“Thank you, Counselor. We will recess for lunch for one hour.”
“All rise.”
37
Court Transcript:
Tory Troy
Defense Counsel Carolyn Payne
District Attorney Brawley Loren
Judge Gerard Becker
Court Personnel
The Visitors’ Gallery
The Jury
“The prosecution would like to call to the stand Victoria Abigail Troy.”
“Hang on. Mr. Loren? Ms. Payne? Approach the bench, please.”
“Yes, Judge?”
“What are you doing, Mr. Loren?”
“Sir?”
“The prosecution is not permitted to call the defendant as a witness.”
“That’s true, sir. But she wants to testify, and she asked that I question her. And she asked that I call her first.”
“Ms. Payne?”
“It’s true, Your Honor.”
“Did you advise your client that not only does she not have to be questioned by Mr. Loren, but that she need not even take the stand?”
“I did, Your Honor.”
“If I ask Ms. Troy that question, will she give me the same answer?”
“Absolutely, Judge.”
“This is highly irregular, Ms. Payne.”
“I know, sir, but Tory … Ms. Troy wants to take the stand, and she wants to be questioned by Mr. Loren. Completely against my advice, but she’s the boss.”
“And you’re all right with this, Mr. Loren?”
“Unequivocally, Judge. I want very much to question Ms. Troy about the crimes with which she is charged.”
“I’ll bet you do, Brawley.”
“Ms. Payne. To me, please?”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Very well. As long as I have your assurance, Ms. Payne, as an officer of the court, that you have made her rights clear to her, as well as explained the possible consequences of her testifying, I will allow it.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Thank you, Judge.”
“Step back. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We are breaking from standard procedure somewhat in that the defendant has agreed to testify for the prosecution, and to be called first. Mr. Loren, you may proceed.”
“Please raise your right hand and place your left hand on the Bible. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that the testimony you are about to give in this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Victoria Abigail Troy.”
“Thank you.”
“Good morning, Miss Troy.”
“Mr. Loren.”
“Please tell the court what it is you do for a living.”
“I am a certified animal euthanasia technician.”
“And what is that?”
“Your Honor, can I speak to you, please?”
“Step back, Counselor. What is it, Ms. Troy?”
“Judge, I’m not feeling well. I’m nauseous, and I have a headache, and I feel hot and dizzy.”
“Can you continue your testimony?”
“I don’t think so. Not today, Your Honor. I’m sorry, but I really feel like I’m going to lose it. I’d like to lie down.”
“Very well, then. We’ll adjourn for today.”
“I appreciate it, Judge. I wouldn’t do this if I felt all right. I want you to know that.”
“Thank you, Ms. Troy. We can reconvene when you’re feeling better. Counsel, approach the bench.”
“What’s this all about, Judge?”
“The defendant is ill. I’m adjourning for today, and we will reconvene when she feels better.”
“Are you kidding? My office has spent a great deal of time and expense preparing for this case, and you adjourn after we ask our first question?”
“That’s enough, Counselor.”
“I want her examined by a doctor to confirm that she isn’t faking.”
“Oh, come on, Brawley, give it a rest.”
“Attorney Payne, please address the bench.”
“Sorry, Judge.”
“So that’s it? We have to wait until she gets over her … illness?”
“That is correct, Counselor, and please take caution with your tone. Step back. This court stands in recess until further notice. We are adjourned.”
38
Juror Number 4
Juror Number 3
“Do you believe she was really sick?”
“Why? Do you think she was faking? Pass the pepper, please.”
“I don’t know. But the D.A. only got to ask her one question before she suddenly got too sick to continue. It just seems awfully convenient.”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking about this.”
“Why not? We’re going to talk about it in the jury room, right? Why can’t two jurors talk about it outside the room if no one else can hear us?”
“I suppose …”
“And as long as we don’t breathe a word of this to anyone who is not a juror, I can’t imagine that we’re violating anything.”
“The judge may feel differently about that.”
“Do you want to change the subject?”
“No. We can talk about it if you want.”
“Did you see what she was wearing? That lavender cowl-neck sweater? It looked like cashmere.”
“It was. It was a Cynthia Rowley. I think I saw Angelina Jolie wearing the same one in a picture in the Star. Or the Enquirer, maybe. Or maybe it was Sandra Bullock.”
“How can she afford designer clothes?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a gift?”
“Nice gift. And she’s got generous friends if it’s true. A sweater like that has got to run close to three hundred dollars. Hey, wouldn’t it be something if that top was a gift from one of the people she worked with?”
“Oh, that’s too sick to even think about.”
