Decker said, “He told me he was in the Navy. He had the tat. But maybe he wasn’t in our Navy.”
“Foreigner?” said Miller in a thoughtful tone. “That might explain it.”
“Do you think Sebastian Leopold is his real name?” asked Lancaster.
“I didn’t,” answered Decker. “But I’m not sure now.”
“Well, we can have the Bureau make international inquiries for us,” said Miller. “They can go through overseas databases a lot easier than we can.”
At the stroke of ten the rear door leading into the judge’s chambers opened and the bailiff, a portly man with a handlebar mustache, stepped through. He told them to rise and all four of them did. Decker heard the door creak open and turned to see a young woman dash in and take a seat at the rear. She held a notepad in one hand and a tiny digital recorder in the other.
The press. All one of them. She must be very junior, thought Decker. Or else she would be over covering Mansfield. His brain dug into the big pile of stuff inside his head and pulled out the name.
Alex Jamison.
The woman who’d called him about Leopold. She worked for the News Leader. He’d hung up on her. He turned back around before she could focus on him.
It was at this moment that the black-robed Judge Christian Abernathy stepped into the courtroom. He was old, bespectacled, and frail, and his white hair, what was left of it, sprouted all over his head like bits of fading cotton taped to pink wax paper masquerading as skin. The running bet among the police was how long it would be before Abernathy croaked on the bench, toppling over onto the marble floor. Decker remembered that the man never made it easy for the police to convict anyone, but maybe that was as it should be, he thought.
Abernathy sat and so did they.
The door to the right opened. The holding cell was kept there, Decker knew.
Out stepped Sebastian Leopold in his bright orange jumpsuit, his hands and feet chained, with two burly uniforms on either side of him. He performed the shackle shuffle as he walked. He looked around the large high-ceilinged courtroom as though he was not fully cognizant of where he was or what he was doing here.
He was escorted to the counsel table, although there was no counsel there.
Decker leaned in to Miller. “PD?”
Miller shook his head and mouthed, “Apparently not.” He did not look happy about this. Not happy at all.
The uniforms removed the shackles and stepped back.
The bailiff rose, picked up a docket sheet, and called the case and read out the charges that Leopold was facing. Then, his duty completed, he stepped back with the mechanical movement of a cuckoo clock figure returning to its hiding place.
Abernathy adjusted his glasses and peered down at the prosecuting attorney.
“Ms. Lynch?”
Lynch rose, adjusted her shirt cuffs, and said, “Mr. Leopold has been charged with three counts of murder in the first, Your Honor. He has no known address and his ties to the community are apparently nonexistent. In light of the serious charges, we request no bail be set and that he be remanded to the county jail until trial.”
Well, thought Decker, that was all to be expected. They weren’t about to cut the man loose.
Abernathy turned to Leopold and peered down at him from his high perch. Then he shot a glance back at Lynch.
“Where is Mr. Leopold’s counsel, Ms. Lynch?”
Lynch cleared her throat and said, “He was not able to afford counsel and a public defender was appointed to represent him. However, Mr. Leopold refused those services. Numerous times, I might add.”
Abernathy’s gaze swiveled back to the accused. “Mr. Leopold, do you understand the charges that have been read to you?”
Leopold looked around as though he was wondering to whom Abernathy was speaking.
“Mr. Leopold, do you not want counsel?” asked Abernathy sharply.
Leopold turned to face him, shook his head, and said, “I got no money.”
“That’s why we have public defenders, Mr. Leopold,” Abernathy said testily. “They’re free. You can thank the Supreme Court’s interpretation of our Constitution for that. I will set this arraignment aside for now until one is provided for—”
“I did it, sir,” said Leopold, interrupting.
Abernathy gazed down at him as though the defendant were a mildly interesting bug lying on the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”
“I done it, so I don’t need a lawyer.”
“Are you telling me that you’re pleading guilty to three homicides in the first degree?”
“I killed them, so yes sir, I guess I am.”
Abernathy took a moment to clean his glasses, as though that would make what was happening a bit clearer. After settling them on his long, crooked nose, he said, “This is hardly the time for guessing, Mr. Leopold. These are serious charges, indeed the most serious of all. Are you aware that not only your freedom is at risk here, but also your life? This is a capital case.”
“You mean the death penalty?”
Abernathy looked like he might stroke. “Yes. Of course that’s what I mean, Mr. Leopold!”
“Doesn’t matter if he’s not legally competent to stand trial now.”
She turned and hurried off, her briefcase banging against her thigh.
&nb
sp; Decker turned to Miller. “So?”
“So we got read the riot act by Abernathy. He was pissed that Leopold had no PD, and he’s right. Death penalty case with no lawyer? Whatever happened at this level would get overturned on appeal automatically. And Abernathy does not like to get overturned by the appellate court. That’s why he was ticked off. I think he thought we were setting him up. As if.”