Dark Justice

Chapter 63

Ben sat down at defendant’s table with a sense of calm like nothing he had experienced for days. Molly was so good up there, so sincere. The jury had to believe her. At the very least, her testimony must’ve planted the seeds of doubt-and that was all he needed to save Zak’s life.

He watched as Granny strolled up to the podium. He knew perfectly well what Granny’s first line of attack would be. And they were ready for it.

Granny didn’t pull any punches. “Ms. Griswold, are you George Zakin’s lover?”

“You mean now, or ever?”

“Ever.”

She nodded. “There was a time … shortly after I came to Green Rage, when he and I were involved. But it’s over now. Zak found someone else … and so have I. In fact, that’s one of the main things we talked about that night. Just clearing the air.” She paused. “So if you’re planning to suggest that I would lie to save him because we’re sleeping together, forget it. It won’t wash. If anything, by your standards, I should be hostile to him, since he broke up with me. But none of this matters, because I wouldn’t lie. Not for him or anyone else. I’m testifying today because what I have to say is the truth, and I don’t want to see an innocent man convicted for a crime he didn’t commit.”

Yes! Ben squeezed his fists together. He wanted to jump up in the air and click his heels, but he suspected Judge Pickens wouldn’t approve. Molly was brilliant, even better than in their practice sessions. He was on cloud nine.

After that humiliation, he expected Granny to give up and sit down. But she didn’t. In fact, as he peered across the courtroom, he noticed that she didn’t even appear particularly perturbed.

“Ms. Griswold,” Granny said, “are you familiar with a clothes store on Lincoln called Emma’s?”

“Sure. I know it well. I’ve been by there several times. They have some lovely dresses.”

“Have you shopped there?”

Molly smiled. “Well, it’s out of my price range. But I like to look.”

A deep line furrowed Ben’s brow. What was all this talk about dresses and shopping? What was Granny up to?

“Have you been inside?”

“Not often. I just like to window-shop.”

The corners of Granny’s lips turned up, in what was perhaps the most wicked smile Ben had ever seen in his life. “In fact, Ms. Griswold, isn’t it true you were window-shopping in the early morning hours of July thirteenth?”

Molly looked horrified. “Of course not. Maybe later in the day-”

“No, in the early morning.” She glanced down at her notes. “At one-fourteen A.M., to be precise.”

“No. It isn’t true!”

“Oh, but it is, Ms. Griswold. It is.” She walked over to the bailiff, holding a large black-and-white photograph. “This photo was printed from a videotape. The videotape was inside the surveillance camera in Emma’s-on the morning of July thirteenth. I have a copy of the original tape, which defense counsel is free to view at his leisure.”

“How about now?” Ben said. He was getting a horrible, dreadful feeling that he knew what was on the tape.

“You can have it during the break,” Judge Pickens said. “That’ll be soon enough.”

“It should’ve been produced before trial,” Ben responded. “This isn’t even on the exhibit list.”

Granny held up her hands. “This is rebuttal evidence, your honor. We had no way of knowing defense counsel would put on this witness.” She established the provenance and chain of custody of the tape and photo, then moved that they be admitted into evidence. The motion was granted.

Granny gave a copy of the photo to Ben, then passed another to the jury, so each of them could hold it in their hot little hands.

The photo was time- and date-stamped: 01:14A.M., 07/13. The photo showed the front window of the store, and just beyond the window display, a face pressing up against the glass.

Even in the grainy black-and-white photograph, the face was unmistakable. It was Molly.

“Ms. Griswold, a passerby saw you in front of the window and, after she read about the murder the next day, thought it might be important, so she notified the store. They managed to save the tape before it was automatically erased.” Granny passed another copy of the photo to Molly. “Care to explain?”

Molly stared at the photo with undisguised horror. “There must be some mistake.”

“There’s no mistake. I’ve checked and double-checked everything, just as I’m sure defense counsel will. There’s no doubt about it, ma’am. You were there, in front of that store, just after one in the morning. Not in the forest. And not with George Zakin.”

Molly’s hand flew to her face. Tears began to stream out of her eyes. “Oh, God. I didn’t mean to-” Her arm reached out toward defendant’s table. “I just wanted to help you, Zak. I just-” More tears followed; her voice was choked with anguish. “I still love you, Zak. Even now. I still love you.”

“Ms. Griswold,” Granny said quietly, “you were not with George Zakin at the time of the murder, were you?”

At first she reacted only with tears. Then, after several painful moments, her head began to weave its way back and forth. “No.”

Everything went silent, dead, as if Ben were traveling in an airplane but the engines had cut out and they were in free fall, spiraling downward toward an inevitable crash.

“Thank you,” Granny said. “That’s all.”

Gradually the courtroom seemed to normalize. Molly returned to the gallery, glancing at Zak as she passed, then covering her tear-stained face with her hands. Ben felt himself reentering the stream of life as the judge called for a recess till the afternoon.

And with that, it was over. The cross-examination and, Ben knew, the absolute last vestige of hope for the defense.