Stone Cold

Chapter Four

Judge West’s chambers were a judicial man cave, all dark leather and brass-button upholstered furniture, a burnished oak desk, and matching bookcases jammed with volumes of case reporters and statutes, one wall reserved for pictures with politicians and hunting buddies, his personal hall of fame.

He planted himself in his desk chair, not realizing he’d brought his gavel with him. He tossed it onto his desk next to a wood carving of a judge grasping a pair of holstered six-guns strapped around his robe, Overruled etched on a brass plate at the base. He gripped his chin with one hand, tugged on his flabby jowls, and opened fire.

“Alex, what in the hell is going on? The minute that man walked into my courtroom, I called you and Tommy to the bench and asked if either one of you knew who he was. You obviously knew but you didn’t tell me. I don’t like it when lawyers lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Your Honor. You wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to be a witness. I wasn’t going to call him, and Tommy said he wasn’t going to either. I thought that covered it.”

“You know better than that!” Judge West said, thumping his hand on his desk. “When I ask you a question, I goddamn well expect a direct and truthful answer! If this was the first time you’d pulled a stunt like this, I’d let it slide, but I’m getting damn tired of it!”

Bradshaw saw his chance. “The problem, Judge, is that by flashing this man’s picture all over the courtroom, she’s made a bad situation worse. You’ve already told the jury to disregard him, and now she’s made that impossible.”

Alex held up her hand. “Hang on, hang on. First, Your Honor, I apologize for not answering your question more directly. I didn’t mean to mislead the court. Second, Tommy is the last person who should be complaining about the jury being shown pictures. Third, if you’d let me finish my cross-examination of the witness, you’ll see the relevance. If the witness refuses to answer, I’ll call my investigator, Grace Canfield, to testify. She’s on my witness list and she took that photograph and a number of others of the same man.”

“You had him under surveillance? Why?”

“We had Mr. Henderson under surveillance. His statement was the strongest evidence the prosecution had. I’ve represented people from that neighborhood for years, and nobody snitches. Yet this guy walked into the East Patrol station and fingered my client for murder ten days after the fact. I knew there was no way I’d get the truth just by asking him, so I had Grace keep an eye on him. I wanted to know as much about him as I could.”

Judge West leaned back in his chair and threw up his hands. “All right. But I’ve got one other question and I want a straight-up answer. Did you know this mystery man was going to be in the courtroom?”

Alex grinned. “No, sir, I just got lucky.”

When they returned to the courtroom, Kalena Greene was standing in the row behind Jameer Henderson and his family, her hands on their shoulders. Jameer was comforting his wife and holding his children in his lap. He eased them onto the pew, and Kalena led him back to the witness stand.

The bailiff brought the jury in. Grace Canfield put the man’s photograph back on the monitors and handed Alex a remote control for the laptop.

Alex acted as though nothing had happened. “Before the break, Mr. Henderson, I asked you if you knew the man who ran out of the courtroom. You told me that you couldn’t say, so let me try it another way. You see the photograph of the man displayed on the monitors?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you agree that the man in this photograph is the same man who came into the courtroom with your wife and children and then ran out the door?”

“Yeah.”

Alex pointed the remote at the laptop, clicking through to the next photograph. “And is that a photograph of the same man going into your barbershop?”

Henderson hung his head. “Yeah.”

Alex clicked again. “And is that a photograph of the same man coming out of your house on Garfield?”

“Yeah.”

Another click. “And is that a photograph of the same man talking to your wife and kids at a playground near your house? It looks like he’s got his hands on the backs of your children’s necks. Is that what it looks like to you?”

Henderson flinched. “Y’all can see for yourself.”

“Yes, I can. Now, you know who this man is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but you don’t unnerstand! You don’t know what it’s like!”

“Then help me understand. Tell the jury who this man is.”

Henderson twisted and turned in his chair. “His name is Kyrie Chapman.”

“And who is Kyrie Chapman?”

“He’s a cousin to Wilfred.”

“Wilfred Donaire, the murder victim?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell the jury his name?”

Henderson turned to the judge, his eyes wet. “I got to answer that?”

Judge West didn’t hesitate. “You do.”

Henderson squirmed, looking for a way out, then cast another pained look at his wife, who wiped her eyes and nodded at him. He nodded back at her, letting out a resigned sigh.

“Kyrie come in my shop after Wilfred got killed. He said. .

Bradshaw interrupted. “Objection. Hearsay as to what Kyrie Chapman told him.”

“I’m not offering it for the truth of the matter asserted. I’m offering it to explain the witness’ behavior in this courtroom.”

“Overruled. You may finish your answer, Mr. Henderson.”

“Kyrie say I had to tell the cops that Dwayne killed Wilfred, and I say I don’t know nuthin’ about that. He say that don’t matter, that I had to tell the cops about Dwayne comin’ in my shop sayin’ how he got Wilfred’s chain off a dead nigger. That way when the cops arrest Dwayne, they find Wilfred’s chain and that be enough to put Dwayne away. And I say how you know Dwayne killed Wilfred and he say he know and that’s all I got to know.”

“What else did you and Kyrie talk about?”

“I ax him how he know Dwayne gonna have Wilfred’s chain and he say on account of some girl give it to Dwayne.”

“Did he tell you the girl’s name?”

“Naw.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I tol’ him Dwayne never come in my shop, not in a long time. And Kyrie say he sure as shit did unless I wanna see my family end up like Wilfred. Then he say he gonna bring my wife and kids to court when I testify to make sure I don’t forget. So that’s what I done.”

Alex turned to the jury. Some were leaning forward, heads cocked to one side, mouths open and sympathetic. Others gripped the armrests on their chairs, white-knuckled and angry. Not one could look away from Jameer Henderson. Especially Tommy Bradshaw, who was slack jawed and sweating as his case collapsed around him.

“No further questions,” she said.

“Well, I got one,” Henderson said, his voice rising. “What am I gonna do now?”