SW03 -The Underground Man

by Parnell Hall

  “That’s right.”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Well, tell me something. When Jeremy Dawson was suspended for selling crack, how did you feel about that?”

  “How did I feel?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was furious, of course.”

  “At the school, or at Jeremy Dawson?”

  “At Jeremy Dawson.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Are you kidding me? I suppose you approve of selling crack.”

  “No, I don’t, Mr. Jenson. And I’m sure you don’t either. So you were outraged, is that right?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You say you don’t know of your own knowledge he was selling crack. Then let me ask you this. Did you try to find out for sure if he was selling crack?”

  Jenson frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “After the school told you that, did you make any investigation of your own? In particular, did you search Jeremy Dawson’s room?”

  Jenson hesitated.

  “Well, Mr. Jenson?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Come on, I was living in that same house. If he had drugs in the house, he was endangering us all.”

  “I see. So you searched his room?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And did you find any drugs?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “And did that make you think maybe the school was wrong?”

  “No. Because he didn’t have them at home. He had them at school. He was selling drugs out of his locker.”

  “You know that now because of what the police found in his locker, but you didn’t know it then.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How?”

  Jenson hesitated, bit his lip.

  “How, Mr. Jenson?”

  “I don’t know. I just knew.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Well, it stood to reason.”

  “Yes, it did, Mr. Jenson,” Steve said dryly. “And it certainly stands to reason much more now after the police found vials of crack in his locker. Just as it stands to reason now that Jeremy Dawson must have been taunting you about Uncle Jack’s money since the police found a will in his possession leaving all that money to him.”

  Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Grimes said. “Mr. Winslow, that is clearly improper.”

  “Sorry, Your Honor. Mr. Jenson, you saw Jeremy Dawson on the day of the murder?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You spoke to him about skipping school and asked him if he’d seen Jack Walsh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “He went upstairs, took a shower and changed?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And when he came downstairs to go out, you asked him where he was going and he told you to be nice to him because he was going to be rich?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And the amount of money which you personally have involved in the outcome in this case has in no way colored your recollection or judgment?”

  “No, it hasn’t.”

  Steve sighed and shook his head. “Thank you. No further questions.”

  Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Dirkson. Any redirect?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “The witness is excused. It has reached the hour of adjournment. Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

  37.

  “DO YOU LIKE TO GAMBLE, JEREMY?”

  Jeremy Dawson frowned at Steve Winslow through the wire mesh screen. “What?”

  “You a gambling man? You like to take chances?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dirkson’s getting ready to rest his case. When he does, we got a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You. You’re the problem. You’re a teenage crack dealer, and people don’t like that.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jeremy said. “You tell me this now? So what the fuck you doin’, man? I sit in court and watch you, and all I can think is what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “At least you didn’t grab my sleeve.”

  “I was too stunned. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sittin’ there, you got Carl on the stand, and suddenly you’re asking him if I was selling crack.”

  “You didn’t like that?”

  “What, are you nuts? I didn’t know what the hell you’re doin’. I thought you lost your mind.”

  “Yeah, I think Dirkson thought so too.”

  “So what the hell were you doin’?”

  “The crack issue’s in the mind of the jurors. We can’t keep it out.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t have to hammer it in.”

  “With Carl, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “For one thing, it kept me from talking about the other stuff. The stuff you told him about Uncle Jack.”

  “Oh.”

  “You really tell him that?”

  “I may have made some remarks.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you did.”

  “Well, so what? And what’s that got to do with crack? And what’s crack got to do with Carl Jenson, for Christ’s sake? I mean, why you have to ask him about crack?”

  “You don’t think the jury liked that?”

  “I know damn well the jury didn’t like that.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t like it either,” Steve said. “And let me tell you something. I’m not defending you for selling crack. I’m representing you in this murder case. And I’m representing you on the will. But as far as crack goes, if the cops decide to charge you with selling it, you get yourself another lawyer. I’m not defending that.”

  “I’ll say. God, you’re like a fucking prosecutor.”

  “That’s what you think. Wait’ll a real prosecutor comes after you for crack and you’ll change your tune.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Most people aren’t lucky enough to get a second chance, Jeremy. You’re lucky enough to beat this murder rap, give up that shit and fly straight. Things work out, you’ll have some bucks. Most likely you’ll get a fine and probation on the drugs. You stay straight, you’ll be sitting pretty.”

  Jeremy’s face contorted. “How can you talk about that, man? They got me on this murder thing, and I didn’t do it. And you’re not doin’ a thing to help. They keep pilin’ on the evidence, you don’t cross-examine half the witnesses. The ones you do, you just get me in deeper. Talkin’ about crack, for Chrissake.”

  “Forget crack. Let’s talk about the murder.”

  “What about it?”

