DB01 - Presumption of Innocence

by Stephen Penner

  Kat strutted past Brunelle and out of the courtroom. He watched her the whole way, then turned back to his surroundings, a boyish grin still on his face. But the grin drained away when he noticed two things.

  Karpati still at the defense table, displaying a grin of his own.

  And the word scrawled in large block letters on his legal pad:

  “LIZZY”

  Chapter 36

  The break was over soon enough and Yamata came back into the courtroom wearing a frown. Brunelle knew she had stepped out, but hadn’t known where she’d gone to. The bathroom, he figured.

  “Bad news,” she announced in a low voice as she reached him. “Chen’s had no luck scaring up any No Bloods. And he says he’s done looking for today.”

  Brunelle knitted his eyebrows together. “Why?

  “Triple homicide on Capital Hill. Messy. The whole major crimes unit is there. Suspect got away, so if Chen’s not at the scene, he’ll be on the manhunt.”

  “Damn.” Brunelle frowned and tapped his lips. He looked at the clock. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. “We’re out of witnesses for today.”

  Yamata nodded. “We’re out of witnesses for the trial,” she said. “Unless you want to start calling random patrol officers to stall.”

  Brunelle shook his head. “No. ‘What did you do?’ ‘I put up crime scene tape.’ ‘What did you do?’ ‘I kept the log everyone signed in on.’ No, we want to finish strong.”

  Yamata nodded. “Dr. Anderson was strong.”

  Brunelle nodded, but was still frowning. “Not strong enough.”

  “All rise!” Judge Quinn retook the bench.

  “Are we ready to proceed?” she asked.

  Brunelle grimaced. He forced a smile and gestured amicably up to the judge. “Well, actually, your Honor, no. The State is having a small witness problem.”

  Judge Quinn looked at the clock. “Do you want to adjourn until after lunch?”

  “I’d like to adjourn until tomorrow,” Brunelle countered, then readied himself for the reaction.

  The judge just raised an incredulous eyebrow. But Welles went into full drama mode. He smelled blood.

  “Tomorrow?” he gasped. “I object. No, I do more than object. I protest. This is absolutely outrageous. The State has utterly failed to produce any evidence that my client was involved in this murder, let alone that it was done to advance his standing in a secret society of vampires. And now that they have reached the end of their case, they ask for one more day? The court should deny the request and force the State to rest its case.”

  The judge raised the other eyebrow at Brunelle.

  “It’s just one more day, Your Honor,” he assured the judge.

  Judge Quinn rolled her head back to Welles. “What’s one more day, counselor?”

  “What’s one more day?” Welles repeated, aghast. “It’s one more day my client is held illegally. It’s one more day my client is denied his freedom. It’s one more day the government uses its power to trample upon the liberties of a God-fearing, law-abiding citizen.”

  When Judge Quinn seemed ready to question him on that particular description of Arpad Karpati, Welles pressed on. “We all know that as soon as the State rests, I will make a motion to dismiss the case for failing to present any evidence that connects my client to the murder. And we all know that when I make that motion, the court will grant it, and Mr. Karpati will be a free man. What’s one more night, you ask? One more night is a travesty of justice, and nothing less.”

  “What about Dr. Anderson’s testimony?” the judge tested.

  Welles smiled sardonically. “You mean the testimony that was allowed after I withdrew my question? Well, apart from being an automatic appeal issue, her answer was rank hearsay. Although it may have been admissible to explain her scientific conclusions, the jury is not allowed to consider any statements by Miss Sandholm for their potential truth. My client was never able to cross examine Miss Sandholm, and therefore allowing the jury to consider her alleged statements as if she had actually testified would violate my client’s right to confront his witnesses. I would expect the court to instruct the jury to disregard the statements for whether they are true or not, and limit their consideration only to explaining why the good doctor drew the conclusions she did. With that limited use, they also do not tie my client to the murder. And the court will grant my motion.”

  The judge looked back at Brunelle. “Counsel?”

