by Vish Dhamija
Rumour was that Jay Singh’s fee for this case was in excess of INR 50 million. Why wouldn’t the media be there?
‘Why do you think Vinay Kumar is innocent?’ someone shouted from the crowd.
‘Everyone is innocent till you prove their guilt. Anyway, it’s not what you think or I think, it’s what the court decides after I provide the evidence, isn’t it?’ Jay’s response was practised for the television. Even an ant-brain knew that this statement would run every hour on the news channels covering the story. Such ripostes weren’t left to chance.
‘What evidence do you have?’
‘No comment.’
One should know when to shut up.
‘If he is innocent why does he require a pre-eminent criminal defence advocate?’
That was something the media had already been speculating for weeks now. And why did Jay Singh take such an open-and-shut case? What was in it for him except defeat?
Jay walked up the stairs behind Julie. Bhīma, armed, wasn’t permitted in the building. As everyone had to go through security checks he was comfortable leaving Jay on his own when the court was in session. In any event, he had to leave, as he needed to catch up with his moles. He hotfooted out without wasting any more time.
The media forages for such trials and incidents to feed the scavengers. They were there as if this was the event that could shape the nation in the coming decade. Star News. Doordarshan. NDTV. Aaj Tak. Tehelka. You name it. Big microphones and even bigger cameras floated around. Given the heat they generated, it was surprising the weather channel hadn’t made an appearance. It looked dramatic like a set from Bollywood, although Ram Gopal Verma wasn’t in sight. The crowds had been anticipated and as such State versus Vinay Kumar was to be held in the biggest of the eighty-one courtrooms in the property.
The law of the jungle says that there cannot be more lions than lambs in the jungle. The other lion, Talwar, was already seated with his papers organised and his assistant — a young prosecutor — sat next to him. Jay acknowledged him with a smile from a distance, walked up and shook hands. Both were good advocates; trouble was both were in it to win it — a professional, stoic resolve, no ill feelings or emotions wasted — and that destined heartache for one.
Vinay Kumar was on bail, and justifiably so, as the state had failed to get any evidence against him but circumstantial. He sat on the defence table, close to his expensive advocate. The tables were a three feet by two with four chairs for each advocate to sit with their team or clients. Jay’s was ornamented with a few thick files — to communicate that he’d accomplished a lot of work — and a few reference books, which he had never had to refer to during any trial. Not as yet.
The crowds kept teeming in, like flies on a fresh pile of crap, and the courtroom was packed. Even struggling advocates stormed in. Ramesh Talwar versus Jay Singh wasn’t an everyday affair. It was a clash of legal titans; there would be something to learn, some tricks to pick up or, if nothing else, it would be no less exciting than a T-20 match. There was not a single seat unoccupied; some even lined the back of the room, standing.
The courtroom was brought to order when Justice Nair entered a couple of minutes after ten. Nair sat on a high back wooden chair, inlaid with green faux-leather that was cracked in places. A black-and-white photograph of Mahatma Gandhi hung behind him. Just why did the poor Mahatma have to witness all the scum and sleaze? But then again, why did the Mahatma have to be on all currency notes either?
The court clerk — a tadpole of a man who looked like he’d been in the courtroom when the British were still around — appeared so time warped he could stand up and shout “Angrezon Bharat Chodo” (Leave India, British) any minute. In his meek voice, which only he thought could sound authoritative, he declared that all court proceedings would be recorded, unless ordered otherwise by the judge. He reiterated that court discipline should be maintained, and reminded that cameras and microphone or recordings of any sort were illegal and anyone breaching the diktat would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. No exceptions.
