Marine One

31

BRADLEY'S TESTS WEREN'T likely to amount to much, and if he came up empty, our road led right off a cliff. And I had no indication that Hackett would be interested in settlement even if we were interested. He would smell our desperation. The second day of trial opened with the shadow of disaster deepening all around me.

As the clerk called the courtroom to order, I stood. "Your Honor, I have no further questions of the first lady."

The judge looked surprised, as did Hackett, and the judge said, "Call your next witness, Mr. Hackett."

Hackett said, "Your Honor, we call Mrs. Collins to the stand."

She took the oath and sat in the witness chair. She looked at the jury, then at Hackett, who began his questioning by asking about her, not her husband. She testified just as she had in her deposition, only better. She was the perfect Marine wife, faithful, true, loyal, devoted, and smart. Semper fidelis. The jury loved her. They loved everything she stood for, everything she said, and how she said it. I think they all wanted to invite her over to dinner. She went on at length about what a hero her husband was, how much he had sacrificed for the country, how much his injuries hurt him when they were alone, how his titanium jaw was never the same as his real jaw, how his teeth didn't work the way they used to. How he saw himself serving in the Marine Corps until the last possible moment because nothing was greater than serving his country. Hackett had the jury on his side, and they were hanging on every word.

She concluded by saying that although they hadn't had any children, they were happily married and planned on staying married for the rest of their lives. While he hadn't yet begun to look forward to retirement, she had already been thinking about it, the hikes they would take in the mountains, the trip to Europe that he had always promised but they hadn't yet found time or money for, the sailboat trips to the Caribbean that they had considered, even though neither of them knew how to sail, and the mountain condo where they would go skiing every winter in Colorado. The dreams of a married couple looking forward to a little more free time in their lives. Hackett waited until everyone wanted to go with them, then said, "Your witness."

I glanced at the clock. We only had twenty minutes until lunch. I had given Rachel the job of cross-examining Mrs. Collins. I didn't think it would come this early in the trial, but Rachel was ready. She had maybe twenty minutes of questions. Now that it looked like we were cooked, that our theory was wrong, and that the NTSB and Hackett were right, I wasn't sure if we should even ask her any questions. Before I could decide, Rachel stood and decided for me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Collins," Rachel said, her nervousness apparent in her voice, at least to those who knew her well. Rachel was wearing a dark blue pin-striped suit that looked black. She wore heels that made her almost six feet tall.

"Good morning, Ms. Long."

"You paint a picture of your husband, Colonel Collins, that is very complimentary. Well deserved no doubt. But, Mrs. Collins, isn't it true that your husband despised the president?"

A murmur swept through the audience. Mrs. Collins frowned. "No, not that I'm aware of."

"You heard the recording of the cockpit voice recorder here in this courtroom, did you not?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear the section where the copilot, Lieutenant Colonel Rudd, chastised your husband for ignoring the president, who had spoken directly to him?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't respectful, was it?"

"I think he was distracted preparing the aircraft to take off and probably a little concerned about the weather. He was preoccupied." Mrs. Collins had been well prepared. I saw several of the jurors nod.

Rachel continued, "Well, the copilot sure didn't take it that way, did he?"

"I don't know that I'd say that. I thought he was simply pointing out an oversight of courtesy."

Rachel raised her voice only slightly, still proceeding in her gentle way. "Did you hear the rest of the tape where your husband essentially said the president was a fake? That he wasn't related to John Adams or John Quincy Adams?"

"Yes. I heard that."

"You would agree that your husband was less than complimentary about the president."

"My husband was a trivia buff. He loved to know details and play games with other people who didn't know those details. That's just something he always did."

"Well, in this case, the details he was knowledgeable about concerned the family history of the president. And he was critical about the way the president represented that history. Correct?"

"Oh, I don't know that I'd agree with that. I didn't hear it that way."

Rachel grew frustrated. "Mrs. Collins, your husband was obsessed with the president and his politics, wasn't he?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"He disagreed with virtually everything President Adams did, right?"

