Final Exam: A Legal Thriller

by Terry Huebner

  Nelson now looked very, very uncomfortable. He looked around for help, but none was forthcoming. He placed his thumb on the top of the barrel of the bat near the trademark, and the forefinger underneath on the bottom.

  “Now take your left hand off the bat.” Nelson did so. It was obvious that the bat was much more difficult to handle with just one hand. “I see that the Sammy Sosa autograph is now facing up toward you, isn’t that right?”

  Nelson looked down and shrugged. “Yes, I guess it is.”

  “So that may be about where one would hold the bat with his or her right hand if looking at Sammy Sosa’s autograph, isn’t that true?”

  “Objection,” Fahey said, “calls for speculation.”

  Ben laughed. “Your Honor, I think the witness has enough experience with looking at things that he can tell how someone would hold an object and look at it.”

  There was laughter in the courtroom. “I think Counsel makes a good point, Ms. Fahey. Objection overruled. You can answer.”

  Nelson looked like a man who didn’t want to hold the bat any longer. “I suppose if you were to look at the autograph, you could hold the bat this way.”

  Ben nodded several times, perfectly at ease. “Now, you’re not suggesting that my client held the bat with just those two fingers in her right hand and that’s how she repeatedly struck the Professor in the head, caved in his skull and ultimately killed him, are you?”

  “No,” Nelson said somewhat awkwardly, “not necessarily. It’s just that these two fingerprints were left on the bat, that’s all. She could very well have wiped off her remaining fingerprints.”

  “Such as, say the fingerprints from her left hand?”

  “Yes.” Now Nelson felt better.

  “Okay then. Go ahead and put your left hand on the end of the bat, down near the handle.” Nelson did so. “It’s easier to hold now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Now it almost looks like how you’d hold the bat if you were going to bunt the baseball, doesn’t it?” Ben said with a grin.

  “Yes, I guess it does.”

  “Yet you still have your right forefinger and right thumb in the areas where you found my client’s fingerprints?”

  “Yes.”

  Ben paused for a long moment as though studying the Detective, his eyes squinted, head tilted to the side, arms folded across his chest. Then he cocked his left eye and pointed an inquisitive forefinger at the Detective. “Now, if you were going to kill a man with this bat, kill him by hitting him so hard and so many times that you crushed the back of his skull, do you think you’d be bunting, or would you swing away?” There was laughter in the courtroom, and Ben gave the Detective a sarcastic grin, met with narrowed eyes.

  Bridget Fahey rose and shouted, “Objection, Your Honor.” Ben turned and raised his hand in mock apology. “I’ll withdraw the question,” he said, returning to his seat. But the point had been made.

  50

  Sylvia Greenfield looked like a cross between a business executive and movie star when she strode purposefully down the aisle and toward the witness stand. Her posture perfect, her head erect, she displayed cool confidence and just a hint of blue-blood arrogance. She wore a dark gray suit and white blouse, her frosted blond hair swept back behind her ears displaying gold oval earrings. Everything was put together and accessorized perfectly. She took her seat on the witness stand and smoothed out her skirt, leaving her hands folded on her lap. She gave Bridget Fahey the slightest of cool smiles indicating that it was now appropriate to begin, and Fahey questioned her briefly regarding her marriage and children before turning her attention to the reason for their breakup. She told the Court essentially the same thing she told Ben months earlier at her home - the marriage fell apart when she couldn’t put up with her husband’s infidelity any longer.

  Ben watched carefully from his spot at the defense table. He found Sylvia Greenfield’s demeanor very curious, much like it had been the day he had spoken to her at her home. She spoke in a detached way, almost as though she were describing events that had occurred to someone else, rather than herself. He wondered if she could really be this unemotional, or whether this was simply a strange façade. In any event, it was clear to Ben that the appearance of being treated badly hurt Sylvia Greenfield as much as the actual mistreatment itself.

  Bridget Fahey didn’t elicit any real specifics. It was as though the marriage had simply ended after a time, almost like the expiration of a driver’s license or credit card. The questioning went on in this strange detached manner for fifteen minutes or so, without any particularly relevant testimony coming out. Then Fahey asked her about her last communications with her former husband.

  “I last saw Daniel in late September when he stopped by to visit the girls on our eldest daughter’s birthday.”

  “Can you describe that meeting?”

  “It was rather ordinary. I was only there a few minutes before I left to go out to dinner with a friend. I didn’t think they wanted any unpleasantness between their parents, so I left.”

  “Did you speak to him again after that occasion in late September?”

  “Yes, a couple of times. The first time was around Thanksgiving. Daniel was never happy with how things took place around the holidays because the girls always wanted to stay with me and my family, rather than visit him. He generally took that out on me and assumed that I urged the girls to take that position, which of course I did not. I spoke to him a couple of times after Thanksgiving, once in early December and again about a week before Christmas.”

  “Can you describe that first conversation for us?

  “Daniel was very angry. He told me that he felt I wouldn’t let him see the girls over the holidays and he didn’t want to sit home alone in his apartment while we celebrated. The conversation only lasted a few minutes, but it was quite unpleasant.”

