"In the criminal justice system... the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups:" "the police who investigate crime... and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders." "These are their stories." "The Beckerman luncheon's been changed to a brunch." "Why am I just hearing about this now?" "They called yesterday, after you left, madame." "So sorry." "Well, change hair and nails to 9:30... and wake Mr. Keyes." "Yes, madame." "Mr. Keyes?" "Mr. Keyes?" "Mr. Keyes?" "I'm in great shape." "Come on, feel my legs." "Profaci, don't ask, don't tell." "Stop." "So... how much is this 100-mile walk gonna cost us?" "It's only 25 cents a mile." "All right, put me down." "Hello, 27." "Briscoe." "If you go the distance, it's $25?" "Right." "What is it, for saving the whales?" "Come on, it's for handicapped kids." "Cough it up, come on." "No, I know the address, but I need your name." "You owe me $10." "Some woman says Jonathan Keyes was murdered last night... in the penthouse at Keyes Towers." "Probably a crank call." "Hey, it's a chance to see how the other half lives." "Wait here, please." "Mr. Darby will speak with you." "We'd rather speak with Mr. Keyes." "I'll handle it, Felix." "Garrett Darby, the Keyes' family attorney." "Det." "Logan, Det." "Briscoe." "We're checking on a call we received, that Mr. Keyes was murdered." "Mr. Keyes passed away last night, but of natural causes." "There was no reason for anyone to call you." "Where's the body?" "In the guest suite." "A lawyer beats us to the body." "That's unique." "These people get a hangnail, their first call is to some pinstriped shyster." "I tried to wake him, I called him by name..." "I touched him." "No response." "So I called Dr. Brackley." "Family history of hypertension." "Looks like heart failure." "What was the occasion?" "He attended a charity dinner, and then the ballet." "Conveniently dressed for his funeral." "We separated after the ballet." "I went to a party at Bunny Chapman's, Jon wanted to get home early." "Did he?" "Did he what?" "Get home early." "Why, I have no idea." "I got home around 4:00 and went straight to bed." "I didn't see him." "Separate rooms?" "I have a sleep disorder." "The slightest sound disturbs me." "And sometimes we slept apart." "Any idea who it was that called us and said he was murdered?" "Well, someone must have informed the tabloids... and they called you, hoping for a headline." ""Police Investigate Keyes' Death. "" "It's a pity you had to oblige them." "Yes, Felix?" "The men from the Medical Examiner's Office are here." "They want to remove Mr. Keyes." "What?" "We called them, Mrs. Keyes." "We need a determination of death." "You're not taking my husband's body out of here." "Ma'am, without a signed death certificate... the M.E. has to look at the body." "Excuse me, Det." "Logan." "I've spoken to Commissioner Hastings... made him aware of this outrage." "You know the law, Counselor." "Yes, I know it." "And you know that a restraining order will prevent... anyone from touching that man's body." "I'm not having my husband carved up in some morgue." "That's not our intention, Mrs. Keyes." "I'm Lt. Van Buren." "Are you here to stop this outrage?" "You called these gentlemen?" "Yes... they're from Ehrhardt's Funeral Home on 88th." "Let them take the body." "The Medical Examiner's people... can do a review at the funeral home." "We'll enjoin against any autopsy." "Why don't we just see if the M.E. can put this to rest... with a non-invasive examination?" "I know this is a terrible time for you, Mrs. Keyes... but I'm sure you want to know why your husband died." "As long as he's not cut open." "Hey, what in the hell was that?" "What was what?" "You come out here, and you make us look like a couple of idiots." "We did get a call reporting a murder." "Well, I got calls, too." "Yeah, and without talking to us you pulled the plug." "The plug was pulled before I walked in that door." "That body was headed for injunction." "Get real, Lieutenant." "We couldn't handle it?" "Is that what you're saying?" "What you can't handle is my rank in a skirt." "But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it." "Now, I want you to find out what's really going on here... before this thing picks up more profile." "No bruises, abrasions, nail marks, obvious fractures." "There's some indication of water immersion." "The skin on his fingers was wrinkled." "And no way to tell about any water in the lungs?" "No, but it seems unlikely." "No petechial hemorrhages or ecchymosis." "Okay, so that rules out strangulation, suffocation." "What about