suffered in the most excruciating way possible, her bones broken, her leg pierced, her very life force slowly ebbing away. In constant pain.”
    Ben paused, and he was gratified to notice that no one interrupted to fill the gap. He had their attention. “Now imagine being that woman’s husband. The man who loves her more than anything else in the world. The man who worships her. The man she doesn’t come home to. You search everywhere, with no luck. You ask the police for help, but they can’t be budged. You try everything you know—and none of it works. Finally, after seven days, you find her. And it’s too late. She dies, right before your eyes. After enduring the most hideous torture imaginable.”
    Ben paused again, letting the words sink in. “Do you think that might possibly have an effect on a man’s mental stability? His rationality? His ability to distinguish right from