“No. Think about it. The only people who would know would be the relatives and friends of the person who gave it to her. It would be like she was spitting in their face. Like a secret message.”
“I can’t imagine she would do something that deliberately hurtful.”
“Why not? She killed six people, right? What’s more ‘deliberately hurtful’ than that?”
“I suppose. But still …”
“I have to ask. Are you leaning one way or another?”
“It’s got to be guilty or not guilty by reason of insanity, right?”
“Yes. This risotto is to die for.”
“I don’t know.”
“No early feelings toward one verdict or another?”
“Well, sometimes I think that a person couldn’t be sane and do what she did. But then I think about how she planned the murders, and paralyzed them all with the Pavulon, and dragged them in one at a time. It was so … systematic. How could an insane person do that?”
“She couldn’t. That’s why my mind is already made up.”
“Before you hear any testimony? You’re kidding!”
“Nope. Grated cheese?”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t like grated cheese?”
“I love grated cheese. It’s just that I’m lactose-intolerant and I forgot my Lactaid.”
“She’s guilty as sin and she should die for her crimes.”
“So let me get this straight. You heard her response to one question, which, if I recall, was what she did for a living, and you have already concluded that she is guilty and should get the death penalty?”
“You got it. I’m a no-nonsense girl, my fellow juror. I see what I see, and I know what I know. And this chick is guilty.”
“That just seems so … rash. And unfair.”
“Why unfair?”
“Because the purpose of a trial is to give anybody accused of a crime a chance to defend themselves. Right? You’re not giving her t
hat chance.”
“Let me put it this way, Judge Judy. She admitted doing it. In my mind, that immediately leads to case closed. I don’t buy that somebody can be not guilty because they were insane at the time of their crimes, and then they suddenly snapped back into sanity as soon as they finished. It just does not make any sense at all to me. So, if I remove the possibility of a not-guilty-by-reason-of-insanity verdict from the table, then the only thing left to consider—and I’m only talking about me now, remember—is the sentence. And since I am pro-death penalty, I say she should die for her crimes. Like I said. Case closed.”
“How can you be so nonchalant about sentencing somebody to die?”
“It’s easy. I just think about the six dead people and their families.”
“Well, if your mind is made up, and mine isn’t, what’s going to happen in the jury room if I want to vote for not guilty?”
“One of three things. One: Everyone in the room will agree with you, and the verdict will be not guilty. Two: You will change your mind and agree with everyone else, and the verdict will be guilty. Or three: We’ll have a hung jury. The depth and passion of each juror’s commitment to their decision will determine how hard they fight. And how long we remain locked up in that room.”
“What if I decide she was insane and, therefore, not guilty, and everyone else agrees with me?”
“Then we’re hung, sweetie pie. Because this girl ain’t changing her mind.”
“Well, then, I guess we just wait and see what happens after the testimony is over, right?”
“Right as rain. Man, this risotto is extraordinary. Waiter? Excuse me?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I hope I’m not asking you to divulge state secrets or anything, but could you tell me what are the dominant flavors I’m tasting in this risotto?”
“Happily, ma’am. That is our Italian Glory Risotto, and what you’re tasting is a blend of provolone and ricotta cheeses, garlic sautéed in extra virgin olive oil, a soupçon of butter, and fresh basil. The chef also adds a dash of white pepper to the rice as it’s cooking with the other ingredients. And I have to specify white pepper. I have direct orders. After he created the dish, our chef told us all, ‘There is a difference between white pepper, black pepper, and red pepper. My Italian risotto uses white pepper.’”
“Well, please extend my compliments to the chef. This is absolutely delicious.”
“That I will do, ma’am. And I offer his thanks. Will there be anything else?”
“No, just the check, please. Thank you. Unless you want more coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Just the check, then. Thank you. Wasn’t that nice of him to tell us what was in the risotto?”
“I tasted the basil, but the ricotta was a surprise. That’s probably why it was so creamy. And something else just occurred to me.”
“What’s that? More about the verdict?”
“No. It occurred to me as we were listening to the waiter that the risotto had two kinds of cheese in it. Plus butter.”
“Oh, no. Your lactose thing!”
“Yes. Which means I have approximately one hour before I will be spending a great deal of time on the … uh, the ‘witness chair.’”
“That’s funny! The witness chair! Very clever.”
“So I hope you will forgive me if I leave immediately. This should cover my share of the bill. If it’s more, I’ll give it to you tomorrow at the courthouse. But I really have to leave.”
“Go. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“Thanks. See you in court.”
“Good luck with your … uh, ‘testimony.’”
“Very funny.”
