The Innocent Woman

45

Judge Wylie frowned down from the bench. “I’m not sure I understand this.”

Dirkson could hardly contain himself. “It’s perfectly simple, Your Honor. A matter has come up which requires our immediate attention. An allegation has been made that is so grave that I can scarcely believe it. But, if true, it alters the whole complexion of this trial.”

“Be that as it may,” Judge Wylie said. “The fact is, we have a witness on the stand who is yet to be cross-examined.”

“I ask that he be withdrawn from the stand in order that I call another witness.”

Judge Wylie frowned. “Your intention is to deny the defense attorney his right to cross-examine?”

“It’s not important,” Dirkson said.

Judge Wylie’s eyes widened. “Not important?”

Dirkson held up his hand. “No, no. I don’t mean that. I just mean I don’t want to go off on a tangent. Yes, of course he has the right to cross-examine. He can cross-examine him later to his heart’s content. If it ever comes to that.”

“If it ever comes to that?” Judge Wylie said.

Dirkson took a breath. “Your Honor,” he said. “It has come to my attention that evidence in this case may have been tampered with. It is possible that there has been a systematic attempt on the part of the defense to simulate events that did not in fact happen, and by so doing to attempt to manufacture an alibi for the defendant.”

“That is a very serious charge. I hope you are prepared to substantiate it.” He held up his hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to say I hope the defense is guilty of an impropriety. I mean if you are making a charge like that, you’d better have something to back it up.”

“I have, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Which is why I would like to withdraw this witness.”

“I would imagine the defense would have something to say about that.”

“I have, Your Honor,” Steve Winslow said. “I have not waived my right to cross-examine this witness, and I certainly don’t intend to do so now. I say, call in the jury and return the witness, to the stand.”

“There you are, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Just what you’d expect. Knowing what I have in mind, the defense will use any stalling tactic it possibly can. If you return this witness to the stand, the ensuing cross-examination will take all day.”

“I assure you it will not,” Steve said.

“That’s not the point,” Judge Wylie said, irritably. “There’s no limit on cross-examination as long as new subjects are being raised. If they are not, Mr. Dirkson, you can object on the grounds that the question has already been asked and answered. Such objections would be sustained and such tactics would be recognized for what they are. And should they persist, they should be considered contempt of court. So there’s nothing to worry about in that regard, and no reason at all to disrupt the orderly process of this trial. Unless you have any further objection, I intend to return the witness to the stand.”

“You’re inviting a filibuster,” Dirkson blurted.

Judge Wylie’s face darkened. “I believe I have made my position clear. Mr. Dirkson, do you have anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Fine. Bring in the jury and return the witness to the stand.”

When the jurors had been seated and Jerome Keddie was once more on the witness stand, Judge Wylie said, “Mr. Keddie, yesterday you completed your direct examination. Now is the time for the defense to cross-examine. May I remind you that you are still under oath. Mr. Winslow?”

Steve Winslow stood up. “Thank you, Your Honor.” He walked over to the witness box and looked at the cab driver. He paused dramatically. Then he looked over at the jury. Then back at the witness. Then up at the judge. “No questions, Your Honor.”

There was a gasp from the spectators.

Harry Dirkson’s mouth fell open.

Judge Wylie’s eyebrows raised.

Only the jurors, who had not been present for the argument, didn’t realize what a shock that was. They looked at each other, wondering what was going on.

“Very well,” Judge Wylie said. “The witness is excused. Call your witness, Mr. Dirkson.”

Dirkson was confused by this turn of events, but not enough to deter him from his course. “Call Larry Cunningham,” he said.

Cunningham, giving every indication of resenting being there, entered from the back of the court and strode up the aisle. He took the oath, sat on the witness stand, and glared down at the prosecutor.

“Mr. Cunningham,” Dirkson said. “Are you acquainted with the defendant, Amy Dearborn?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Did you have occasion to see her on the night of June tenth?”

“I have seen her on several occasions.”

“I’m sure you have, Mr. Cunningham. But I’m asking you about this particular one. So allow me to refresh your memory. This was the night Frank Fletcher was killed. The night Amy Dearborn was arrested. I’m asking you if you happened to see her on that date?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You had dinner with her on that occasion?”

“That’s right.”

“And where did this dinner take place?”

“At the Abbey Pub.”

“And just what is the Abbey Pub?”