"I don't really know."

"Mrs. Collins, you would agree that your husband was a conservative, even ultraconservative, wouldn't you?"

"It depends how you mean that, but generally I would agree with that." Mrs. Collins shifted uneasily in her witness chair and glanced at Hackett, who was writing, taking notes, and not giving her any visual cues.

I watched her carefully as Rachel tried to read the witness. "And I think you would agree, perhaps we could even stipulate, that since President Adams ran on a moderate-to-liberal Democrat platform, and proudly called himself a 'modern liberal,' or sometimes a 'progressive,' it's fair to say that your husband disagreed with much of what the president stood for politically, right?"

"Depending on what in particular you're talking about, but, yes."

"Mrs. Collins, your husband had an extensive library, did he not?"

"Yes, he did."

"During the discovery in this case we had every book in his library copied so that we could review the numerous margin notes in his books. Did you know that?"

"Yes."

"And he read those books extensively, did he not? They weren't just for looks, to have a big library."

"Yes. He did."

"Mostly books about politics, international affairs, but also conspiracy theories and some what might be called 'fringe' writing on who was really running the world contrary to what all the rest of us believe. Fair?"

She smiled. "Perhaps."

Rachel went to the counsel table, picked up an exhibit, and put it on the ELMO, essentially a television camera suspended over a flat, illuminated base that projected Whatever was on the base onto numerous screens around the courtroom. It was a modern overhead projector, but much more useful-you could lay a helicopter-gear bearing on it, or your hand, or a pen, or a document, and project it to the courtroom. In this case Rachel pulled out a copy of one of Collins's margin notes. Rachel continued, "Let me show you what's been marked previously as Exhibit 274. It is a copy of a page from a book from your husband's library. The title of the book was The Real Government. This is page seventy-one of that book. Do you see the paragraph bracketed is discussing the forces that supposedly control the U.S. government with strings, 'like puppets'? Can you see what your husband has written on the left side of that paragraph?"

"Yes, it says, ' Adams.' "

"It says Adams with an exclamation point, right?"

"Yes."

"That's what your husband thought about Adams. That he was being controlled by forces outside of the United States government, correct?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Well, you are aware, are you not-"

Hackett had enough. "Your Honor, this line of questioning is irrelevant. We're wasting the court's time. This is bordering on harassment."

Rachel countered, "I can explain-"

"Approach the bench," Judge Betancourt said, annoyed both with the questions and Hackett's interruption.

Rachel walked to the side of the judge's bench, as did Hackett. I joined them. The court reporter picked up her reporting machine and walked over to where the judge had wheeled her chair on the side of the bench. The reporter pulled a small slide, like a cutting board, out of the side of the judge's bench and placed the reporting keyboard on it. When she nodded to the judge, the judge said, "Ms. Long, where are you going with this line of questioning? What difference does it make?"

"Your Honor, it is my objective to show that it was Collins's opinion of the president's policies that predisposed him to at least consider causing the accident."

Betancourt looked at me. "Are you seriously trying to put on a case that the pilot of Marine One murdered the president?"

Rachel answered, "I want to leave that open as a possibility for the jury to consider."

"The jury doesn't get to form its own conclusion unless you have evidence, Ms. Long. What evidence do you have? How do you tie the president's policies to Collins's actions?"

"Perhaps at the meeting in Camp David the president was about to make a major policy shift."

"Perhaps?" the judge asked. "That's all you have?"

Hackett hunched his large frame over and tried to contain his fury. "Your Honor, I have been over every exhibit Mr. Nolan listed in the pretrial order. There is nothing in there about some new dramatic development. He had notes in the margins of nearly every book he read. It is meaningless. Unless Ms. Long tells us right now how she intends to prove this, I would request the Court to instruct her to move to a different area of questioning immediately."

The judge looked at Rachel over her reading glasses. "Ms. Long? What is your proffer?"

