The Rough Cut

by Douglas Corleone

  ‘About a year ago,’ Church says, to open his closing, ‘I was at a funeral for a seventeen-year-old boy, who I’d known well, almost the span of his entire life. He was not my son, but he very much felt like one. I heard his first word, I helped him take his first steps. I took him to his first day of school. I played catch with him. I taught him to ride a bike. I taught him how to play video games.’ He pauses. ‘OK, I got him addicted to video games.’ Some laughter floats above the courtroom. ‘He was, in all likelihood, the closest thing I’ll ever have to a son.

  ‘I wish I could tell you that he died for some cause. Wish I could tell you that he jumped on a landmine to save half his platoon, or that his organs saved the life of another young person who would have otherwise died, but they didn’t. His death, in fact, was as pointless as it possibly could have been. He died of an opiate overdose.’ He paused in an effort to control the emotion in his voice. ‘Now, I recognize that it’s an epidemic. But the fact that it’s happened to so many other families doesn’t make it any easier on the people I consider mine. All that matters is him. All that matters is Daniel.

  ‘I consoled his mother as best I could, but I might as well have set out to cure cancer. I never felt more useless, more helpless than I did when I held his mother in my arms that night and every night after for months and months.

  ‘Although so little of the time after Danny died is unstained by tears, a few memories do exist. One is from the day of Daniel’s funeral, when a guy who I never before met walked up to me and casually said, “Shit, this is a sad occasion, ain’t it?”

  ‘I could only stare at him; he’d struck me speechless. Now I realize he didn’t know that Daniel was practically my own son. He thought I was just another mourner, another old acquaintance of Daniel’s mother, maybe, which is what he turned out to be. But after his “Shit, this is a sad occasion, ain’t it?”, he asked me, “You have any kids?” I shook my head. He said, “Losing one of my children is my greatest fear. Probably everyone’s. What is it for people who don’t have kids? What’s yours, chum?”

  ‘The situation was so surreal I thought it needed to play out, so I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. So much, in fact, that this nut I never met before told me to take my time. It happened that too many things jumped into my mind. The threat of nuclear war, terrorism, climate change, my own mortality if I was going to be honest with this stranger, and I had decided I was. But more than anything else that frightened me, one thing led in a landslide. “The conviction of an innocent man,” I told him. “The conviction of an innocent man.”

  ‘Now, you may think I’ve told that story to a dozen juries, but I haven’t. Trial transcripts are public record, you can check them if you’d like. But those of you who do know who I am, from the papers or television or The Prosecutor, must know that truer words were never spoken. Because there is one case, one trial, one execution, one name that will be forever melded with my own – the case of North Carolina v Roderick J. Blunt.’

  Lau stands. ‘I am sorry, Your Honor, but I have to object.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Hightower says.

  ‘Relevance.’

  ‘Your Honor,’ Church says, ‘I am only telling this story to this jury to impress upon them the gravity of their decision, and the fact that if they erroneously convict an innocent man, it is almost impossible to ever correct that error.’

  ‘I’ll allow it,’ Hightower says.

  Church continues. ‘In prosecuting the Blunt case, I opened pretty much how Prosecutor Lau opened this trial. I told my jury that, though I’m loath to call any case simple, this is a simple case. The defendant, I told them, truthfully, has a history of domestic violence. He has a motive – the victim, who was his ex-wife, had threatened to have him arrested for unpaid child support. The gun – a cheap one – was owned by the defendant. His prints alone were on it. There was no forced entry, I told the jury, so the killer had to be someone who either had a key, or someone the victim knew well. The defendant had no alibi. He was alone and drunk in a dark park not two blocks away. The case was simple, wasn’t it? Open and shut, as we lawyers like to call them.

