The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

Forty-seven

Jack was very pleased at how things had gone on the first day of trial, especially after the opening statements. He had succeeded in surprising Jimmy DiCarlo by putting Wesley Brume on the stand and had established through Bill Yates and Benny Dragone that Brume had manipulated Rudy into talking to him alone and had lied about the circumstances under oath. Maria would testify about further lies and manipulations tomorrow and then the trial would shift to the rape file and Clay Evans’s involvement. It would heat up at that point, he was sure. After the first day, however, he became convinced that DiCarlo and Evans were content to feed Wesley Brume to the wolves. Poor Brume, he didn’t even see it coming.

He hadn’t seen Maria since Joaquin had been shot. She spent her days and nights at the hospital. They’d set up a cot for her in Joaquin’s room. Dick had been up that afternoon to check on Joaquin’s progress.

“How’s he doing?” Jack asked on the ride home.

“Still the same. He hasn’t woken up yet and that worries Maria, but I talked to the doctor and he said everything is fine. He said Joaquin’s just resting. He’ll wake up in his own good time.”

“That’s great,” Jack said. “I don’t mean to sound mercenary, Dick, but Maria is scheduled to testify first thing in the morning tomorrow. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t talked to her. I haven’t prepped her.”

“You don’t need to prep her, Jack. She’ll tell the truth. I’ll get her there. I’ll drop you off early and I’ll go pick her up. She and I have talked about it already. When she’s through testifying I’ll take her right back.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

That night Pat rubbed his back in bed trying to loosen him up, but it was no use. Jack was as tight as a steel cable wire.

“It went pretty good today,” she said, trying another approach.

“Yeah, it did, but tomorrow is the big day. In this business things can go south in a heartbeat.”

“Well, we’ll just have to say a prayer.”

“Or two.”

Dick dropped Jack off early the next morning and went to get Maria as planned. Jack was not sure he’d be seeing either one of them anytime soon. Maria had a mind of her own, and right now her mind was on one thing only-tending to Joaquin.

Jack had called Charley Peterson the night before and told him to be there early, just in case. It was not uncommon to take witnesses out of order in a trial. He did it all the time, especially with expert witnesses like doctors. But this case was different. He felt strongly that in order to convince the jury, he needed a meticulously logical progression of witnesses.

Jack and Jimmy DiCarlo were ushered into the judge’s chambers promptly at 8:30. Stanton was in a chipper mood. Jack could tell he was enjoying himself, but he didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Any motions this morning, gentlemen? Any new theories you’ve spun in the middle of the night?”

“No, sir,” Jimmy replied.

“No, Judge,” Jack added.

“All righty then. Mr. Tobin, how many witnesses do you have left?”

“Three, Your Honor. The last is a video.”

“Good, good. Then you should finish up today. Mr. DiCarlo, have you made any decisions about who you’re going to put on?”

Jimmy had seen Geronimo Cruz’s video deposition. It was powerful and he didn’t want the jury to see it. Now was probably the time to make the objection.

“Not entirely, Judge. I know I’ll have at least one witness, but Your Honor, I do have an objection to Mr. Tobin’s video-the Geronimo Cruz confession. We can stipulate that Mr. Cruz killed Lucy Ochoa. We don’t need the video.”

Judge Stanton looked at Jack. It was heating up already. He loved it.

“What do you say about that, Mr. Tobin?”

“I’d like the jury to see it, Judge. It removes any doubt.”

“I’m sure you would, Counsel, but if Mr. DiCarlo is stipulating to its contents, I don’t see why it’s necessary.”

“It’s the specifics, Your Honor. He tells exactly how he did it, and the jury will be able to evaluate that evidence in light of what evidence the police had not only before the trial but two years after when they learned Cruz was in a jail cell in Texas.”

The judge turned to Jimmy DiCarlo.

“He’s got a point, Mr. DiCarlo.”

“We’ll stipulate to the facts. He can read a factual summary to the jury. It will save a lot of time, Judge.”

“It’s not the same, Your Honor. A stipulation won’t have the impact.”

“I understand that, Mr. Tobin, but we’re not looking for emotional impact here, we’re looking for facts. If Mr. DiCarlo’s clients are willing to stipulate to those facts we don’t need the Cruz videotape.”

“Judge, I think I have the right.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s within my discretion. I’m not going to rule right now. I’ll give you some time to come up with a better reason than the one you just proposed, but I want it by the time you present Mr. Cruz’s deposition and I want you two to work out a stipulation of the facts in the event I rule against you, Mr. Tobin. Is that understood?”

Jack felt like he had been dealt a body blow to the gut, one that he hadn’t anticipated and should have. He had no case law to support his argument and no time to do any research. He needed that video for its emotional impact. The jury had to see Geronimo Cruz-to understand what he did and how he did it-in order to understand what happened to Rudy and just how malicious the defendants’ actions had been. Reading a stipulated statement of facts would not suffice.

“Is that understood, Mr. Tobin?” Stanton repeated in a firmer tone.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Okay, let’s go into the courtroom.”

The judge walked into the courtroom with them. There was no formality today. When everyone was seated he admonished the spectators as he had done the day before. Then he told the bailiff to bring in the jury.

