Undertow

by Sydney Bauer

  David nodded.

  ‘All right. Now, I have no idea why you have suddenly decided to blow your case to hell by refusing to represent your client in cross examinations. However, I will say this. If I discover that you have decided to drop out of this case on purpose, for fear of not being capable of proving your case and subsequently aiming to set her up for a strong chance at appeal due to incompetent counsel, I will kick your ass so far into a four by four cell, there will be no time to say “appellate court”.’

  David said nothing but the expression on his face said it all. Stein thought he was taking a dive so Rayna would have a chance at appeal.

  ‘CNN have been speculating on such a theory all morning, and the New York Times have alluded to it in their editorial.’

  David was mortified. He always thought he had Stein’s respect. How could he think . . . ?

  ‘Look, David,’ said the Judge, reading his mind. ‘I did not . . . I do not think you are capable of such a low move, but it had to be said nevertheless. Believe it or not I thought you were the one person who could pull this off. I am just disappointed that such conjecture could damage one of the most promising legal careers this city has.’ Stein stood up and moved around his desk so that he could be at eye level with the young attorney in front of him.

  ‘I see so much of myself in you, son. I just need to know that you are doing everything you can.’

  David looked at him again.

  ‘Of course you are,’ Stein patted him on the shoulder like a mentor to prodigy.

  David wished he could explain. But he knew that was impossible, and Stein knew it too.

  ‘Mr Cavanaugh,’ said Stein, calling the room to order. ‘You may call your first . . .’

  ‘Your Honour,’ Katz interrupted just as David was about to call Officer Tommy Wu to the stand.

  ‘What is it, Mr Katz? Correct me if I am wrong but defence counsel has not said anything as yet, so I can only assume you are rehearsing your intention to object before he even has the chance to get started.’

  ‘No Judge, I am sorry but the prosecution has one final witness.’

  ‘What?’ said David.

  ‘Conference,’ yelled the Judge, looking directly at David. No doubt he registered the shock and fury on David’s face and wanted to control this potentially turbulent sparring match from closer quarters.

  David and Katz approached the bench.

  ‘Mr Katz,’ began Stein, now covering the small microphone which sat before him on the desk with his right hand. ‘Need I remind you that the State has a legal obligation to disclose every witness prior to . . .’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour, but over the past twelve hours we have come into some fresh information which we believe will shed new light on the exact chain of events of Saturday 4 May. We have found a witness, Your Honour, and if you will indulge us I believe he can clear up a number of discrepancies within a matter of minutes.’

  ‘Your Honour,’ David said quickly. ‘This is beyond ridiculous. We have no idea who this mystery witness is, and as such have had no time to prepare for any cross examination.’

  ‘Like that matters,’ said Katz under his breath.

  ‘Mr Katz,’ snapped Stein before David could react. ‘If this is some sort of joke . . .’

  ‘No Sir. Believe me, we are completely serious.’

  ‘All right, Mr Katz, but I warn you, this better be worthy of the disruption or I’ll have you removed for contempt. Now step back.’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour,’ Katz tried as hard as he could to suppress a smile. ‘The State calls Gabriel Jackson,’ he said, loud and clear enough for everyone in the overcrowded room to hear.

  ‘The Iceman,’ said Rayna.

  ‘Shit,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Jesus,’ said David, turning to his old friend. ‘They’ve bought the Iceman. They have us, Arthur. That’s it. We’re well and truly screwed.’

  Gabe Jackson was a large, imposing man, with tanned skin, close-cropped greying hair and small green eyes. He looked like a beaten-up tank that had just been squashed through a car wash – shiny faced, deodorised and wearing a dark blue suit that was three sizes too small. The witness box barely contained his generously muscled girth.

  Katz hated to admit it, but he was nervous. Jackson was not the sharpest tool in the shed and Katz was hoping beyond all hope that he was capable of sticking to their story. Truth be told, Gabe did not remember all that much of the ‘truth’ anyway, considering on said day he was driving his chopper with one hand and nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

  In the end Katz was pretty sure he had convinced the big buffoon that the story he fed him was actually what he saw, or close enough to it. He hoped this was the case because most people, even two-bit criminals like Gabe Jackson, were very poor liars, and he desperately needed this one to at least look like he was telling the truth.

