Page 70 of The Guilty Trial

Marze settled into one of the chairs across from him. “We've identified our subject. His name is Arthur Pym. He served as a DOJ evidence custodian, including during the Torrino RICO prosecution five years ago. Our working theory is that Pym had direct knowledge of fabricated evidence in the Torrino case. As the evidence custodian, he was positioned to facilitate irregularities in how certain exhibits were processed and documented.”

Thorne's expression tightened. “That case was one of the most significant prosecutions this office has seen in a decade.”

“We understand that,” Marze said. “We believe the guilt over his role, combined with the pressure of the case collapsing around him and being left to absorb the consequences alone, caused a mental breakdown. He was institutionalized at St. John's Psychiatric Hospital in Seattle for approximately four years.”

“I wasn't aware of that,” Thorne said.

“He was released three months ago,” Marze continued. “Since then, he's been working his way through the list of people he holds responsible.”

“Correcting the record,” Allie picked up. “That's how he sees it. Each victim corresponds to a specific exhibit from the trial, and he brands them with the number.”

Thorne's expression hardened. “You're saying he blames my prosecution team.”

Marze nodded. “He holds them responsible, yes. He was the one whose name appeared on the chain of custody documentation. When the defense challenged the integrity of certain evidence, the questions came back to him. We believe he was coerced into facilitating the irregularities and then left without cover when it mattered.”

“Whether that's entirely accurate or partially accurate doesn't change what he believes,” Allie said. “He spent years in a psychiatric facility. Whatever his version of events is, it hardened into certainty while he was in there.”

Thorne shifted in his chair. “If there were problems with how that evidence was handled, I had no knowledge of them.”

He held her gaze when he said it. Allie had learned more from the seconds after a denial than from the denial itself, and Thorne gave her nothing to work with. Which was either honesty or discipline.

“The Torrino case was built by experienced prosecutors who worked for me. Every significant piece of evidence went through Judge Vance. The conviction was appealed and upheld. I'm not going to sit here and dismiss what you're telling me, but I want to be clear: I had no awareness of any misconduct in that office.”

“We're not suggesting you did,” Marze said.

“Judge Vance is dead,” Allie said. “Which means Pym considered him culpable in some way. Vance signed the wiretap authorizations that became Exhibit 35. He denied the defense motions challenging the chain of custody. Whether Pym's interpretation of those decisions is accurate or not, they're on his list.”

Thorne looked down for a moment. “Judge Vance was a man I respected deeply,” he said. “I find it hard to believe he may have been complicit in any of this. He was known for his integrity and fairness.”

“I understand.” Allie let a moment pass before continuing. “In the course of the investigation, we interviewed AUSA Halloway and AUSA Park about their handling of specific evidence in the Torrino prosecution. Both of them told us there was nothing irregular about how the case was built. Both of them looked us in the eye when they said it. We've since gone back through the documentation and conducted additional interviews. What we found doesn't match what either of them told us. It looks like Halloway and Park directly misstated evidence, that they misrepresented how certain exhibits were obtained and documented, and that they were aware of it when they did.”

Thorne sat back in his chair. “If that is true,” he said, placing each word like it would be entered into the record, “and I'm not conceding it is without considerably more information, it will be a national scandal.” He looked at each of them in turn. “I want to be unambiguous: if it's substantiated, this office will cooperate fully with whatever investigation follows.”

Allie couldn't read him cleanly. Everything he said tracked with a man blindsided by bad news. But Thorne had spent thirty years in courtrooms. If anyone knew how to land a reaction on cue, it was a career prosecutor. She had no reason to think he was lying, as everything involved in the trial worked below him and operated from another office in a different city.

“We appreciate that,” Marze said.

“What do you need from me?”

“At this point, we don't know if you're a target,” Marze said. “Pym's focus appears to be on the people with direct, documented involvement in building and presenting the corrupted evidence. But we can't rule out that his list extends further than what we've identified. We need you to limit your movements where possible, vary your routines, and keep your marshal detail informed of your schedule well in advance. No deviations without notifying them first.”

“For how long?” Thorne asked.

“Until we have him in custody,” Marze said. “We're expecting days, not weeks.”

“I've already been in regular contact with Jake Reeves about security protocols,” Thorne said.

“Good. For what it's worth, we're close. We have surveillance on a location where Pym's been operating. We have reason to believe he'll return to it. When he does, we'll have him.”

Thorne looked at him steadily. “How confident are you?”

“I won’t make any promises,” Marze told him. “But I think it’s only a matter of time.”

Thorne nodded once, but Allie noticed he’d squeezed his fingers so tight around his pen they’d gone white. He rose from his chair, and the agents filed out of the office.

Jake Reeves was waiting outside the door. “Agents.”

“Marshal.” Allie returned the nod. Reeves looked rested, which surprised her. She'd expected the strain of a protection detail to show by now, but he seemed more bored than anything. Maybe the ability to sideline his personal feelings was what made him good at his job.