“It’s a small bar/restaurant on 105th Street.”

“West 105th Street?”

“That’s right.”

“Would that be in the defendant’s neighborhood?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Where does she live?”

“On 107th.”

“Did you pick her up there to go to the restaurant?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What time was that?”

“Sometime between six-thirty and seven o’clock.”

“So you went to this restaurant, the Abbey Pub, and had dinner?”

“That’s right.”

“What did you talk about?”

Larry Cunningham looked over at Steve Winslow, expecting an objection. When none came, he looked up at the judge. “Isn’t that hearsay, Your Honor?”

“What a third party said is hearsay. What the defendant said is an admission against interest.”

“You mean I have to answer?”

“Yes, you do.”

Cunningham took a breath. “We discussed the trial.”

“That would be the case in which the defendant was tried for petty theft?”

“That’s right.”

“That case took place that very afternoon, didn’t it?”

“Objection. Calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”

“Nonsense. How is that a conclusion, Your Honor?”

“Was the witness there?” Steve said.

“The objection is sustained. Rephrase your question.”

“Did the defendant tell you when the trial took place?”

“Yes, she did.”

“And when was that?”

“That afternoon.”

Dirkson looked at the jurors, as if to say, there you are. He turned back to the witness. “And what else did she tell you about the case?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“About the verdict, for instance. Did she tell you how it made her feel?”

“It made her feel great, of course. She was found innocent.”

“Yes, but is that all?” Dirkson said.

Cunningham frowned. “All?”

“Didn’t she say anything else? About how the verdict wasn’t enough?”

“Wasn’t enough? What more could it be? There’s innocent and there’s guilty. She was found innocent.”

“Yes, I know,” Dirkson said. “What I mean is, did she say anything along the lines of how being found innocent wasn’t enough? That Frank Fletcher should pay for what he’d done?”

“As a matter of fact,” Cunningham said, “I believe she did mention her attorney had suggested the possibility of a lawsuit.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Dirkson said, “and you know it. I’m talking about threats of physical violence directed toward the person of the decedent, Frank Fletcher. Did the defendant make any such threats?”

“Absolutely not,” Cunningham said. “Amy would never do anything of the sort.”

“Is that so?” Dirkson said. “Do you mean to tell me she never once said anything like, I could just kill him, or, he should get what’s coming to him, or, a man like that doesn’t deserve to live?”

“Absolutely not.”

Dirkson glared at the witness a moment, then turned to the judge. “Sidebar, Your Honor.”

When the judge and attorneys had gathered at the sidebar and the court reporter had set up his machine, Dirkson said, “Your Honor, this witness is lying. I have it on good authority that the answers he has just given constitute perjury. He is the boyfriend of the defendant, and he will clearly do anything to save her. I did not realize that went so far as to include committing a crime.”

Judge Wylie frowned at the district attorney. “Just exactly what do you expect me to do about it?”

“You can give me some latitude in my questioning. I called this man as my witness, and I’m bound by his testimony. He’s committed perjury, and now I’m in the position of having to impeach him. I can probably do it, but you must understand, it’s a rather exasperating position to find oneself in.”

Steve Winslow shrugged. “You chose it.”

Dirkson’s face purpled. His eyes blazed. “And there’s a fine statement coming from defense counsel, when he knows perfectly well he engineered the whole thing.”

“One moment,” Steve Winslow said. “Are you accusing me of suborning perjury? Is that the serious charge, you were referring to before?”

“No, it’s not,” Dirkson said. “And I’m not accusing you of that now.”

“What are you accusing me of?”

Judge Wylie held up his hands. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. We’ve gotten far afield. Mr. Dirkson, it would appear you called this sidebar merely to pick a fight with the defense attorney.”

“Not at all, Your Honor.”

“What is your purpose, Mr. Dirkson?”

“I told you. The witness is lying.”

“I need something other than your bald assurance such is the case,” Judge Wylie said. “Surely you must realize that.”

“Yes, of course, Your Honor. I’m just pointing out this is a hostile witness and I have to use leading questions. Moreover, he’s committed perjury, so I have to impeach him. Which I cannot do if you sustain the defense attorney’s objection that I am cross-examining my own witness.”

“So far I’ve heard no such objection.”

“Well, I haven’t started cross-examining him yet,” Dirkson said.