poisoning?" "We might find something in nasal swabs or saliva." "I couldn't get clean blood samples." "He was too polluted." "Polluted with what?" "Formaldehyde." "The body was embalmed before I arrived at the funeral home." "The director said family's orders." "Mrs. Keyes insists he goes to a funeral home... then gets him embalmed before they get a blood sample." "You gotta give me a break on that." "That stinks." "Mike, what's wrong with this picture?" "He's wearing a cummerbund." "He was laid out in a vest." "They dressed him after his death." "Could be for appearances." "Maybe he died on the toilet." "Maybe he died in the saddle with somebody other than Mrs. Keyes." "Marcela Di Portago." "We always flirted very openly." "The media loved it, and Jonathan loved having his picture in the paper." "Mrs. Keyes share that love?" "Danielle is a silent partner in this business." "She thought talk of Kesey and me would be good for trade." "Where did the good friends go when the music stopped?" "I left Dardenelle's on my own around 2:00... and he was left with the latest set of cheekbones." "She have a name?" "They all have names... but I never keep track of who Kesey's playing house with." "Four years back I picked him up at LaGuardia." "Got him across town through the barricades on Puerto Rican Parade Day... and from then on, I was his man." "It's been good." "I'll miss him." "Maybe Mrs. Keyes will keep the limo." "She can keep the job that goes with it." "She's not fun, like Mr. Keyes?" "Nasty piece of work." "Anyway, lucky for me, Mr. K didn't spend a whole lot of time with her." "Who did he spend his time with?" "Nowadays, just Cathy Rogers, the cover girl." "What about her?" "Is she just something to wear on his arm for the night?" "No, no, they were getting regular." "He cared about her." "Did Mrs. Keyes care that he cared?" "Mrs. Keyes cared about Mrs. Keyes, period." "Lovely, darling." "All right, a little more smile." "Perfect." "I love it." "I'm not seeing your eyes." "Excuse me." "We're looking for Cathy Rogers." "She's not here." "That's not what her agency said." "Okay." "Perfect." "Lovely." "The press have been driving the poor thing crazy." "She came here to hide." "She's in no shape to work." "Cathy... these men are from the police." "I'm Det." "Briscoe." "This is Det." "Logan." "She killed him." "You think that?" "Did you call the police?" "No." "But when I heard he was dead, I knew." "We happen to know you were with him last night." "If I tell you something, how do I know you're not going to sell it to the press?" "My manager says, as an exclusive, my story's worth a lot." "Maybe even a TV movie deal." "Well, it could also mean obstruction and time in a cell at Bedford." "Why would I withhold evidence?" "I was crazy for Kesey." "I told everyone he was the best lover I ever had." "Living up to that might be quite a challenge for a guy his age." "Maybe last night, he was reaching for the stars and got a vapor lock?" "There was nothing wrong with him last night." "He was great, like always." "Afterwards, we took a shower together." "He wanted more... but I had an early shoot, so I left." "Was he wearing a tux when you tucked him in?" "He was watching CNN when I left." "When I got home, I called him, so he'd know that I was okay." "We talked for a while, then she came into his room... so we had to hang up." "The whore is lying." "I didn't speak to him." "I can't even confirm or deny that he had a guest in his suite." "We didn't intrude on each other's lives." "Well, the problem is, you told us he slept downstairs... because of your sleep disorder." "Well, I really didn't see where my sex life was any of your business." "Doesn't it bother you that someone out there... is describing your late husband as the best lover she's ever had?" "Read the tabloids, Mr. Logan." "She's not the first." "Jonathan gave his last slut a check for $25,000 for giving him rave reviews." "He had a large ego." "I accepted it and I was well compensated." "Yeah, well, we still have a problem about the tux." "Perhaps she was presenting him with an award." "I'm sorry I'm late." "Traffic was bad." "Do I have to submit to this?" "What is the law?" "The law is that these men have no business investigating Mr. Keyes' death." "Here's a report from the Medical Examiner's Office... stating his opinion that Jonathan Keyes died of natural causes." "Felix will show you out." "My uncle died in his bib overalls." "Before the relatives arrived, he was in a white linen suit... with his hands folded over a Panama hat." "There's nothing unusual about dressing