The Underground Man

37

“Do you like to gamble, Jeremy?”

Jeremy Dawson frowned at Steve Winslow through the wire mesh screen. “What?”

“You a gambling man? You like to take chances?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dirkson’s getting ready to rest his case. When he does, we got a problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You. You’re the problem. You’re a teenage crack dealer, and people don’t like that.”

“Yeah, right,” Jeremy said. “You tell me this now? So what the fuck you doin’, man? I sit in court and watch you, and all I can think is what the fuck is goin’ on?”

“At least you didn’t grab my sleeve.”

“I was too stunned. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sittin’ there, you got Carl on the stand, and suddenly you’re asking him if I was selling crack.”

“You didn’t like that?”

“What, are you nuts? I didn’t know what the hell you’re doin’. I thought you lost your mind.”

“Yeah, I think Dirkson thought so too.”

“So what the hell were you doin’?”

“The crack issue’s in the mind of the jurors. We can’t keep it out.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to hammer it in.”

“With Carl, I did.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, it kept me from talking about the other stuff. The stuff you told him about Uncle Jack.”

“Oh.”

“You really tell him that?”

“I may have made some remarks.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you did.”

“Well, so what? And what’s that got to do with crack? And what’s crack got to do with Carl Jenson, for Christ’s sake? I mean, why you have to ask him about crack?”

“You don’t think the jury liked that?”

“I know damn well the jury didn’t like that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like it either,” Steve said. “And let me tell you something. I’m not defending you for selling crack. I’m representing you in this murder case. And I’m representing you on the will. But as far as crack goes, if the cops decide to charge you with selling it, you get yourself another lawyer. I’m not defending that.”

“I’ll say. God, you’re like a fucking prosecutor.”

“That’s what you think. Wait’ll a real prosecutor comes after you for crack and you’ll change your tune.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Most people aren’t lucky enough to get a second chance, Jeremy. You’re lucky enough to beat this murder rap, give up that shit and fly straight. Things work out, you’ll have some bucks. Most likely you’ll get a fine and probation on the drugs. You stay straight, you’ll be sitting pretty.”

Jeremy’s face contorted. “How can you talk about that, man? They got me on this murder thing, and I didn’t do it. And you’re not doin’ a thing to help. They keep pilin’ on the evidence, you don’t cross-examine half the witnesses. The ones you do, you just get me in deeper. Talkin’ about crack, for Chrissake.”

“Forget crack. Let’s talk about the murder.”

“What about it?”

“Like I said, the D.A.’s gonna rest his case, then we got a big problem.”

“Yeah. So what do we do?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“So talk.”

“The problem is your story, Jeremy. You claim you saw this film, Heathers. But the cops got a witness who saw you there the previous Saturday night.”

“So? Why couldn’t I have seen it twice?”

“You could, but you didn’t, Jeremy. As an alibi, it’s real thin. And it isn’t the truth. The way I see it, you went home, you took a shower and changed. You had the will in your pocket. You were feeling like a big man, on top of the world. You weren’t about to go to the movies. No, I think you went out that night and smoked crack.”

Jeremy’s eyes faltered.

“And if you did, you went to your locker to get it, didn’t you?”

“Shit.”

“That’s what you did, wasn’t it?”

“What if I did?”

“The gun was in your locker, Jeremy. That’s when you would have taken the gun.”

“I didn’t take the damn gun.”

“Did you see it there?”

“When?”

“When you went to your locker to get the crack?”

A pause, then, “No, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t go, or you didn’t see it?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“Would you have seen it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think? It wasn’t in plain sight. It was wrapped up.”

“So you don’t know if it was there?”

“No.”

“But you did go to your locker to get crack that night?”

“All right. So what if I did?”

“Did you smoke it with anyone?”

“What?”

“These are not hard questions, Jeremy. Did you smoke the crack with anyone? Someone who would testify that you couldn’t have been in Manhattan killing your uncle because you were smoking crack with them at the time?”

Jeremy looked at him. “Fat chance.”

“Oh yeah?”

“No one’s gonna do that.”

“Even to get you off a murder rap?”

“Yeah, even then.”

Steve shook his head. “Some close friends you got, Jeremy. You ever think about that?”

Jeremy said nothing.

“So what’s his name? The guy you smoked crack with?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Phil.”

“Phil what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where would I find Phil?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I gotta subpoena him, don’t I, Jeremy?”

“Not gonna do you any good.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Steve said. “And you know why? I’ll tell you why. ’Cause if I find this Phil, in the first place he’s gonna lie, and in the second place he’s a crack head, so the jury wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“And it’s a hell of a rotten defense. ‘I didn’t do it, Your Honor, I was stoned out of my head on crack.’ If we try that, half the jury’s gonna believe you smoked crack, got stoned out of your head and went out and killed your uncle.”

“I see that.”

“You do? Good. So you understand we’re up shit creek as far as an alibi goes.”

“I see that. So what am I gonna say?”

Steve took a breath. “Well, that’s the problem. You already told the cops you were at the movies. They can prove that’s a lie. You stick with the story, you look bad because the jury knows you’re lying. You change the story, you’re admitting you lied on the one hand, and on the other hand, what you gonna change it to? You wanna tell ‘em you were out smoking crack?”

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we ain’t got a snowball’s chance in hell if I put you on the stand.”

Jeremy stared at him. “You’re not gonna put me on the stand?”

“What good would it do?”

“I don’t know. But, Jesus Christ, we gotta do something.”

“That’s for sure,” Steve said. “There are a lot of other ways to go, Jeremy. But they’re tough on the one hand, and risky on the other. And if we try ‘em, a lot of it’s gonna depend on you.”

“On me? What would I have to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Just that. Absolutely nothing. And believe me, it’s gonna be hard. What you have to do is absolutely nothing. Just sit in your chair. And don’t grab my arm. And don’t roll your eyes. And don’t look at me as if I’ve just taken leave of my senses. No matter how you feel about what I’m doing, or no matter what I do.”

Jeremy stared at him incredulously.

“Yeah,” Steve said, pointing. “Like that. That’s exactly what you cannot do in court.”

Jeremy shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “And that’s a judgment call you’re gonna have to make. You’re the boss, Jeremy. You know that? If you want, you can always fire me and hire a conventional lawyer. But frankly, I don’t think it would do you any good.”

“Why not?”

“Because the prosecution has too good a case. There’s no way to beat it any conventional way.”

“So?”

“So, we gotta try something else. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. The way I see it, it’s our best shot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. If I’m your lawyer, that’s how I’m gonna play it. But you’re the boss. It’s your call. If we lose, you’re the one goin’ up the river. So that’s why I’m telling you what I’m gonna do, and giving you a chance to fire me if you want.”

Steve shrugged. “So that’s why I’m asking.” He smiled, and looked him right in the eye. “You like to gamble, Jeremy?”