  Brunelle shrugged. “He’s right, Your Honor,” Brunelle conceded. “Dr. Anderson’s statements were allowed to support her conclusion, not to admit Holly’s statements without having her testify. But I disagree that the court would necessarily grant a motion to dismiss at this point. But either way, it’s premature. We haven’t rested yet and we need an adjournment until tomorrow morning.”

  Judge Quinn pursed her lips and nodded. “I will give you until tomorrow morning, Mr. Brunelle.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Brunelle replied.

  “But Mr. Welles is right,” she went on. “If you have no witnesses ready, you will rest your case. And if you rest your case as it stands right now…” she frowned, “…I will grant a motion to dismiss.”

  She stood up. “Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine a.m.”

  The judge exited to her chambers and the attorneys packed up their belongings. Welles flashed a confident smile at Brunelle and Yamata, both of whom failed to offer any smile in return. Instead they walked into the hallway and waited in silence for the elevator.

  When it came, they were the only ones on board. As the doors closed, Yamata asked, “Now what?”

  Brunelle shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  But, in truth, he did.

  Chapter 37

  “You have to testify,” Brunelle said. He tried to make it sound more statement than plea.

  “You know I can’t,” came the reply. “And you know why.”

  “What I know,” Brunelle answered, “is that if you don’t testify, he walks.”

  A shrug. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  Brunelle frowned and nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave. “You keep telling yourself that,” he said. “Especially when the next girl dies.”

  Chapter 38

  The clock read 9:04. Judge Quinn was giving them extra time, Brunelle knew, but he also knew time had pretty much run out. Yamata came back in the courtroom from the hallway for the sixth time in as many minutes. Still no witnesses in the hallway, but this time Chen stepped in behind her. Any hope Brunelle might have had in seeing him was extinguished by Chen’s shrugging shoulders and shaking head.

  “Sorry, Dave. I got nothing.”

  “You look like hell,” Brunelle observed. Chen had obviously been up all night. Brunelle hoped he’d found the other killer, but he would have preferred him finding a witness. Still, he knew his friend had done everything he could. “Not your fault, Larry. Maybe I can convince her not to dump the case.”

  “All rise!”

  It was 9:05.

  Quinn took the bench and her gaze immediately found Brunelle. “Is the state ready to call another witness?”

  Brunelle stepped forward from the door to the attorney area. “Unfortunately, the State has no further witnesses, Your Honor.”

  He couldn’t help but glance at Welles who was already standing up and displaying his asshole smile.

  “Ordinarily, Your Honor,” Welles trumpeted, “I would ask the state to rest in front of the jury. However, under the circumstances, that would seem to be a waste of time. As soon as Mr. Brunelle formally rests, we will move to dismiss the case. Your Honor has already indicated the likelihood of that motion being granted. Perhaps we could bring the jury out afterwards to explain what happened.”

  Judge Quinn looked to Brunelle. “Do you want to rest in front of the jury or not?”

  Brunelle scanned the court room. The Montgomerys were in the front row. Duncan was in the back row. Edwar
ds was by the door. And no one was coming in that door.

  Still, insisting on resting in front of the jury would buy him some time. It would take several minutes for the bailiff to march them in, have Brunelle say the magic words “The state rests”, and march them out again. Maybe he could use that time to manufacture an argument against dismissal.

  “I’d like to rest in front of the jury, Your Honor.”

  Quinn frowned but nodded. “So be it.” Then she instructed the bailiff to fetch the jurors.

  They filed in and took their seats. Judge Quinn looked down at Brunelle.

  “Does the state have any more witnesses?”

  Time was up. Brunelle looked around the courtroom. He tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. He’d let down the Montgomerys. He’d let down Duncan. He’d let down Yamata. He’d let down Chen and in a way even Edwards.

  But he’d fought the good fight. He hadn’t given up. Sometimes you give your best and still lose.

  “Your Honor.” he sighed, “the State re—”

  The door to the court room smashed open.

