Confessions: The Private School Murders (37 page)

“Order!” the judge yelled, banging his gavel. “I will have order in my courtroom!”

Eventually everyone calmed down. Mrs. Gee was quietly crying against her husband’s chest. I couldn’t see Matthew’s face. He was looking down at his hands, still as stone.

“Please continue, Mr. Wagner,” Philippe said. “What did you do next?”

“I left the way I came in. I took off my gloves so I could get a grip on the door, and when I got down to the restaurant, I washed the knife, bagged the gloves and apron, and changed my clothes. Then I took all of it to Greenpoint, where I live, and threw it in a Dumpster. That’s it.”

Oddly, silence reigned throughout the large vaulted courtroom once the story was finished. Apparently a cold-blooded confession was a lot to process.

Phil turned the witness over to the prosecution, and Nadine Raphael slowly rose from her chair. I saw that a few hairs had slipped free of her bun. Otherwise, she looked perfectly calm and composed.

“Were you offered a deal to make this confession, Troy?” she asked.

“Unofficially. Cop said if I confessed, he’d try to get
me a lighter sentence. Look, they had my handprint. The DNA will convict me, so I took my best shot. I’ve fully cooperated. Right, Your Honor?”

The judge was so stunned he looked like he was about to keel over. “Uh, yes. Right.”

“I have no further questions,” Ms. Raphael said.

“Hey, Matthew,” Wagner called out, leaning toward where my brother was sitting. “You’re free now, buddy. I’ve saved your life. I hope you appreciate all I’ve done for you.”

Matthew rose up like a grizzly bear, knocking his chair to the floor. His fists clenched and he looked like Goliath in chains. In other words, the Matthew I knew and loved was back.

“You killed Tamara, you sick son of a bitch!” he bellowed. “You killed my son!”

Matthew took one step forward, and that was all that was needed. Chaos erupted. Guards lunged for Matty. The audience rose to their feet for a better view as first two, then three burly men wrestled my brother back into his seat. The jurors were almost falling out of the jury box.

The judge pounded his gavel until the plate he was pounding it on shot off the bench. Then he pounded the bench itself until he got a semblance of silence.

“Bailiff!” he thundered. “Clear the courtroom! Do it now!”

83

Matthew was escorted out of the courtroom,
having just shown the jury what he looks like when he’s angry. It was a pretty unfortunate last image, considering he was still technically on trial, and I hoped it didn’t make the jury second-guess everything they’d just heard.

The courtroom finally came to order.

Phil put Caputo on the stand, and after the cop testified about the physical evidence on the dumbwaiter, the defense rested its case.

Nadine Raphael made her closing argument to the jury, saying in summation, “In the months since Tamara Gee was murdered, the apartment where she died was left unattended. How can we know if the evidence was genuine, or
if it was tricked up? You cannot believe Troy Wagner, a narcissist who testified so that he could be a hero to his hero and bask in his fifteen minutes of fame. This is not Troy Wagner’s trial. It’s Matthew Angel’s trial, and we’ve proved to you that he’s the man who killed Tamara Gee.”

Phil’s summation was equally simple and brief. He said, “Matthew Angel is innocent. The prosecution has not proved him guilty beyond reasonable doubt, or guilty at all. The prosecutors had a circumstantial case that was destroyed when Troy Wagner, one of their key witnesses, told you he killed Tamara Gee. Wagner didn’t just make a confession. He left pristine, irrefutable evidence at the murder scene that backs up his confession. Troy Wagner killed Tamara Gee by stabbing her fifteen times with a paring knife and in so doing, also killed Trevor, her unborn child.

“You must do the right thing, ladies and gentlemen. You must find Matthew Angel not guilty, so he is free to pick up what remains of his unjustly shattered life.”

I looked at Harry and Hugo. They were both beaming with hope. Philippe had done a good job. Now all we could do was wait.

The judge told the jury that their decision was very important and it had to be deliberated based on the facts brought to them during the trial. The twelve shell-shocked men and women filed out, and court was adjourned.

“I don’t get it,” Hugo said. “That guy just confessed. Why don’t they just say Matty’s innocent so we can get him the heck out of here?”

“Doesn’t work that way, bud,” Harry said, ruffling Hugo’s hair. “But hopefully it won’t take the jury too long to state the obvious. It doesn’t look like we’ll hear anything today though.”

We all stood there for a moment: C.P. holding Harry’s hand, Hugo leaning against my side, my hand clasped around his shoulder. I was exhausted, but I had no idea where to go or what to do.

“Come on, you guys,” Jacob said, slinging his arm around my back. “Let’s go home.”

84

An hour later I slipped
into baby-blue fleece pajamas and lay back on my bed. Dr. Magnifico had prescribed lots of rest, so when we’d returned to the Dakota, Jacob had ordered me straight to my room, which was fine by me. I’d never been so exhausted in my entire sixteen years. I cued up Debussy’s
La Mer
on my iPod and pressed the buds into my ears.

It was still light outside my windows, but with the blinds drawn, my room was dark. Still, I slept fitfully, my dreams peppered with images of guns and knives, of Gary, of James, of Adele, of Matthew and my parents, and of snakes and Mr. Borofsky. I kept waking up with a start,
but every time I did, I found someone sitting in a chair near my bed. Harry. Hugo. Jacob.

“Has the jury come back yet?” I’d ask, clutching my sheets.

And each time the answer would be “Not yet. Try to sleep.”

The last time I dozed off, it was finally dark outside and Jacob was watching over me. I finally sank into a deep, dark sleep.

“Where is she?” a voice growled.

I blinked my dry eyes and sat straight up in bed. Hugo was curled next to me like a giant jungle cat.

“What the hell was that?” I gasped.

Hugo rubbed his eyes. “What?”

Suddenly, a huge shape filled my doorway.

“Matthew!” Hugo and I screeched.

My big brother barreled into the room as I got to my knees, and hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe. I saw Philippe over his shoulder, hovering in the hall, grinning from ear to ear.

“How can I ever thank you, Tandy?” Matthew said. “You saved me. Do you know that? You saved your big brother.”

“All in a day’s work,” I said with a shrug, but my huge grin betrayed my indifference.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” Hugo shouted, jumping on Matty’s back. He locked his arms around Matthew’s neck and held on for dear life. Matthew reached around and pulled him off with a laugh, tossing him back onto my bed like a rag doll. Hugo was so happy he was practically hysterical.

“Dude. You’re
back
?” Harry said, stepping into the room in a daze.

Matty clasped hands with Harry, then drew him into a tight one-armed hug. My emo twin’s eyes were quickly oozing tears. Jacob joined Philippe in the doorway, and it was all I could do to keep from choking out a happy sob myself.

My family was together again. It was a perfect moment.

Matthew looked around at all of us, his eyes shining, and put it more aptly than I ever could have.

“Damn, it’s good to be home.”

85

Hugo shouted,
“Farty time!”

He let one loose and laughed. Gotta love little brothers.

“No, Hugo,” I said, waving my hands in front of my face. “Just no.”

“Sorry. I meant
party
time!”

There was a one hundred percent consensus that we were in desperate need of a big blowout family celebration. Jacob huddled with Harry and Hugo, money was distributed, and I was elected to stay home with Matty while the men went out in search of exoneration-worthy food.

“So? What do you want to do?” I asked Matthew.

“I want to take a shower,” he replied with a sigh. “A nice long hot shower.”

So he did. And he was still in there twenty-five minutes later when the guys returned with bulging bags of assorted booty and unpacked it on the kitchen island.