The Lawyer's Lawyer

by James Sheehan

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Tom was satisfied that he had significantly exposed Merton’s character to the jurors. A lot of times close cases came down to what lawyer the jurors liked best. He spent the next ten minutes talking about the facts.

  “You will hear from Jack Tobin. He does not have to testify but he is going to. And he will tell you that he was in those woods because he wanted to protect retired police officer Danni Jansen from harm. Was that a reasonable thing to do? You will have to make that determination. He saw Thomas Felton coming from the direction of Ms. Jansen’s house. He called to him. Felton turned. Mr. Tobin thought Felton had a gun and that Felton was going to shoot him so he fired his gun. That’s all there is to it—self-defense. And that, if nothing else, should create reasonable doubt in your minds.”

  They broke for lunch after the openings. Tom stayed in the courtroom with Jack. They shared a couple of Snickers bars and talked about the case.

  “Good start,” Jack told him. “Good opening. It will be interesting to see if Merton figures out we were pushing his buttons.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Tom said. “But I don’t know if that will help him. The guy is wound pretty tight. Who do you think he’ll call this afternoon?”

  Jack didn’t hesitate. He had the State’s case programmed in his mind—at least most of it. “I’d say the two cops and maybe the coroner if he has time. He’ll save Sam for the morning when the jurors are fresh.”

  “I agree, but what about Danni?”

  “She’ll come after Sam just to buttress his testimony about what happened and about the phone calls. They’ll put on the handwriting guy before Sam, but we’ll make him go away.”

  “So they should be done tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s it,” Jack said. “Short and sweet.”

  The two police officers were the first two witnesses in the afternoon just as Jack predicted. Their testimony was pretty much identical. They were there to establish one thing—Jack Tobin said he was going to kill Thomas Felton. Tom’s cross-examination was pretty much the same for both although he went into greater detail with officer Richard Brown. Tom never deviated from his soft-spoken, easygoing manner.

  “Why were you at Mr. Tobin’s condo in the first place?”

  “We were told to go there by the assistant chief.”

  “Where was the chief?”

  “We didn’t know.”

  “So the chief disappeared after his daughter’s death?”

  “I wouldn’t say disappeared. He could not be located for a few days.”

  “And the assistant chief was worried that Chief Jeffries might go after Mr. Tobin, isn’t that correct?”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “Well, weren’t you instructed to go there to tell Mr. Tobin to get out of town?”

  “Yes.”

  “And didn’t you tell Mr. Tobin that the chief of police, Sam Jeffries, was missing?”

  “We may have.”

  “You may have? Wasn’t the gist of the conversation—the chief of police is missing, we can’t protect you, so get out of town?”

  Merton couldn’t sit still any longer. He hadn’t gone into any of this stuff on direct examination.

  “I object, Your Honor! This is beyond the scope of direct examination.”

  Tom saw his opportunity. He’d asked a question that didn’t need an answer and he had a good idea what the judge was going to do.

  “I’ll withdraw the question, Your Honor, and move on. Officer Brown, what was Mr. Tobin’s condition at the time you spoke to him?”

  “He was intoxicated.”

  “Severely intoxicated?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he was not of sound mind?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And this was at a period of time, right after the murder of Kathleen Jeffries, when tensions were high with everybody, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that includes Chief Jeffries, correct?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Weren’t you sent to Jack Tobin’s condo because the assistant chief was concerned that Chief Jeffries might do him harm?”

  Merton was on his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained!” Judge Holbrook said. “Mr. Wylie, I’ve already ruled on this once.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Tom said, even though the judge had not ruled on the first objection. “Thank you, Your Honor.” Tom turned back toward the witness.

  “Officer Brown, why did you go to Mr. Tobin’s condo?”

  Merton was up again—furious. Tom was pushing his buttons—again. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained. Mr. Wylie, I have already ruled!” the judge shouted. Tom was pushing both their buttons now. Tom remained as cool and calm as ever.

  “That was a different question, Your Honor. The State put this witness on to testify that he went to my client’s residence. Surely I can ask him why he went there?”

  Merton cut in at that point. “He asked that question already, Your Honor. Officer Brown said he didn’t know. Asked and answered.”

  Tom had made his point again, or maybe not. You never knew with a jury. In any event, it was time to retreat.

  “I’ll withdraw the question, Your Honor, and move on.”

  “And don’t revisit this subject again, Mr. Wylie.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Tom turned his attention back to Officer Brown.

  “How many officers do you have in the Oakville Police Department, Officer Brown?”

  “I don’t know for sure—fifty, fifty-five.”

  “So if an order went out, say, directing officers to look for Thomas Felton in a certain location—like the woods behind Danni Jansen’s house—you would know about it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you or anyone in the department ever receive such an order?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thank you, Officer Brown. No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Merton called the coroner, Marie Vicente, next. Merton knew he needed to keep the jury focused since it was late in the day, so he introduced the coroner’s report into evidence, and got to the important stuff right away, starting from when the coroner arrived on the scene and finishing with the autopsy itself, although he skipped most of the details of the autopsy.

