“Yeah, I know. Gotta keep the company line. Just cheer up Minton when he comes down with his hat in his hand.”
“I’ll try.”
She left the cafeteria and I walked over to an empty table. I still had fifteen minutes before the trial was supposed to start up again. I pulled out my cell and called my second ex-wife.
“Lorna, it’s me. We’re in play with Corliss. Are you set?”
“I’m ready.”
“Okay, I’m just checking. I’ll call you.”
“Good luck today, Mickey.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it. You be ready for the next call.”
I closed the phone and was about to get up when I saw LAPD Detective Howard Kurlen cutting through the tables toward me. The man who put Jesus Menendez in prison didn’t look like he was stopping in for a peanut butter and sardine sandwich. He was carrying a folded document. He got to my table and dropped it in front of my coffee cup.
“What is this shit?” he demanded.
I started unfolding the document, even though I knew what it was.
“Looks like a subpoena, Detective. I would’ve thought you’d know what it is.”
“You know what I mean, Haller. What’s the game? I’ve got nothing to do with that case up there and I don’t want to be a part of your bullshit.”
“It’s no game and it’s no bullshit. You’ve been subpoenaed as a rebuttal witness.”
“To rebut what? I told you and you already know, I didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with that case. It’s Marty Booker’s and I just talked to him and he said it’s gotta be a mistake.”
I nodded like I wanted to be accommodating.
“I’ll tell you what, go on up to the courtroom and take a seat. If it’s a mistake I’ll get it straightened out as soon as I can. I doubt you’ll be here another hour. I’ll get you out of there and back chasing the bad guys.”
“How about this? I leave now and you straighten it out whenever the fuck you want.”
“I can’t do that, Detective. That is a valid and lawful subpoena and you must appear in that courtroom unless otherwise discharged. I told you, I will do that as soon as I can. The state’s got one witness and then it’s my turn and I’ll take care of it.”
“This is such bullshit.”
He turned from me and stalked back through the cafeteria toward the doorway. Luckily, he had left the subpoena with me, because it was phony. I had never registered it with the court clerk and the scribbled signature at the bottom was mine.
Bullshit or not, I didn’t think Kurlen was leaving the courthouse. He was a man who understood duty and the law. He lived by it. It was what I was counting on. He would be in the courtroom until discharged. Or until he understood why I had called him there.
THIRTY-NINE
A t 9:30 the judge put the jury in the box and immediately proceeded with the day’s business. I glanced back at the gallery and caught sight of Kurlen in the back row. He had a pensive, if not angry, cast to his face. He was close to the door and I didn’t know how long he would last. I was figuring I would need that whole hour I had told him about.
I glanced further around the room and saw that Lankford and Sobel were sitting on a bench next to the bailiff’s desk that was designated for law enforcement personnel. Their faces revealed nothing but they still put the pause in me. I wondered if I would even get the hour I needed.
“Mr. Minton,” the judge intoned, “does the state have any rebuttal?”
I turned back to the court. Minton stood up, adjusted his jacket and then seemed to hesitate and brace himself before responding.
“Yes, Your Honor, the state calls Dwayne Jeffery Corliss as a rebuttal witness.”
I stood up and noticed to my right that Meehan, the bailiff, had stood up as well. He was going to go into the courtroom lockup to retrieve Corliss.
“Your Honor?” I said. “Who is Dwayne Jeffery Corliss and why wasn’t I told about him before now?”
“Deputy Meehan, hold on a minute,” Fullbright said.
Meehan stood frozen with the key to the lockup door poised in his hand. The judge then apologized to the jury but told them they had to go back into the deliberation room until recalled. After they filed through the door behind the box, the judge turned her focus onto Minton.
“Mr. Minton, do you want to tell us about your witness?”
“Dwayne Corliss is a cooperating witness who spoke with Mr. Roulet when he was in custody following his arrest.”
“Bullshit!” Roulet barked. “I didn’t talk to —”
“Be quiet, Mr. Roulet,” the judge boomed. “Mr. Haller, instruct your client on the danger of outbursts in my courtroom.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
I was still standing. I leaned down to whisper in Roulet’s ear.
“That was perfect,” I said. “Now be cool and I’ll take it from here.”
He nodded and leaned back. He angrily folded his arms across his chest. I straightened up.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I do share my client’s outrage over this last-ditch effort by the state. This is the first we have heard of Mr. Corliss. I would like to know when he came forward with this supposed conversation.”
Minton had remained standing. I thought it was the first time in the trial that we had stood side by side and argued to the judge.
“Mr. Corliss first contacted the office through a prosecutor who handled the first appearance of the defendant,” Minton said. “However, that information was not passed on to me until yesterday when in a staff meeting I was asked why I had never acted on the information.”