  “Describe the second conversation for the Court.”

  “Well, his mood was much better than it had been before. He was almost arrogant. He said that the time was coming when I wouldn’t be able to control his access to his family like I did then. I didn’t know exactly what he meant and said so. He said that I would find out soon enough.”

  Ben leaned forward in his chair. Where was she going with this? Mark slid a green card over to him with one word on it - “What?” Ben wrote, “Don’t know” on the card and slid it back.

  “Did you ever ask him what he meant?” Bridget Fahey continued.

  “No. Frankly, I didn’t want to speak to him anymore. So I just let it drop.”

  “Did you ever find out what he meant?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  Bridget Fahey looked at Judge Wilson and said simply, “I have no further questions, your Honor.” As she walked back to her table, she gave Ben a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, apparently searching for some reaction. She got none.

  Ben pushed away from the table and rose slowly to his feet. He eyed the witness. “You won’t always be able to control access to his family. That’s kind of a curious thing to say, don’t you think?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know whether you think it’s curious?”

  “I suppose it may be somewhat curious.”

  “You thought it was curious at the time, didn’t you?”

  She cocked her head. “I suppose I may have.”

  “Is that a yes or no?”

  She looked annoyed. “Yes. It’s a yes. I thought it was curious.”

  Ben nodded and advanced slowly toward the witness. “Did you view that statement as some kind of threat?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Daniel would never threaten me, at least not physically.”

  “What about in other ways?”

  “No, not particularly. I just figured he was trying to get a reaction out of me.”

  “Did he do that a lot?”

  “Of course, isn
’t that what lawyers are good at?” She smiled coldly and murmurs of laughter erupted in the courtroom.

  Ben smiled and nodded taking the hit gracefully. “Point well taken,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about your husband’s infidelities. When was the first time you learned your husband was unfaithful to you?”

  She paused and looked out toward the gallery as though to locate the memory. “I don’t know,” she said finally, “a couple of times over the years I probably had my suspicions, given Daniel’s position and all those young female law students around, but I never really pursued the issue, probably because I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t first start taking it seriously until about ten years ago.”

  “Ten years ago?” Ben said. “Did you say anything about it to your husband at the time?”

  “No. I don’t think I ever said anything about it until probably five years ago. I didn’t want to think about it. Then it really became an issue when the students accused him of improper behavior.”

  “Did your husband ever admit to having relationships with female law students?”

  “No, he didn’t. He always denied it, but that didn’t mean that we both didn’t know it was true.”

  “How did you know it was true?”

  “Mr. Lohmeier, you just know.”

  Ben nodded and left it alone. He still didn’t know what to make of Daniel Greenfield’s last comment and also didn’t know quite how to pursue the matter. Finally, he decided to give up and asked, “Before your husband’s death, had you ever even heard of my client, Megan Rand Cavallaro?”

  She looked directly at Meg, her cold eyes suggesting a feeling of marked indifference, rather than anger or contempt. “No,” she said finally, “I had never heard of her until I saw her name in the papers and heard it on television.”

  “Before you came here today, had you ever seen my client, Megan Rand Cavallaro?”

  Sylvia Greenfield gave Meg one last cold glare. She shook her head. “No, not in person. I’d only seen her on television after she was arrested.”

  “So you never saw your husband with my client?”

  “No, never.”

  “I have no further questions.”

  Bridget Fahey offered no re-direct and Sylvia Greenfield stepped down from the stand and walked briskly down the center aisle of the courtroom and right out the door. As the door closed behind her, Judge Wilson ordered a brief recess.

  While people scurried about to get a drink of water or head to the bathroom, Ben sat in his chair and turned to face Mark. He knew he hadn’t gotten anything out of Sylvia Greenfield, but then again, he didn’t think she offered any damaging testimony either, save for the odd comment allegedly made by her husband that she would no longer control access to his family.

  The final witness of the day was Samuel Dorlund. As he passed the counsel table, he gave Ben a smirk which Ben took as a warning of things to come. He appeared to be sweating in his best blue suit, blue Oxford shirt and red-print tie. As he climbed into the witness chair, Dorlund nodded at Judge Wilson, whom he’d known for many years, then sat down and looked out at the courtroom with a smug expression on his face.

  Bridget Fahey looked up and took the witness through the preliminaries. As Ben watched, he felt an eerie sense of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He never particularly liked Professor Dorlund, didn’t trust him now, and wouldn’t put it past him to say something that wasn’t true.

  “Tell us,” Fahey continued, “how did you know Daniel Greenfield?”

  “Daniel was my colleague at the Chicago College of Law for more than twenty years. He was also my best friend.”

  Slowly and methodically, Bridget Fahey took Samuel Dorlund through his background at the law school and his relationship with Daniel Greenfield before moving on. “At the time of Professor Greenfield’s death, were you involved with a committee planning for a reunion of the 1992 graduating class at the law school?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I was.”

  “Was Professor Greenfield also involved with that Reunion Committee?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Was anyone else in this courtroom a member of that Committee?”

  “Yes,” he said gesturing in the direction of the defense table, “the Defendant, Megan Rand Cavallaro, was also a member of the Committee.”