Jack was out of sorts for another reason as well. He had checked with the bailiff and Maria had not arrived. He was going to have to start the day with Charley Peterson as his first witness.

Charley was wearing an olive green suit and he looked perfectly calm as he walked forward, stood in front of the clerk and took an oath to tell the truth.

“Would you state your name for the record?” Jack began.

“Charles Nickleby Peterson.”

“And Mr. Peterson, where are you employed?”

“Carolina Christian Teachers’ College.”

“And what do you do there?”

“I’m a professor of political science.”

“And do you hold any professional degrees?”

“Yes, I have a bachelor’s degree and a law degree from Georgetown.” Jack hoped those credentials impressed the jury because what was coming wouldn’t.

“Now, Mr. Peterson, you at one time were the public defender here in Cobb County, is that accurate?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And you, in fact, represented Rudy Kelly in his trial for first-degree murder, is that correct?”

“Yes, I did.”

Jack picked up the rape file that had already been stipulated into evidence, approached the witness and handed him the file. “Mr. Peterson, I’ve just handed you the state’s composite exhibit number two, and I ask you to take a look at it.” Charley perused the file and looked up at Jack when he was finished.

“Have you seen that document before?”

“Yes, I saw it for the first time when I testified before the grand jury.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes. It’s a rape file. Apparently, the police found semen inside Lucy Ochoa after she was murdered and for some reason created a murder file and a separate rape file.”

“Did you know anything about this rape file when you were representing Rudy Kelly?”

“No, I did not.”

“Did you file a request for the state to produce all evidence relating to the murder of Lucy Ochoa when you were representing Rudy Kelly?”

“Yes, I did.”

Jack handed him another document. “Can you identify exhibit number three?”

“Yes, that’s my demand for discovery or, to put it in layman’s terms, my request for all the evidence.”

“Did the state ever inform you that semen was found inside the victim, Lucy Ochoa?”

“No.”

“Would that have been significant for you?”

Jimmy DiCarlo was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Objection, Your Honor. Calls for speculation.”

“Overruled. You may answer the question, Mr. Peterson.”

“Oh yes, especially because the blood type was different from Rudy’s, which meant somebody else was in her trailer that night. It literally was the difference between a guilty and an innocent verdict.” Jack couldn’t believe the judge allowed that statement in, but he asked another question quickly before Jimmy could move to strike the answer. He handed Charley the state’s exhibit number four.

“Have you seen this document before, Mr. Peterson?”

“Yes, this is the coroner’s report that was introduced by the state at Rudy Kelly’s trial.”

“Who was the coroner at the time?”

“Harry Tuthill.”

“And where is Mr. Tuthill now?”

“He’s dead.”

“Is there anything unusual about this coroner’s report?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the jury what that is?”

“For one, there’s no lab analysis in there at all. There’s no mention of the semen found in the body. No mention of the blood type.”

“Had you ever seen a coroner’s report from Mr. Tuthill before Lucy Ochoa’s murder?”

“Plenty. I had been the public defender at the time for fifteen years. Harry had been the coroner for twenty-five. Murder was not a common occurrence in Cobb County but it did happen, and Harry always did the report.”

“Well, when he did the reports in the past were the toxicology results always in there?”

“Always.”

“Did you work as a public defender before you took over the job as the public defender in Cobb County?”

“Yes, I worked as an assistant public defender in Miami for ten years.”

“So your total experience in this field is twenty-five years?”

“That’s correct.”

“Have you ever seen a coroner’s report in a murder investigation that excluded a major piece of evidence such as semen in the vagina from its findings?”

“No.”

“Was there any advantage to the state in creating this separate rape file other than what we’ve already discussed?”

Jimmy DiCarlo was up again. “Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.”

“Overruled. The witness can answer the question.”

“Well, by creating a separate case that nobody knew about, they kept the semen evidence from being discovered by, say, a public records request. It’s a way of keeping everything secret.”

Jimmy DiCarlo was livid. “Your Honor, I move to strike the question and the answer.”

“Overruled, Mr. DiCarlo. Proceed, Mr. Tobin.” Jack couldn’t believe his string of good luck with the judge. Maybe Hang ’Em High Harry has an inkling these boys are guilty. He certainly knows the game they’re playing.

Jack decided to wrap it up there. The jury had to have the picture by now.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Jimmy DiCarlo was on his feet before Judge Stanton asked him if he wanted to cross-examine the witness. For a minute Jack thought he was going to walk up to Charley and strangle him. As it was, he stopped about two feet away from Charley’s face.

“Mr. Peterson, are you presently licensed to practice law in the state of Florida?”

“No.”

“Are you licensed anywhere?”

“No.”

“And the reason you’re not licensed is?”

“I was disbarred.” A collective gasp rose from the spectators’ pews, followed by scattered murmuring. Up until now the public had been largely silent. Jack looked at the jury and saw expressions of shock there as well. He’d thought about bringing the issue out on direct examination but had decided not to. It was an unforgivable mistake. Judge Stanton was rapping his gavel.

“Silence! Silence!” he shouted. “I’ll have everyone removed from this courtroom if I have to!” The murmuring stopped. “Mr. DiCarlo, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. And what were you disbarred for, Mr. Peterson?”

