The Lawyer's Lawyer

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The Lawyer's Lawyer Page 31

by James Sheehan


  Nobody said a word.

  “Bring in the jury.”

  The courtroom was still empty as the jurors filed in and sat in their respective seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, sometimes things occur in trial that we don’t expect. Sometimes lawyers ask questions without thinking. The last question Mr. Merton asked should never have been asked. It is not enough for me to tell Mr. Tobin he does not have to answer the question. I need to tell you that it should not be a part of this case and you should wipe it from your memory. And the only inference you should draw from that question being asked is that the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Merton, overstepped his bounds and committed an egregious or gross error when he asked it. Now, can you all do that?”

  The judge asked each juror individually and had each juror say “yes” on the record.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it has been a long day. We’re going to recess for the weekend. Remember the admonitions that I have given you. This trial is almost over but it’s not over yet.”

  After the jury left, Judge Holbrook addressed the lawyers.

  “Mr. Wylie, do you have any other witnesses in your defense?”

  “Not at the moment, Your Honor, but I’d like to have the weekend to assess everything before I rest.”

  “That’s fine.” The judge’s attitude toward Tom and Jack had suddenly changed.

  “And what about you, Mr. Merton?” the judge growled. “Are you going to have any rebuttal?”

  “I don’t plan on it at this time, Your Honor, but it will depend on what Mr. Wylie does on Monday.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you both here Monday morning at nine. And Mr. Merton, I don’t want to be seeing your face on television talking about the events that occurred here this afternoon. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Tom stood up. “Your Honor, the press needs to at least be told that the question was determined to be improper by this court. It can’t just hang there.”

  “I have placed no restriction on you, Mr. Wylie. I assume you will make the point in a professional manner.”

  “I will, Your Honor.”

  Jack and Tom stayed in the courtroom after everyone left. Jack’s guards stood by the door leading out to the jail and waited for him while he spoke with his lawyer.

  “So what do you think?” he asked Tom.

  “I think your direct went as well as it could possibly go, but this Merton is damn good, and just a little crazy.”

  “A question like that last one can lose the jury for you, especially when the judge comes back and says what he said,” Jack said.

  “Under normal circumstances I would agree with you, Jack. But if these people are predisposed to have it in for you, Merton gave them all the rope they needed.”

  “He knew exactly what he was doing,” Jack said.

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Well, Tom, you’re doing as good a job as can be done within the restrictions I placed on you. I wouldn’t change or add anything. I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

  “We’ve still got Monday, Jack. We’re not done yet.”

  “No, we’re not. Listen, do me a favor. Go grab Henry, and both of you have a beer tonight for me.”

  “I think we can do that.”

  “Good.”

  Tom watched Jack get up and walk over to the guards and say something that made them both laugh. Then all three walked through the door heading for the jail.

  Such a good man, Tom thought. We’ve got to find a way.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Tom and Henry went to The Swamp that night to have their beer and a little dinner. Tom did not want to go out at all. He wasn’t in the mood to put himself out there where the citizens of Oakville could say anything they wanted to him. Henry reminded him, however, that if they were going to have a beer for Jack, Ron should be a part of that occasion. Tom agreed. Besides, when he thought about it, what rational human being would even attempt to say something nasty to him with Henry sitting at the table?

  It was Friday night, but The Swamp was almost deserted.

  “What’s going on around here?” Tom asked before he actually thought about what was going on around there. They sat at a table by the window looking out over the street. Ron sat with them. He brought a pitcher of beer and three glasses.

  “It’s just a slow night,” Ron said as he poured. “It happens sometimes.”

  Henry knew better. “Your fellow citizens are paying you back for sticking by your friend, aren’t they, Ronnie?”

  “I’m not sure, but it has never been this deserted on a Friday night since I opened the place. Even the college kids aren’t here and they’re not usually paying attention to what happens in the local courtroom.”

  There were a few college kids at the bar but it was a far cry from a normal weekend night, even in the summer.

  “That really stinks,” Tom said.

  “It won’t last long,” Ron assured him. “People have short memories about where to eat and drink.”

  “Did you hear what happened in court today?” Henry asked Ron.

  “Oh, I heard about it and a lot more. Tom, do Merton’s actions today give you a basis for appeal?”

  “Possibly, but not as strong as I would have liked. Judge Holbrook gave a curative instruction to the jurors and then polled them. He was making his own record. A denial of a motion for mistrial is within a judge’s discretion. Why are you asking? Are you already onto the appeal stage?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Do you know something we don’t?” Henry asked.

  “Yeah, I know somebody who works for the paper. They’ve been doing exit interviews. I’m sure they’re doing them for Merton since I haven’t seen a word about them in the paper.”

  Tom became a little impatient hearing the news. “Did he tell you the results?”

