“War dogs? Like Doberman Pinschers?”
“I don’t know. My ears were ringing. My vision was blurry at first and I couldn’t think straight. The only thing I could remember with any clarity was my name—Ossie Coleman.”
“Did you tell the police who you were?”
“I told everyone. Doctors, nurses, cops. The guy who brought my food on a tray. Eventually word leaked out that the missing heir had been found. And soon the press was all over it. Everyone wanted an interview. Which I declined—leading to some nasty stories suggesting that I must be a con artist.”
“Did you know about the Coleman family fortune?”
“Didn’t have a clue. Till someone told me.”
“How did you feel about that?”
He shrugged. “Mixed. I liked the idea of having a family, being a part of a family. Very much. The only person I remembered was Joe, back at the cabin—and I didn’t consider him family. And everyone dreams about suddenly inheriting a ton of money. But I also knew that some people would think I was faking to get my hands on the cash. And then when I met the family for the first time—boy, did that turn out to be correct.”
Ossie was telling his story calmly, evenly, honestly. There was no way to know if the jury was buying it, but they were listening.
He was worried about the man on the front row, the one the jury consultant targeted. That guy looked skeptical about every word. He wished the juror would do something outrageous so he could remove him—but that was a daydream.
“How did the Coleman family react?”
“My grandfather—Zachary—wasn’t so bad. I could tell he was skeptical—but I could also tell he had loved his grandson and wanted more than anything to be reunited with him. Before it was too late. He didn’t believe me yet, but he was open to the idea. With time, I think he would realize I wasn’t lying. But his daughter and her husband—Dolly and Benny—they were outright hostile. Called me names I won’t repeat in court, if that’s okay with the judge.”
“We get the general idea. What about the younger brother, Phil?”
“He was quieter. I wasn’t sure how to read him. My hunch was that he would go with the flow, follow the others. But Dolly was never going to be convinced. She didn’t want any more heirs in the mix.”
“And Harrison?”
“He wasn’t there when I met the others. Had a rehearsal or something. We arranged to meet at another time.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” He glanced at the jury. “That was the night he was killed, I guess. I didn’t know till later.”
“But you were at the theater that night?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You told the police you weren’t.”
“I know. I—I was scared.” He took a deep breath. “So I lied. If I’d had more time to think about it, I would’ve realized what a stupid choice that was. I know lying is wrong, but surely you can see why I did it. The police came after me, chased me, called me names. I didn’t know anyone had seen me at the theater. I was just trying to keep myself out of trouble.”
“But that backfired on you.”
“Big time. Lesson learned. No more lying.”
“How did the conversation with Harrison go?”
“Not well. I probably came at the wrong time. Interrupted. He was playing chess.”
“With himself?”
“Yes. He switched sides. I watched him. He was a serious Brainiac. I asked him to speak on my behalf. I thought if I could get the eldest brother to back me, the others would follow. But he wouldn’t do it.”
“He didn’t believe you were Ossie Coleman.”
Ossie hesitated a moment. “He said that, later. You heard it on the recording. I think he was trying to convince himself, so he could feel better about the choice he was making. But at first, he just said he didn’t want to come forward. He thought it was dangerous. He said he thought people were after me. And he was afraid they might come after him.”
“What did he recommend?”
“Lay low. He said that several times. Lay low. Be patient.”
“What did you think about that?”
Ossie sighed. “I was a fool. I didn’t want to wait for anything. I wanted everyone to know who I was. I wanted all this...turmoil to be over. I pushed him and pushed him. Got mad. Even threatened him a little.”
“You heard the audiotape played in court.”
“Yes. If you’d heard the entire conversation, it wouldn’t sound so bad. That recording seems to have been edited down to the worst parts.”
“But you admit you were there. Did you kill Harrison?”
“No, of course not. I liked him. He wouldn’t do what I needed, but I don't think he disliked me. In fact, I think he liked me more than my other relatives. I think he was genuinely concerned about me, and in his own way, he was trying to help me.”
“Did you take a syringe to the meeting?”
“No.”
“Did you poison him?”
“No.”
“Did you take chemicals to destroy his body?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But you were spotted wearing a backpack.”
“My foster mom gave it to me for schoolbooks. Not killer chemicals. After our conversation ended, I ran out of the room and never came back.”
“And you also spoke to Bradley Ellison?”
“Yes. Still looking for someone who would back me. I needed a friend.”
“But he didn’t think you were really Ossie Coleman.”
“You know—he never once said that to me. He just refused to help. He said his employer wouldn’t like it.”
“Meaning Conrad Sweeney. The man who was paying him to investigate the case.”
“He didn’t say. But that’s why I offered to help him—you know, with the truck and stuff. Sounded like someone else was bribing him to speak out against me. I offered to help him if he would tell the truth. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but—I was desperate.”
“Thank you, Ossie.” The kid had told his story well. Convincingly, with no wasted words. He wasn’t going to prolong it. He just hoped it would be enough. “Your witness.”