him." "Yeah, but none of your cousins called the police and said he was murdered." "Uncle Willie didn't have 24-hour-a-day surveillance by the press." "We've got the girl du jour who says that the wife paid him a visit... just before he died." "Who's also trying to sell the movie rights." "Look, nine out of 10 of the little people are saying the wife's guilty." "But it doesn't build you a case." "Lennie, just took a call for you." "The son, Lance Keyes, wants a call back at his club." "Have fun." "He's with his lawyer." "Case closed?" "Officially, you're on lunch." "We played squash last week." "He beat me three straight." "This was not natural causes." "The Medical Examiner disagrees." "What, like those people can't be bought?" "Lance's father was planning a divorce." "The pre-nuptial agreement would have limited Danielle... to the income from a $1 million trust." "And she can't live on that?" "Well, she could live a lot better on a third of his assets." "That comes to $36 million she would get from his will... not to mention the estate in Southampton." "Where the grieving widow is entertaining 200 of his closest mourners... even as we speak." "Well, you have to understand... we're stuck with the M.E.'s report until we get something new." "Look, if it's a matter of money" " Lance." "We just want to help you any way we can." "Kids hate their stepmothers on principle." "Read Cinderella." "And young Lance here has a legitimate motive, his old man's dough." "I mean, anything that doesn't go to the wife goes directly into his bank account." "Listen, funeral homes, no morgue, embalmings, no autopsy... somebody else is calling our shots here." "You got a couple of hundred million, you get treated different when you kick." "Come on." "When was the last time someone reported a murder... and CSU didn't work the room?" "Well, I don't see anybody giving us a warrant... and I don't see me blowing my pension over this." "Walk on the wild side, Lennie." "If this guy is a victim... we got every right to get up close and personal with the crime scene." "Well, let's hope the weather holds in the Hamptons." "I think I really must call Mrs. Keyes." "I'm sure she would not allow this." "Remember Mr. Keyes?" "You think he'd allow it?" "You have to polish all this stuff?" "A different specialist for every body part." "I'm glad I'm not rich enough to know how sick I am." "Different doctors, but all from the same pharmacy." "Someone didn't clean too well." "The brown spot, dried blood?" "Injection, maybe." "Look at this." "That look like the top of a medicine bottle to you?" "Boy, everything ends up in the dust ruffle." "What's that, the luck of the Irish?" "Yeah, maybe." "Lab report on the cotton." "The brown spot is blood." "It matches Keyes' type... minute traces of rubbing alcohol and insulin." "That's wonderful, Mike." "Let me ask you this." "Either one of you ever hear of a warrant?" "It's the victim's apartment." "You don't need a warrant for a crime scene." "It's also the grieving widow's apartment, which may make your precious... cotton ball inadmissible against her." "Well, at least now we know what we're looking for." "People die from too much insulin." "Ever think the guy was diabetic?" "Okay, so we get a warrant for the pharmacy's records." "Any warrant gets us a call from downtown." "Forget the judge." "We'll talk to the housekeeper." "She ought to know if there's a diabetic in the family." "I certainly would have known if anyone has diabetes." "How can you be so sure?" "Because I make all the doctor's appointments... and I know everything that goes on in their lives." "You mean, like, why Mr. Keyes got up at 4:00 in the morning and put on a tux?" "Look, you want to tell us once more how he really looked when you found him?" "Why should I?" "I mean, people tell you something, you don't pay any attention, anyhow." "Mike, don't you think it's funny... that we find a stray cotton ball in the bedroom?" "Makes me wonder who made that call." "It was you, wasn't it?