  “Yeah. They did it for two days—the day Sam and Danni testified and today.”

  “And?”

  “There was no difference. Eighty-five percent think Jack’s guilty, ten percent don’t know, and only five percent think he’s innocent.”

  “That’s the gallery—it’s not necessarily the jury,” Henry said.

  “If the gallery is that strong, the jury is the same way,” Tom said.

  “Where does that leave us, hoping for a lone juror or two to hold out?” Henry asked.

  “That’s not even a reasonable hope,” Tom said. “This is a small town. A juror who even thinks about holding out in this town knows that he or she will have to move. People may have short memories about where they eat, but personal vendettas can last a lifetime.”

  “So we’ve got nothing?” Henry asked.

  “Never say never,” Tom said. “We’ll go back in Monday and continue to slug it out. Who knows what may happen.”

  Ron raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast,” he said. “To miracles.”

  They all raised their glasses.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Henry rang the bell, barely touching it. He was reluctant to do it at first since it was not yet eight o’clock on Saturday morning. But Danni was an active woman. He figured she’d be up and about and he wanted to catch her before she left for the day. He had no idea what he was going to say.

  He waited a few seconds. Nothing. He decided not to ring again. He’d try later. Just as he turned to walk away, the door opened. Danni appeared there wearing a pair of gym shorts and a pajama top. Her hair was everywhere and her eyes were squinting, telling Henry that he’d woken her up.

  Danni spoke first, turning away from him and walking toward the living room.

  “Come on in, Henry.”

  Henry followed her in, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be up.”

  “Well, I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Did you come here to thank me for doing my civic duty, or to crucify me? Let me see—I saved your life. I saved your daughter’s life. How could you do this to Jac
k?”

  “Stop it, Danni. I’d never say that to you.”

  “Why not? I say it to myself every hour or so.” She slumped into a big chair in the living room, curling her legs under her.

  Henry sat on the couch across from her.

  She looked him in the eye for just a minute. “Sam came over one day. He asked if Jack had visited that night after he was released from custody. He told me about the claims bill and the contingency fee agreement. I didn’t know who to believe so I told him what I knew. Then they subpoenaed me. End of story.”

  “Not yet.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Bad. Very bad.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “Ronnie found out that Merton did exit polls for two days—the day you testified and yesterday when Jack testified.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “They disguised it as a news organization poll.”

  “Bastards. And?”

  “And Jack’s going down. It was eighty-five percent for conviction both days.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Henry. I really am. For what it’s worth, I think Sam’s off his rocker and he’s just out to get Jack. I wish I had never had that conversation with him. But there’s nothing I can do. I told the truth.”

  Henry didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat there on the couch apparently looking at the stitching.

  “You know, Jack didn’t just get me out of prison,” he said finally. “He taught me something. It was something I was starting to learn on my own from reading and working by myself, but Jack made it real by doing it. He taught me that if you put your life on the line for somebody, then you are truly living. That in itself is truth. He does it all the time. When he believes in people, he never backs off. He believed in me.”

  “Where are you going with this, Henry? I don’t need you to make me feel any worse. I’ve already had a headache for two days.”

  “What was it that Thoreau said? ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ Most men and women have acquaintances they call friends and lovers they say they would die for, but they don’t mean it. It’s all surface bullshit. Most times they walk away at the drop of a hat. Every once in a while, you might see an old woman in a hospital watching her husband die and you can tell by the look on her face she would gladly change places because she truly loves him like a mother loves her baby child—”

  “Henry, if this is going where I think it is, stop right now. Jack and I were never in love. We had a fling, for Christ’s sake.”

  She could tell that she had angered him with that remark but he didn’t move.

  “You’re not getting it, Danni. I’m not talking about romance—maybe the couple was a bad example. I’m talking about real truth—not bullshit. When we were in that apartment in Miami, it was life and death—all the horseshit was gone. That’s why you entrusted your daughter to me, because you knew I would protect her with my life. We’d already been there.”

  “What the hell do you want from me? I’ve already testified to everything I know.”

  “No, you haven’t. I want you to put your life on the line.

  “You know, I sat in Jack’s cell the other night and listened to Tom Wylie tell him that if Jack didn’t allow him to cross-examine you and attack your credibility, it could mean his life. Jack told him no. It wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about feelings. It was about you. He believes in you. Life and death. Truth.

  “Think about it.”

  Henry got up and let himself out.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Monday was a sunny day and Tom had a spring in his step when he bulldozed through the crowd and the press into the courthouse. He was late, and he did not have time to talk to Jack before the proceedings began.

  Judge Holbrook entered the courtroom promptly at nine o’clock. He had a full courtroom again, and he was going to give them a piece of his mind before the jury was brought in.

