The Pardon js-1

by James Grippando

  “Maybe because you’re honest,” he said. “The prosecutor probably thinks he can get you to say something to hurt me.”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Never.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he said as he pulled her close. As he pulled her close, he noticed that smoke and the smell of their burning dinner had begun to seep in from the kitchen. At least not intentionally, he thought.

  Chapter 35

  The air seemed electric with possibility that Monday morning as the players in the drama of State v. Swyteck assembled for the opening act. The script called for the prosecution to present its version of events first. After Jack’s character was thoroughly impugned and his actions given the most sinister interpretation, the defense would come on and try to reverse the brainwashing. It seemed almost amazing, really, that juries so often reached the right result. But the lofty notion that this was the best system in the world was little consolation for an innocent man who might well be put to death.

  “Call your first witness, Mr. McCue,” the judge ordered.

  “The State calls Cindy Paige,” McCue announced.

  Jack’s heart sank. It was no bluff.

  A sea of heads turned in unison toward the rear of the courtroom as Cindy emerged through the twelve-foot swinging doors. She looked nervous, but only Jack could detect just how nervous she truly was. He knew the little signs-the tightness in her lower lip, the stiffness in her walk, the way she pressed her thumb against her forefinger.

  She wore a beige skirt and matching jacket, with a powder-blue blouse. “Look soft and sympathetic,” Manny had told her last night. And she did.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth. .” the bailiff said, administering the familiar oath. Jack looked on from across the courtroom, watching Cindy’s raised right hand tremble just slightly. It was ironic, he thought, that she appeared so anxious. If ever there was a person who could be counted on to tell the truth, it was her.

  Wilson McCue allowed the witness to settle into the old Naugahyde chair, then began innocuously enough. “Please state your name,” he requested.

  Cindy shifted in her chair, as if even this easy question caused discomfort. “Cindy Paige,” she replied in a soft voice.

  “Miss Paige, how long have you known the defendant?”

  “A year and a half,” she said.

  “How well do you know him?”

  She shrugged. “Better than anyone, I suppose.”

  “Is it fair to say you two are romantically involved?”

  “Yes. We live together.”

  “You’re not married, though,” said McCue, sounding more than a little judgmental.

  Cindy glanced at the jurors. She saw grandmotherly disapproval from a blue-haired retired schoolteacher in the second row. “No, we’re not married.”

  “And how long have you two lived together?”

  “About a year. Except for a couple of weeks a while back.”

  “Let’s talk about that little hiatus,” said the state attorney. “When was that?”

  She sighed, not because her memory failed her, but because it was a time in her life she’d rather have just forgotten. “Almost three months ago.”

  “It was right after the trial of Eddy Goss, wasn’t it?” he asked, sounding a little less friendly now, more like an interrogator. “Right after Mr. Swyteck defended him and got him off.”

  “Objection as to characterization,” said Manny as he rose from his chair.

  “Sustained,” groaned the judge. “I won’t tolerate cheap shots, Mr. McCue. The jury is reminded that Mr. Swyteck is on trial for the alleged murder of Eddy Goss,” she instructed the jurors, “and not because he represented Mr. Goss in another trial.”

  A few jurors exchanged glances, as if they were torn as to which of the two was the real crime.

  “The witness may answer the question,” said the judge.

  “Jack and I split a couple of days after the Goss trial,” Cindy responded. “But that trial had nothing to do with our breakup.”

  “It was your decision to move out, wasn’t it.”

  “Yes, it was my decision.”

  “And Mr. Swyteck was pretty upset about that.”

  She hesitated, surprised at how personal the questions were, and suspicious of where this was leading. She glanced at Jack, then looked the prosecutor in the eye. “It was hard on both of us.”

  “Well, let me be a little more specific. The two of you had a nasty fight before you left him, didn’t you?”

  “Objection,” said Manny. “Judge-”

  “Overruled.”

  Cindy shifted nervously in her chair. “We had a disagreement, yes.”