“Then what are we arguing about?” When Dirkson had no comeback, Judge Wylie said, “Let’s proceed,” and resumed his position on the bench.

Dirkson returned to the prosecution table, took a drink of water, composed himself, and once again approached the witness stand. “Now then, Mr. Cunningham,” Dirkson said. “You claim in the entire time you were having dinner with the defendant, she never once evidenced any animosity toward the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”

“She said she was glad she won the suit.”

“Aside from that?”

“I don’t believe she did.”

“You don’t believe she did?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You mean she might have, and you just don’t remember?”

“No, I remember that she didn’t.”

“Then why do you say that you believe she didn’t.”

Cunningham smiled. “Because that’s what I believe.”

There was a ripple of amusement from the spectators.

Dirkson frowned, took it. “You say she never evinced any animosity toward Frank Fletcher during that particular conversation?”

“That’s right.”

“What about any other conversation?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m referring to conversations you may have had with the defendant after she was arrested. Tell me, did you visit her in jail?”

“Yes, I did.”

“On more than one occasion?”

“That’s right.”

“How many occasions?”

“I’ve seen her every day.”

“Every day since she was arrested?”

“That’s right.”

“And on any of those occasions did she discuss the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”

“Of course.”

“You mean she did?”

“Of course she did. She was arrested on the charge of murdering him. How could we possibly have a conversation without referring to that fact?”

“Aside from that. Did the defendant ever mention Frank Fletcher, how she felt about him, how she was glad he was dead, anything of that sort?”

“No, she did not.”

“Did she ever admit to you that she killed him?”

Cunningham smiled. “She didn’t kill him.”

“I’m asking you if she ever said that she did.”

“No, of course not?”

“Did she tell you what she did that night?”

Cunningham frowned. “What do you mean?”

“After dinner. After you left the restaurant. Did she tell you what she did?”

“She went home.”

“Right. That was because you had to work. You were going to go to a movie, but then you had to work so you left her and she went home. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Cunningham said. “We left the restaurant a little after eight o’clock.”

“Move to strike as unresponsive to the question,” Dirkson said, angrily.

“Granted. It will go out,” Judge Wylie said. He turned to the witness. “Mr. Cunningham, let me make sure you understand the situation. You are a witness friendly to the defense. I understand your desire to help the defendant, but please obey the rules of evidence by answering only those questions that you are asked.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Now,” Dirkson said, “the question is, after dinner you went off to work and the defendant went home?”

“That’s right.”

“Now then,” Dirkson said. “Referring to the conversation that you subsequently had with the defendant, what did she tell you she did after she went home?”

“I think she said she watched TV.”

“Did she tell you she got a message on the answering machine from the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”

Cunningham glared at the district attorney defiantly for a moment, then lowered his eyes. “Yes, she mentioned that.”

“And what did she say she did about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Dirkson said. “Are you telling me she got this message from Frank Fletcher, then sat around all evening and did nothing about it?”

“I didn’t say she did nothing about it,” Cunningham said. “As a matter of fact, she went down there.”

“And when did she do that?”

“As far as I know, it was around ten o’clock.”

“Is that right?” Dirkson said. “She didn’t tell you about going there earlier, right after she got the message?”

“No, she did not.”

“She didn’t tell you she went down there, arrived around eight o’clock and found the decedent, Frank Fletcher, very much alive? She didn’t mention shooting him with a gun?”

“No, she did not.”

“She didn’t tell you about calling her attorney and reaching her attorney’s secretary, Tracy Garvin, and Tracy Garvin rushing to the office to meet her by cab?”

“Absolutely not.”

“And,” Dirkson went on, as if Cunningham had not answered, “Did she tell you about meeting her attorney, Steve Winslow, who showed up, assessed the situation, and advised her to go back uptown and take a taxi straight to the office, go upstairs, find the body, and then call the police as if she’d just arrived? She didn’t tell you about that?”

“Objection!” Steve Winslow cried, lunging to his feet. “Your Honor, I object! The question is viciously leading and suggestive and assumes facts not in evidence. I assign the asking of it as prejudicial misconduct.”

“The facts are in evidence,” Dirkson said.

“Same objection. Same assignment of misconduct.”

Judge Wylie banged the gavel. “That will do. I don’t want to hear another word. Not one word. From either side. Attorneys-in my chambers.”