NYPD Red 2(27)

Head shakes and catcalls of, “No!”

“No,” Meredith repeated. “We didn’t have to see Rachael kill Kimi to know she did it. Nobody else was seen coming or going. Nobody else had access to the apartment. And most important, nobody else on the planet had a motive. Rachael O’Keefe murdered her daughter at two in the morning, waited eight hours until the body was inside the bowels of a garbage truck, then called the cops and reported her missing. The case was a slam fucking dunk. How the hell did we lose?”

“That’s it,” Dave said to Gideon. “Enough. She’s just torturing herself.”

Everyone knew how they lost. But nobody said a word. Nobody wanted Meredith to think they were blaming her.

Dave stood up, put his arm around her again, and sat her down next to Gideon.

“How the hell did we lose?” she said, burying her face in his chest. “How the hell did we lose?”

And then, as if the CNN gods had heard the question, they popped the answer on the screen.

The Warlock.





Chapter 27



One of the prosecution’s key witnesses was Audrey Yeager, an unmarried, middle-aged legal assistant who lived in the apartment next door to the O’Keefes. Meredith had prepped her for the trial, and to her amazement, she was invited to sit at the prosecutor’s table the day Yeager took the stand.

Audrey delivered. She testified calmly and articulately that numerous times in the past she had heard Kimi crying at night and that despite what Rachael said, Kimi did not always call Rachael’s cell, or if she did, Rachael would not hurry home.

“There were nights when I could hear the poor little girl sobbing for hours,” Audrey told the court. “It would start before I went to sleep, and then it would ebb and flow, from audible moans to soft whimpering, but because her bedroom was directly opposite my living room, I could hear everything clearly. It was very painful.”

Her testimony was decisive. It painted a picture of Rachael O’Keefe as a sadly neglectful mother who would abandon her child night after night. Rachael’s claim that she was just a short phone call away was riddled with holes. The reality, the prosecution maintained, was that most nights Rachael came home drunk and then was faced with having to calm down a hysterical child. But on that fateful Sunday night, Rachael didn’t have the patience or the desire to comfort her daughter. She was overwhelmed by the burden of motherhood, and in her drunken state she put a pillow over Kimi’s head in an effort to silence her.

It may not have been premeditated, but the intent to kill was without question. Murder two.

And then Dennis Woloch stepped up to the plate. Woloch was a legend. A defense attorney who consistently snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. A columnist from the Daily News once wrote that “Woloch has such an uncanny ability to cast a spell over juries that he should change his name to Warlock.”

The moniker stuck, and Woloch reveled in it. By the time he turned forty, he took on only two kinds of clients—those with deep pockets who could add to his fortune and lost causes like Rachael O’Keefe who could add to his reputation.

“Ms. Yeager,” he said as he ambled over to the witness, “let’s start with full disclosure. We know one another, do we not?”

“Yes, sir,” Audrey said.

“You work as a legal assistant for one of my colleagues, and we’ve met on numerous occasions,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, sir,” she repeated.

“Do you have any idea what I think of you?”

She cringed. “No, sir.”

“Well then, let me go on record. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he boomed, “this woman is an absolute sweetheart. She’s as caring and kindhearted and compassionate as they come.”

Some of the jurors smiled. All looked puzzled. Why would the defense attorney give a glowing character reference to the prosecution’s star witness?

Meredith didn’t know either, but her mouth immediately went tinny, and her gastrointestinal system started to churn.

“Audrey,” the Warlock said, “it must have been very difficult for you to listen to that poor child cry night after night.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Meredith nodded. Just answer the question. Don’t volunteer anything.

“Did you ever talk to her mother about it?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“Understandable,” Woloch said. “Who among us wants to confront their neighbor and correct them on their parenting skills? You agree?”

Audrey nodded.

“So you just let poor little Kimi cry her eyes out night after night,” he said.