Kilpatrick made a slow approach, probably deliberately trying to unnerve Ossie. He could see Ossie’s demeanor change, even before Kilpatrick spoke. He had never been at ease, but now he was visibly apprehensive.
“You admit you’re a liar, right?”
Ossie looked hurt. “I admit that I lied to the cops about being at the theater.”
“You only fessed up after you got caught lying.”
“I made a mistake. And I regret it.”
“Now that you’ve been caught. But the fact remains—you lied.”
“That is true.”
“And for all we know, you’re lying now.”
“I have not lied today.”
“We have no way of knowing. It might just be that you haven’t gotten caught yet.”
Ossie’s unease appeared to grow. “I’m not lying.”
“Why was your name written on the bathroom mirror?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did the syringe get in the trash bin outside the home where you lived?”
“I don’t know.”
“No idea?”
He squirmed a bit. “My roommate in the foster home may have put it there.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’ve seen him come home with red eyes and a funny smell. I think he may have a drug habit.”
“Did you shoot him up?”
“Of course not.”
Kilpatrick sprang forward. “Then how did your fingerprint get on the syringe?”
Ossie stayed calm. “I’m not convinced it was. I think your fingerprint expert saw what she wanted to see.”
“Seriously?” Kilpatrick laughed out loud. “You think you know more about fingerprints than the expert?”
“The expert admitted she had only a partial print. I think my attorn
ey showed how uncertain her testimony was.”
Kilpatrick turned toward the judge. “You honor, I move that this response be stricken from the record.”
Dan rose. “The prosecutor asked a question and the witness answered it. He can’t object because he didn’t like the answer.”
“I object because this witness is not an expert.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked him what he thought.”
“I object again! This is outrageous!” Kilpatrick was getting heated—which gave Dan a pleasant buzz.
Kilpatrick continued. “Not one of these people is qualified to question the integrity of an expert witness.”
“Could we just move along?” Judge Smulders said. He lowered his voice. “I was hoping to get home in time for supper.”
Kilpatrick turned back toward Ossie. “When the police came to your home—you ran.”
“I was scared. I didn’t want to be locked up. Does anyone?”
“But you ran from the police.”
“To get my lawyer.”
“Did you think the police were going to hurt you?”
“I thought it was a distinct possibility. Especially after one of them used the n-word.”
Kilpatrick fell silent for a moment. “According to you.”
“He used several other terms that...were about my skin color. Called me ‘murdering lying black trash.’”
Several of the jurors reacted with creased foreheads and squinted eyes. He could tell this mattered to them. And they would surely notice that Kilpatrick was not denying it.
“I’ve been doing this job for a long time,” Kilpatrick said, “and if there’s anything I know for certain, it’s this. Only one kind of person runs when the police come calling. The guilty kind.”
“You say that because you’re white. White and rich. College educated. If you spent a day with me, or any of the kids in my foster home, you’d see the world in a different way. A far more dangerous way.”
“Stop trying to distract the jury. You ran as soon as you saw the police outside your house. You had no reason to mistrust them at that point.”
“They’d been treating me like a liar since they found me. The first officer who took my statement said, ‘Ossie Coleman, huh? Sure. Guess you’re tired of living in the ghetto.’ Another one muttered, ‘Another colored kid looking for a handout.’”
“Your honor, this is outside the scope—”
Dan rose. “The prosecutor asked a question and Ossie answered it, in the most honest way possible.”
“He’s trying to erect a smokescreen.”
“He’s trying to get to the truth, your honor. Pretending the police are never at fault is the smokescreen. Reports of police brutality toward people of color make the news almost every day. An unarmed man shot in his own backyard. A teenage girl attacked at a party. How long are we going to pretend the police are colorblind when it’s obvious they aren’t?”
“This is way off topic. Your honor, I—”
To everyone’s surprise, Ossie cut Kilpatrick off. “You’re trying to silence me. But I will not be hushed.” Ossie rose to his feet. “No disrespect, your honor. But the police have been out to get me from the first moment I showed up. And I don’t think it’s just because I’m telling a wild story and I can’t prove who I am. I think a white boy telling the same story would get far more respect. But I’m not white. And that makes all the difference.”
Chapter 47
Closing arguments did not take that long. Dan sensed that everyone had said everything they had to say and the jury was ready to get on with it. Kilpatrick gave a predictable summation with no surprises. When it was Dan’s time to speak, he made a point of keeping it brief. He wanted the jurors to understand that he trusted them.
“When we began this trial together,” he said, “my worthy opponent said he wouldn’t lie to you. Well...I don’t know if he lied, but he definitely did not present the whole picture. I tried to give you a peek behind the curtain. I wanted you to understand what’s really going on here. And I think I exposed a few lies along the way—or misrepresentations, at the very least.