  “Did you ever speak to Ms. Rand yourself about the committee?”

  “No, I don’t believe I did.”

  “Was Ms. Rand ever a student of yours during law school?”

  Dorlund shook his head, his right arm resting casually on the ledge of the witness stand. “No, I don’t believe she was. But I do remember her as a student at the law school during that time.”

  “Did you ever have any other occasion to meet her?”

  “Yes, I did. I met her on several occasions in Daniel Greenfield’s office.”

  “Did you know what she was doing there?”

  He shook his head. “At first, I assumed she was just there because she was another student. I later learned that they were having a relationship together.”

  “A sexual relationship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was she still a student at that time?”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone about this relationship?”

  “No, I should have, but Daniel was my friend and I didn’t want to get him in any trouble, so I didn’t.”

  “How did you learn of this relationship?”

  “Eventually, Daniel told me that he was having a sexual relationship with her, but I could tell by the way they acted together that something was going on between them.”

  Ben thought about objecting, but figured it would be futile. Besides, he didn’t want Dorlund testifying about the details of how they looked at each other or what they may have said so he left it alone. He could feel Megan cringe next to him. Just hold it together, he thought.

  Fahey continued. “Do you know how long this relationship lasted?”

  “I believe about six months or so.”

  “Was Ms. Rand still a student when the relationship ended?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Do you know whether Professor Greenfield had any contacts with the Defendant after the relationship ended?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. Not until recently anyway.”

  “What do you mean by recently?”

  “Daniel mentioned to me not long before he died that he had spoken to her.”

  “Did he tell you what they spoke about?”

  “No, he didn’t. He just said he was happy to talk to her and told me how much he still cared about her.”

  Ben eyes narrowed. Somehow this didn’t ring true.

  “Did Daniel Greenfield tell you anything else about the Defendant?”

  “He just said that he looked forward to seeing her again at the Reunion. He even wondered whether she was still available.” Ben didn’t like the way that sounded in front of the jury. “Other than that,” Dorlund added, “he didn’t say anything directly about her.”

  “Did he say anything indirectly?”

  “Yes. Right before he was killed, he spoke to me about possibly getting back together with an old flame. We had recently been talking about the Defendant, so I assumed …”

  Ben rose to his feet and cut him off. “Objection, your Honor. His assumptions aren’t important. This is nothing more than speculation on the witness’s part.”

  Judge Wilson didn’t wait for a response from Bridget Fahey. “Sustained.”

  Bridget Fahey moved closer to the bench and began to say something, but reconsidered. Instead, she turned back to the witness and asked, “Do you know whether Professor Greenfield was working on any special research projects before he died?”

  “Yes, he was,” the witness said. “He was doing a substantial amount of research on DNA and paternity. I originally believed it related to his work, perhaps he was writing an article on the subject, but I eventually changed m
y mind.”

  “Why was that?”

  “In talking to him, I became convinced that he had personal reasons for wanting to know about DNA and paternity.”

  “Objection,” Ben said again. “This is more speculation without any foundation whatsoever.”

  “I’ll agree with the part about foundation,” the Judge said. “Ms. Fahey, lay a better foundation if you want to get into this kind of thing.”

  Ben didn’t like where this was heading and wanted to cut it off immediately. “Your Honor,” he interjected, “I think we need to be heard outside the presence of the jury.”

  Judge Wilson eyed him for a minute and then nodded. “Very well, let’s go out here in the corridor. The court reporter is also directed to come.”

  Ben looked over at Bridget Fahey, who showed no reaction. He then glanced at the jury and saw puzzled and concerned looks throughout. Normally, Ben didn’t like to interrupt the trial and ask to speak to the Judge outside of the jury’s presence because it tended to offend the jurors and make them wonder what was being discussed behind their backs. In this case, however, he saw little choice, particularly in light of the direction in which the questions seemed to be heading and the prior ruling which precluded Bridget Fahey from getting into questions surrounding Anthony Cavallaro’s paternity.

  Ben followed Bridget Fahey out the door and into the corridor leading to Judge Wilson’s chambers. A moment later, the court reporter maneuvered her machine and chair out into the small space so she could transcribe what was being said. Judge Wilson waited for her to get set up, then turned to Ben and said, “Okay, Counsel, what’s on your mind?”

  “Your Honor, it appears from where this questioning is heading that Ms. Fahey is attempting to get the issue of paternity in through the back door. As I’m sure you recall, long before this trial began, you granted our Motion in Limine which barred any evidence regarding the paternity of Anthony Cavallaro, my client’s son. Ms. Fahey is trying to get at the issue of paternity without mentioning Anthony directly, despite the fact that the implication is obvious. She can be talking about no one else. I let it go in her opening statement because it was a rather indirect reference and I didn’t want to call more attention to it than was necessary. Now, however, she is clearly trying to circumvent your ruling and present the issue of paternity when we all know full well that Anthony Cavallaro is Joseph Cavallaro’s son and not Daniel Greenfield’s. She is trying to make it appear as though my client had a motive for killing Professor Greenfield to keep something quiet that isn’t even true.”