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "All right, look, we're gonna finish this conversation at the precinct." "I have the right to make a call." "Well, Mrs. Keyes did not... want him found nude, see." "And with the room, of course, it was obvious... you know, what had been going on." "So you cleaned up before you called us." "Yes." "I made the bed... and I dressed him." "Now, why did you do that?" "Because I wanted to find out... if there was any indication of murder." "Besides, Mr. Keyes always told me..." "I had to obey Mrs. Keyes." "Of course, he knew how I felt." "Well, if you didn't like her, why didn't you quit?" "We go back a long time... to his first marriage." "And I raised their son, Lance... and when his mother died..." "I was needed." "I stayed." "Lance Keyes and his attorney are here." "I guess now we know who Helga called." "What do you mean, you investigated on your own?" "Well, things were going slowly... and Lance thought it would be prudent... to hire his own investigator." "Somebody who wouldn't be intimidated by my stepmother." "He found this bag in Mrs. Keyes' bathroom." "And inside the bag he found a smaller bag... which contained..." "We had it tested." "It's coated with insulin." "That's how she killed him." "How do we know it wasn't your father's?" "Mr. Keyes wasn't allowed into her bedroom... much less into her bathroom." "We also obtained... payment records from Bergman's Pharmacy." "Two weeks ago, Mrs. Keyes purchased... insulin and syringes." "This is all very convenient." "How can I be sure someone didn't plant all this?" "The syringe is covered with her prints." "You can test it yourself, if you like." "She was the only one home that night." "Excuse us a minute." "If they were all this easy" "I don't like being hand delivered evidence by an interested party." "Hey, if our hands weren't tied, we would have found it." "You've got insulin on the needle, in her bathroom... her prints, the girlfriend puts her at the scene." "You got probable cause for arrest." "But nothing links it to the man's death." "Remember the M.E.'s report." "Natural causes." "Because the M.E.'s hands were tied, they couldn't touch the body, remember?" "As long as we're stuck with that report, we don't have a murder." "Oh, come on." "You're not saying we're gonna back off?" "No." "I'm gonna call the D.A., and we're gonna dig Keyes up." "Lieutenant, I don't care who called you." "Either you investigate a case properly or you consider an early retirement." "Hold it." "Everything I did was by the book, in capital letters." "By preventing an autopsy?" "Read the file." "The doctor on the scene said he died of natural causes." "And it never occurred to you... that he might have had a personal stake in that diagnosis?" "Remind me never to take a trip with you in the back seat, Counselor." "It's an easy call now, in this office." "I'm not unaware of your predicament, Lieutenant." "Twenty-six calls this morning... including seven congressmen and three judges." "People are taking "rest in peace" very seriously." "But it's got nothing to do with the facts, Adam." "You both know it... and you're going to let that influence you?" "No, but it may influence the poor bastard on the bench... who's gotta decide whether to start digging up dead bodies." "Mrs. Keyes is in your office with her attorney, Prof. Norman Rothenberg." "There you go." "The rich are different." "They get better lawyers." "Damn it, Ben, what happened to civility?" "The man's dead and buried." "We'd just like to confirm that that ceremony wasn't premature." "What, is business so slow you had to start manufacturing crimes?" "Well, she certainly had motive." "In a few years, Ms. Kincaid, hopefully... you will be able to judge without being judgmental." "An insulin-encrusted syringe... with your client's fingerprints on it, found in her bathroom." "That's about as close to a smoking gun as you can get." "If there were evidence that the cause of death was insulin poisoning, yes." "The chicken or the egg, Norman." "That's why we applied for an exhumation." "And you expect a judge to raise the dead on a hunch?" "A cotton ball with traces of insulin found in his room." "That's hardly a jump." "Please don't insult me." "You know the cotton was illegally obtained." "A judge can't ever consider that." "It was the victim's apartment." "It was a condo, Ben, held in tenancy by the entirety." "At Mr. Keyes' death... the property moved to Mrs. Keyes as a matter of law." "So you can go around in circles as much as you want..." "Ben, it still isn't going to get you anywhere." "I'll let a judge decide." "And when he does, a simple..." ""I'm sorry" won't be sufficient." "Is that a threat, Norman?" "No." "It's a promise." "Somehow, I don't feel that sorry for her." "Let's get enough back-up so that a judge has to agree." "Danielle was to the manor born." "Only they just put a third mortgage on the manor." "Jonathan's bank account helped put the shine back in her crown." "Her granddaddy was some sort of a duke." "Did Mr. Keyes know that his wife only married him for the money?" "Well, Jonathan's interests were more libidinous." "You should have seen Danny 10 years