“Drunkenness.” There was another gasp from the pews. The judge rapped his gavel.

“I’m warning you, people.” But they were already silent again, some of them leaning forward expectantly, apparently eager for the next revelation.

“You were a drunk?” Jimmy DiCarlo proceeded. He was in Charley Peterson’s face now. Charley’s shoulders slumped.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“And were you a drunk when you represented Rudy Kelly?”

“Yes.”

Jimmy DiCarlo walked back to his table and retrieved a document and handed it to Charley.

“Take a look at that document, Mr. Peterson. We’ve marked it as defense exhibit number one.” Charley looked at the document and then looked back at Jimmy DiCarlo.

“Before you came into this courtroom today several witnesses testified about the method Mr. Brume used to question Rudy Kelly. That document you now have in your hand is an order by Judge Wentwell, the judge in the Rudy Kelly suppression hearing, saying that you could put on evidence at Rudy Kelly’s trial about how his confession was obtained, is it not?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Did you put on that evidence? Did you call his principal, Mr. Yates, or his employer, Mr. Dragone, as Mr. Tobin did in this case?”

“No, I did not.”

“Wouldn’t that have been helpful to Mr. Kelly’s defense?” Jack had no idea where Jimmy DiCarlo was going with this line of questioning.

“Yes, it would have.”

“Did you fail to do that because you were drunk at the time?”

“Probably.”

Jimmy DiCarlo picked up the coroner’s report. “And this coroner’s report, which you just testified on direct examination was so flawed. So flawed that you had never seen anything like it in all your years of practice. Did you bring that to the attention of anybody at the time?”

“No.”

“Did you ask the coroner when he was on the stand where the rest of the report was-specifically the toxicology results?”

“No.”

“Did you ask the state attorney, Mr. Evans?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t do so because you were drunk at the time, is that accurate, Mr. Peterson?”

“Probably.”

“Did you participate in any of the appeals of Rudy Kelly’s conviction?”

“No.”

“But you knew there would be at least one appeal?”

“Probably.”

“Probably? Do you know of any first-degree murder case where there was not at least one appeal?”

“No.”

“So you knew there would be an appeal?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever offer by affidavit or sworn testimony to anyone that you were incompetent at the time you represented Rudy Kelly?”

“No.”

“Ever at any time before Rudy Kelly was executed?”

“No.”

“You more than anyone were responsible for his conviction and execution, weren’t you, Mr. Peterson?”

It was Jack’s turn to jump up. “I object, Your Honor. Mr. Peterson is not on trial here.”

And it was Jack’s turn to feel Harry Stanton’s wrath. “Overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

“I guess I was,” Charley replied. He was now slumped low in the witness chair, his chin almost touching his chest.

“Has anyone charged you with a crime?”

Jack was on his feet again. “Objection!”

“Sustained. The witness will not answer that question,” Judge Stanton directed.

“I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor,” Jimmy said with a sneer, turning his back on Charley and walking back to his table.

“Redirect?” the judge asked. Jack hesitated but only for a moment.

“Mr. Peterson, did Clay Evans know you had a drinking problem before the Kelly trial?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know that?”

“He said things to me over the years.”

“Like?”

“One time he told me he heard I was a pretty good lawyer until I climbed inside the bottle. Another time he told me that a client having me for a lawyer could kiss his ass goodbye.”

“And this was all before the Rudy Kelly case?”

“Yes.”

“So they were banking on you being drunk?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained. The witness will not answer the question.” But Jack had gotten what he wanted: He had to put that issue in the jury’s mind. You can’t unring a bell, Jack thought, remembering Jimmy’s own words from a couple of days before.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

“You may step down, Mr. Peterson. Counsel, call your next witness.”

Jack looked at the bailiff, who let him know by shaking his head that Maria had not arrived yet.

“Your Honor, may we approach?”

“Come on,” the judge said, waving his arm at them.

When they reached the bench, Jack lobbied once again for the video confession of Geronimo Cruz. “Judge, I only have one more witness besides Mr. Cruz and she’s not here. We haven’t had any time to work out a stipulation of facts. The video confession is thirty-four minutes. I daresay that working out a stipulation and typing it up to read to the jury will take twice that long. So, using Mr. DiCarlo’s own concern for efficiency, it will be much faster to show the video deposition.”

The judge wasn’t in the mood for a long discussion. “All right, Mr. Tobin, put the tape in and let’s get it done. Your last witness better be here when it’s finished, though. If speed and convenience are the reason we’re using this tape, then you are not going to be able to delay this trial for one second because of a witness problem. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

After he had set the television in front of the jury and put the tape in, Jack motioned to Pat, who was sitting in the back of the courtroom.

“You’ve got to go to the hospital and find out what’s keeping Maria. If she’s not here in thirty minutes, this case is over.”

“All right, I’ll run over there,” Pat said, turning to go. Thank God she’s a runner, Jack said to himself. And that the hospital’s only three blocks away. Dick had their only car and he was already at the hospital. All Jack could do now was wait.

He concentrated on watching the jury as they watched Geronimo Cruz’s video confession. They were paying close attention, which was good. Now if Maria can only get here, we might convict these bastards.