  Katz began by asking Jackson his name, address and occupation. Jackson listed the latter as helicopter pilot, but was quick to point out his licence was currently in a state of temporary ‘lapse’.

  ‘I wasn’t too well earlier in the year, medicinal problems and I failed to renew but I intend to reapply within the week,’ he said. ‘Got a few jobs lined up already.’

  Katz knew he had to air at least some of Jackson’s dirty laundry, so that the defence’s attack on cross would not come as a complete shock to the jury. And so the ADA questioned his witness about some ‘outstanding legal matters’ which Jackson assured him were being attended to.

  ‘Mr Jackson, regardless of your current legal situations, I know you are aware that everything you say here must be the truth and nothing but the truth.’

  ‘Yes Sir.’

  ‘All right then, Mr Jackson, can you please tell us exactly what you were doing on the day of Saturday 4 May.’

  Jackson tugged at the too-tight tie and began to tell his story. He spoke of his ‘under the table’ agreement with ‘Top Gun’ Charters in Gloucester and the scenic tours he worked on, including the one-day picnic drop-offs on some of the quieter beaches in the greater Cape Ann area, including Crane Beach at Ipswich.

  ‘May is still pretty quiet, so I remember the fourth pretty clearly. I only had the one job that day.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Meeting a Japanese couple at Beverly Airport, flying them north, dropping them on Crane Beach and coming back for them later that afternoon.’

  ‘And this Japanese couple . . . they would be . . .’ Katz looked at his notes, ‘Mr and Mrs Sato Kyoji from Tokyo.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s them. Nice people. The missus was knocked up.’

  Lovely, thought Katz who fired the next question as quickly as possible.

  ‘And you dropped them off at what time?’

  ‘Eleven or a bit after. It was a nice day, warm, clear.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘I headed back to Beverly.’

  ‘And did you see a cruiser beneath you on the way back, specifically, The Cruisader being skippered by the defendant, Rayna Martin?’

  ‘Yes Sir. The first time I saw them was just on the Ipswich Bay side of Castle Neck, the girls were jumping into the outboard, looked like they were havin’ a whole lot of fun. They got in and started to putter into Essex Bay, towards Crane. I remembered thinking the Satos’ romantic hideaway was about to be bombarded by a bunch of teenage girls and it made me laugh,’ he smiled at his own thought. ‘Not so romantic after all,’ he chuckled, and Katz was pleased to see he was following his orders.

  One look at this witness had told the Kat he would need softening in the eyes of the jury. And as his appearance was hardly going to achieve this, he had suggested Jackson use his hearty sense of humour to smooth out his rough edges.

  It was working. Jurors Thomas Lawson and Jose Renderra shared a half smile with the burley witness.

  ‘Mr Jackson, you said “the first time” you saw them, meaning, you saw the party again?’

  ‘Yeah, I got a call on my c
ell about an hour or so later. It was Mr Sato. He told me about a group of girls on a dinghy, just off their beach, said they had fallen out of their boat but were okay. He was more concerned about the one girl who had started swimming out into the Bay. He couldn’t see the cruiser from the beach so he didn’t know where she was headed.’

  ‘And what did you do, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Well, I figured he was talkin’ about the girls from before and I guessed that one of them had made the swim out to the cruiser. So I took the chopper up to investigate.’

  ‘And what did you see, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Well, first up I saw the girl swimming towards the outcrop, she was pretty good. Nice smooth stroke.’

  ‘And the cruiser?’

  ‘Ah, yeah, I saw the defendant, ah . . . Mrs Martin sitting on a deck chair.’

  ‘Go on, Mr Jackson.’

  ‘Right, well anyway, then Mrs Martin over there,’ he said, pointing at Rayna, ‘then she looks up, as if she is trying to see the girls and of course, they’re around the outcrop.’

  ‘And what was the swimmer, Christina Haynes, doing at this point?’