ago." "She looked a little like Cathy Rogers." "Supermodel." "Can anyone blame him?" "I'm really only interested in whether his wife blamed him." "Well, in their circles, these kind of flings are expected." "But what's good for the gander is not always good for the goose." "Mrs. Keyes had a relationship, too?" "Jonathan's ego couldn't take it." "Who was the boyfriend?" "Well, to put it delicately..." "Marcela Di Portago... was more than a business partner." "Haven't you heard it's chic to be gay?" "And if she was anything, Danielle was chic." "It lasted a few months." "So it wasn't serious?" "Look, Danielle was curious." "She needed something to talk about in the sauna." "It was nothing." "Well, unfortunately, it was to Jonathan." "Why, because he didn't get to watch?" "My dalliance with Danielle may have been touted... as grounds for the upcoming divorce." "But it wasn't the reason." "Well, what was?" "My guess is, poor Kesey finally got tired of using the guest room." "You mean he wasn't there out of choice?" "More like out of desperation." "Playing the male rogue hormones was his way of trying to excite her." "So you're saying that he loved her?" "Of course it was useless." "There was a reason why Cosmo calls her the "Ice Princess. "" "In 10 years, I saw her get excited only once... when Lutèce ran out of Chateau d'Yquem." "Expensive way to wash down your medicine." "Did she use insulin?" "Supplied more than generously by Whit Ferguson." "The writer?" "Of course, I am myopic... allergic, xenophobic... and some of my closer friends would swear on a stack... that I'm schizophrenic." "Do you think I'm paranoid?" "I'm really only interested in the diabetes, sir." "Shame." "It's the least fun of all." "The price of overindulgence and my grandfather's curse." "For leaving Charleston, you understand." "And you're required to inject insulin?" "Sins of the fathers." "What is it again that you do?" "I'm an assistant district attorney." "Face like that, you should be sipping Cristal in the Bois de Boulogne... and not black coffee at Irving's on Court Street." "Amazing what the Russians can do with a potato." "So, it's really a terrific scandal, don't you think?" "I always knew she had murder in her eyes." "And you got her the insulin?" "You don't need a prescription, my dear." "Well, you do for syringes." "True." "To tell the truth, I always thought a pearl-handled derringer... in a beaded purse was more her style." "As far as I knew, the insulin was purely for the war on cellulite." "She injected herself in order to lose weight?" "Some people will do anything to fit into a size 3." "The Keyes were convinced that insulin would burn off all those crème brûlées." "You mean Jonathan Keyes injected himself, too?" "Oh, Johnny boy didn't have the gumption to stick a needle in himself." "No, he just closed his eyes and let Danny have all the fun." "When was the last time you gave her a syringe?" "I couldn't be bothered." "I instructed my pharmacist that from time to time..." "Mrs. Keyes would be picking up my prescription for me." "These people never heard of exercise?" "Why sweat when you can shoot up?" "I thought insulin induced coma, not heart failure." "Well, Keyes' physician said hypertension ran in the family." "And M.E. told me... that an unwarranted amount of insulin could definitely cause cardiac problems." "We still can't prove Mrs. Keyes did the injecting." "Whit Ferguson signed an affidavit... saying that Mr. Keyes never injected himself." "Now, Ben, they found a used syringe in her bathroom with her prints on it." "I think that's sufficient to warrant an autopsy, even if I am a little prejudiced." "You are?" "Yeah." "Well, let's hope Judge Mooney shares your character flaw." "I've reviewed the State's application and the affidavits filed therewith... and I have to say they make a hell of a compelling argument." "Can I assume... by your virtual lack of answering papers, Professor... that you're letting this go unopposed?" "No, on the contrary, Your Honor." "There's no way that mere documentation can communicate... the enormity of our opposition." "This is a factual finding, Norman, it's not a melodrama." "And have we reached the point in jurisprudence where... humanity and compassion have been totally discarded?" "Please, Mr. Rothenberg." "I have enough trouble breathing the air outside." "I assume Mrs. Keyes wishes to make a statement." "She does, Your Honor." "Take your time, Danielle." "This is my husband we're discussing, not some corpse." "For 10 years, we were happy." "Norman's told me what happens during an autopsy." "I don't know