"I was hopeful of having some evidence that I don't have."

"So you don't have it."

"That's right, Your Honor, not yet."

"Then you will move on to a different area of questioning immediately. Are you nearly done?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

We returned to our positions, and after a moment the judge said, "You may continue, Ms. Long."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Mrs. Collins, you portrayed your husband as happily married to you. Correct?"

She frowned. "I hope so, because we were."

"And the damages you've claimed in this case, that you want WorldCopter to pay you for the loss of your husband, are in part based on the loss of that relationship, right?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Collins, isn't it true that your husband slept in a different room from you?"

She looked surprised. "How do you know that, Ms. Long?"

"Is it true or not?"

"Yes. It is true."

"In fact your husband essentially lived in a room separate from your bedroom. His clothes, his books, his desk, his computer, they're all in a different room from you."

She looked annoyed. "Yes, that's true."

"In fact, Mrs. Collins, you're husband didn't sleep with you, did he?"

She fidgeted slightly and responded quietly, " 'Sleep with' as in sleeping in the same bed? Or 'sleep with' as in having sexual relations?"

"He didn't sleep in the same bed with you, did he?"

"No."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Rachel sat down and looked at the clock. It was two minutes until noon. It was a good way to end. The judge picked up her gavel and said, "We will adjourn at this point for lunch and return-"

Hackett stood up and interrupted, "Your Honor. My redirect will take only the two minutes that remain before lunch. May I complete this witness so that she may be excused from the witness stand?"

"Of course, Mr. Hackett, proceed."

Hackett stood up and without any notes said, "Mrs. Collins, had you and your husband stopped having sexual relations?"

She blushed slightly. "No."

"Did you have sex on a regular basis-without too much detail; was it a normal marital relationship?"

"Very normal."

"Well, then, why was he not sleeping in the same room as you, Mrs. Collins?"

She hesitated, then said, "Because he snored."

The gallery laughed out loud.

Hackett nodded and smiled. "Why did he have all his clothes and his computer and his desk in another room?"

"Out of respect for me. I volunteer with Annapolis Hospice, and my sleeping patterns were very irregular. Sometimes I needed to go to bed very early, sometimes I needed to sleep late. He didn't want to disturb me with the clicking of keys on his computer or getting dressed in the morning. So he did it to allow me to rest."

"No further questions," Hackett said.

Rachel jumped back up. "May I, Your Honor? Less than five minutes."

The judge looked at the clock and said, "Make it quick, Ms. Long."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Then to Mrs. Collins: "You slept in separate rooms because he snored?"

"That's right."

"You didn't mention that in your deposition when we asked you about having separate rooms, did you?"

"You didn't ask."

"You knew we wanted to know why you had the arrangement you had, right?"

"I didn't know what you wanted, frankly."

"Mrs. Collins, I will represent to you that I have reviewed every page of your husband's medical records. He never mentioned snoring, ever. Are you aware of that?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me."

"Why is that?"

"I don't think he saw it as a medical problem."

"So the two of you simply accepted that state of affairs?"

"Yes, for now. Then."

"You said you worked for a hospice, right?"

"Yes."

"You mentioned that in your deposition, although not in connection with your husband's separate room. I'd like to show you your volunteer records of Annapolis Hospice. Your Honor, may we have these records marked as next in order?"

Hackett said, "I object, Your Honor. These records were not listed in their exhibit list."

"Impeachment, Your Honor."

"They'll be marked," Betancourt said.

"Mrs. Collins, these records show you hadn't volunteered for Arlington Hospice for more than a year before your husband's death. Correct?"

"I don't know what the records show."

"It's true, isn't it, that you hadn't volunteered there for more than a year before his death?"

"I don't remember."

"Mrs. Collins, you would have the jury believe that the reason you weren't sleeping with your husband was because of a medical condition he never told a doctor about, and out of sensitivity to volunteer work you weren't doing, right?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"Nothing further, Your Honor."

Judge Betancourt dismissed us for lunch.