Three blocks away another drama was taking place. Earlier that morning, Joaquin had taken a turn for the worse. His heart had stopped and a Code Blue was called. Dick arrived while it was in progress. Doctors and nurses were crowded around Joaquin’s bed. Maria was standing in the corner and appeared to be praying. There was no way he was going to convince her to leave at that moment. He couldn’t even ask.

They put the paddles to Joaquin’s chest several times before his heart started again. Minutes later all the doctors and nurses vanished as if they had been ghosts. Dick had seen many Code Blues in his day but he never got used to them. Still, this one was different-that was his best friend in the world lying on the bed being jolted around like a rag doll.

When Pat arrived, they were both standing over the bed saying the Hail Mary. She was out of breath from running and stood to the side until they were finished.

“What happened?” she asked.

“His heart stopped,” Dick said.

“Is he okay now?”

“He seems to be. The nurse says his vital signs are stabilized.”

Pat knew it was going to be next to impossible to get Maria to leave his bedside, but she had to try.

“Maria, we have fifteen minutes to get to the courthouse or the case is over. Everything Joaquin, you, Dick and Jack have worked for will be for nothing if you don’t testify.” She left herself out of the equation even though she was as much a part of it as they were.

“I can’t leave him,” Maria said desperately.

“You have to. Joaquin would want you to.” She hated using Joaquin like that, but there was no other way.

Maria looked at Dick.

“Go,” he told her. “I’ll stay here. Pat’s right, he’d want you to go.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and started to hand them to Pat.

“We don’t have time to get the car. We’ll have to run to the courthouse and hope we arrive in time.”

The bailiff was moving the television from in front of the jury when they jogged into the back of the courtroom breathing hard. Pat could see the relief come over Jack’s face.

“Call your next witness,” the judge told Jack.

“The state calls Maria Lopez,” Jack announced.

Maria walked to the front of the courtroom and took the oath from the clerk.

“Please state your name for the record,” Jack said. Maria did not answer. She had a distant look on her face.

“Ma’am,” the judge leaned toward her, “you must answer the question.”

“Maria Lopez,” she said, still looking dazed.

“And Ms. Lopez, where are you presently employed?”

“I’m a secretary at the state attorney’s office.”

Jack decided to lead her a bit. “You are presently my secretary, is that accurate?”

“Yes.”

“And before you worked for me you worked at the Bass Creek police department, is that accurate?”

“Yes.” She was still in a fog.

“And you worked specifically for the defendant, Wesley Brume, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“As his secretary?”

“Yes.” The leading questions were over. She had to focus now.

“How long did you work at the police department, Ms. Lopez?”

No answer. Jack repeated the question. “How long did you work at the police department, Maria?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Jimmy DiCarlo was out of his chair again. “Counsel is becoming too familiar with the witness.” Maria looked at Jimmy DiCarlo and then at Clay Evans beside him and then at Wesley Brume, the son-of-a-bitch she knew had shot her Joaquin.

“Fifteen years,” she said before the judge could rule on the objection.

“Counsel, you will refrain from calling the witness by her first name,” the judge told Jack. “And ma’am, you will wait to answer the question once an objection is made. Do you understand?”

Maria turned and looked at the judge. “Yes, sir.” In that moment, Jack could tell that she was back.

“Could you tell the jury, Ms. Lopez, what positions you held at the Bass Creek police department?”

“For the first seven years, I was a receptionist. Then I became a secretary. Eventually, I became Mr. Brume’s secretary.”

“Ms. Lopez, I want to take you back to January 24, 1986. What was your position on that date?”

“I was the receptionist”

“And what were your job duties at that time?”

“I answered the phones, opened the mail, filed, did some light typing-that sort of thing.”

“Do you recall what happened on that date?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you recall that?”

“I testified about it in a hearing in March of that year, I think, and you showed me a transcript of my testimony just recently.”

“What happened on that date?”

“Mr. Brume brought Rudy Kelly in for questioning, and later his mother, Elena, came to the police station and demanded to see her son.”

“Do you remember what time she arrived?”

“Yes. It was 3:16 p.m.”

“And why do you remember the specific time?”

“Elena made me write it down. It’s in my notes, which are part of the investigative file, I believe. I also recently read it in my testimony.”

“Did you let Elena in to see her son at that time?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was told not to by Detective Brume. Eventually another detective, Del Shorter, came out to talk to her, but she was never allowed to go back and talk to her son. Detective Brume was questioning him in the interrogation room.”

Now Jack switched gears. He had a letter marked as exhibit number six, which he handed to Maria. It was Joaquin’s copy of the May 2, 1986, letter from Tracey James to Clay Evans. Joaquin had mentioned it to Maria one day at the house and she told him she had seen it in Wesley Brume’s office. They then told Jack about it. Up to that point, Jack did not know how he was going to get the letter into evidence. Tracey was dead; Clay probably was not going to take the stand. Joaquin had received his copy, but Joaquin couldn’t verify that Tracey had sent it to Clay or that Clay had received it. Maria seeing the letter in Brume’s office made that connection. Still, Jack knew admissibility was going to be a major hurdle.

“Have you ever seen this, exhibit number six, before?”

“Yes. I have.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a letter dated May 2, 1986, from Tracey James to Clay Evans.”

“And who is Tracey James?”