what you have against us, Mr. Stone." "I assume it must be the money." "I doubt that you'd go to this trouble for anyone else." "You just don't understand." "I loved him." "Mrs. Keyes, how do you explain the used hypodermic needle... with your fingerprints on it, found in your bathroom?" "No, I always disposed of the needles when I was through." "I haven't injected myself for several months." "The pharmacy's records indicate... that you purchased insulin within two weeks of your husband's death." "Well, yes, but that was for Jonathan." "I wanted him to stop." "I knew that it wasn't healthy... but he was a chronic overeater... and he injected himself every time he had a big meal." "Mr. Ferguson stated in his affidavit... that your husband was afraid of injecting himself." "At first, but when I refused to inject him... his vanity overcame his fear." "Then, Mrs. Keyes, what were your fingerprints doing on that syringe?" "I have no idea." "The attending physician certified that the cause of death... was cardiac arrest." "Which is consistent with an insulin overdose, Your Honor." "If it was, somebody somewhere is liable for something." "The body will be exhumed with all due speed." "And, Mrs. Keyes... if the autopsy comes up negative... you have my deepest apologies." "Thank you." "Tissue samples were removed from the coronal mastoid area and right frontal lobes." "We run an RIA and..." "This is his brain." "This is his brain on drugs." "What kind of drugs?" "Your Mr. Keyes was swimming in insulin." "Surprise, surprise." "It's enough for an arrest." "Not exactly the Staten Island Ferry." "You kidding?" "These people could probably buy Staten Island." "Not now, Popeye." "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?" "I told your office that Mrs. Keyes would surrender voluntarily." "Danielle Keyes, you're under arrest for the murder of Jonathan Keyes." "You have the right to remain" "Come on, Detective." "Don't you think I've already advised Mrs. Keyes... on everything she needs to know?" "And the handcuffs certainly won't be necessary." "Counselor, you've heard of pro forma." "You have the right to remain silent." "It was in Mrs. Keyes' bathroom, under the sink." "There was a bag, like a gym bag." "I opened it, and there was a small cloth purse inside." "And in that purse?" "There was a syringe and an empty vial." "Is this the syringe, Mr. Quinn?" "Yes." "Offered as evidence." "Call it People's 14." "And what did you do with the syringe?" "I took it to the Tyler-Hampton Laboratory." "They tested it... and they told me there were still traces of insulin on the needle." "Thank you." "Who was it who first suggested that you search Mrs. Keyes' bathroom?" "Their son, Lance Keyes." "And did he specifically ask you to search the cabinet beneath the sink?" "Yes." "And when you found the gym bag, did you open it immediately?" "No, it was locked." "Lance told me to rip it open." "Let me back up a few steps here, Mr. Quinn." "On the day of your search, did Lance actually let you into the apartment?" "No, he didn't have a key." "The housekeeper let us in." "Did you have a warrant, sir?" "I've been off the police force 10 years now." "I'm a private citizen." "I don't need a warrant." "It was a good search." "It sounds like a good burglary to me." "Objection." "I object, too, Your Honor... and I renew my motion to suppress the syringe... as it was obtained by an illegal search." "You're both overruled." "By the way, Mr. Quinn... how much did Lance Keyes pay you for your services?" "$20,000." "It was a little after 8:30..." "I found him on the bathroom floor, naked." "Can you explain why the dead body was... fully clothed when the police arrived?" "Well, Mrs. Keyes asked me to clean him up." "It wouldn't look right, she said, considering." "When you found Mr. Keyes on the floor... was there a syringe or any other drug paraphernalia in the area?" "No." "One last question, Miss Holtz." "Why did you call the police and tell them that Mr. Keyes had been murdered?" "Because I know Mrs. Keyes." "Thank you." "Your Honor, my associate, Gerald Austin... will be conducting the remainder of the trial." "Any objections, Mr. Stone?" "No, Your Honor." "To the best of your memory... what did you serve to Mr. Keyes for dinner that night?" "Veal roast, mashed potatoes, and... oh, yes, a white Bordeaux." "What about dessert?" "German chocolate cake." "And a sauterne, yeah." "Did Mr. Keyes have more than one slice of cake?" "He had two." "Sounds to me like you're trying to fatten him up." "Well, I didn't pick the menu, you know." "Mrs. Keyes did." "Yet you