  ‘I told my jury that the victim was calling us from the grave, telling us to open our eyes, that the obvious is what transpired here.’ He paused. ‘But she wasn’t calling from the grave. No murder victim does, as much as prosecutors like to use that turn of phrase in their statements to the jury. In my case, if the victim could have spoken, she would have told us that she hadn’t seen her ex-husband that day. And she would have told me something no one else knew – that she had been seeing a man named Lenny Coyne. She would have told me that Coyne, too, had a history of domestic violence, though his was much more severe. He’d previously been charged with the attempted murder of an ex-girlfriend.

  ‘I alone am not to blame – though, I admit, it feels that way most days – for Roderick Blunt’s execution by the State of North Carolina. The lead detective – someone I held in high esteem – had made numerous mistakes at the scene. One of which was his failure to canvass the area the night of the murder. From nothing more than a preliminary verbal report from the responding officer, my lead detective zeroed in on one man and one man only, and when he handed off the baton to the prosecutor’s office, we never looked anyplace else. Why?’ He waits a few beats. ‘Because we were too damn busy. Because the district attorney was about to launch a political campaign for Attorney General. Because we had developed …’

  Half the jurors say it with him. ‘Tunnel vision.’

  As he neared the conclusion of his statement, Church walked over to the defense table for a final gulp from his mug, then returned to the rail. ‘You may have noticed that I refer to juries past and present as “my juries”. There’s good reason for that. Although I don’t claim to know the prosecutor’s motive in choosing you twelve, I do know my own, and I’m going to share it with you. I chose you to judge my client because I believed you when you told me that you would presume my client innocent unless and until the prosecution proved their case beyond a reasonable doubt. And I am holding you to that promise.

  ‘I’m holding you to your promise not to consider evidence not presented here in this courtroom. I’m holding you to your promise to hold the prosecution to their burden of proof. I’m holding you to your promise not to consider my client’s silence an admission of guilt. And I’m holding you to your promise that if, as here, the prosecution fails to prove my client guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, you will vote for an acquittal.

  ‘Prosecutor Lau argued that my client committed this act because he was afraid of the victim abandoning him. Yet from what we learned at trial, this motive applies to Nathan Jakes as much as it does to Ethan, only more so. Prosecutor Lau argued that Ethan’s knowledge of the pregnancy gave him a reason to kill the victim, but I ask you to think hard about whose motive was stronger. Ethan’s? Who in the prosecutor’s next breath she will tell you is desperate and broke? Or Nathan’s? Who had everything in the world to lose – from his wife and children to his partnership at the firm – if his paternity were to be discovered?

  ‘Ask yourselves, which one of these brothers knows the law well enough to think he can get away with something like this? Which one of these brothers has the sophistication to attempt to pull this off? But above all, ask yourselves, which brother has already demonstrated his willingness to hurt the other over a period of more than six months?

  ‘Nathan Jakes is a liar. He lied to Piper, telling her that he was going to leave his wife Cheyenne for her. He concealed the entire affair from the brother he supposedly loved. Then he lied to police about the genesis of their relationship. He lied to Ms Lau on direct. He lied to you, the jury. Under oath. What does this tell you about the man’s character?

  ‘Sex and money, Prosecutor Lau told us in her closing, are the classic motives. Regardless of what each of us might think about his sex life, Ethan had a clean conscience so far as sex went. Nathan did not. Nathan was cheating on his wife,
whom he feared would find out about the relationship, especially in light of Piper’s pregnancy. If he was the father, there would be child support. Lots of it. Because Nathan does very well for himself. Ethan, not so much, right? So Nathan, not Ethan, has the only monetary motive in this case.’ He paused, said, ‘Sex and money. I ask you to consider: which brother couldn’t care less about either? And which brother is obsessed with both?’

  He paced the rail a final time, then stopped and said, ‘As you head into deliberations, I would be remiss not to remind you that trials are had to protect the rights of the accused, not the state.’ He looked each juror in the eye. ‘Contrary to what Prosecutor Lau said in her closing statement, the twelve of you are not here to see justice done. You are here to protect my client, Ethan Jakes, from a great injustice that cannot be undone.’

  The case went to the jury at one p.m. Certain we wouldn’t have a verdict by five, Church and Brody elected to spend the rest of the day at the Mai Tai Bar at Ala Moana Center.