  ‘Ah, she was almost around the Peninsula, so I hung around a bit to make sure she made it to the cruiser okay.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Um, well, yes and no.’ Jackson paused and closed his eyes trying to remember his lines.

  Come on, thought Katz, it isn’t that difficult.

  ‘Well,’ said Jackson, opening them again as if his head had been cleared. ‘Here’s where it got a little tricky. After a bit, she just kinda stopped swimming.’

  ‘How far was she from the cruiser at this point?’

  ‘About fifteen yards.’

  ‘And what was she doing?’

  ‘Ah, well, she started flailing about, bobbing up and down in the water, like she was caught on something.’

  ‘She appeared to be in distress?’

  ‘Yeah, she started flailing about, bobbing up and down, like she was caught on something.’

  Shit, the man had no ability to improvise.

  ‘And Mrs Martin?’

  ‘Oh, she saw her all right, she went over to the railing, and said something. I assumed she was asking the white kid about her black friends.’

  ‘Objection,’ said David. ‘Speculation. And I would request this witness refrain from labelling the girls as black or white. Your Honour,’ David stood to point at Katz. ‘This whole line of questioning is nothing short of outrageous. The State’s entire case has been based on a lack of communication between Mrs Martin and Christina Haynes and now, all of a sudden, they concede a conversation took place? Well, ten points for finally seeing the light, but if they plan to use the testimony of this criminal to attempt to prove our client . . .’

  ‘Mr Cavanaugh,’ Stein was banging his gavel, preventing David from facing a charge of slander. ‘Counsellors, please approach the bench.’

  David and Katz walked to the front of the room.

  ‘What’s going on, Mr Katz? Mr Cavanaugh is right, you have taken a serious about face here. This type of diversion makes me very nervous.’

  ‘We are only interested in one thing Judge – the truth. I can assure you Mr Jackson’s revelations came as a great shock to us too, but there is no way we could continue claiming there was no conversation if new evidence shows this to be incorrect. It is, however, the content of this conversation that is of primary importance, and Mr Jackson is the only one who can provide us with eye witness testimony.’

  ‘Judge,’ said David, ‘you can’t allow this to continue. The only reason they managed to secure the trumped up charge of murder two in the first place was because they claimed my client left an unconscious girl in the water. What about Francine Washington’s testimony?’ David turned to look at Katz. ‘We all know the girl is a liar, but you are the one who put her up to it. But I guess you’re gonna screw her over too?’

  Katz looked at Cavanaugh with complete contempt. He was not prone to the primitive urges of violence, but he felt like striking out at his moralistic opponent right then and there. He knew he was on the verge of a major victory and took comfort in knowing the Judge would be forced to allow his witness’s testimony; for Jackson was the first and only witness to the events of 4 May, and to shut him down would be tantamount to judicial tampering.

  ‘Gentlemen, enough,’ Stein whispered, covering his microphone once again, obviously trying not to raise his voice as the entire room strained to hear their private conversation. ‘Truth be told, Mr Katz, it all sounds a little too clever for me. You better know what you are doing, for I share Mr Cavanaugh’s suspicions.’ Stein looked at the two men again. ‘I’ll allow you to continue, Mr Katz, but be warned, you are walking on very thin ice. Now move back.’ Stein turned to the witness before going on.

  ‘Mr Jackson. First of all I must ask you to desist from making assumptions about conversations you did not hear, and referring to the subjects in question by their racial origins. Secondly I will remind you of the oath you took earlier regarding speaking nothing but the truth. I will assume you understand the consequences of perjury, Sir.’

  ‘Yes, Judge,’ said Jackson, his thick neck taut as if he were trying to swallow the ball of nervousness stuck in his constricted throat.

  ‘All right then. Go on, Mr Katz.’

  ‘Mr Jackson, allow me to re-cap,’ said Katz, trying to get his witness back on the page. ‘You saw Ms Haynes struggling to keep her head above water, and you saw the defendant lean over the edge of The Cruisader to speak with the teenager.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Well, ah . . . let’s see . . . I, um . . . I left.’