served it... knowing full well that it would surely cause him... to inject himself with a potentially dangerous drug?" "I would never... never hurt Mr. Keyes." "$400 an hour is a lot to pay for the second string." "I assume you're giving Mrs. Keyes a discount." "Well, the trial is spring training, Ben." "Season doesn't start until I'm pitching to a room full of judges." "Norman, even you need grounds for appeal." "And on the record so far, it won't be easy." "In 20 years, DiMaggio never had to dive for a ball." "They all came right to him." "It's funny how that works." "That went right past me." "He's gonna throw this whole thing right in the tank." "He thinks he already has grounds for appeal." "He's giving his assistant a little experience... while he gets a head start on his brief." "But appeal with what?" "I was at his apartment until 2:00 in the morning... and then his driver, Murphy, took me home." "Were you alone in the apartment?" "No." "The lights were on in the master bedroom." "Mrs. Keyes was upstairs." "When you arrived home, what did you do?" "I called Jonathan." "He wanted to be sure I got home okay." "We talked for about five minutes... and then he said he had to go." "Why is that?" "Jonathan said that she wanted to talk to him." "You mean Mrs. Keyes?" "Yes." "Thank you." "Did you actually hear Mrs. Keyes... while you were on the phone?" "He was talking to a woman." "Helga was gone." "Who else would be in his apartment at that hour?" "That's right, what would possibly make me think... that a woman other than his wife would enter his bedroom?" "Yes, the gym bag was mine... but I have no idea how it got into my bathroom cabinet." "What about the cloth purse?" "Yes, that was mine, too, but I haven't used it for months." "I keep it at our house in Southampton." "When you found out that your husband had passed away... what did you do?" "I telephoned Lance." "And where was he at the time?" "At our house in Southampton." "The same place you kept the cloth purse." "Does that suggest anything to you, Mrs. Keyes?" "Objection." "Withdrawn." "Thank you, Mrs. Keyes." "One more question, Mrs. Keyes." "Did you ever give Lance permission to go into your bathroom?" "Of course not." "I never gave him permission to enter my apartment." "Your witness." "Mrs. Keyes, why does your husband sleep in the guest room?" "I assume he had company." "And does he often have company?" "We were married, Mr. Stone." "What we did, where we did it, with whom it was done was irrelevant." "I loved Jonathan and he loved me." "But don't you get angry... when you know your husband is sleeping with another woman... in your own apartment?" "I don't expect you to understand." "Jonathan and I were different." "Ah, yes, it would seem so... because most people, when they want to lose weight... they eat less." "And most wives, they care... when their husbands have affairs, and most wives... when they find... their husband dead on the bathroom floor... they call the police... before they dress him up in a tuxedo." "Isn't that right?" "I am not most people, Mr. Stone." "But if your husband divorced you, you would be, wouldn't you?" "And then you'd be just like everybody else." "And you couldn't stand that, could you?" "Mr. Stone." "Any objections, Mr. Austin?" "No." "Mr. Rothenberg?" "No, Your Honor." "Thank you, Your Honor." "He had to know the jury would hate her." "He put her on the stand to establish illegal entry." "He could care less about her effect on the jury." "The search is still good." "There are 200 years of precedent on our side." "And Mr. Rothenberg would love to change that." "So we better start researching our response to his appeal now." "But we don't even have a verdict yet." "We will." "My guess is two hours." "We'll get a conviction, followed by an appeal." "On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree... how do you find?" "We find the defendant guilty." "Move to continue bail pending appeal, Judge." "A little quick out of the gate, aren't you, Counselor?" "Your Honor, I object." "At least until the People are served... with a notice of appeal." "Consider yourself served." "Bail is continued." "Mrs. Keyes is getting her money's worth." "A 100-page brief." "And he doesn't cite one case on point." "Private investigators don't need warrants." "I've got Federal and State cases to prove it." "You have five judges there, Miss Kincaid." "Two of whom have to turn right to see Thurgood Marshall." "The woman killed her husband... we've got the murder weapon, a jury found her guilty." "But she's no longer on trial." "It's an appeal." "Now