This was a lie but not one I wanted to expose. To do so would reveal Maggie McPherson’s slip on St. Patrick’s Day and it might also derail my plan. I had to be careful. I needed to argue vigorously against Corliss taking the stand but I also needed to lose the argument.
I put my best look of outrage on my face.
“This is incredible, Your Honor. Just because the DA’s office has a communication problem, my client has to suffer the consequences of not being informed that the state had a witness against him? This man should clearly not be allowed to testify. It’s too late to bring him in now.”
“Your Honor,” Minton said, jumping in quickly. “I have had no time to interview or depose Mr. Corliss myself. Because I was preparing my closing I simply made arrangements for him to be brought here today. His testimony is key to the state’s case because it serves as rebuttal to Mr. Roulet’s self-serving statements. To not allow his testimony is a serious disservice to the state.”
I shook my head and smiled in frustration. With his last line Minton was threatening the judge with the loss of the DA’s backing should she ever face an election with an opposing candidate.
“Mr. Haller?” the judge asked. “Anything before I rule?”
“I just want my objection on the record.”
“So noted. If I were to give you time to investigate and interview Mr. Corliss, how much would you need?”
“A week.”
Now Minton put on the fake smile and shook his head.
“That’s ridiculous, Your Honor.”
“Do you want to go back and talk to him?” the judge asked me. “I’ll allow it.”
“No, Your Honor. As far as I’m concerned all jailhouse snitches are liars. It would do me no good to interview him because anything that comes out of his mouth would be a lie. Anything. Besides, it’s not what he has to say. It’s what others have to say about him. That’s what I would need time for.”
“Then I am going to rule that he can testify.”
“Your Honor,” I said. “If you are going to allow him into this courtroom, could I ask one indulgence for the defense?”
“What is that, Mr. Haller?”
“I would like to step into the hallway and make a quick phone call to an investigator. It will take me less than a minute.”
The judge thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Go ahead.
I will bring the jury in while you do it.”
“Thank you.”
I hurried through the gate and down the middle aisle. My eyes caught those of Howard Kurlen and he gave me one of his best smirks.
In the hallway I speed-dialed Lorna Taylor’s cell phone and she answered right away.
“Okay, how far away are you?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Did you remember the printout and the tape?”
“Got it all right here.”
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to ten.
“Okay, well, we’re in play here. Don’t delay getting here but then I want you to wait out in the hall outside the courtroom. Then at ten-fifteen come into court and give it to me. If I’m crossing the witness, just sit in the first row and wait until I notice you.”
“Got it.”
I closed the phone and went back into the courtroom. The jury was seated and Meehan was leading a man in a gray jumpsuit through the lockup door. Dwayne Corliss was a thin man with stringy hair that wasn’t getting washed enough in the lockdown drug program at County-USC. He wore a blue plastic hospital ID band on his wrist. I recognized him. He was the man who had asked me for a business card when I interviewed Roulet in the holding cell my first day on the case.
Corliss was led by Meehan to the witness box and the court clerk swore him in. Minton took over the show from there.
“Mr. Corliss, were you arrested on March fifth of this year?”
“Yes, the police arrested me for burglary and possession of drugs.”
“Are you incarcerated now?”
Corliss looked around.
“Um, no, I don’t think so. I’m just in the courtroom.”
I heard Kurlen’s coarse laugh behind me but nobody joined in.
“No, I mean are you currently being held in jail? When you are not here in court.”
“I’m in a lockdown drug treatment program in the jail ward at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center.”
“Are you addicted to drugs?”
“Yes. I’m addicted to heroin but at the moment I am straight. I haven’t had any since I got arrested.”
“More than sixty days.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you recognize the defendant in this case?”
Corliss looked over at Roulet and nodded.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I met him in lockup after I got arrested.”
“You are saying that after you were arrested you came into close proximity to the defendant, Louis Roulet?”
“Yes, the next day.”
“How did that happen?”
“Well, we were both in Van Nuys jail but in different wards. Then, when we got bused over here to the courts, we were together, first in the bus and then in the tank and then when we were brought into the courtroom for first appearance. We were together all of that time.”
“When you say ‘together,’ what do you mean?”
“Well, we sort of stuck close because we were the only white guys in the group we were in.”
“Now, did you talk at all while you were together for all of that time?”
Corliss nodded his head and at the same time Roulet shook his. I touched my client’s arm to caution him to make no demonstrations.
“Yes, we talked,” Corliss said.
“About what?”
“Mostly about cigarettes. We both needed them but they don’t let you smoke in the jail.”
Corliss made a what-are-you-going-to-do gesture with both hands and a few of the jurors—probably smokers—smiled and nodded.
“Did you reach a point where you asked Mr. Roulet what got him into jail?” Minton asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“What did he say?”
I quickly stood up and objected but just as quickly was overruled.
“What did he tell you, Mr. Corliss?” Minton prompted.
