The Mental Case (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 6)

by John Ellsworth

  "The tip of something."

  "Whoever left that mark, placed something in the blood pool right there."

  "What about these other blow-ups?"

  She flipped through them again.

  "Same thing. Same mark."

  "So it's fair to say that each mark contains these striations, these four parallel marks like small tire treads?"

  "That would be correct."

  "Would it make sense to you that someone using a cane might have left those marks in that blood?"

  "Objection! Calls for speculation!"

  D.A. Eckles was on his feet, crying out. Clearly he did not want her to respond. Which she didn't.

  The judge quickly ruled. "Sustained. Speculative in nature."

  "Let me re-phrase," said Thaddeus. "Ms. McIlhenny, have you ever before seen the mark a rubber-tip cane would leave in a blood pool?"

  "I have not."

  "Yet it wouldn't surprise you if that's what we're looking at in these interruptions, would it?"

  "It wouldn't surprise me, no."

  "Objection!"

  "Sustained. Jury will disregard. Her surprise is irrelevant and immaterial."

  "Thank you," said Thaddeus. "Nothing further."

  The middle of day two was then spent with the medical examiner on the stand, describing the cause of death and the general health of Suzanne Fairmont.

  The third witness of the day was the lab tech who had found the fingerprints on the gun and matched them. He also testified about the report of DNA evidence and matching. The DNA had been prepared for testing in the CPD crime lab but hadn't actually been tested there, having been sent outside. Yes, those were Ansel Largent's fingerprints on the murder weapon, yes that was Ansel Largent's DNA on the murder weapon.

  Thaddeus spent just a short time having the witness confirm that he had no idea when the fingerprints had been placed there or when the DNA from skin oils had been placed there. It could have been before the fatal shot, at the time of the fatal shot, or even after the fatal shot; he had no way of knowing.

  The final witness was the crime lab tech who had done the workup on the ballistics. The bullet that had killed Suzanne Fairmont was introduced into evidence and marks were pointed out that compared the bullet to the pistol seized from Ansel's office. The tech explained how she had test-fired the pistol, made all the comparisons, and confirmed the match. It was the same gun. Again, she went through Thaddeus' litany to the effect that she didn't know who had actually pulled the trigger on the fatal bullet, that she didn't know who had placed the gun in Ansel's office, and that she didn't know where the gun had come from.

  The state rested its case at the end of the day.

  Thaddeus moved for a directed verdict, which was, as customarily, denied.

  The defense would begin its case the next day.

  Thaddeus and Ansel retreated to Thaddeus' office to discuss strategy and practice Q and A. They split up at nine p.m. Thaddeus advised Ansel to get a good night's rest, that they might get a jury verdict tomorrow. Ansel turned white and nodded in reply.

  He is terrified, thought Thaddeus as they parted in the lobby.

  Hope he gets a good night's sleep. He's going to need it.

  44

  Chapter 44

  Trial resumed Thursday at the Cook County Criminal Courts Building on California Street in Chicago.

  Thaddeus arrived at court in his two button Armani Collezioni light wool suit and cordovan cap toe lace-ups, a nod to the latest styles of Chicago and to what juries expected lawyers to look like. He might do closing argument today and wanted to look just right for the speech.

  Judge Zang got things underway and asked the jury whether anyone had tried to contact them about the case or tried to influence them in any way. No hands went up. Then he asked whether they had discussed the case among themselves or with another person. Again, no hands, though two jurors looked away, hinting that they might have exchanged words. The judge let that pass and pressed it no further. It was common among jurors to sometimes slip up and discuss a witness or piece of evidence. But most judges ignored that and Judge Zang was one of those.

  "Counsel, you may call the first witness for the defense."

  "Thank you, Your Honor. Defense calls Ansel Largent."

  A murmur erupted across the press corps and gallery of onlookers. It was extremely uncommon in a criminal case for a witness to take the stand and testify.

  Ansel and Thaddeus had discussed the dangers and advantages to Ansel testifying several times now.

  On the plus side, he had no prior convictions--unlike many defendants--and so he couldn't be impeached by bringing the fact of a prior conviction to the jury's attention. That was a plus. On the downside was the fact he had been inside the building on the night of Suzanne's murder, maybe even at or around the same time period. That could prove to be very difficult.

  But the defining factor in the equation was the issue of Ansel's sanity or temporary insanity at the time of shooting. In order to make that defense work, they would have to admit that Ansel had actually done the shooting, and they would then attempt to excuse that action by his temporary insanity. Thaddeus knew he didn't want to go down this road, and so he called for a sidebar before he began the testimony.

  The two attorneys gathered at the side of the judge's bench and whispered to the judge.

  "I want to put the court and counsel on notice" Thaddeus whispered just loud enough for the court reporter to hear, "that the defense is withdrawing the affirmative defense of temporary insanity. The defense's sole remaining defense will be a denial of the charges."