it's the lawyers' turn to be tried." "Ben, nice brief." "I don't think you missed a case." "You must be pretty confident, Norman." "You don't start handing out compliments unless you think you're gonna win." "Well, the way I look at it, you've got Marshall and Bryant..." "Jensen and Bloom are with me... and the swing vote is definitely Justice Getman." "Norman, I don't mind when you want to expand the law." "I just wish when you do it, you'd pick a more deserving client." "My only concern is the law." "I'll leave justice to a more majestic authority." "Unconscionable is too tame a word, Your Honor." "The surreptitious search of a woman's bathroom... is contrary to what Cardozo called "the very essence... of a scheme of ordered liberty. "" "Justice demands that the fruits of that search... namely the syringe, be excluded." "Correct me if I'm wrong, Professor... but wasn't the search conducted by a private individual?" "The Constitution requires State action." "The perpetrator was... a private investigator licensed by the State." "In effect, he was an agent of the government." "Only the Supreme Court ruled... a liquor license didn't make a private club an agent of the State." "The private investigator's license is distinguishable." "It empowers an individual... to serve in a law enforcement capacity... an activity exclusively reserved to the state." "And on the facts in this case... particularly, the state has benefited... from his illegal actions." "Just as we would not tolerate governmental intrusion into Mrs. Keyes' bathroom... we should not tolerate a thinly-veiled agent of the government... to violate what the Framers deemed inviolable." "If we do, individuals who can afford a fee of $20,000 for a private investigator... would be the recipients of a higher form of justice... than those of us who cannot." "Thank you, Your Honors." "It's black letter law." "The Fourth Amendment is designed to regulate... governmental activity only... and any private search, no matter how egregious... cannot be constitutionally prohibited." "What if the search was specifically designed... to further a governmental objective?" "Any search that uncovers evidence later to be used at trial... is furthering governmental objectives." "So, Mr. Stone... while I'm sitting unconscious in my dentist's chair... he decides to search my briefcase, and finds a gun." "You think it should be admissible against me in a murder trial?" "The Supreme Court thinks so, Your Honor." "And carried to the extreme... if a police officer doesn't have sufficient cause to obtain a warrant... he can get a private citizen to do his dirty work." "Yes, but in this case, it was the son of the murdered victim... who requested the search." "And if he couldn't afford the services of a private investigator... this case never would have come to trial." "Is that correct?" "Of course it's correct." "Once again, how much justice can you afford?" "If there is a double standard, Your Honors... we should eliminate it not by lowering the justice available to the wealthy... but by raising the quality of justice for everyone." "Thank you, Mr. Stone." "Did the appellate victory come as a surprise?" "No, what surprises me is that it has taken this long... for our legal system to recognize such a basic violation... of an individual's civil liberties." "It's a 3-2 decision." "We're gonna appeal." "And who's footing your bills?" "The Court limited its holding to the particular facts of this case." "So we count our blessings and retry the woman." "With what?" "After the appeal, we can't use the syringe." "It's tough to prove an intentional murder without a murder weapon." "What if it wasn't intentional?" "What if we argue that despite the evidence... it was his overdose." "But that Mrs. Keyes chose the menu... she knew that he'd overeat and shoot up afterwards?" "A jury might buy depraved indifference." "It's still murder two." "And then what?" "Rothenberg hauls us uptown for another appeal... and another, and another." "We just walk away from this?" "When the door slams enough in your face... eventually you kind of get the idea they're not letting you in." "It's obvious to me that she's guilty." "The woman will not see the inside of a prison." "We may have the law on our side... may have the facts on our side... but Danielle Keyes has the money... on her side." "And we just can't beat that." "Case is closed." "Danielle Keyes sold the New York apartment for $6 million." "She bought an estate in the south of France." "Is there some point when this actually stops bothering you?" "No." "There really isn't."