  McCue smirked. “And I suppose the battle of Gettysburg was also a disagreement.”

  “Objection!” said Manny.

  The judge frowned at McCue. “Sustained. I’m warning you for the last time about the cheap shots, Mr. McCue.”

  McCue was unfazed. “Isn’t it true, Miss Paige, that the defendant literally threw you out of his house?”

  “He never laid a hand on me. We had an argument. Every couple I know has arguments.”

  “But this wasn’t just like any other argument,” McCue said, moving closer to the witness. “On the morning you left him, Mr. Swyteck really lost control,” he said in a low, serious voice. “He was a different person. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Objection,” said Manny. “Your Honor, this line of questioning is getting ridiculous.”

  The judge glared at the prosecutor. “I’d tend too agree.”

  “If we could have a sidebar,” said McCue, “I think I can explain the relevance.”

  “Make it brief,” the judge said as she waved them for ward.

  The lawyers stepped quickly toward the bench and huddled beside the judge, out of earshot of the jury.

  “I’ve been patient,” Manny argued quietly, “waiting to see where Mr. McCue is going with this. But lovers’ spats between my client and Miss Paige are completely irrelevant to the issues in this case. This is simply humiliating and improper.”

  “It goes right to the heart of the government’s case,” McCue countered, his expression deadly serious. “We have an all-American defendant who looks like the last person on earth who’d kill another human being. But on the inside, Your Honor, Mr. Swyteck is wound a little too tightly. He snapped after the Goss trial. And when he did, he killed his own client. I need the testimony of this witness to prove that he snapped. To prove that stress made him into a different person-someone capable of murder.”

  “Miss Paige is not a psychiatrist,” Manny said with sarcasm.

  “I don’t want a medical opinion,” McCue fought back. “I want to know what this woman perceived-the woman who has lived with the defendant for the last year, and who has already testified that she knows him better than anyone.”

  The judge wasn’t completely persuaded, but she deferred to the state attorney. “I’ll allow it,” she muttered. “But not for much longer.”

  “Judge,” Manny groaned, “I-”

  “I’ve ruled,” she said sharply.

  “Thank you,” said McCue. Manny shook his head, then returned to his seat beside Jack. The prosecutor resumed his position in front of the witness, a little closer than before, almost close enough to touch her.

  Cindy tried to be ready for anything as she stared back at McCue. She wondered what the judge had said to him. She hoped he’d move on to another topic, but knew from the gleam in his eye that he wasn’t finished yet.

  “How about it, miss?” McCue continued. “On that morning you left your boyfriend-right after Eddy Goss was acquitted, and right before he was murdered-would you say you saw a side of Jack Swyteck that you’d never seen before?”

  She looked at Jack, then back at McCue. “I wouldn’t say that. . exactly.”

  “He scared you though, didn’t he?”

  Cindy reddened. “I don’t know. He could have.”

  �
�Could have, huh? Well, let me clarify a few things. The morning you left him, you didn’t bother to kiss him good-bye, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even shake his hand, did you?”

  “No.”

  “In fact, you didn’t walk out on him. You ran out.”

  “Yes, I ran.”

  “You ran out so fast you didn’t even have time to dress.”

  “No.”

  “You ran out half-naked, wearing nothing but a T-shirt.”

  She gulped, her eyes welling. “It’s what I sleep in.”

  “You ran out because you were scared for your own safety, weren’t you?”

  She was flustered. She licked her lips, but her mouth was desert-dry.

  “Isn’t it true,” he said, “that you told Mr. Swyteck that the Goss trial had changed him?”

  Cindy shook her head with confusion. “I don’t remember anything like-”

  “Miss Paige!” McCue bellowed, his voice filling the courtroom like a pipe organ. “You thought Jack Swyteck had changed so much, that you told him he was no different from the scum he defended. Isn’t that right!”

  “I-” Cindy gasped.

  “Isn’t that right, Miss Paige!”