  “Is this room 120?” demanded the shapely brunette in the doorway.

  “Faust,” whispered Brunelle.

  “Fuck,” hissed Karpati.

  “Finally!” announced Faust. “You wouldn’t believe how much trouble I had finding this stupid courtroom.”

  Brunelle smiled and shook his head. “The state calls Debra Thompson to the stand.”

  “Objection!” Welles even hit the table as he jumped to his feet. If yelling ‘objection!’ was like telling the jury ‘ouch’—and every trial lawyer knew it was—then hitting the table was like crying on top of it and asking for your mommy. “The State was about to rest.”

  “Close only counts in horseshoes, Mr. Welles,” the judge replied with the slightest grin. She turned to Brunelle. “Was this witness on your witness list, counsel?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Brunelle was relieved to answer. “She was mentioned in the reports we provided Mr. Welles prior to the bail hearing.”

  The judge nodded. “Then you may proceed.”

  Faust cat-walked through the courtroom to the witness stand. As she brushed past Brunelle, she whispered, “Just don’t ask what we were doing when I told you everything.”

  Brunelle managed a poker face and quickly began his direct examination. “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Debra Thompson.”

  “Do you go by any other name?”

  Faust smiled and tipped her head slightly. “People call me Faust.”

  A slight chuckle rippled through the jury box and mister computer guy scooted forward in his seat.

  “How are you employed, Miss Thompson?” Brunelle continued after a moment.

  Faust turned and directed her answer to the jurors. “I’m a bartender at Darkness.”

  “Is that a tavern?” asked Brunelle.

  “No,” Faust smiled, “because it’s not 1644. It’s not a tavern; it’s a night club.”

  More light laughter from the jurors. A polite smile from Brunelle.

  “How long have you worked there?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Long enough.”

  Brunelle nodded and crossed his arms. At least the jury wouldn’t think he’d coached her.

  “Okay.” He decided to move on. “Are you acquainted with the defendant, Arpad Karpati?”

  She paused, then offered a soft, “Yes.”

  She didn’t look at Karpati, but everyone else did. And he was trying to stare a hole right through her. Sometimes the best evidence is how a defendant conducts himself in court.

  “How do you know Mr. Karpati?”

  “He’s a regular at Darkness,” Faust answered. “Or he was anyway.”

  “When was the last time you saw him there?”

  The answer was direct. “The night he murdered that girl.”

  “Objection.” Welles smacked the table again. Ouch, ouch, ouch. “There’s been no foundation for this witness’s outlandish claim that my client was in any way involved with the unfortunate death of that young lady.”

  Judge Quinn looked down at Brunelle. “Can you lay some foundation, counselor?”

  “I’d be happy to, Your Honor.” He turned back to Faust. “How do you know he murdered her?”

  Faust cocked her head slightly, with an almost puzzled expression on her beautiful face. “Well, duh. He told me.”

  And that, Brunelle knew, was the end of Welles’ motion to dismiss. It’s not hearsay if it’s the defendant’s own statements. It’s evidence.

  Brunelle nodded and paused before his next question, allowing Faust’s testimony to sink in on the jury

  “Let’s back up.” he said. “How often would you see Karpati at Darkness?”

  Faust considered for a moment before answering. “Like I said, he was a regular. Not every night, but more nights than not.”

  “Was he associated with any particular group?” Brunelle still needed to prove the aggravator.

  “Objection!” Ouch. “Calls for speculation.”

  “Lay some foundation first, Mr. Brunelle,” Judge Quinn instructed.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Brunelle nodded. He raised a hand to focus Faust’s attention. “This is a yes or no question. Were you aware whether Mr. Karpati was a member of any particular group?”

  Faust nodded crisply. “Yes.”

  Brunelle returned the nod. “And how do you know?”

  Another full-lipped smile. “He told me.”

  Brunelle let himself exhale. Welles couldn’t object anymore. Anything his client said could be used against him. Even to a bartender.

  “And what did the defendant tell you about this group?”