  “I reminded you all on the first day, although many of you were not here, that your presence in this courtroom is a privilege, not a right. I emptied the courtroom on Friday and I will not hesitate to empty it again. I sequestered this jury at the beginning of this trial to make sure they were not affected by public opinion. Your reaction in this courtroom affects this jury. If you react in any way to anything that happens in here, your privilege to be in this room will be revoked immediately.”

  Once again, he did not ask them if they understood his message.

  Then he turned to the two lawyers.

  “Gentlemen, I’d like to know what we’re going to do today before I bring in the jury. Mr. Wylie, are you going to rest your case?”

  Tom stood up. “No, Your Honor. I have one more witness.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I’m recalling Danni Jansen.”

  The buzz in the gallery started and then stopped almost immediately as if people’s emotions had reacted before their brains.

  “And Mr. Merton, I assume that your decision will be based on what this witness says.”

  “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

  “Okay, anything else before we bring in the jury?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Bring in the jury.”

  Tom sat down next to Jack. “When did this happen?” Jack asked.

  “This morning. She called Henry at seven and said she wanted to testify for you. Henry called me.”

  “What is she going to say?”

  “I don’t know. Henry says she is going to talk about what happened ten years ago. She wouldn’t tell him what she was going to say though.”

  “You don’t know?” Jack asked.

  “I hear you. Who calls a witness without knowing what they’re going to say?”

  “We have no choice, do we?”

  “We always have a choice, Jack, but what are our options?”

  “I guess we don’t have any. I said I believe in Danni. When you believe in people, you have to trust them.”

  “You’re making a believer out of me. I never thought this woman was going to testify on your behalf. Half of me is still a little worried.”

  When the jury was sitting, the bailiff brought Danni in from the witness room. She wore a blue suit with a skirt, not pants, and she looked terrific. This time she made eye contact with Jack. Her eyes were calm. She looked relaxed as she took the oath and sat in the witness chair.

  “Ms. Jansen,” Tom began, “when you testified in this case previously, you testified primarily about what happened on the day Thomas Felton was killed. Is that accurate?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to go back a ways to the time when you were a homicide detective and were in pursuit of Thomas Felton. In particular, I want to talk to you about the murders of Vanessa Brock and Pedro Diaz.”

  “Sure.”

  Tom didn’t know exactly where he was going so he just asked general questions.

  “Were you involved in the investigation of those murders?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was your part?”

  “Let me go back a bit and tell you very briefly where we were in the investigation at the time of those murders.”

  Robert Merton stood up at this point. He, too, didn’t know what was coming, but he didn’t think it was going to be good. “Your Honor, I object to this line of questioning. It is totally irrelevant to our reason for being here.”

  Tom was ready to make his argument but he didn’t get the chance.

  “Overruled. You opened this door, Mr. Merton, with your direct examination of Chief Jeffries. Continue, Mr. Wylie.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” To the witness he said, “Ms. Jansen, you were about to tell us where the investigation was prior to the murders of Vanessa Brock and Pedro Diaz?”

  “Yes. Those two people were the ninth and tenth individuals murdered. The eighth was Alice Jeffries, Sam Jeffries’s wife.

  “One of the other pe
ople murdered was a young woman named Stacey Kincaid. The killer had tried to kill Stacey earlier, but she had managed to escape and she identified a bowie knife with a gargoyle handle as the weapon the assailant tried to kill her with. Because of her identification, we were focused on that bowie knife.”

  The jury was listening intently. She was so much more compelling in her testimony this time.

  “I was convinced that Thomas Felton was the murderer. I didn’t have any real evidence other than the fact that there was a serial killer at the University of Utah when Felton was a student there and the fact that he had an unusual knife in his house, although it looked nothing like a bowie knife. However, with the number of people dead, I felt we needed to move on this flimsy evidence. I went to Sam Jeffries, the head of the task force, and asked him to get me a search warrant. He refused to support the request because he did not believe we had probable cause. I then went to Janet Pelicano, the state attorney at the time, and asked her for a search warrant. She refused me for the same reason.

  “I must tell you also that the killer had threatened my daughter so I had a personal stake as well.”

  “Why are you telling us all this?” Tom asked. He really didn’t know where she was going.

  “Number one, I want the jury to know the pressure that was on us. People in our community were dying and it was our responsibility. And second, for Sam and me it was personal, although his loss was so much greater than mine.”

  “So what happened the night of the Brock/Diaz murders?”

  “The night Vanessa Brock and Pedro Diaz were killed, I got a call from my partner to come to the scene. However, I didn’t go to the scene right away. I went to Thomas Felton’s apartment.”

  The gallery started to murmur at that revelation but Judge Holbrook merely had to raise his head and look out into the crowd for the murmuring to stop. Danni continued.

 

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