  “No, not exactly. I said, ‘You are the scum you defend,’ but-”

  “He is the scum he defended!” McCue exclaimed, pouncing on her words for having dared to equivocate. “Thank you, Ms. Paige. Thank you very much for clearing that up for us. I have no further questions,” he announced as he turned away from the witness and headed back to the prosecutor’s table.

  She sat limply in the witness chair, her head down and shoulders rounded. Manny approached slowly, to give her time to compose herself before his cross-examination. “Good morning, Miss Paige,” he said in a conversational tone, trying to put her at ease.

  Jack listened as Manny tried to rehabilitate her. She explained that she’d spoken purely out of anger on that ugly morning, that she’d never meant a word of it, and that they were now back together. But Jack couldn’t listen. He knew Cindy had told McCue the truth, and nothing could change the truth. The best strategy was to minimize the importance of her testimony, and the longer Manny kept her on the stand, the more important her testimony would seem. Thankfully, Manny didn’t keep her long.

  “That’s all the questions I have,” said Manny, dismissing the witness. “Thank you.”

  Cindy stepped down and headed for the swinging gate that separated the players from the spectators. As she laid her hand atop the polished mahogany banister, she paused and gave Jack a look that asked for forgiveness.

  “We got a problem,” he whispered to Manny.

  “It’s only round one,” Manny said, shrugging it off.

  “No, you’re missing the point,” Jack said. “It was just me and Cindy in my bedroom that morning she left me. We were alone.”

  “So? Why is that a problem?”

  “If Cindy and I are the only two people who know what went on in that room, how did McCue know how to ask her all the right questions?”

  For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Jack’s eyes shifted from Manny to Wilson McCue, who was seated at the prosecutor’s table across the room. The state attorney looked up from his notepad and returned the glance, as if sensing the weight of Jack’s stare. He was smiling, Jack noticed, albeit just around his eyes. Jack fought a rising tide of anger. He was ready to leap from his chair and drag it out of him if he had to: How did you know, you bastard? How did you know what to ask her?

  “Is the State ready to call its next witness?” asked the judge.

  Jack was so engrossed he didn’t hear the words. Then it came to him. Of course McCue had an informant. Who else could it be?

  “Your Honor,” the prosecutor announced to the hushed courtroom, “the State calls Miss Gina Terisi.”

  Chapter 36

  The big mahogany doors in the back of the courtroom swung open, and Gina Terisi strode down the center aisle like a model on the runway. Though her dazzling beauty attracted stares, she didn’t have her usual seductive air. Her makeup was understated. Her navy-blue suit and peach silk blouse were stylish but conservative.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. .”

  Please, God, Jack prayed as the oath was administered. The truth was bad enough, but “the whole truth”? He wasn’t sure he-or his relationship with Cindy-could survive it. “Please state your name,” the prosecutor began.

  Jack watched carefully as she testified, searching for some sign that she resented McCue’s questions. A downturned lip, clenched teeth, lowered eyes. But, to his consternation, she seemed articulate, cooperative, willing.

  “Do you know the defendant?” McCue asked.

  “Yes, I do.” Jack listened impassively to the interrogation, trying not to panic as Gina told the jury how she’d met Jack and how long she’d known him.

  “Now, Miss Terisi,” the prosecutor shifted gears, “I’d like to turn to the night Eddy Goss was murdered. Did you see Mr. Swyteck on the night of August first?”

  “Yes, I did,” she answered. And from that point forward her testimony moved from a wide-angle view to a punishing close-up. Wilson McCue was no longer eliciting bits of background generalities; he had Gina poring over every detail about the night Jack showed up at her door. He wanted specifics, from how Jack looked and what he was wearing, to what he said and how he said it Jack’s fear that he was being stalked by Goss, and his outrage when he discovered that an intruder had broken into Gina’s townhouse received particular attention. Reporters in the gallery scribbled down every word as Gina’s damning story unfolded and Jack’s motive to kill Eddy Goss became clear. Strangely-very strangely, Jack thought-Gina didn’t mention that Jack had had a gun in his possession.