  ‘Besides,’ Church added, ‘a fast verdict is usually good news for the prosecution. I don’t want to be both present and sober for that.’

  Ethan and I decided to stick around the courthouse instead. We went downstairs to the lawyers’ room, which was mercifully empty today.

  ‘It was you?’ Ethan said as soon as we sat. ‘You told Church about Nate?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t take the chance you wouldn’t let Church use it. But I had no idea you were involved in … it.’

  Ethan sighed. ‘We destroyed his life and sullied her name, and for what?’

  ‘You did nothing wrong – you were three consenting adults. Society’s sexual hang-ups aren’t your problem. The wrongdoing was Nate’s continuing to see Piper behind your back.’

  ‘With all that out there, even if I’m acquitted, what the hell am I going to be able to do with my life if my music career fails?’

  ‘Porn?’

  Ethan smiled. ‘Well, I guess that’s one way to commit to your art.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘Make sure no other profession would have you.’

  We sat, talking like that, for the next ninety minutes.

  Then Brody walked in and informed us that the jury had reached a verdict.

  ‘Not good news for me,’ Ethan said.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ I told him. ‘The O.J. verdict took only four hours.’

  FORTY-TWO

  I like happy endings. Love them, in fact. There are just so few in real life.

  The moment the foreperson finished reading the verdict, Ethan instantly crumpled to the floor, triggering a collective gasp that seemed to suck the courtroom walls inward.

  Only then did I remember that night at Breakers when Ethan told me about the cyanide pill.

  The chaos in the courtroom lasted several minutes as court officers formed a perimeter around Ethan that kept even the most panicked of us away. I tried like hell to squeeze through but there was no chance; the court officers were simply too large, too strong, too determined not to let us through.

  I looked for Church to take control, but spotted him standing alone on the inside of the perimeter with his jaw at his chest, his fingers clutching his hair, his eyes bulging out of his head. Brody, meanwhile, was climbing benches to higher ground to capture the entire spectacle on film.

  At the instruction of the judge, the court officers finally permitted one person through. She ran as hard as she could and slid on her knees beside Ethan’s still form. Certain Marissa Linden was about to put her lips to Ethan’s lips, some sick part of me felt jealous, and another much sicker part tried to keep me from cautioning her that Ethan had a mouthful of cyanide. Nevertheless, I shouted, ‘Don’t give him mouth to mouth!’ – words which were instantly drowned out by the rabble.

  I watched in horror. But instead of placing her lips on Ethan’s, Marissa cracked open an ammonia inhalant directly under his nose. A microsecond later, Ethan’s eyes shot open and his entire body tensed on the floor.

  The collective sigh of relief that followed was not nearly as enthusiastic as the collective gasp at his collapse, and failed to swell the courtroom walls back to size.

  I dropped to my knees, tears filling my eyes. I glared at Ethan, willing him to turn his head and look back at me, but he never once did.

  After court officers managed to get Ethan to his feet, Judge Hightower swiftly brought the courtroom to order, revoked Ethan’s bail, and set a date for sentencing.

  Finally, the court officers slapped the handcuffs on Ethan and led him through the door he had passed through wearing a tangerine jumpsuit on the morning of his arraignment.

  Less than forty-eight hours after the verdict, Detective Fukumoto received an anonymous tip that led to a search warrant for Nathan Jakes’ apartment in Waikiki.

  There, police discovered Piper’s missing UH clothes, as well as what police now believe to be the murder weapon: a plastic poncho purchased from an ABC Store, presumably the same poncho Piper was seen wearing by Elanor Rigby during her morning jogs.

  ‘Rain or shine,’ Elanor had said. ‘Rain or shine.’ And yet no one from either the prosecution or the defense had thought to check the inventory from Piper’s home for the poncho. Terrifyingly enough, it’s these little things upon which justice so often hinges. If football is a game of inches, litigation is a game of minutia.