  “Your report is in evidence, Doctor, so we don’t need to discuss all the details. Did you determine a cause of death?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Mr. Felton died from a gunshot wound to the chest.”

  “And how did you determine that the gunshot wound was the cause of death?”

  “Not to get too technical, the bullet, fragments of which we found in the body, nicked the aorta, causing severe internal bleeding.”

  Merton had her identify the bullet fragments, introduced them into evidence, and wrapped it up.

  “Thank you, Doctor, I have no further questions.”

  “Your witness, Mr. Wylie,” the judge said.

  Tom stood and walked toward the witness stand. “Thank you, Your Honor.” He didn’t speak to Doctor Vicente until he was standing directly in front of her.

  “Doctor Vicente, you said the bullet nicked the aorta, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does that mean in layman’s terms?”

  “It means there was a slight tear of the aorta caused by the bullet.”

  “And what is the difference between a slight tear and, say, a full-blown rupture of the aorta?”

  “As far as cause of death, there is no difference.”

  “How about timing of death? Is it accurate that the smaller the rupture, the longer it takes to die?”

  Marie Vicente hesitated for a second and looked at Robert Merton. Jack caught it right away. He didn’t think the jury could see it, although he was sure Tom had.

  “Not necessarily,” she answered.


  Tom didn’t let it go. “What does that mean? Let me ask it another way: Is the blood flow greater when the aorta fully ruptures?”

  “Yes.”

  “So a person dies faster when there is a complete rupture, correct?”

  “Not necessarily. And let me explain. We can surmise that the bullet nicked the aorta from the trajectory of the bullet, which we traced from the entry wound and the path of destruction in the body cavity. Once the aorta is breached and blood begins to flow, a complete rupture can be instantaneous.”

  The doctor’s answer had taken most of the wind out of Tom’s sails but he had some left, so he kept on.

  “You said ‘can be’ instantaneous, is that correct?”

  “Yes, we’re never sure.”

  “Okay, let’s assume there is a complete rupture—how long does it take to die?”

  “Approximately ten minutes maximum. It could happen in five or even less.”

  “And a partial rupture that does not become a complete rupture?”

  “I’d say twenty minutes at the most.”

  “Can you tell whether Mr. Felton died ten or twenty minutes after the fatal bullet struck?”

  “No.”

  Tom walked back to his table and retrieved the copy of the coroner’s report that Robert Merton had just given him minutes before. He’d already reviewed his own copy in great detail over the past three weeks.

  “Your autopsy report also references severe injury to the lower base of the skull, does it not?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I can only surmise based on the facts and the physical evidence.”

  “And what did you surmise?”

  “That Mr. Felton, when he was shot, fell backward. His head hit a large rock very hard and that rock smashed the base of his skull.”

  “But that was not the cause of death?”

  “It was not.”

  “Could it have hastened death?”

  “Yes.”

  Tom looked at the judge. “Your Honor, I’m almost done. May I have a moment to talk to my client before releasing this witness?”

  “You may.”

  Tom walked over and sat next to Jack.

  “You know what I want to ask her, don’t you?”

  “I do. You want to ask her if it’s possible that somebody could have come upon Felton still alive, put a rock under his head, and smashed it until he was dead—is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Don’t do it.”

  “Jack, listen to me for a second. We’ve already got the cops at your door telling you to leave town because they’re worried Jeffries might be after you. Now if we can at least insinuate that Jeffries might have smashed Felton’s head in for whatever reason, we are on the road toward establishing a hypothesis that Jeffries took Felton’s gun to frame you. He was as angry at you at that point as he was at Felton.”

  “Two things,” Jack said. “I don’t want to do it because we don’t have any direct evidence to support that theory and I don’t want to ruin whatever life that man has left. Second, it’s a bad strategy, Tom. It makes us look desperate.”

  “Mr. Wylie, are you ready to proceed?” Judge Holbrook asked.

  Tom stood up. “Yes, Your Honor. I have no further questions.”

  When Tom finished cross-examining the coroner, it was close to five o’clock and the judge adjourned the proceedings for the day.

  The stage was set for the testimony of Sam Jeffries.

  Chapter Sixty

  Tom went directly from the courthouse to the jail to see Jack. He had to wait while Jack shed his courtroom attire for his prison attire: a yellow jumpsuit. Jack was lying on his bed with his back propped up against the wall and his hands behind his head when Tom walked into the cell.

  “You look awfully relaxed,” Tom said.

  “I’m confident. I’ve got a good lawyer, and besides, worrying gets you nowhere. It was a decent day today.”

  “I think so,” Tom said. “The cops didn’t hurt us and neither did the coroner. You were right, by the way, about that last question. It would have made us look desperate.”

  “That’s the benefit of having two lawyers on the case. The one that’s watching can stop the other from going too far.”

  Tom sat on the bed opposite Jack.