“She was a private attorney who represented Rudy Kelly before the public defender took over the case.”

“And when did you see this letter?”

“Right around the time it was written, probably a few days later. Clay Evans came to the police department to see Mr. Brume, something he had never done before. They were talking in his office and I came in because Detective Brume had to sign something that needed to go out right away. The letter was on the desk. While Mr. Brume read through the document he was about to sign, I read the letter. I was standing over his left shoulder. As I was walking out of the room I heard Mr. Brume comment, ‘She can’t be serious.’ Mr. Evans didn’t reply, or if he did, I didn’t hear his reply.”

Jack addressed the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to offer exhibit number six into evidence.”

“I have several objections, Your Honor,” Jimmy DiCarlo interjected.

“Approach,” the judge said.

When they were at sidebar, Jimmy began his litany of reasons why the letter should not be admitted into evidence.

“I’ve never seen this letter before, Judge.”

“I sent it to you,” Jack said, “when I responded to your Request for Production. It’s on my pre-trial list of exhibits.”

“Any other reasons?” the judge asked.

“It’s hearsay, and besides, the only way he can introduce this letter is through either my client or Ms. James, and my client is not testifying.”

The judge looked at Jack. “Response?”

“Your Honor, Tracey James is dead and there is an exception to the hearsay rule when a person is dead. In any case, this letter is not hearsay because it’s not being offered for the truth of its contents. It’s only being offered to show that it was sent and received.”

The judge looked at Jimmy, who clearly didn’t have a clue how to respond. If he had asked the right questions, Jimmy would have learned that Clay Evans left the police department that day with the letter in hand and that the letter Jack had showed Maria was Joaquin’s copy, but Jimmy was too confused to think that fast.

Still, to Jack’s surprise, the judge sustained the objection.

“I’m not going to let it in, Mr. Tobin. This letter is based exclusively on a memo written by Joaquin Sanchez, Ms. James’s investigator, about a conversation he had with a man named Pablo. The memo is clearly hearsay. The conversation these two men had is clearly hearsay. A letter in which Ms. James says this Geronimo person was the killer because it is based on this incompetent testimony is also hearsay.”

“But Your Honor,” Jack replied, “I’m not offering it for the truth of the matter.”

The judge smiled at Jack. It was a “gotcha” smile. “Mr. Tobin, I’ve been practicing for almost fifty years. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that exception raised and I still don’t fully understand it. So let’s be a little more concrete in our analysis. You want the letter in so the jury knows that Clay Evans was notified by Tracey James back in May of 1986 that Geronimo Cruz was the killer, but you’re not offering it to show he was the killer, just that Evans was notified, is that accurate?”

“Exactly, Your Honor.”

“Here’s my problem, Mr. Tobin. You want to taint these men with this knowledge even though the knowledge is inadmissible and therefore incompetent, but you want to argue that it’s okay because you’re not offering it for the truth of the matter asserted. That’s legal gymnastics, Counselor.”

Jack knew the judge was right. As far as Jimmy DiCarlo was concerned, the two men might as well have been speaking Greek. He had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

The judge addressed the jury: “Ladies and gentlemen, I have ruled that exhibit number six is inadmissible and I instruct you not to consider any testimony that has previously been given about that letter. It should not be a part of your deliberations in any way.”

He then turned to Jack. “Counsel, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Ms. Lopez, I’d like to go to the year 1988. What was your position in the police department at that time?”

“I was still a receptionist.”

“Were your job duties the same?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Did the police department receive a letter from the Del Rio, Texas, police department in the year 1988?”

“Yes. I don’t remember the exact date, but there was this letter from the police department in Del Rio, and since it was my job to open mail, I saw what it was about. They had a Geronimo Cruz under arrest for raping and murdering a woman, and his driver’s license, which was a Florida license, showed a Bass Creek address. The reason they were writing to our police department was to see if he had any record here, or if he was wanted for any crimes in our area. We got inquiry letters like that all the time-it was pretty typical.”

“If it was a typical inquiry letter, why is it that you remember it?”

“Well, it related to the Kelly case and that was the biggest case we’d ever had.”

“How did you know it related to the Kelly case?”

“Well, Geronimo was one of the witnesses who had disappeared after Lucy’s murder. Most people in the barrio felt that Geronimo was the real murderer and that’s why it was significant to me.” Maria had gone too far with the last statement and Jack knew it. If he’d had a chance to prep her she never would have made such a mistake.

Jimmy DiCarlo didn’t miss it. “Objection, Your Honor. I move to strike the answer as nonresponsive and hearsay. Judge, may we approach?” Jimmy was livid.

“Come on,” Judge Stanton said tiredly.

Jimmy practically ran to the sidebar. “This is outrageous, Judge. She just testified for the whole neighborhood. I’m moving for a mistrial.”

The judge looked at Jack, who jumped right in. “I agree that her last statement was improper, Judge. I think you can instruct the jury to disregard it, however. I don’t think a mistrial is appropriate.”

“I don’t either, but Mr. Tobin, be very careful. You don’t want your whole case to go down the tubes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jimmy wasn’t done. “But Judge, they heard it. You can’t erase it from their memory.”

“I’ve ruled, Mr. DiCarlo. Now let’s proceed. I’ll instruct the jury.”