  Despite receiving the verdict she wanted, Naomi Lau’s theory of the case underwent a drastic transformation following news of Nathan Jakes’ arrest for murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

  At an afternoon press conference before a substantial number of reporters from both local and national news outlets, Lau explained to the public that The Two Jakes had, in fact, acted in concert to kill Piper Kingsley.

  This sordid and tragic story, Lau said for the cameras, ended like it started – with the three of them, the victim and her two lovers. A triangle at war with itself.

  FORTY-THREE

  ‘So,’ Dr Farrockh says, ‘have you discussed things with Brody since we last met?’

  ‘I’m going to tell him tonight. We’re having dinner at Duke’s to celebrate the completion of the film.’

  She glances at her watch, which is annoying enough when you’re having drinks with someone, but downright devastating in the middle of a therapy session.

  ‘He doesn’t know yet?’ she says.

  ‘No, he still thinks we’re heading back to the mainland at the end of the month. I wanted to be sure before I told him. We won’t need the editing room after this week, but I was able to extend our apartment lease for six months. That should afford us enough time to find a more permanent place on Oahu.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Yeah, I decided I’m willing to live in paradise with the guy that I love. How brave of me.’

  She smiles. ‘Has Marissa Linden looked at your film yet?’

  ‘This evening, actually. I’m meeting her at the editing room at six-thirty.’

  She glances at her watch again. ‘So you’re getting married soon?’

  ‘I reserved the nondenominational chapel in Ko Olina for this weekend. That’s the other surprise I’m going to unveil tonight. Brody thinks we’re putting it off until we get settled on the mainland.’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m having it filmed – I’m hoping parts will make it onto the director’s cut of our movie. Marissa’s offered to be my maid of honor, and I’m pretty sure Church will offer to be Brody’s best man.’

  ‘Great.’

  I can’t help myself. ‘You never believed this relationship would work, did you?’

  She tilts her head to the side. ‘I just wanted you to be sure there was going to be room enough in your relationship for your own problems.’

  She glances at her watch again. ‘Do you mind if we stop a little early today? My daughter has a dance recital in Kailua this evening.’

  ‘Not at all,’ I say, wishing she
’d told me that in the first place.

  ‘Mind if I walk you to your car?’ she asks.

  ‘Not as long as you write me a fresh script for Klonopin. I seem to be burning through my tranqs much faster these days.’

  Dr Farrockh’s office is located in a cute little plaza with a tropical fountain at its center. A setting that’s extremely tranquil, and one of the reasons I drive all the way out to east Oahu to see my psychiatrist.

  When we reach the parking lot, I catch the scent of the steakhouse to our left and am suddenly starving. But I’m meeting Marissa at the editing room at six-thirty. It’s a quarter to six now and I still have one more stop to make. My appetite is going to have to remain on hold until Duke’s tonight.

  Dr Farrockh halts in front of a late-model forest green Buick LaCrosse.

  ‘I’m right here too,’ I tell her, ‘parked right next to you.’

  Yasmin Farrockh freezes and stares at the Jeep, which I parked somewhat crookedly.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just trying to remember if I forgot something back at the office. It can keep until Monday.’

  Dr Farrockh gets into her vehicle and starts the engine just as I put the key in the ignition. Although she’s in a hurry, she waits for me to pull away before backing out of her space.

  My next stop is on Tantalus Drive to meet with Kalani. He’s agreed to help me get interviews with some of the major players, who don’t necessarily care much for the defense team. Among the interviewees I’d like for the film are Naomi Lau and Lance Fukumoto. Professor Leary was strongly opposed to interviews, but I feel a few gaps need filling in, especially in light of everything that occurred after the verdict. I’ll also do an interview with Kyle Myers, who assures me he’s ready for his close-up.

  I park across the street from Kalani’s home. Before I can get out of the Jeep, Kalani is out of his house and walking toward me.

  ‘Hey, Riley. I’m so sorry, but we’re going to have to reschedule, yeah? I just got called down to meet with the station manager to talk about a possible audition at KHNL.’