The opening statement from Talwar followed. It was brief but fiery. Essentially, he summed up with: ‘Janaab, Vinay Kumar is a spoilt son of a rich politician who kept a mistress and when she became pregnant, eliminated her. I will provide evidence that there were frequent fights in Ms Gina Pinto’s apartment. Whatever her demands were from Mr Kumar — Money? Marriage? We can only speculate — Mr Kumar had every intention of ending those demands with a gun. He procured a gun, illegally, of course, as a licensed gun could easily be traced back to him and on the said night he intentionally carried it to her apartment. As anticipated, after dinner and sex when all his cravings had been taken care of, he must have instigated a fight. In the middle of the verbal confrontation, he pulled out his gun and when Miss Gina Pinto dared him, he fired. He then returned to his home and feigned ignorance about her death when the police got to him in the early hours of the morning. I promise the court that I will provide you with such iron-clad evidence that Miss Gino Pinto was shot by Mr Kumar that the defence advocate would not be able to challenge.’
Poor Gina. Heartless Kumar. If one looked closely, the entire game of prosecution and defence is sympathy versus empathy. The poor victim or the innocent accused?
Jay Singh got up to protect the innocent accused Kumar in his opening statement, which was brief too. He stressed that his client Vinay Kumar was innocent, and that he was set-up. ‘Your Honour, sincere apologies if you think I›m pedantic, but I actually counted that Mr Talwar used the word gun four times. He told this court no less than four times that my client used a gun to shoot the mother of his unborn child. He, however, forgot to mention that there is no gun. Not even a fungible one has been presented. The police don’t have it, no gun has been found missing from the victim’s house or my client’s house, there is no evidence that my client illegally bought or owned any such gun. Where is this gun? Fact is that there is no gun and, unfortunately, the State cannot link my client to the murder in the absence of the murder weapon unless they plan to produce an eyewitness. Put simply, the State does not have a case. What it has is a suspicion based on circumstances and that is not the same as circumstantial evidence. My client should be exonerated right away. My client deserves all fairness afforded under Indian law. Your Honour, I could stand here and say I›ll strike off all of the State’s evidence, but that would be a lie; the prosecution does not have any evidence.’
The parting sentence was a bit of drollery meant to lighten the mood. There was hushed laughter, but Justice Nair let it go with a stern look at Jay Singh as he sat down.
‘You can call your first witness, Mr Talwar,’ Nair instructed.
As always, the State’s first witness was the police officer who attended the crime scene first. After the oath and going through the elementary motions — the time the police were called in and who informed them — Talwar quickly came to the point. As Gina’s body was found in a pool of blood that came from the bullet wound in her chest, this was an opportunity no prosecutor worth his wage would let pass. It was a time-tested practice. What better way to start a trial than to invoke first hand compassion by displaying pictures of a cold-blooded murder and a corpse and let the dead speak for herself through the exhibits? And there is no way the defence advocate can cry “foul” or “objection.” There wasn’t much in the way of verbal testimony by the Assistant Police Inspector. Jay, however, did draw some useless exclamation marks on the pad in front signalling Julie to distract the Judge from the gory pictures. She did well by uncrossing and crossing her legs without looking at the judge so he could eyeball without a worry. Jay, obviously, caught Nair ogling. Mission accomplished; the trick worked.
‘Thank you, Officer,’ Talwar concluded. Then, turning to Jay, he said: ‘Your witness.’
A lot of defence is nothing but opposing the prosecution. At the right time. Sit calmly and when you spot a slip-up, tighten the screw till it hurts, till it bleeds and the judge takes notice and
the court clerk records it. That’s good defence. Nevertheless, Talwar had been cautious in examining the Assistant Inspector, not letting any slack question hang low for Jay to exploit.
‘No questions, Your Honour.’
A wolfish smile crossed Talwar’s face.
‘Then, you can call your next witness please, Mr Talwar.’
Julie flicked her hair back. The judge shouldn’t gather her movements were orchestrated so she moved regardless of any signal from Jay.
The State’s next witness was — surprise, surprise! — the forensic pathologist who had done the post-mortem on Gina’s stiff.
‘Your name?’
‘Dr Ram Dubey.’
‘What’s your profession, Dr Dubey?’
‘I’m a forensic pathologist.’ ‘By forensic pathologist you mean the person who does the post-mortem, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many post-mortems have you done for the state, Dr Dubey?’