  Faust frowned for a moment in thought, then answered, “They called themselves ‘No Bloods’ and claimed to be vampires.”

  Again, a murmur rippled through the jury box.

  Brunelle stopped and thought for a moment. Faust hadn’t given him a lot, but it was what he needed and it was enough. He’d survive the halftime motion now. And the jury already knew Karpati was guilty; now they’d be allowed to render the verdict.

  He could take Faust back to the beginning. Circle through her testimony again to make sure the jury heard and understood all of it. Flesh out the details. Expand it to its full potential.

  Or not.

  “No further questions.”

  Brunelle quickly sat down next to Yamata.

  Faust had given him what he needed and he had no idea what else she might say. Best to shut up before any damage was done.

  The good news was that Welles wasn’t totally prepared for the abrupt ending to Brunelle’s direct exam. He shuffled some papers together and stepped a little too quickly to the bar opposite Faust.

  “Ms. Thompson,” he started. “You claim my client confessed the murder to you?”

  Brunelle knew Welles was flustered. That wasn’t a well-worded question. It gave Faust too much room.

  “More like bragged about it,” she answered.

  Welles’ eyes narrowed a bit. “You’re just a bartender, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not ‘just’ anything,” Faust replied.

  That was perfect. Especially for the jurors who were more bartender like Debra Thompson than lawyer like William Harrison Welles.

  Welles realized his mistake too. “What I meant, Miss Thompson, is that you aren’t a friend or confidante.”

  Faust considered. “I’m not a friend, but I’m a bartender. Pretty sure that makes me a confidante. Especially after a few drinks.”

  Welles tapped his pen against his legal pad. He was only bolstering her credibility.

  “Well, you must hear a lot of stories then, is that right, Ms. Thompson?”

  Faust smiled. “Oh, yes.”

  “Do you believe everything you’re told?”

  Faust shrugged. “Depends on who’s doing the telling.”

  Brunelle smiled. She was doing great. Welles wouldn’t want to ask
the next question, but if he didn’t the jury would wonder why. Or worse, know why.

  “What if Mr. Karpati is doing the talking?”

  Faust nodded. She looked down thoughtfully. She took a moment to consider her answer. “I always believed Arpad.”

  Welles was in the hole. Brunelle wondered if he’d stop digging.

  “And why is that?”

  Nope.

  The comfortable smile Faust wore disappeared. “Because he doesn’t talk much. But when he does, when he tells me something, something bad, I believe him. I learned to believe him. He said he raped Holly Sandholm and sure enough, he did.”

  The jury box and the gallery exploded with gasps and whispers. Welles’ eyes bulged in the sockets. Yamata gave Brunelle’s arm an ‘I can’t believe she said that’ bump. And Brunelle just stared up at the witness who had saved his case.

  “Your Honor,” Welles finally said after regaining himself. “I’d ask the court to strike the last answer as nonresponsive.”

  “Objection,” Brunelle said quietly.

  “Sustained,” Judge Quinn said. “You asked and she answered. Ask your next question.”

  The hole was deep. More questions about Holly were probably only going to make it worse. Brunelle hoped Welles was flustered and angry enough to push forward, but Welles gathered his papers together and stepped back to counsel table. He looked like he was about to sit down. When he opened his mouth to speak, Brunelle thought he was going to say, “No further questions.’

  Not quite.

  “You don’t believe Mr. Karpati is actually a vampire, do you?”

  Faust almost chuckled at the question. “No.”

  Welles returned the chuckle. “In fact, you would agree, wouldn’t you, Ms. Thompson, that anyone who thinks he’s a vampire would have to be crazy?”

  Faust considered for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Thompson.” Welles nodded up to the judge. “No further questions.”

  “Mr. Brunelle?” asked the judge. “Any redirect?”

  Brunelle considered. Welles hadn’t really done any damage. He could try to expand a bit on some areas, but he could just expand it in closing. If he didn’t ask any more questions, then Faust would be done and walk out the door.