  “Like I said, the D.A.’s gonna rest his case, then we got a big problem.”

  “Yeah. So what do we do?”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “So talk.”

  “The problem is your story, Jeremy. You claim you saw this film, Heathers. But the cops got a witness who saw you there the previous Saturday night.”

  “So? Why couldn’t I have seen it twice?”

  “You could, but you didn’t, Jeremy. As an alibi, it’s real thin. And it isn’t the truth. The way I see it, you went home, you took a shower and changed. You had the will in your pocket. You were feeling like a big man, on top of the world. You weren’t about to go to the movies. No, I think you went out that night and smoked crack.”

  Jeremy’s eyes faltered.

  “And if you did, you went to your locker to get it, didn’t you?”

  “Shit.”

  “That’s what you did, wasn’t it?”

  “What if I did?”

  “The gun was in your locker, Jeremy. That’s when you would have taken the gun.”

  “I didn’t take the damn gun.”

  “Did you see it there?”

  “When?”

  “When you went to your locker to get the crack?”

  A pause, then, “No, I didn’t.”


  “You didn’t go, or you didn’t see it?”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “Would you have seen it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you think? It wasn’t in plain sight. It was wrapped up.”

  “So you don’t know if it was there?”

  “No.”

  “But you did go to your locker to get crack that night?”

  “All right. So what if I did?”

  “Did you smoke it with anyone?”

  “What?”

  “These are not hard questions, Jeremy. Did you smoke the crack with anyone? Someone who would testify that you couldn’t have been in Manhattan killing your uncle because you were smoking crack with them at the time?”

  Jeremy looked at him. “Fat chance.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “No one’s gonna do that.”

  “Even to get you off a murder rap?”

  “Yeah, even then.”

  Steve shook his head. “Some close friends you got, Jeremy. You ever think about that?”

  Jeremy said nothing.

  “So what’s his name? The guy you smoked crack with?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Phil.”

  “Phil what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where would I find Phil?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I gotta subpoena him, don’t I, Jeremy?”

  “Not gonna do you any good.”

  “You’re right, it isn’t,” Steve said. “And you know why? I’ll tell you why. ’Cause if I find this Phil, in the first place he’s gonna lie, and in the second place he’s a crack head, so the jury wouldn’t believe him anyway.

  “And it’s a hell of a rotten defense. ‘I didn’t do it, Your Honor, I was stoned out of my head on crack.’ If we try that, half the jury’s gonna believe you smoked crack, got stoned out of your head and went out and killed your uncle.”

  “I see that.”

  “You do? Good. So you understand we’re up shit creek as far as an alibi goes.”

  “I see that. So what am I gonna say?”

  Steve took a breath. “Well, that’s the problem. You already told the cops you were at the movies. They can prove that’s a lie. You stick with the story, you look bad because the jury knows you’re lying. You change the story, you’re admitting you lied on the one hand, and on the other hand, what you gonna change it to? You wanna tell ‘em you were out smoking crack?”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we ain’t got a snowball’s chance in hell if I put you on the stand.”

  Jeremy stared at him. “You’re not gonna put me on the stand?”

  “What good would it do?”

  “I don’t know. But, Jesus Christ, we gotta do something.”

  “That’s for sure,” Steve said. “There are a lot of other ways to go, Jeremy. But they’re tough on the one hand, and risky on the other. And if we try ‘em, a lot of it’s gonna depend on you.”

  “On me? What would I have to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Just that. Absolutely nothing. And believe me, it’s gonna be hard. What you have to do is absolutely nothing. Just sit in your chair. And don’t grab my arm. And don’t roll your eyes. And don’t look at me as if I’ve just taken leave of my senses. No matter how you feel about what I’m doing, or no matter what I do.”

  Jeremy stared at him incredulously.

  “Yeah,” Steve said, pointing. “Like that. That’s exactly what you cannot do in court.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

  “Maybe,” Steve said. “And that’s a judgment call you’re gonna have to make. You’re the boss, Jeremy. You know that? If you want, you can always fire me and hire a conventional lawyer. But frankly, I don’t think it would do you any good.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the prosecution has too good a case. There’s no way to beat it any conventional way.”

  “So?”

  “So, we gotta try something else. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. The way I see it, it’s our best shot.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. If I’m your lawyer, that’s how I’m gonna play it. But you’re the boss. It’s your call. If we lose, you’re the one goin’ up the river. So that’s why I’m telling you what I’m gonna do, and giving you a chance to fire me if you want.”

  Steve shrugged. “So that’s why I’m asking.” He smiled, and looked him right in the eye. “You like to gamble, Jeremy?”

  38.

  MARK TAYLOR LOOKED APOLOGETIC. “THEY subpoenaed my photographer.”

  “Oh?”