  "Then I assume the defendant will be restricted from presenting psychiatric testimony," said Eckles with a hurt expression on his face, as if the withdrawal of the affirmative defense were a personal affront. He seemed to be almost on the verge of whining, Thaddeus thought, and was visibly upset that the defense was being withdrawn. Why would he care? Maybe he had talked to an examining psychiatrist or psychologist and determined there was something in their workup that was especially helpful to the state's case. Something he had been counting on to help him make the case against Ansel. Thaddeus couldn't think what that might be at the moment, so he let it slide.

  "Counsel," whispered Judge Zang, "the court will place on the record at this time that the defendant has withdrawn his affirmative defense of temporary insanity. There will be no testimony to the defendant's mental state at the time of Suzanne Fairmont's death. Is there anything further?"

  Both attorneys shook their heads. No, there was nothing further.

  The lawyers resumed their seats.

  "Mr. Murfee, you may proceed."

  "Defendant calls Ansel Largent to the stand."

  Libby had insisted on a navy Gant pinstripe for Ansel, plus wingtips, white shirt, and regimental stripe tie. He had lost almost twenty pounds in jail and was still pale and his skin almost translucent under the courtroom neons. His lips had a bluish tint and Thaddeus had to look twice and try to remember his "before" coloring. Jail had definitely taken its toll. Thaddeus redoubled his determination that he would soon have a Not Guilty for the guy.

  Ansel took the stand and tapped the microphone to make sure it was on.

  "State your name."

  "Ansel Largent."

  "Mr. Largent, what is your business, occupation or profession?"

  "Lawyer. Insurance defense lawyer."

  "Are you licensed to practice law?"

  "I am licensed to practice in the state of Illinois, U.S. Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals, U.S. District Court, Northern District of Illinois, U.S. Bankruptcy Court, Northern District of Illinois, Eastern Division."

  "You need all those licenses in your practice?"

  "Pretty much. Bankruptcy not so much, but occasionally."

  "What is your area of specialty?

  “Insurance defense. Occasional criminal defense."

  The last part caused Thaddeus' head to jerk up.

  "Did I hear you say
criminal defense?"

  "Yes, occasionally."

  "How many insurance cases are you presently handling?"

  "By 'handling' I assume you mean 'defending.' Probably five, six hundred."

  "And criminal? How many criminal cases do you have?"

  "One."

  "Now directing your attention to the night Suzanne Fairmont was murdered. Were you in your law office that night?"

  "I was."

  "Where is that located?"

  "Seventy-eighth floor, Citibank Building."

  "Where was Suzanne Fairmont's office?"

  "Seventy-eighth floor, Citibank Building."

  "Where was her office in relation to your office?"

  "Same hallway. I was on the corner; she was two doors down from me."

  "Did you know her well?"

  "I don't know how well I knew her. We had probably been to a half dozen social events together. Firm get-togethers."

  "What was her area of practice?"

  "Criminal defense. Exclusively."

  "She was running for public office at the time of her death?"

  "She was. She was running for District Attorney of Cook County. Primaries were underway.”

  "Were you active in her campaign?"

  "I signed the checks that the firm contributed."

  "How much did the firm contribute?"

  Ansel leaned back and squinted at the ceiling. "All told, I would guess maybe one hundred thousand dollars."

  "So the firm was backing her."

  "Big time, definitely."

  "How did you get along with Suzanne Fairmont?"

  "Just like any other lawyer in our firm. Just fine."

  "No arguments with her?"

  "None."

  "No disagreements with her?"

  "None."

  "No fights with her?"

  "We had nothing to fight about, so no."

  "You hadn't recently had a falling out with her?"

  "Over what? Not at all."

  "How did you feel toward her?"

  Ansel spread his hands. "I felt as a partner she was making a significant contribution to the firm's fortunes."

  "She was carrying her own weight?"

  "Her own weight, plus."

  "So the firm was happy with her?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And you were happy with her?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Did you shoot her?"

  "I did not."

  "Do you know who did?"

  "I do."

  There was a group inhale from all viewers. Breath was held, not expelled.

  You could have heard the proverbial pin drop as the gallery and press and participants awaited the next obvious question.

  Thaddeus took his time. He allowed the last answer to sink in and command center stage. He appeared to be making notes on his tablet, but in truth he was scribbling, just allowing a full minute to tick by. Then he looked directly at the witness.

  "Who did?"

  "Who shot her? I can't say."

  "Why can't you say?"

  "Because that person is a client of mine. The identity is confidential."

  "Sidebar!" cried District Attorney Eckles.

  The judge motioned both attorneys to step forward.

  "I'm going to get it out of him, judge, or we'll wait here all day while I try," Eckles said angrily in an exaggerated whisper.

  "That's my decision to make, not yours," the judge reminded Eckles. "Mr. Murfee, is your client serious? Is he really the attorney for the shooter?"

  "You can ask him, judge. I'm as surprised as you are."

  "I will. Seats, please."

  The judge turned and looked down at the witness. He spoke from on high.

  "Mr. Largent, the court would like to ask a couple of questions."

  "Okay."

  "This client, the shooter. Is this someone who has paid you a retainer to act as their lawyer?"

  "Yes, judge."

  "How much did they pay you?"