“My opponent also said he wouldn’t waste your time...and I didn’t. When I had no objection to the prosecution testimony, I kept my mouth shut. The only time I spoke was when I thought someone was trying to mislead you, which sadly happened far more often than it should. I let you hear from the accused, but I didn’t drag it out forever, because I thought you’d heard enough to reach a verdict. I think it must be clear to every one of you that someone wants my client out of the way.”
He paused, casting a glance first out to the gallery, where the entire Coleman family sat, then back to Kilpatrick, who appeared distinctly unhappy. “Who’s pulling the strings in this case? The DA? The police? The Coleman clan? Or some other powerful figure lurking behind the scenes? Fortunately, you don’t have to figure out that puzzle. All you have to do is decide whether my client has been proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. I don’t think this is a hard call. What evidence of guilt do you have? Ossie was in the wrong place at the wrong time, true, he’s admitted that. It gives him opportunity but hardly proves he acted upon it. The fingerprint evidence was not conclusive, the DNA evidence was not conclusive, and that syringe—don’t even get me started. The skeeziest of paid ratfinks finds exactly what the police want him to find and brings it to them. Sure. Nothing suspicious there, huh?” He shook his head. “They can’t even prove that syringe was used to kill the victim.”
He paced alongside the jury box. “Even if you believe that evidence was legit—so what? We don’t know how Harrison was killed, so the trace of what might be poison means nothing. Ossie explained there was a drug user in his house, and the prosecution did nothing to disprove that. Ossie’s name was scrawled on a mirror, but anyone could have done that—to frame Ossie for someone else’s crime. Yes, Ossie had a financial motive—but so did about half the people sitting in this courtroom. That isn’t proof. Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I don’t even think you have a good reason to suspect Ossie—much less to convict him.”
He leaned hard against the rail. “Here’s what I know for certain. This case matters. It matters to you, to me, to everyone here today—and of course, to Ossie. You’ve been charged with an important—I would even say sacred—duty. You will probably never sit on a murder-trial jury again. I hope not, for your sake. You will remember this case for the rest of your life. You will be telling people about it for decades.” He tried to make eye contact. “Let’s make sure this story has the right ending, okay? One you can be proud of. Because this case will never let go of you. If you send an innocent man to the gallows—you will never shake that out of your soul. It will needle you and punish you till your dying day. Follow the judge’s instructions, please. Guilt has not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt.”
He knew he should probably end it there, but something compelled him to push just a little harder.
“You know—comes a time in all our lives when we have to decide who we are. Who we really are. Except maybe, maybe that’s about deciding who we want to be. What drives us. And maybe this is one of those defining moments for you—and for me. I’m not arguing this case because I need to—but because I want to. I didn’t represent Ossie because I had to. I did it because I could see he needed help, as we all do at one time or another. This young man was being treated wrongly, unfairly, with prejudice and contempt, and someone needed to do something about it. We live in complicated times, and now more than ever we all must be willing to take a stand and let our voices be heard.
“Now you need to decide who you want to be. Do you really believe this boy committed this atrocious crime? Did you ever? Or did you take one look at him and think—this doesn’t feel right? Cold-blooded murder? Brutal chemical dissolution of the body? This kid? When you heard that, didn’t some part of you think—I’m not going to be the kind of person who is manipulated by invisible fingers. When I can tell the fix is in, I’m not goin
g along with it. I will resist. I will say the emperor has no clothes. I will rise and be counted. I will be the kind of juror who does what the judge asks, who looks at the evidence and says—this boy’s guilt has not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. I will do that even if it brings scorn and condemnation. Because that’s who I am. Because that’s the person I want to be.”
Chapter 48
Dan checked his watch. Judge Smulders would be disappointed. Jury deliberation was continuing long past dinnertime.
“What’s taking so long?” Dan asked, pacing in the hallway outside the courtroom.
“It’s only been three hours. That’s nothing,” Maria assured him. “The jurors will feel like they have to talk about it a little bit just to show they took their job seriously. Especially after that closing you gave them.”
“True. And not remotely reassuring.”
“Once they’ve reviewed the evidence, they’ve got to vote. Most will want to speak, just to show that they’ve been paying attention. Someone will make fun of Quint. Someone will claim they always thought there was something dubious about the fingerprint evidence. Someone—”
“Yes, I get the idea. But it doesn’t help.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could. Especially under the circumstances.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I think you do.” She walked close, then pressed a hand against his cheek. “Your father would be very proud of you.”
Ossie appeared in the doorway. “The bailiff just brought me a note. He says the jury is returning.”
“With a question?”
He shook his head. “With a verdict.”
* * *
“Not guilty on all counts!”
Ossie swept Maria into the air. “Yes!”
Dan heard a cheer rise up from the gallery. Probably mostly Jimmy, but it sounded like everyone present, even though he knew that couldn’t be true. He had a strong hunch, for instance, that the Coleman family was not celebrating. Dolly was already on her feet, looking disgusted, helping Zachary into his wheelchair.
Trial by Blood Page 25