‘Oh, over five hundred, I would imagine…’
‘The record says you’ve done 623 including the deceased Miss Gina Pinto’s autopsy.’ Talwar held the Xerox of the record he had unsheathed from Dr Dubey’s medical vita.
A copy was passed on to court clerk and Jay Singh for perusal too.
Credentials well established.
Using the exhibits from the autopsy the doctor described how Gina had been shot at gunpoint, just in case anyone in the court had any misconception that Gina committed suicide because she failed to download her favourite tunes on her iPod. He explained the wound, the probable trajectory of the bullet and whatnot; which-ever was the first blood vessel to burst with the slug, it still wouldn’t pinpoint the hands of the killer. However the prosecution always made it a point to display more gruesome imagery to prejudice the judge’s eyes. Jay sometimes thought that it was a wasted bullet, as the law had no appetite for emotions — it couldn’t afford to assess people based on emotions. Regardless, the doctor carried on monotonously on his findings, how Gina hadn’t suffered, as the death must have been fairly instant and the direction in which her body would have probably dropped. Dr Dubey carefully laced his summations with adjectives and adverbs so as to remain ambiguous.
The camera and the science don’t lie, and challenging the doctor’s testimony would be futile; Jay knew it would merely result in making a mockery of himself and the defence. He also acknowledged that Talwar would exploit the doctor’s testimony to score a huge point.
“Shot at gunpoint, from the front” meant the victim might have known the killer. As there was no break-in, either the victim had let the killer in or the killer had the key to the main door. In both instances, it pointed a more than doubtful finger at Vinay Kumar who had unrestricted access to Gina’s apartment. Heck, it was his apartment. Jay drew a doodle and Julie moved. There wasn’t much Jay could do on this.
‘So you think Miss Gina Pinto was shot at close range?’
‘Very much so.’
‘So it is very likely the killer was known to the victim?’
‘Objection, Your Honour.’ Jay got up. ‘Dr Dubey has no facts to establish that. This calls for speculation.’
‘Objection sustained.’
‘No more questions, Janaab.’ Talwar didn’t fret on the objection; in fact, he would have expected it. Talwar must have thought he had delivered a blow — not so much to Vinay Kumar, but having had a second dig at invoking compassion for the poor victim. That, and the fact that he had surreptitiously embedded a more than possible scenario in the Judge’s mind: Victim knew the killer, a sordid betrayal of trust.
‘Do you want to cross-examine the witness, Mr Singh?’
‘No, Your Honour.’
Any Prolepsis — the anticipation of possible objections in order to prepare answers in advance — that might have burnt lots of man-hours for Talwar was totally wasted. It was 2:0. Jay had let the second State witness walk away without questioning.
‘Okay. The court shall recess early for lunch, then,’ ordained Justice Nair. ‘Everyone should be back in the court at 2pm. sharp.’ With that he got up — and so did all the commoners respectfully — and left.
***
There was only one witness on the list for the afternoon. After being sworn in, the ballistic expert, Praveen Sen, took the court through the lands and grooves of the bullet, the trajectory, the calibre of the bullet and that it was, beyond doubt, a Glock. All yesterday’s news, nothing new or game changing. The only worthwhile info he presented was that the gun that fired the slug had never been used before.
Jay’s eyebrows went up: if it was a brand new weapon there was a good chance it was bought for the purpose. Why, then, had Bhīma’s moles not been able to trace it yet? He made a note to dig elsewhere.
You cannot leave too many State witnesses without cross-examining, however irrelevant it might seem from the sides. Tear their story into as many small shreds as possible. Make them appear like an idiot or a liar. One lying or speculating witness could sire doubt — even it was mere arrière pensée — in the Judge’s mind that should be adequate. That, and also the fact that Jay Singh had left the first two witnesses without cross-examining them. He needed to send the message to Talwar that the legendary Kumbhkarna had awakened and would be paring the witnesses henceforth.
When his turn came Jay challenged Praveen Sen. There wasn’t anything he would gain directly by this line of questioning, but it was obligatory that he confirmed what the expert had just stated.