“Sorry. Now I just hope I can get a cab.”
“Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“Thanks. See you soon.”
39
Tory Troy
Defense Counsel Carolyn Payne
“So, my dear, what was that all about? You look okay to me.”
“Why, Attorney Payne—are you suggesting that I was faking? I’m aghast at such a notion!”
“Yes, I’m sure you are. I’m simply asking what that was all about. Postponing a trial because the defendant doesn’t ‘feel well’ is, to be blunt, a royal pain in the ass. Especially after she has taken the stand and answered precisely one question.”
“Pretty slick, huh?”
“So you were faking?”
“I really did feel a little queasy. Honest. But let’s just say I exaggerated my symptoms a little.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because Brawley Loren is a dick.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there, but what good does it do you to antagonize the D.A. and delay your trial?”
“No good. But I don’t care. You and I both know what’s going to happen. And it’s not a happy ending.”
“Tory, you shouldn’t talk like that. And you certainly shouldn’t think like that.”
“You know what’s been happening to me lately, Carolyn? I’ve been seeing dying faces.”
“Even though I’m not sure I should ask—please, do tell what in the name of heaven that means.”
“Did you ever see someone walking on the street, or browsing in a store, and you immediately—almost reflexively—think to yourself how healthy their face looks? Like when you see a teenager who has a clear complexion, bright eyes, perfect teeth, great hair … they just radiate health, you know?”
“Tory, it’s only normal for young people to look healthy. You look healthy.”
“Yeah, I know that. But there’s more to it than that. They almost glow sometimes.”
“Okay … and?”
“Nowadays, if I see someone that the rest of the world would think looks healthy, I suddenly get a flash of what their face will look like moments before their death.”
“Jesus Christ, Tory. How morbid is that?”
“I can’t help it. All of a sudden I see them ravaged by cancer, or kidney failure, or some horrible disease.”
“That’s twisted.”
“You think I’m imagining it on purpose?”
“I don’t know if you’re consciously trying to imagine what these people will look like with a disease but, for some reason, your mind is instantly leaping to thoughts of disease and death when you see someone healthy-looking. I’ll bet it has something to do with your current … situation. Your, you know, state of affairs.”
“You think because I’m on trial for killing my coworkers that I’m seeing dead people. Like in the movie?”
“Well, that kid actually did see dead people. Bruce Willis, anyway.”
“Right.”
“Oh, I’m awful.”
“Why?”
“The thought that just popped into my mind was, Well, that’s one and the same thing.”
“Carolyn! You aren’t a Bruce Willis fan?”
“Not in his bald, post-Demi years. I’m more of a Moonlighting/Die Hard-era Willis fan.”
“Is it the baldness?”
“Not really. I don’t mind baldness. Baldness can be sexy. Masculine. Sean Connery? Patrick Stewart? It’s more the attitude, I think. He’s obviously not hungry anymore, and that comes across to me these days. He seems like a nice guy, though.”
“I think I know what you mean.”
“Tory, is this ‘death vision quest’ trip you’re on bothering you? Do you feel all right to testify?”
“I don’t have a choice, Carolyn. Good old Dr. Bex said I was fit to stand trial, so any mental ‘issues’ that come up now are almost certainly going to be … what’s the word … invalidated?”
“Not necessarily. I can go to the judge and ask for a continuance so you can talk to another psychiatrist if you think it will help.”
“You think he’d grant it?”
“Hard to say. He might. His immediate willingness to postpone yesterday because you didn’t feel well shows that he obviously has some benevolent feelings towa
rd you. Plus there’s something else. This is a huge case for him. Six felony murders. I am certain he is already strategizing about how he can protect his rulings and limit the possibility of appeal based on something he does wrong. So I’m betting he will err on the side of caution. So, do you want to talk to someone else?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then, do you have any idea as to when you think you’ll be, uh, ‘healthy’ enough to resume your testimony?”
“I’m ready now.”
“Tory, it’s four in the afternoon.”
“No, I don’t mean right now. I mean, I’m ready whenever.”
“Have you seen the staff doctor?”
“Yes. And he has seen me.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was probably a twenty-four-hour virus.”
“I see.”
“Those twenty-four-hour viruses are a bitch.”
“Apparently. And they seem to know when the twenty-four hours are up too. Smart little buggers, aren’t they?”
“That’s funny, Carolyn. And you said you didn’t have a sense of humor!”
“Yeah, right. I’m putting in a request to be a stand-up comedian in my next life.”
“What happens now?”
“I’ll tell the judge you’ll be ready to resume your testimony tomorrow morning.”
Dialogues Page 17