“Well, first he asked me why I was there and I told him. So then I asked him why he was in and he said, ‘For giving a bitch exactly what she deserved.’”
“Those were his words?”
“Yes.”
“Did he elaborate further on what he meant by that?”
“No, not really. Not on that.”
I leaned forward, waiting for Minton to ask the next obvious question. But he didn’t. He moved on.
“Now, Mr. Corliss, have you been promised anything by me or the district attorney’s office in return for your testimony?”
“Nope. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
“What is the status of your case?”
“I still got the charges against me, but it looks like if I complete my program I’ll be able to get a break on them. The drugs, at least. I don’t know about the burglary yet.”
“But I have made no promise of help in that regard, correct?”
“No, sir, you haven’t.”
“Has anyone else from the district attorney’s office made any promises?”
“No, sir.”
“I have no further questions.”
I sat unmoving and just staring at Corliss. My pose was that of a man who was angry but didn’t know exactly what to do about it. Finally, the judge prompted me into action.
“Mr. Haller, cross-examination?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I stood up, glancing back at the door as if hoping a miracle would walk through it. I then checked the big clock on the back door and saw it was five minutes after ten. I noticed as I turned back to the witness that I had not lost Kurlen. He was still in the back row and he still had the same smirk on his face. I realized that it might have been his natural look.
I turned to the witness.
“Mr. Corliss, how old are you?”
“Forty-three.”
“You go by Dwayne?”
“That’s right.”
“Any other names?”
“People called me D.J. when I was growing up. Everybody called me that.”
“And where did you grow up?”
“Mesa, Arizona.”
“Mr. Corliss, how many times have you been arrested before?”
Minton objected but the judge overruled. I knew she was going to give me a lot of room with this witness since I was the one who had supposedly been sandbagged.
“How many times have you been arrested before, Mr. Corliss?” I asked again.
“I think about seven.”
“So you’ve been in a number of jails in your time, haven’t you?”
“You could say that.”
“All in Los Angeles County?”
“Mostly. But I got arrested over in Phoenix before, too.”
“So you know how the system works, don’t you?”
“I just try to survive.”
“And sometimes surviving means ratting out your fellow inmates, doesn’t it?”
“Your Honor?” Minton said, standing to object.
“Take a seat, Mr. Minton,” Fullbright said. “I gave you a lot of leeway bringing this witness in. Mr. Haller gets his share of it now. The witness will answer the question.”
The stenographer read the question back to Corliss.
“I suppose so.”
“How many times have you snitched on another inmate?”
“I don’t know. A few times.”
“How many times have you testified in a court proceeding for the prosecution?”
“Would that include my own cases?”
“No, Mr. Corliss. For the prosecution. How many times have you testified against a fellow inmate for the prosecution?”
“I think this is my fourth time.”
I looked surprised and aghast, although I was neither.
“So you are a pro, aren’t you? You could almost say your occupation is drug-addicted jailhouse snitch.”
“I just tell the truth. If people tell me things that are bad, then I feel obligated to report it.”
&n
bsp; “But you try to get people to tell you things, don’t you?”
“No, not really. I guess I’m just a friendly guy.”
“A friendly guy. So what you expect this jury to believe is that a man you didn’t know would just come out of the blue and tell you—a perfect stranger—that he gave a bitch exactly what she deserved. Is that correct?”
“It’s what he said.”
“So he just mentioned that to you and then you both just went back to talking about cigarettes after that, is that right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly? What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”
“He also told me he did it before. He said he got away with it before and he would get away with it now. He was bragging about it because with the other time, he said he killed the bitch and got away with it.”
I froze for a moment. I then glanced at Roulet, who sat as still as a statue with surprise on his face, and then back at the witness.
“You . . .”
I started and stopped, acting like I was the man in the minefield who had just heard the click come from beneath my foot. In my peripheral vision I noticed Minton’s body posture tightening.
“Mr. Haller?” the judge prompted.
I broke my stare from Corliss and looked at the judge.
“Your Honor, I have no further questions at this time.”
FORTY
M inton came up from his seat like a boxer coming out of his corner at his bleeding opponent. “Redirect, Mr. Minton?” Fullbright asked.
But he was already at the lectern.
“Absolutely, Your Honor.”
He looked at the jury as if to underline the importance of the upcoming exchange and then at Corliss.
“You said he was bragging, Mr. Corliss. How so?”
“Well, he told me about this time he actually killed a girl and got away with it.”
I stood up.
“Your Honor, this has nothing to do with the case at hand and it is rebuttal to no evidence previously offered by the defense. The witness can’t —”
“Your Honor,” Minton cut in, “this is information brought forward by defense counsel. The prosecution is entitled to pursue it.”
“I will allow it,” Fullbright said.
I sat down and appeared dejected. Minton plowed ahead. He was going just where I wanted him to go.
The Lincoln Lawyer Page 34