corpus review, but due to an unusually busy docket, the court hadn't set a hearing. That's why we got an eleventh-hour stay. But that won't happen again. And a hearing has been set, in about a week."
"What are you planning to say at the hearing?"
Ben pondered whether to answer the question. He didn't normally brief prosecution witnesses on his case strategy. But for some reason, he thought he should tell her the truth. "Frankly, we don't know. Getting a prisoner released on habeas corpus is pitifully rare. One of the most common grounds-which isn't at all common-is incompetence of counsel at trial. I can hardly argue that the trial counsel was incompetent, since I was the trial counsel. Someone else could make the argument, though. Which is why I was looking for a new lawyer to take the case."
"I was at that trial every day," Erin said, and Ben could see in her eyes that she was returning to that time, a place he suspected she did not like to go. "I don't recall you being incompetent. In fact, I remember thinking if I was ever in trouble, you were the one I'd hire to get me out."
"I appreciate that. But there's no such thing as a perfect trial, and every trial attorney makes mistakes. If there's an argument to be made, we need to get someone in who can make it."
There was a long silence. Ben could tell Erin was thinking, running something through her head. Unless he missed his guess, there was something she wanted to tell him. She just hadn't figured out how to say it yet.
"I-" She started, then stopped, then tried it again. "I-would like to help. If I could."
Christina's brow creased. "You want to help us-with Ray Goldman's appeal?"
"Yes. If possible. I would."
Ben stared at her, unsure what to say. "Forgive us if we seem taken aback, Erin, but-you were the principal prosecution witness at the trial. The only one who mattered, really. To be quite honest, I thought we were winning. Until you took the stand."
"Everyone thought so," Christina added. " Erin, your testimony is what got Ray convicted. More than that. It's why he got the death penalty."
All at once, Erin crumbled forward. Her head fell into her hands. "I know," she said, barely audibly. "I know that."
Ben and Christina looked at one another. This was too strange, almost surreal. What was going on?
Christina inched forward and gently laid a hand on the woman's back. "I'm sorry, Erin. I wasn't trying to induce a guilt trip. I was just stating a fact. About your testimony, I mean."
Her chest heaved. "That's why it hurts so much."
"I-I'm afraid I don't understand. You told the jury what you saw and heard. Why does that hurt?"
"Because it was all a lie." She brushed the tears from her face and pressed against the arms of the chair, trying to steady herself. "Every word of it. A tremendous lie."
Ben was so stunned he could barely speak. "You-didn't really see him?"
"I wasn't sure what I saw." Her broken voice seemed part anger, part anguish. "I wasn't sure about anything. The killer wore a ski mask, remember? I couldn't tell what he looked like. I did hear his voice, and when I heard Goldman's voice in the lineup, I thought maybe it was the killer's voice. But I couldn't be certain."
"Then why-"
"The DA." Her lips stiffened as the letters slipped out of her mouth. "He pushed me. Pressured me. He was desperate to win that case. There had been so much publicity, you remember. He couldn't afford to lose. He was certain Goldman was guilty and he was willing to do almost anything to convict him. I was only fifteen years old and barely thinking straight. Easy for him to manipulate."
Ben didn't argue with her. He knew most district attorneys were honest lawyers who played it straight, but some of his subsequent experiences with Jack Bullock proved the man was willing to break rules to convict someone he believed guilty. "So he told you to lie?"
"Oh, he never said it like that. He just pushed. Pushed and pushed and never let up. Told me how important my
"What are you planning to say at the hearing?"
Ben pondered whether to answer the question. He didn't normally brief prosecution witnesses on his case strategy. But for some reason, he thought he should tell her the truth. "Frankly, we don't know. Getting a prisoner released on habeas corpus is pitifully rare. One of the most common grounds-which isn't at all common-is incompetence of counsel at trial. I can hardly argue that the trial counsel was incompetent, since I was the trial counsel. Someone else could make the argument, though. Which is why I was looking for a new lawyer to take the case."
"I was at that trial every day," Erin said, and Ben could see in her eyes that she was returning to that time, a place he suspected she did not like to go. "I don't recall you being incompetent. In fact, I remember thinking if I was ever in trouble, you were the one I'd hire to get me out."
"I appreciate that. But there's no such thing as a perfect trial, and every trial attorney makes mistakes. If there's an argument to be made, we need to get someone in who can make it."
There was a long silence. Ben could tell Erin was thinking, running something through her head. Unless he missed his guess, there was something she wanted to tell him. She just hadn't figured out how to say it yet.
"I-" She started, then stopped, then tried it again. "I-would like to help. If I could."
Christina's brow creased. "You want to help us-with Ray Goldman's appeal?"
"Yes. If possible. I would."
Ben stared at her, unsure what to say. "Forgive us if we seem taken aback, Erin, but-you were the principal prosecution witness at the trial. The only one who mattered, really. To be quite honest, I thought we were winning. Until you took the stand."
"Everyone thought so," Christina added. " Erin, your testimony is what got Ray convicted. More than that. It's why he got the death penalty."
All at once, Erin crumbled forward. Her head fell into her hands. "I know," she said, barely audibly. "I know that."
Ben and Christina looked at one another. This was too strange, almost surreal. What was going on?
Christina inched forward and gently laid a hand on the woman's back. "I'm sorry, Erin. I wasn't trying to induce a guilt trip. I was just stating a fact. About your testimony, I mean."
Her chest heaved. "That's why it hurts so much."
"I-I'm afraid I don't understand. You told the jury what you saw and heard. Why does that hurt?"
"Because it was all a lie." She brushed the tears from her face and pressed against the arms of the chair, trying to steady herself. "Every word of it. A tremendous lie."
Ben was so stunned he could barely speak. "You-didn't really see him?"
"I wasn't sure what I saw." Her broken voice seemed part anger, part anguish. "I wasn't sure about anything. The killer wore a ski mask, remember? I couldn't tell what he looked like. I did hear his voice, and when I heard Goldman's voice in the lineup, I thought maybe it was the killer's voice. But I couldn't be certain."
"Then why-"
"The DA." Her lips stiffened as the letters slipped out of her mouth. "He pushed me. Pressured me. He was desperate to win that case. There had been so much publicity, you remember. He couldn't afford to lose. He was certain Goldman was guilty and he was willing to do almost anything to convict him. I was only fifteen years old and barely thinking straight. Easy for him to manipulate."
Ben didn't argue with her. He knew most district attorneys were honest lawyers who played it straight, but some of his subsequent experiences with Jack Bullock proved the man was willing to break rules to convict someone he believed guilty. "So he told you to lie?"
"Oh, he never said it like that. He just pushed. Pushed and pushed and never let up. Told me how important my
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