  By late afternoon, though, the damage to his defense was clear. The State had plugged the gaping hole in its case: The defendant’s motive to kill Eddy Goss had been the weakest part of the prosecution’s case, and Gina’s testimony had transformed it into the strongest. Jack tried to show no reaction, but he wondered whether things would get worse. Though Gina had been on the witness stand nearly four hours, she had yet to breathe a word of their “indiscretion.” With Cindy sitting right behind him, he could only hope she never would.

  “Now, Ms. Terisi,” McCue continued, “did you call the police after all this happened?”

  “No,” she replied, “I didn’t.”

  “I see,” said the prosecutor as he stroked his chin. “That may seem a little odd to some of our jurors, Miss Terisi. After someone broke into your house, you say you didn’t call the police. Can you tell us why you didn’t call the police?”

  Gina glanced at Cindy, then looked back at the prosecutor. “I really don’t have an explanation.”

  McCue did a double take. He hadn’t expected that answer. Indeed, it was far different from the answer Gina had given him several times before, when they’d rehearsed her testimony. “Are you saying you don’t remember?” he asked politely. “Because I can refresh your recollection if-”

  “I’m saying I don’t have an explanation,” she said firmly.

  McCue narrowed his eyes and stepped out from behind the podium. If he was going to have to impeach his own witness, he needed to let her feel his presence. “Miss Terisi,” he said, his tone decidedly less friendly, “when I interviewed you in my office, you told me that Mr. Swyteck had insisted that you not call the police. Isn’t that correct?”

  Gina shifted nervously in her chair, but she remained firm. “Yes. I said that. But I wasn’t telling you the truth when I said it was Jack’s idea. I was the one who insisted on not calling the police. Not him.”

  Wilson McCue stood in silence. He’d hoped to convince the jury that Jack had prevented Gina from calling the police because he wanted to take care of the problem himself-that Jack had intended to murder Goss. Gina’s sudden switch had thrown him a curve. McCue didn’t know the reason f
or the change. But he had to make at least one attempt to put his witness back on course.

  “It’s okay, Miss Terisi,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “I understand that Mr. Swyteck is the boyfriend of your best friend. And I can understand how you might be reluctant to hurt her and her boyfriend. But come on, now, level with us. You have to admit that it’s a little hard to believe that you were the one who didn’t want to call the police after some stranger had just broken into your apartment.”

  Manny rose from his chair. “Is that a question?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Objection sustained.”

  “My question is this,” the prosecutor said to his witness. “Did you want to call the police, or didn’t you?”

  Gina swallowed hard. “Of course I wanted to.”

  McCue felt a rush of satisfaction. It had taken a little maneuvering, but he’d placed his witness right back on track. Or so he thought “Then tell us, please: Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I wouldn’t let myself.”

  “Excuse me?” Again he’d received an unexpected answer.

  “I refused to call the police because-” Gina stopped herself. She looked away and wrung her hands in her lap. “I didn’t call,” she said, lowering her head in shame, “because I didn’t want to have to tell the police that Jack and I had slept together.”

  The prosecutor’s mouth fell open, and a murmur of disbelief filled the courtroom. Reporters feverishly flagged their notes with stars and arrows. Jack felt like a man impaled, but he couldn’t allow himself the slightest reaction. He didn’t dare look behind him, knowing that if he did, he’d lose all self-control.

  “Order,” said the judge with the bang of her gavel.

  Jack couldn’t fight the impulse any longer. He looked over his shoulder at Cindy. Their eyes met for just a split second-long enough for him to see something he’d never seen before. It wasn’t anger or embarrassment or heartbreak or disbelief. It was all of those things.

  “All right, miss,” McCue said to his witness. He took a deep breath. Gina had diverted widely from the script, and at the moment his chief fear was that her admission about having lied was something the defense would seize on in cross-examination. He had to prevent that from happening. If ever there was a time to turn lemons into lemonade, this was it. “That was a very painful admission you just made, and I’m glad you made it. It shows that you’re an honest person-you tell the truth, even when it hurts.”