  “I’m with you so far, Jack, but Merton has made Sam Jeffries both the victim and the chief witness in this case. We need to take a bite out of Jeffries’s hide if you want to walk out of here.”

  “I’m not opposed to that. I’m opposed to floating theories that we have no evidence to support. I’m opposed to ruining a good man’s character.”

  “A good man? This guy wants to send you to the death chamber!”

  “I know you believe that—and I believe it as well—but we can’t prove it. Besides, Sam Jeffries is a good man. His mind is warped because he lost his wife and then his daughter to a man I helped set free.”

  “Jesus, Jack, I can fight the prosecutor, but I can’t fight your conscience at the same time.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I just want you to play it straight—no intimation that Sam hid the gun or bashed Felton’s head in, unless we get evidence to support it.”

  “All right. It’s your funeral.”

  It was overcast and rainy on Thursday morning as Tom walked to the courthouse. The weather didn’t deter the crowds though. People were everywhere and for the first time, there were signs. Merton had struck a chord when he made Sam Jeffries his victim. The signs made that clear.

  “Let’s Get a Little Justice for Sam,” one read. “Kathleen, You Are Not Forgotten,” read another.

  I’ve got to be careful with Jeffries, Tom thought to himself. The jurors have the same sentiments as these people.

  News stations had set up kiosks across from the courthouse, and the reporters practically stampeded toward Tom as he made his way to the courthouse steps. This was not a day to linger outside, however.

  “No comment,” Tom said as he pushed through the crowd.

  “Your boy is going down,” someone in the crowd shouted. Tom didn’t even look up.

  Inside the courtroom, the rain added to the cacophony of sounds. The doors had not yet opened for the crowds. The ceiling fans, the air conditioners, and the rain held court, so to speak. Merton was sitting at his table closest to the jury, writing on his yellow pad. A pretty brunette female attorney from his office sat next to him looking totally bored. Merton had brought her along but he hadn’t given her anything to do.

  One of the bailiffs saw Tom and immediately exited the room, returning a few minutes later with Jack and two more guards in tow. Jack wore a charcoal-gray suit. Tom was in navy blue. If looks could win, they were the winners hands down.

  “All set?” Tom asked.

  “I guess so.”

  The crowds started in a few minutes later, chatting away, adding to the symphony of sounds. The bailiffs squeezed them in, making sure every potential seat was occupied. The first two rows were saved for the press. When everybody was seated, the bailiff knocked on the door to the judge’s chambers. Moments later Judge Holbrook walked into the room, his black robe flowing. Everybody stood up.

  “Be seated,” he said. They obeyed promptly, like cattle following the lead of their master. Judge Holbrook addressed the gallery again. “Those of you who are new, let me advise you that your presence here is a privilege. If you make any comments whatsoever or any gestures of any kind, you will be removed, and you may be held in contempt of court. Do you all understand?”

  There was a collective “Yes, sir” as heads nodded in assent.

  The judge next turned to the lawyers. “Do we have anything to discuss before I bring the jury in?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Merton replied.

  “No, Your Honor,” Tom said.

  “Bring the jury in,” Judge Holbrook told the bailiff.

  After the jurors filed in and were seated, t
he judge looked at Robert Merton.

  “Call your next witness, Counsel.”

  “The State calls Phillip Hughes.”

  One of the bailiffs left to retrieve the witness. Jack looked at Tom.

  “The handwriting expert,” Tom said.

  Jack smiled.

  Moments later Phillip Hughes entered the room and swore to tell the truth. He then took the stand and gave his name and occupation. That’s when Tom stood up.

  “Your Honor, if I may, it is the defendant’s assumption that Mr. Hughes is here to identify the defendant’s signature on the contingency fee agreement and the claims bill. In order to save time, we will not only stipulate that the defendant’s signature is contained on those documents, we will stipulate them into evidence if the prosecution chooses to offer them as evidence.”

  The judge immediately looked at Merton, who knew he’d been had.

  “Do we need this witness for anything else, Mr. Merton?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Hughes, you may step down. Call your next witness, Counselor.”

  Judges loved to move things along.

  “The State calls Sam Jeffries.”

  It seemed as if everyone in the room shifted position at the sound of Sam Jeffries’s name. There were some low murmurings as well, but they stopped immediately after Judge Holbrook stared into the crowd.

  Sam entered the courtroom wearing a brown suit. Apparently Merton thought the uniform would be a little much. It wasn’t needed anyway. Everybody knew Sam was the chief of police. The clerk swore Sam in, and he immediately took over the witness chair. He was so big that the chair just disappeared under him, giving the appearance that he was sitting on air.

  Merton started slowly, having Sam tell the jury about his history in law enforcement, but he heated things up rather quickly, interrupting Sam at the part of his career where he was heading the task force.

  “Was there anything wrong with the task force’s investigation of the serial killings?”

  Tom stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. Relevancy.”

  “Overruled.”

  “May we approach, Your Honor?” Tom asked.

  “I have ruled, Counselor.”