  "That's confidential, Your Honor. I won't reveal it."

  "When did they pay you?"

  "They paid me the day after Suzanne was shot."

  "Where is that person now?"

  "I can't reveal that, Your Honor."

  "Tell us the shooter's name, please, for the record."

  "I can't tell you that, judge. It's confidential."

  "I will put you in jail if you don't reveal the name."

  "That's all right, Your Honor. I know my way around there. But I can't give up a client's confidential communications to me."

  "Did you witness the shooting?"

  "Only the noise of the gun."

  "Were you aware beforehand that the shooting was about to occur?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Could you have done anything to prevent the shooting?"

  "Absolutely not. I was totally shocked."

  "For the record, give us the shooter's name."

  "No, I refuse. Client confidentiality."

  The judge looked down at Thaddeus. "Counsel, as of this moment your client is remanded to the custody of the Sheriff of Cook County. The Sheriff is ordered by this court to take the defendant into custody and hold him behind bars until further order of this court. Deputy, did you hear all that?"

  A deputy seated at the bailiff's elbow nodded. "Got it, judge. I'll take him into custody forthwith.”

  “Forthwith, that's right," said Judge Zang. "Counsel, you may continue with your questions for this witness."

  Thaddeus looked up at the witness.

  "Now, Mr. Largent. Do you know Jake O'Connor, the detective seated at counsel table with Mr. Eckles?"

  "I don't know that I know him. I had a conversation with him."

  "Where was that?"

  "County Jail."

  "When?"

  "Same date he checked the gun out of the evidence vault."

  "I'm handing you that gun, which is now encased in a plastic bag and marked State's Exhibit 104. Do you recognize this gun?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell the jury all the times and places you have seen this gun."

  "Twice. First time in my office. Second time at the County Jail."

  "What was the gun doing at your office?"

  "It was allegedly defective in a products liability case."

  "The gun had been provided to you by an insurance company?"

  "Correct. A police officer's son had fired the gun and it blinded his right eye. He sued the manufacturer Sanchi Firearms and I was defending."

  "Where was the last place you saw the gun in your office?"

  "Oh my desk."

  "Was it in the same state then as now?"

  "Appears to be."

  “Did you handle the gun in your office?”

  “Can’t way that I did. It came in as an exhibit in a pending case. I receive tons of things like that. No reason to actually handle any of it. At least not at that point.”

  "And where did the gun go from your office?"

  "Seized by the police, according to the police reports I've seen."

  "From your office?"

  "Yes."

  "Where in your office?"

  "Behind a set of books, according to the police report."

  "Did you put it there?"

  "No."

  "Do you know who did?"

  "No."

  "And the next time you saw the gun was at the jail. Describe that occasion, please."

  Ansel drew a deep breath. He shuffled his feet as if making himself more comfortable on the stand.

  "All right. Following my arrest for this crime, I was taken to jail."

  "By who?"

  "Two police officers. I don't know them."

  "What happened there?"

  "Later that day I was visited by Jake O'Connor."

  "The same person seated here in court today?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did he visit?"

  "At the time, I thought he was a potential insurance c
ompany client."

  "What happened?"

  "He came in, told me he had a problem, and put the gun on the table between us. I picked it up, judged its balance--though I'm a novice and actually hate guns. Still, he was a client, I thought, so I tried to demonstrate some familiarity with firearms."

  "Why did you think he was a client?"

  "I hadn't had my meds that day."

  Thaddeus then took Ansel through the list of medications he took on a daily basis, what had happened that morning of the arrest and how the police refused to allow him to take the medications, and his mental state when Jake O'Connor came to see him.

  "So mentally you weren't all together when he came in?"

  "Not hardly. I was in a psychotic episode."

  "How do you know that?"

  Ansel touched the side of his head. "Memory. I remember everything that happened. My mental case doesn't affect my memory of things, just my judgment of things. I lose my critical judgment."

  "So that's why you thought he was an insurance client?"

  "Well, he never did show any ID. Never introduced himself as a police officer. Just came into the little room and plopped the gun on the table. He said something and I thought he was from an insurance company."

  "So you handled the gun."

  "I did."

  "You got your fingerprints on the gun."

  "I did."

  "And your body oil, or DNA."

  "That's correct."

  "And you're sure you didn't shoot Suzanne Fairmont? You didn't have a psychotic episode that night?"

  Ansel shook his head violently. "No, no, no, no. I had my meds that day. I was stone cold right on. In fact, I was at the office working that night. Doing law stuff."

  "So your critical judgment was intact."

  "Intact, yes."

  “But you do know who did shoot her?”

  “I know who had the gun and I heard the shot fired.”

  “And you’ve told us that person is now your client?”

  “Exactly right. That person is my client.”

  Thaddeus looked at the judge.

  "That's all I have, Your Honor."

  "Thank you. Mr. Eckles, you may cross-exam."

  Eckles stood, crossed to the podium, and spread several yellow sheets before him. He shut his eyes and appeared to be collecting his thoughts, then began his inquiry.

  "Please tell us who shot and killed Suzanne Fairmont if it wasn't you."