  Steve Winslow was slumped back in his desk chair, utterly exhausted from the day in court. Mark Taylor had stopped by to give him the bad news.

  “Yes,” Taylor said. “They’ll put him on the stand and he’ll have to testify that defendant’s Exhibit A-2 is a picture he duped from the photos of Jeremy Dawson sent out to the wire services.”

  “It’s all right, Mark. We knew that was coming.”

  Taylor flopped into the clients’ chair. “They subpoenaed him this afternoon while court was still in session. That’s why I didn’t have a chance to warn him. As soon as Dirkson found out, he moved fast.”

  Steve waved it away. “It doesn’t matter, Mark. I don’t want your men duckin’ service. If Dirkson hadn’t served him, he’d have asked for a continuance until he could. So don’t sweat it.”

  “Well, I hate to bring bad news.”

  “It’s the only kind I get. So what else have you got?”

  “Nothing good. Negatives all around. I got men out scouring Teaneck, New Jersey, looking for someone who saw Jeremy Dawson there that night. So far, no one did.”

  “He was there.”

  “So you say. According to Dirkson, he was in Manhattan, blowin’ his uncle’s brains out.”

  “You believe that?”

  Taylor shrugged. “Hell, everybody in the courtroom believes that. I mean, I’m on your side and all that, but I don’t want to give you any false hopes. Frankly, things don’t look good.”

  Steve smiled. “Confidentially, I don’t think you’re shattering any illusions, Mark. But thanks just the same. You got anything else?”

  Taylor shook his head. “Just negatives. California checked in. They’re still trying to serve the subpoena, but Julie Creston’s still a no-show. Presumably she’s in Rio.”

  “Figures,” Steve said.

  “If she shows up, you still want her served?”

  “Sure do.”

  Taylor shrugged. “O.K. I sure wish I knew what you were doing.”

  “Frankly, I wish I did too,” Steve said. “So what about the subway station?”

  “Nothing there either. No witness, no one saw nothing. The only bright spot is the token booth clerk doesn’t recall seeing Jeremy Dawson that night. But that doesn’t do you any good, ’cause if he was coming from Jersey, he wouldn’t have come through the turnstile, he’d have come uptown on the train.”

  “I know,” Steve said.

  “He doesn’t recall anyone else in particular, and why should he? And no other witness has come forward, with the exception of Joseph Bissel. And he didn’t see it happen, he showed up after the fact.”

  “How soon after the fact?”

  Taylor shrugged. “There I’m not sure. We know it was before we got there, because when Tracy asked the cop he already knew something about a kid with green hair.”

  “Exactly. So it had to be that night.”

  “But after the murder.”

  “Yeah, but how soon after?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Mark said. “Hell, you had the guy on the witness stand, you could have asked him then.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Well, why didn’t you?”

  “Well, it wasn’t pr
oper cross-examination because the prosecution didn’t bring it out on direct. Even so, I could have brought it in. He testified he’d seen Jack Walsh that day. I could have asked him if he’d seen Jack Walsh any other time that day. Specifically, if he’d seen him later that night. More specifically, if he’d seen the charred remains of the man on the subway platform, and if that was indeed Jack Walsh.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Steve sighed. “I blew it. I missed a bet. Frankly, I was too concerned with the Jeremy Dawson identification. Too concerned with handling the witness just right. Shaking the identification without coming off like a bad guy. I had to play it just right. And then getting the kick in the chops when the son of a bitch actually did pick out the picture of Jeremy Dawson. I have to admit, that threw me a little.”

  “So what can you do now? Can you recall him for cross-examination?”

  “I doubt it,” Steve said. “Dirkson would object, and I’d have to make a showing of what I expected to prove. And as I said, it’s not really proper cross-examination anyway, and Judge Grimes isn’t gonna buy it. No, if I want him on the stand, I’d have to call him as my own witness.”

  “Are you gonna do that?”

  “I don’t know. Depends how things go. I’m just saying I could.”

  “You want me to subpoena him?”

  “Not now, Mark. Not the way things stand.”

  “What would you try to prove by him, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. But where the hell was he when the crime took place? Probably in that other subway station he hangs out in. But maybe not. And if he showed up right after the crime and talked to the cops, I could always argue that he was the one fired the bullet into Jack Walsh.”

  “With Jeremy Dawson’s gun?” Mark said gently.

  Steve considered. “There is that tiny flaw,” he deadpanned.

  They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  Tracy Garvin came in the door. “What’s so funny?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Steve said. “We’ve reached the stage of the case where you start getting punchy.”

  “I’ll say. Look, would you mind coming down to earth for a minute?”

  “What’s up?”

  Tracy jerked her thumb. “Got a reporter on the line. Wants to ask you a question.”

  “A question?”

  “Yeah, and you’re not going to like it.”