Jimmy still wouldn’t let it go. “But Judge-”

“The next word, Mr. DiCarlo, and you’ll be held in contempt. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The lawyers went back to their respective positions and the judge instructed the jury not to consider the last statement. He also admonished Maria. “Ms. Lopez, you are to testify only about what you know, not some scuttlebutt from the neighborhood or anywhere else, do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Proceed, Counsel.”

“What did you do with the letter?”

“I told Detective Brume about it right away.”

“And what did he do?”

“He told me to call the state attorney’s office. I heard him tell the state attorney, Mr. Evans, about the letter. And then he said that he’d be right over and he rushed out of the office to go, I assume, to the state attorney’s office.”

“What happened to the letter?”

“He took it with him.”

“Is that the type of letter that you would normally file somewhere?”

“Yes. Probably in the Kelly file.”

“And did you file that letter?”

“No. I never saw it again.”

The murmurs began anew in the courtroom. Judge Stanton pounded his gavel once more. “Silence!” he yelled again, looking threateningly at the spectators.

Jack sensed the moment. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Cross-examination?” He barely had the words out before Jimmy was up and on his way over to Maria.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said as he moved in on her, getting as close as he could without too obviously crowding her.

“Now, Ms. Lopez, I want to go back to your new employment with Mr. Tobin. Is it accurate to say you went to work for Mr. Tobin on the first day he started as the state attorney for Cobb County?”

“Yes, that’s accurate.”

“And it was the same day you resigned from the police department, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And how long did you work for the police department-fifteen years?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And you left without giving any notice-that’s pretty harsh, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, looking straight into Jimmy’s face.

“Is it fair to say you didn’t like Mr. Brume?”

“Yes, that’s fair,” she said, looking past Jimmy and glaring at the fat little toad sitting at the defense table.

“And you didn’t like the way he handled the Kelly case, did you?”

“No, I didn’t like it.”

“Specifically, you didn’t like the way Rudy Kelly’s mother, Elena, was treated when she came to the police department back in late January of 1986?”

“No, I didn’t like it.”

“They wouldn’t have treated a white woman with such disrespect, would they?” Jack could have objected but he let the question go. The jury was entitled to the truth.

“No, they would not have,” Maria answered, looking over at Wesley again.

“And you didn’t like the way Mr. Evans prosecuted the Rudy Kelly case either, did you?”

“No.”

“And you told this to Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you told it to him before he became state attorney?”

“Yes.”

“And you and he planned your resignation from the police department before he became state attorney, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Because he told you before he became state attorney and before he empaneled a grand jury that he was going to prosecute these two men, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Because he already knew they were guilty?”

“Yes.”

Like most attorneys when they get on a roll in cross-examination, Jimmy DiCarlo didn’t know when to stop. He had hit a double and his runner was on the way to third with a stand-up triple, but Jimmy wanted that home run-so he kept going.

“Where are you living now?”

“On a ranch outside of town.”

“And are you living with Mr. Tobin?” Jack couldn’t believe the question. Maria hesitated.

“It’s not like-”

Jimmy cut her off. “Just yes or no, Ms. Lopez. Are you living with Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes.”

“And are you also living with a Mr. Joaquin Sanchez, who was an associate of Ms. Tracey James?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice catching on the word.

“And is it true that you have been living with Mr. Tobin and Mr. Sanchez since the day you left the police department and went to work for Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes.”

“Now I listened very carefully when you testified about this 1988 letter from the Del Rio police. Did you say Mr. Brume had you call the state attorney’s office after he read the letter?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you to get the state attorney’s office on the line?”

“Ye-es,” she said, with a questioning hesitation in her voice.

“Not Mr. Evans?”

“No, I don’t think he said Mr. Evans’s name specifically but I knew-”

Again Jimmy cut her off. “Did you hear Mr. Evans get on the line?”

“No. I had already handed the phone to Mr. Brume.”

“And did you just assume Mr. Brume talked to Mr. Evans, or did you hear Mr. Brume actually say Mr. Evans’s name?”

“I assumed he talked to Mr. Evans because Mr. Evans was the only state attorney who worked on the Kelly case.”

“So you didn’t hear him say Mr. Evans’s name?”

“No.”

“And when Mr. Brume had you get the state attorney’s office on the line, he didn’t tell you the reason, did he?”

“Specifically, no.”

“You just assumed it was because of the letter he had just read, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hear the content of their conversation, correct?”

“Well, I heard Mr. Brume say he’d be right over, but of course I couldn’t hear-”

“You just heard Mr. Brume say ‘I’ll be right over’?”

“That’s correct.”

“How many state attorneys were there in the Cobb County office in 1988 besides Mr. Evans?”

“Four.”

“And is it accurate that the police department spoke with all these attorneys on a regular basis?”

“Yes.”

“And that would include Mr. Brume? He spoke to all these attorneys on a regular basis, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And he went over to the state attorney’s office to speak to these attorneys as well, didn’t he?”

“From time to time.”

“So he could have been calling one of these other attorneys for a completely separate reason, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“But you don’t know for sure, do you?”

“Not for sure, no.”