  ‘You left?’

  ‘Yeah, I mean, I assumed the white chick, I mean . . . the swimmer girl, was gonna be okay because Mrs Martin would pick her up.’

  ‘Is that the only reason you left, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Ah, no. You see, I was unlicensed at the time and there was the situation with those legal matters and, well, I really didn’t want to have to converse with the local authorities.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that decision now, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Aw, just horrible. Awful, sick to my stomach, Mr Katz, swear to God. I could’a saved that pretty girl. But how was I to know the bla . . . I mean, the woman was gonna leave her there to die.’

  ‘Objection! Your Honour, please.’

  ‘All right, Mr Cavanaugh, calm down,’ said Stein. ‘Mr Jackson, whether or not Mrs Martin is guilty of murder is a matter for the court to decide. It is not your job to cast judgement, simply to tell us what you saw.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

  ‘Just one more thing, Mr Jackson,’ said Katz, now revelling in the greatest high of his career. ‘How far away were you when you saw all of this activity on and around the cruiser?’

  ‘Above it to the left, about a hundred feet.’

  ‘So your view was . . . ?’

  ‘Clear as a whistle. I got twenty-twenty vision, Mr Katz. My gall bladder ain’t so hot but my eyes work as well as the day I was born.’

  ‘All right then. So, finally, let’s make this clear. From your perspective, barely a hundred feet above the victim, with perfect vision on a clear and sunny day, Christina Haynes was alive but physically struggling in the water the last time you saw her.’

  ‘Yes Sir.’

  ‘And the defendant . . .’ Katz pointed at Rayna. ‘She could see this young girl was in distress.’

  ‘Yes Sir. It was bloody obvious.’

  ‘And the next thing you knew, the Haynes girl was dead and Rayna Martin was charged with her murder.’

  ‘Yes Sir and if you ask me . . .’

  ‘Uh, uh, Mr Jackson,’ said Stein. ‘Please just stick to answering the questions you are asked.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

  ‘So why, Mr Jackson, did you not come forward with this information sooner?’ The ADA was almost the
re and despite some predictable hitches, it was all going to plan.

  ‘Same reason as before, Mr Katz. Like I said, I been in some trouble. But I’m here now ain’t I, trying to set things right.’

  ‘Yes, you are, Mr Jackson and, for that, the court thanks you wholeheartedly.’

  ‘Okay, Mr Jackson. Let’s cut the crap shall we?’

  ‘Objection!’ Katz had barely reached his seat before David was up and moving towards the witness.

  ‘Mr Cavanaugh,’ said Stein. ‘If you fail to treat this witness with respect I will have no hesitation in asking security to remove you from my courtroom. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour.’ But David was furious and determined to show the jury what a slime ball this ‘witness’ actually was.

  ‘Mr Jackson, let’s start with those legal matters, shall we?’ David retrieved some handwritten notes from his jacket pocket. ‘Would they include two counts for unlicensed piloting in the state of Massachusetts, one outstanding warrant for assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm in the state of Connecticut, one outstanding warrant for aggravated assault in the state of Maine, two outstanding warrants for drunk and disorderly in the state of Florida and two parole violations, once again in the state of Massachusetts?’

  ‘Ah, well, that sounds like an awful lot of . . .’

  ‘Would you like me to read them again, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Ah, no. That sounds about right.’

  ‘Right. Now, Mr Jackson, did the District Attorney’s office offer to have some of these charges reduced to misdemeanours and others removed from your record in return for your testimony here this morning?’

  ‘We had a discussion and . . .’

  ‘Yes or no, Sir?’

  ‘Well, yes, but . . .’

  ‘Do you like a drink, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘I enjoy the odd glass or two.’

  ‘Were you drinking the morning of 4 May?’ This was a punt, but a risk David had to take.

  ‘I, ah . . . may have had a sip or two.’

  ‘Once again, yes or no, Mr Jackson?’

  ‘Yes. But as I explained, I have medicinal problems and . . .’

  ‘What were you drinking that morning, Mr Jackson – sherry, wine, beer?’