“Father Beale was and is a strong supporter of gay rights. He believes gay people should be allowed to be Episcopal priests, he believes Episcopal priests should be allowed to marry gay couples and he has allowed a gay activist group to meet at the church for some years.”

“Without the knowledge or consent of the governing body of the church,” Canelli couldn’t resist adding.

The judge nodded. “And you believe this plays some part in the intrachurch disharmony that provides your theory of motive?”

“Exactly so, your honor. That’s what we intend to argue.”

Ben couldn’t contain himself. “Does anyone in this room believe that Father Beale knocked off a vestry member because she disagreed with him about gay rights? Give me a break.”

“It does seem a bit tenuous,” Judge Pitcock agreed.

“Your honor,” Canelli insisted, “we have considerable evidence that-”

“Give us some credit, Canelli,” Ben interrupted. “We all know perfectly well this has nothing to do with motive. The only reason you want this evidence in the trial is because you know that even with half a million people in the metro area, Tulsa is still basically a big small town, and we have our share of rednecks and mental midgets who don’t like gays and don’t like people who like gays, either. You’re hoping to play on homophobia and ignorant prejudices to help you get your conviction. It’s totally improper. More than that-it’s disgraceful.”

Canelli’s handsome face turned stone cold. “Your honor, I very much resent defense counsel’s remarks. He’s insinuating that I’m acting pursuant to an improper motive.”

“I don’t think he’s insinuating,” Judge Pitcock said laconically. “He pretty much came straight out and said it.”

“Well, it isn’t true!”

Behind him, Ben saw the pencils were back in action again. “There’s no other rational reason for trying to admit such grossly improper evidence.”

“There’s nothing improper about informing the jury of the true facts of the case!”

“Calm down, gentlemen,” Pitcock said, pushing air with his hands. “These histrionics are not necessary.”

“Your honor,” Canelli said, “I want to assure the court that I’m acting in good faith. Let me restate my argument.”

“Don’t bother,” the judge replied. “There’s no way I’m letting this evidence in at trial.”

Canelli looked as if he’d been sideswiped by a truck.

“Regardless of your motive theories, this is grossly prejudicial evidence. Even if I believed it might be probative-and I don’t-I still wouldn’t let it in. It’s much too inflammatory. Let’s move on.”

Ben resisted the temptation to give himself a high five. Two for two! And the reporters were getting every word of it. Now if he could only score on the third item on the agenda-the one that really mattered.

“Your honor,” Ben said, “our third motion to suppress relates to an acrylic award that was found by the police in my client’s office. And, of course, the fingerprints that were taken from that award.”

“Your honor,” Canelli said. “Now he wants to suppress the murder weapon!”

“And with good reason. The award was discovered and seized pursuant to an illegal search.”

“There was nothing illegal about it,” Canelli insisted. “The police were called to the premises. The award was near the body at the scene of the crime.”

“That is not precisely correct.” Ben removed Mike’s SOC report from his notebook. “The victim’s body was found at the church, in Father Beale’s office, atop his desk. The award was in a desk drawer. But, as the report of the chief officer on the scene makes clear, the drawer was closed.” Ben looked up at the judge. “I will grant you that the police had the right to be in that office, and they probably had the right to examine anything that was in plain sight. But they did not have the right to open the desk drawer. For that, they needed either the permission of Father Beale or someone in charge of the premises, or they needed a warrant. They had neither. They had no business rifling through my client’s desk. The search was improper; therefore, all evidence uncovered as a result of the illegal search must be suppressed.”

Judge Pitcock rubbed his forehead. “These are very serious charges, Mr. Canelli. Do you have a response?”

“Yes, your honor,” Canelli replied. “My response is that this argument is absurd.”

Judge Pitcock rose slightly out of his chair. His calm exterior was betrayed by a flash of anger. “Mr. Prosecutor, let me assure you that there is nothing stupid about the Fourth Amendment protections against unlawful search and seizure. I take the Constitution very seriously, and so does the Supreme Court, and their decisions, may I remind you, are binding on this court. Now, if you don’t want to see your case crumble right before your eyes, you’d better explain what your officers were doing in that desk drawer!”

Canelli frowned, then took a step back from the bench. “They were looking for a pencil.”

“Excuse me?” the judge said.

“They were looking for a pencil. There was no intentional misconduct. No one expected to find the murder weapon. But the homicide detective on the scene-Major Morelli-likes those fancy fountain pens, and his ran out of ink and he needed something to write with, so he naturally opened a desk drawer. And there it was.”

“And that’s your story? That he was looking for a pencil and stumbled across the murder weapon?”

“That’s it. Major Morelli’s affidavit is on file.”

Pitcock turned toward Ben. “You agree with that?”

“Up to a point, sir. Major Morelli’s affidavit is uncontested. He’s a straight shooter, and I have no doubt that he was doing what he says he was doing. But the absence of improper intent doesn’t alter the fact that it was an unauthorized search, contrary to Constitutional guidelines.”

“Actually, it might.” The judge already had one of his law books out and was thumbing rapidly through the pages. “The Supreme Court has ruled that intent is relevant as to the propriety of unwarranted searches.” He flipped through some more pages till he found what he was searching for. “Yes. State versus Pezzoli. Inadvertent discovery of evidence while looking for something else unrelated to the case. As I recall, the officer found a vital piece of evidence while searching for a bathroom. Anyway, the court ruled that since there was no intent to conduct an illegal search or seizure, the evidence did not have to be suppressed.” He looked up from his book. “Sorry, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Your honor,” Ben implored, “think of the precedent. If you allow this, every time a police officer conducts an illegal search, he’ll claim he was looking for a pencil. Or something like that.”

Pitcock pondered. “True, this does have potential for abuse. I hate to take us down a slippery slope.”

“Your honor,” Ben urged, “consider the impact on the sanctity of the home. Of the family.” Cheap, Ben knew, but when you’re dying fast you have to pull out all your guns. “Can the family survive in a world without privacy? When personal space can be invaded by any officer who claims he’s looking for a bathroom?”

Judge Pitcock thought a long while before answering. “Your argument is not without merit, Mr. Kincaid. I don’t like improper searches any better than you do. But the case law is clear, and I am bound to follow it. If you’d like, I’ll grant you leave to take an interlocutory appeal.”

“Taken,” Ben said, but he knew it would make no difference. The Court of Criminal Appeals would follow the Supreme Court’s prior ruling.

“Very well. In the meantime, your third motion will be denied. Is there anything else?”

“No, your honor.”

“Good. This court is now dismissed.” He rapped his gavel and disappeared into chambers.

Canelli grabbed Ben on his way back to counsel table. “I don’t appreciate what you said back there, Kincaid.”

“Oh, go model some underwear or something.”