“And you have no specific evidence other than your assumptions, either that Mr. Evans was on the telephone or that Mr. Brume went to see Mr. Evans-and by specific evidence I mean you never heard Mr. Brume specifically tell you to get Mr. Evans on the phone; you never heard Mr. Evans’s voice on the phone; and you never heard Mr. Brume refer to Mr. Evans while he was talking on the phone, is that correct?” Jimmy rattled it all off like a machine gun.

“Yes, it’s correct. I didn’t hear any of those things, but he read the letter and immediately told me to get the state attorney’s office on the line.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.” Jimmy gave an arrogant look across at Jack as he walked back to his chair, as if to say, That’s the way you cross-examine someone. But the look didn’t faze Jack one bit. He was already rising when Judge Stanton said, “Redirect?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.” Jack was by Maria but he was looking towards the defense table, right at Jimmy DiCarlo. “Ms. Lopez, counsel for the defendants just asked you if you have been living with me since you came to work for me, and you replied affirmatively. Is there a reason why you moved in with me?”

Jimmy was up in an instant. “Objection, Your Honor. May we approach?”

“Come on, come on.” Judge Stanton put on his exasperated look but he was clearly eager to hear what was coming. The whole room seemed to be leaning forward, straining to eavesdrop.

“Judge, this is irrelevant,” Jimmy said as he was still on his way to the bench. “I don’t know what she’s going to say, but I think it could be prejudicial.”

“‘I think it could be prejudicial’-that’s an objection I haven’t heard before. What’s your response, Mr. Tobin?”

“Well, Judge, this is a door that Mr. DiCarlo opened. I did not ask a single question about where Ms. Lopez lives. Mr. DiCarlo wants to leave the jury with the impression that Ms. Lopez, Mr. Sanchez and I are living in some bizarre illicit relationship without allowing her to explain why she has been at my house-because it might be prejudicial to his clients. He should have thought of that before he asked the question and tried to smear all of us.”

“I agree,” the judge remarked. “Mr. DiCarlo, you opened this door. We are now obligated to see where it leads. Objection overruled.”

Jack walked back to the podium. Jimmy returned to the defense table and Clay Evans’s angry glare.

Jack repeated his question. “Ms. Lopez, is there a reason you moved in with me?”

“Yes. I was afraid. Your investigator, Nancy Shea, had been to visit me, and I’d told her what I testified to here in court. She was killed right after she left my house.”

The courtroom erupted, and the jury looked stunned. Several reporters jumped to their feet and started to clamber over their colleagues for the aisle; within seconds it was a stampede, and Judge Stanton could do nothing to stop them. After hammering the gavel several times and shouting “Silence!” at the top of his lungs to no avail, he ordered the bailiffs to clear the courtroom.

It took several minutes to get everyone out. Gradually the hubbub faded away as the room emptied, and those remaining-the judge, the lawyers, the accused, the witness, the jury, and the court personnel-were left in total silence.

Jimmy DiCarlo stood up. “Judge, may we approach?”

“Come up,” the judge said, no expression or sign of impatience on his face. There was no audience to play to.

“Judge, I renew my objection to this line of questioning. I move to strike the answer, and I’m moving for a mistrial. We’re not here to try the alleged murder of this Nancy person, whoever she is. The witness has just accused my clients of a murder unrelated to the charge actually before this court, and if that’s not prejudicial, I don’t know what is.” Jimmy was almost shouting by the time he was done.

“Be careful there, Counsel. Remember who you’re talking to. Mr. Tobin, do you have a response?”

“Yes I do, Your Honor. The witness, in her response to a perfectly justifiable redirect question, did precisely what a witness is supposed to do: She described facts. No personal opinions, no personal conclusions, just facts as she knew them. ‘I was afraid’-fact. ‘Nancy Shea visited me and I told her what I just told the court’-fact. ‘Nancy Shea was killed right after she left my house’-fact, Your Honor,” Jack said, barely able to contain his anger as he spat out the last three words.

“Mr. DiCarlo, I agree that this evidence does not put your clients in the best light, but that’s your problem. You ventured down this slippery slope-not me and not Mr. Tobin. Your objection is overruled, your motion is denied, and your request for a mistrial is denied. Is there anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.” Jimmy had the distinctly recognizable look of an outclassed litigator.

“Then let’s proceed.”

Jack returned to the podium. “Ms. Lopez, why was Mr. Sanchez living in the house?”

“He and Dick Radek are both living there. They are retired Miami police officers and they are serving as bodyguards.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Jimmy had managed to compose himself-he was nothing if not relentless-and was already on his feet approaching the witness, so the judge didn’t even ask him if he wanted to recross.

“This Nancy Shea-Mr. Tobin’s investigator-she was killed in a car accident, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“An accident?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And the ‘they’ you are referring to is the county sheriff’s department and that’s a totally separate department from the Bass Creek police department?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“No.”

“No further questions.”

Jack wanted the last word. “Your Honor, may I follow up? I only have one or two questions.”

“Make it quick.”

“Where is Joaquin Sanchez?” Jack asked Maria. She took the cue.

“He’s in the hospital. He was shot the other night when we were all out to dinner.”

“That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“Approach.”

“Was this man actually shot?” Judge Stanton asked, looking at Jack.

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied. “It was no accident.”

