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FELONY COMPLAINT

      COUNTY OF The Bronx

      Joanne Kenarden, being duly sworn, deposes and says that on August 16, 1979, in the County of The Bronx, City and State of New York, the defendant(s) Darren Kingston committed the offense(s) of rape in the first degree and sodomy in the first degree under the following circumstances:

      Deponent states that at the above time and place defendant forcibly at knifepoint committed an act of sexual intercourse upon her without her consent, and also forced her to commit an act of oral sodomy. Knife not recovered.

      Sworn to before me

      …………………….

      ……………, 19….. Deponent

      ……………………

      Judge

      Jaywalker was reading it through for a second time when Inez Kingston walked up to him. “The detective just took Darren across the hall,” she said.

      Jaywalker followed her out of the clerk’s office. She pointed to a door, one without a sign. Jaywalker knocked on it. When there was no answer, he pushed it open. After all, he reasoned, there was no sign saying not to. Inside were Detective Rendell, Darren Kingston and a third man, who looked up and said, “Yes?”

      “I’m his lawyer,” said Jaywalker. “May I know what’s going on?”

      “Oh, sure.” The third man was young, thin and, when he stood up, closer to Jaywalker’s height than Rendell’s. His face was dominated by a black mustache. “My name is Jacob Pope,” he said. “I’m an assistant district attorney in the Mob.”

      “The Mob?” echoed Jaywalker. It struck him as a curious affiliation.

      “The Major Offense Bureau. I was just about to ask Mr. Kingston some questions regarding pedigree, for bail purposes. I didn’t realize he had an attorney.”

      Jaywalker looked back and forth from Pope to Rendell. One of them was playing dirty here—Pope, if Rendell had told him about Jaywalker, Rendell if he’d neglected to. A prosecutor was strictly forbidden from speaking with a defendant who had a lawyer unless the lawyer was present or gave his express permission. And pedigree was just a fancy way of describing a series of questions that began with name and address and ended with, “Where’d you hide the body?”

      Darren was seated, his wrists handcuffed in his lap. Jaywalker had forgotten how good-looking he was. Model good-looking, almost. “How’re you doing, Darren?” he asked him.

      “N-n-n-not so good.”

      The stutter. Jaywalker had forgotten that, too. Darren had a severe stutter that grew worse when he became nervous. Jaywalker turned to Pope. “Can you give me a moment with my client?” he asked. “Then maybe we’ll talk to you.”

      “Sure,” said Pope. “Go right ahead.” But neither he nor Rendell made any move to give them privacy.

      “Can we take the cuffs off?” Jaywalker asked.

      Pope nodded at the detective, who produced a key and removed the handcuffs. Darren rubbed each wrist in turn. Jaywalker waited until Pope and Rendell had walked to the far end of the room. Then he positioned himself between Darren and them, giving them his back. It wasn’t much, but it was as good as it was going to get.

      As quietly as he could, he asked Darren what was going on.

      “I don’t know. They say I r-r-r-raped a bunch of women. I didn’t do anything like that. I don’t know anything about it.”

      “Darren, they’ve got five women who say you’re the guy. I’m here to help you, a hundred percent. I can help you if you’re innocent. But understand this—I can also help you if you’re guilty. There are hospitals, there are sexual offender programs.” There were; it wasn’t a complete lie. “The only way I can’t help you,” Jaywalker went on, “is if you don’t tell me. So you’ve got to try to trust me.” He wanted to add “and start telling me the truth.” But he didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

      Darren’s eyes met Jaywalker’s. “I do trust you, Jay.” His use of the name brought a smile to Jaywalker’s face. A year ago, it had taken him a long time to get Darren to stop calling him Mr. Jaywalker. But Jaywalker had insisted. If he was going to address his clients by their first names—and he did, always—then they were going to do the same with him. Not that Jay was really his first name. But when your parents hang Harrison Jason Walker on you, you’re happy to settle for Jay. Or, as a few of his Hispanic clients pronounced it, Yay.

      “Good,” said Jaywalker.

      “But you gotta trust me, too, Jay. I d-d-didn’t do this.”

      Jaywalker nodded. He knew it was useless to push at this point. He decided to let Darren answer Pope’s questions in his presence. It was his hope to learn a few things, while giving up nothing in return. At the same time, he was looking for any edge he could get. He knew that Pope’s recommendation on bail would carry a lot of weight with the judge.

      After learning that Darren was twenty-two, married, living with his wife, the father of one child and expecting another, Pope moved on to Darren’s employment.

      “You work for the post office, right?”

      “Right.”

      “The night shift?”

      “Right.”

      It was obvious that Pope, or perhaps Rendell, had done his homework.

      “Were you working the last two weeks of August, or was that your vacation time?”

      Jaywalker held up a hand. “I’m not sure that’s pedigree,” he said. He didn’t want Pope fishing around and testing an alibi defense before Jaywalker had had a chance to explore it himself.

      “Okay,” said Pope, realizing he wasn’t going to get anything else. “Is there any statement you want to make, Mr. Kingston?”

      “Yes, there is.” The voice was loud and clear. It was also Jaywalker’s. “He says he’s innocent, and you’ve got the wrong guy.”

      Pope nodded dismissively. It was clear that he doubted the words as much as Jaywalker himself did.

      Detective Rendell put the handcuffs back on Darren before he led him out of the room. Jaywalker followed them, reminding Darren to say nothing further. Then he walked over to the Kingstons and brought them up-to-date on what he knew, holding back nothing. He told them that one of the women was coming down to court, and that unless she said their son wasn’t the right man, he would be charged with threatening her with a knife, raping her, and forcing her to take his penis in her mouth.

      Inez Kingston didn’t seem to react. It was as though she already understood and had accepted the gravity of the situation. Marlin said, “Oh, God,” and started to cry, then put his arms around his wife, right there in the corridor, with total strangers streaming by. They stood like that for several minutes, he crying quietly and she making no attempt to escape his embrace. Finally Marlin let go of his wife. He looked straight at Jaywalker, his eyes red but fixed.

      “Jay, that’s my son, you see? You got to do what you can for him. He didn’t rape anybody. I don’t care what it costs, I’ll get the money somehow. But you got to help him.”

      “I’ll help him,” said Jaywalker.

      

      They spent the next hour and a half in the courtroom, waiting for the arrival of Joanne Kenarden, the victim who was named in the complaint. Jaywalker passed the time watching the parade of arraignments, people who’d been arrested the previous night. An assault, his own head bandaged. A gypsy cab stickup. Four for possession of heroin. A gun. A homicide, a man who’d beaten his two-year-old stepson to death. Almost all were black or Hispanic. In almost every case the judge set high bail and the defendant was walked back into the pen area, out of sight. Family members, who’d

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