I checked my BlackBerry. Rachel asked, "Any word from Bradley?"

"Nothing. I sent him an e-mail but he didn't respond. I had Tracy call his office too. Didn't respond." I pondered what could possibly have happened to Wayne Bradley as I packed my notes. My thoughts were quickly interrupted by Kathryn, who had come up to counsel table in the middle of the courtroom. Brightman was with her.

Kathryn said, "Mike, let's go back to your office."

"I was just going to grab something over at the cafeteria. I need to prepare for this afternoon's witnesses."

"No, we need to talk about how this is going." She looked around to see if anyone was reading her lips.

Rachel and I headed to our car and then to the office. Kathryn, Brightman, Tripp, even Jeff Turner arrived a few minutes later. Someone had ordered sandwiches, but I was in no mood to eat. I wanted to get back and get ready for our next witnesses. As soon as everyone was in the room, Kathryn closed the door behind Justin. She turned, still standing with her arms folded, and said to me, "Mike, I thought you did okay on the opening statement. You left it a little open as to what our theory was going to be, and based on what I know, that seemed right to me. But now I've watched the first two witnesses, and it isn't working. I don't see the jury identifying with us."

I sat down and leaned back in my chair. "That's what I would expect when their first two witnesses are the most sympathetic witnesses in the world. Look, I know what I'm doing, Kathryn. I just can't change the facts. This case is just getting under way. I can see the stress on your face. I know the press hates us, they think I'm outmatched, you're answering to London, I get it. But you can't panic on me now."

"I am not panicking. But I do want to tweak things a little. Instead of Mark being a passive attorney on the pleadings but not in the courtroom, I've asked him to sit at counsel table during the trial, to take some witnesses, change the feel of things a little."

I couldn't believe my ears. "What?"

"He's been associate counsel since the case was filed. He's just never done anything in court. But he can and I'm asking him to do it now. He has copies of all the expert depositions and has prepared cross-examination outlines of all the plaintiffs' witnesses, including the experts. I'd like him to do those cross-examinations and to also perhaps do the closing arguments, we'll see about that. But I want him involved and I want him at counsel table."

"Do not do this, Kathryn. It's going to look like desperation to the jury, and to the press. It's going to look like you're cutting my legs out from under me."

"I'm propping you up, not cutting your legs out from under you. We've got to make some changes here, Mike, because we're going down."

I was so pissed I couldn't even speak for a minute. This was exactly what we shouldn't do. "This isn't coming from you, is it?"

"That doesn't matter."

I stood. "It does to me. Is this from you?"

"I agree with it."

"It's London, isn't it? They're over there on Lime Street watching the legal experts on television and panicking. Did they call you at the end of this morning's session?"

"I talk to them at the end of every session, so, yes, they did call. But this is what we're going to do."

I tossed my pen onto the table. "Whatever you say."

She could tell I was peeved. "Well, do you have a plan, Mike? A plan to get us from here to the end of the trial with something to tell the jury?"

"Our experts are still busting their asses, and you know that. I expected to hear from Wayne Bradley this morning, but he's gone radio silent. I also expected to hear from Curtis, but I haven't yet. He's trying to find the witness Tinny was supposed to give me, but Tinny got murdered. So we're stuck. There's just lot of weird stuff going on right now, Kathryn, and I'm not really sure what's happening."

"Well," Kathryn said, still annoyed, "if you don't start laying this out soon, then Mark will have to take the lead and finish the trial."

I didn't even want to be having the conversation. "I need to go prepare for this afternoon's witnesses."

Kathryn wasn't about to let me sting her. "The next two witnesses are Hackett's experts. Mark will be handling those."

I thought Rachel was going to come out of her skin.

I turned toward Brightman reluctantly. He had a notebook perfectly prepared with outlines for each expert witness. He had his hands folded on top of it. I asked him, "You need anything from me?"

"No, I prepared cross-examinations in case I was called on to do them."

I stood up and Rachel followed me.