“Your Honor-” Jimmy started to speak but the judge stopped him. “Mr. DiCarlo, I’m inclined to agree with you that we can only try one murder at a time, but you keep opening these doors. I’ll tell you what, I’m going to sustain your objection and I’m going to instruct the jury not to consider these last questions about Joaquin Sanchez and I’m not going to let anybody ask any more questions. This has gotten way out of hand. Mr. Tobin, are you done?”

“Yes, sir. I’m resting.”

“Mr. DiCarlo, are you ready to start your case? Do you have any witnesses to put on?”

“I have at least two, Judge-and possibly two more. I’d like to start tomorrow morning, if possible. And I do have a Motion for Acquittal.”

“Okay. I’ll call it a day right after Mr. Tobin officially rests. Be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Oh, and Mr. DiCarlo, your motion is denied. I’ll consider it only after all the evidence has been presented, including rebuttal evidence.”

“Yes, sir,” both men replied at the same time.

That afternoon, Jimmy DiCarlo and Clay Evans had a late lunch in Jimmy’s hotel room.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Clay Evans shouted as soon as the room service waiter had left.

“Did what?” Jimmy asked, knowing full well what Clay meant. “I had to beat her up on the stand.”

“You didn’t have to beat me up in the process. You had her-you just went too far. Now the judge is thinking I’m a killer. He’s going to send this case to the jury and I’m going to fry-I can see it in their eyes.”

“We’ve still got a chance.”

“What chance?”

“You could testify. You and Brume could say you never received that letter. You don’t know what Maria Lopez is talking about.”

“You still don’t get it, you stupid fuck.”

“Get what?”

“Tobin wants us to testify. He’s waiting. He’s holding something back. You can put Brume on if you want, but I’m not going anywhere near that stand. I’ll take my chances.”

Jimmy didn’t say a thing for a moment. He took an enormous bite from his corned beef sandwich, chewed it down, then looked across the table at Clay.

“There’s another way.”

“What’s that?”

“It involves you delivering one of those satchels of money to me.”

“How much?”

“$250,000.”

For a moment the thought crossed Clay’s mind that Jimmy might have set everything up to get to this point. He’d already paid the son-of-a-bitch $200,000 for the worst fucking defense he’d ever seen. Nah, he’s not that smart. He just got out-lawyered.

“And what do I get for my money?”

“Well, in this case if you eliminate the prosecutor you eliminate the prosecution. Nobody else would have brought this case in the first place.”

“That’s certainly something Brume doesn’t understand. He’s tried to kill everybody but Tobin.”

“Are you sure it’s been Brume?” Jimmy asked.

“Who else could it be? Which makes me wonder why the fat little fuck is killing everybody. He knows something is coming. Where are all the fuckin’ honest people in this world?” Jimmy almost choked on his sandwich.

“If you’re interested, I could set something up for tomorrow morning,” Jimmy said, ignoring the tirade. “These guys are pros-they won’t miss. And you and I will be giving a press conference on the courthouse steps.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m a dead man anyway. All right, let’s do it.”

“You know the drill. It’s the same as usual. This time, however, you put a bag with $250,000 on your back porch at midnight.”

“Can’t you give me a couple of days? The banks close in two hours and it will take me over an hour to get to Miami.”

“No can do, Your Honor. These fellas aren’t exactly bankers. They deal on a cash basis.” Jimmy didn’t feel the need to tell Clay that his cut was a cool $100,000. That amount, combined with the $200,000 he was paid to handle the case, and things were starting to look up for old Jimmy regardless of the outcome.

Later that day Jimmy stopped by to see his other client, Wesley Brume. Although he’d given Clay a guarantee, it was always wise to have a fallback plan. In the unlikely event Jack Tobin showed up at court the next day, he needed Wesley Brume to testify.

Wes was much kinder than Clay Evans had been in his assessment of the day’s events.

“Things didn’t go too well there at the end, did they?”

“Nah, but it’s all part of the give-and-take of a trial. Tomorrow’s another day and we’ve got some surprises in store for Jack Tobin.”

“That son-of-a-bitch needs to be put in his place.”

“You’re right, Wesley, and you’re the man to do it,” Jimmy told him.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re the chief of police here in Bass Creek. The people need to hear from you. They need to know the truth. They need to know that Maria Lopez is a liar.”

“What about Clay? He’s a federal judge.”

“He’s a pussy. You know that-you worked with him for years. He doesn’t have the balls to walk up there, take the oath and speak up for justice. You do.”

The Grunt started scratching his head. Jimmy DiCarlo was sure right about him, but how the hell did Jimmy know him so well? He’d only talked to the guy one other time and that was a five-minute phone conversation. Clay had handled all the lawyer stuff, told him not to worry about it Whatever. Wes had no qualms about testifying. He figured he’d eliminated all the problems already. He could just call Maria Lopez a liar, say the letter was a figment of her imagination and be done with it. There was one thing he wanted to make sure of, though.

“You did check with the Del Rio police department, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, they have no record of a letter. The man who would have sent the letter is coming tomorrow. He’s going to say he doesn’t remember sending the letter and it’s not in his files anywhere.”

“All right then, I’ll testify. I don’t have anything to lose, do I?”

Except your life, you idiot, but Jimmy simply said, “Not at this point.”