‘Could you, Mr Sen, say with hundred percent confidence that the Glock used for this murder was new, that it had never been used prior to firing this one shot?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Sen, can you elaborate on how you could establish that?’
‘Yes. Using ballistic fingerprinting techniques it is relatively simple to determine what weapon is used to fire a bullet, as guns leave a mark in the machining process. Firing a bullet causes wear and tear in the machine and every individual piece acquires its unique characteristics after the first bullet is fired. I can vouch that this Glock had never been fired before.’
‘Thank you, Mr Sen. Now, coming back to the Glock, what more can you tell us about this gun that might help the case?’
‘It’s a really compact gun.’
‘Compact, did you say?’
‘Yes.’ Sen sounded enthusiastic. Jay’s questioning was employing Sen’s intellect. He gloated and carried on. ‘As a matter of fact, we colloquially refer to it as a ladies gun—’
‘A ladies gun?’ Jay interrupted him mid-sentence.
‘Yes, sir. It is compact enough to fit into a handbag and because of its size it is relatively simple to fire, as it doesn’t need a lot of strength.’ Sen was at ease now, all was going his way it seemed; no awkward questions from the defence.
‘Oh.’ Jay Singh forced surprise. He turned his back to the witness box and began to walk to his desk. Then, suddenly he turned around to face Sen and fired the blow.
‘So it could well have been Ms Gina Pinto’s own gun that was turned on her?’
‘Objection, Janaab.’
Justice Nair looked at Talwar as if looking for a reason; ideally there was no reason to, because it was evident Jay Singh had gone over the line.
‘Janaab, the defence advocate is conjecturing. The State has no evidence that Ms Gina Pinto even owned a gun.’
‘Sustained. Mr Singh, do you have any evidence regarding Ms Pinto’s gun ownership?’
‘Not yet, Your Honour. But, we haven’t ruled out that possibility.’
‘So how do you intend finding that out by questioning my witness?’ Talwar barked.
‘Mr Talwar, please refrain from talking directly to the defence advocate. Your objection has been sustained. Please be seated.’
Like a dejected kid Talwar grudgingly sat down, expletives surely bubbling in his mind, Jay could imagine.
‘Mr Singh, if you have no evidence, please do not attempt moot theories in my court. Is that
clear?’
‘Yes, Your Honour’, Jay said respectfully. Then he turned to Sen. ‘Thank you Mr Sen, that would be all. No further questions.’ As he walked across from the witness box to his desk his brain churned. Ladies gun? Why hadn’t he thought about it? Why hadn’t Bhīma explored this angle? What might have come across as brusque or rubbish to others in the court had set a train of new thought in Jay Singh’s head.
‘You may call your next witness, Mr Talwar.’
‘Janaab, I need a lot of time with my next witness. May I request the court to recess for the day please?’
Nair looked at the clock. It was almost 3:45. ‘Do you have any objection to that Mr Singh?’ he asked in an I-dare-you tone.
‘Not at all, Your Honour.’
Nair thanked everyone and closed the proceedings for the day.
***
Bhīma was waiting outside the court when Julie and Jay came out. As Talwar had retreated to his chamber within the building, the media thronged Jay. Anything that they could get that wasn’t spoken or produced in the court, but Jay knew better.
He parroted, “No Comments” to every question and briskly walked to the waiting Bhīma.
‘Bhīma,’ Jay initiated the conversation as the black A8 rolled forward.
‘Jee, hukum?’
‘We, both, missed something.’
‘What’s that, hukum?’
‘What if Julie wanted to buy a gun?’
‘I’m not sure I understand the question, hukum. Why does Julie need a gun?’ He turned around to look at Julie who responded with a smile.
‘Nah. I mean what if a woman wanted a gun in Delhi, where would she get it from?’
‘You mean—’
‘Yes. The expert told us that the Glock G-19 — the murder weapon — is a compact pistol, and is loosely referred to as a ladies gun, which got me thinking that Gina could well have bought it. If we can find that out, it would be a cake walk.’