Bury the Lead (18 page)

• • • • •

T
UCKER GOES MORE
than a little nuts when we meet in Calvin’s chambers before the start of the court day. I can’t blame him: I’ve just announced that we intend to call Eddie Gardner as a surprise witness.

“Your Honor,” says Tucker, “we’ve had the defense witness list for weeks, and the day they are to begin their case we have this bomb dropped on us? It’s outrageous.”

Calvin turns to me, but I put up my hands as if it’s not my fault, which in fact it isn’t. “Your Honor, the witness came to us yesterday, as a result of the publicity from my television appearance Friday night.”

He interrupts me. “An appearance which I am not at all happy about.”

That’s too bad, Calvin, is what I’m thinking. What I say is, “In the last two months Mr. Zachry has been on television more than Oprah Winfrey, and far more than I have. Perhaps Your Honor would like to issue a gag order; the defense would certainly have no objections.” Especially since we’ve already got Lassiter’s picture out to the public.

He lets it drop and gets me to agree that I won’t put Eddie on the stand before tomorrow, an easy concession, since that was my plan anyway. I want to give Laurie a chance to dig further into his background.

I make time to talk with Daniel before court, and he’s more optimistic and excited than he’s been since this started. Eliot told him about the Walter Castle connection, and he’s embarrassed that he hadn’t seen it, but he didn’t know Castle had been a target of Linda Padilla. He considers it very promising, but not nearly as large a cause for celebration as Eddie’s appearance on the scene.

My first witness is Cheryl Kelly, a reporter for Vince’s newspaper who happened to be in Daniel’s office when he got the first call from the killer.

I get her to recount the events, then ask her about Daniel’s reaction. “What did he say when he got off the phone?”

“That somebody just confessed to a murder,” she says. “Told him how it was done and where the body was.”

“Did he seem surprised?”

Tucker objects, but I counter that I am merely asking for the witness’s impressions. Calvin lets her answer. “Yes. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. He said it was probably a crank.”

“Did you at any time think Mr. Cummings was putting on an act, that the call wasn’t real?” I ask.

She shakes her head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

I turn her over to Tucker. “Did you hear a voice on the other end of the phone?” he asks.

“No.”

“Are you and Mr. Cummings very close friends?”

“No, not really. We just work together.”

“Has he ever lied to you?” Tucker asks.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so,” she says. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“So he could be lying and you might not be aware of it?”

Backed into a corner, Cheryl has to admit that she might not be able to tell if Daniel is lying. It’s a nice move by Tucker and partially negates a witness of already modest significance.

The rest of the day is taken up by similar witnesses who spent time with Daniel during the period when he was in contact with the killer. All of them completely believed, and still believe, Daniel’s story.

Tucker takes the same approach with each, which is to demonstrate that they have no certain knowledge that Daniel was telling the truth. He does not spend much time on each, signifying to the jury that he doesn’t consider their testimony very important.

He’s right about that.

Our nightly meeting is devoted to how we will handle Eddie on the witness stand tomorrow. Laurie has checked him out as best she can, though she warns that she had little to go on and little time to dig.

Kevin’s view is that we just let him tell his story, quickly and concisely. I agree, but I’m more concerned with the argument that Tucker will present to Calvin afterward. Our defense view is that Eddie’s testimony opens the door to other testimony about Lassiter, possibly from law enforcement officials. Tucker will say that those witnesses have no specific knowledge of Lassiter’s involvement in this case and therefore should not be permitted to testify. It will be a struggle; Calvin could come down either way. But it’s a fight we have to win.

Eddie seems a little nervous and tentative when he arrives at court in the morning. It’s understandable: He’s about to enter the glare of the national spotlight and talk about the night he went to pick up a hooker. It’s a sign of how little I know about my own witness that I don’t even know if he’s married.

He proves to be a decent witness on direct examination. My questions are straightforward, as are his answers, and he lays out what he saw that night, much as he did in my office. He speaks softly and without much emotion, but his words cause obvious excitement in the jury and gallery.

The defense has thrown its best punch. The battle has been joined.

I turn Eddie over to Tucker, who is trying to look confident despite what he has to consider a major blow to his case.

“Mr. Gardner, you testified that you are a truck driver and that you often drive cross-country. Is that correct?”

Eddie nods. “Yes.”

“How is it you know you were in this area on that particular night?”

“I keep a log for my employer of where I am at all times. It’s how I get paid.”

Tucker nods; this seems reasonable. “And your previous trip ended two days before the night of the murder?”

Eddie nods again. “Right. I got home on the twelfth; the murder was on the fourteenth.”

“At about one
A.M
.?”

“Right,” agrees Eddie.

Tucker makes some notes, then turns a page on his legal pad. “Are you familiar with the number 201-453-6745?”

“Yes. It’s my cell phone.”

Uh-oh. I don’t like where this is going.

Tucker takes a sheet of paper and gets permission from Calvin to approach the witness. He hands it to Eddie, who looks intently at it, still seeming unworried.

Tucker directs him to two calls made that night, at 12:45 and 12:51. Based on the area codes of the numbers called, they were both in this area.

“Did you make those calls?” Tucker asks.

“I don’t remember,” Eddie says. “I guess so.”

“Does anyone else use your cell phone?”

“No.”

“And it wasn’t stolen?” Tucker asks. “You still have it?”

“Yes.”

Tucker introduces another document into evidence, which he asks Eddie to read. It is an affidavit, signed by a vice president at Eddie’s cell phone company.

Eddie’s voice grows softer as he reads one particular sentence. “The two calls in question were made from within four miles of Camden, New Jersey, more than ninety miles from the city of Passaic.”

A bomb has been dropped in the courtroom, yet when I look around, I don’t see any charred wreckage. All I see are jurors and press and citizens and a judge staring right back at me. Kevin looks like he may throw up on the defense table, and Daniel is somehow able to obey my edict to look impassive. He may just be in a state of shock.

If it weren’t so sad, it would be laughable: Dominic Petrone had promised to help me if I kept his name out of the trial. I did keep his name out, but only because Lassiter’s name was a ready and preferable substitute. Now it seems obvious that Petrone has delivered on his promise by providing me with a witness to support my case. The problem is that the witness is lying, and my case has blown up in my face.

Thanks, Dominic.

Eddie finally gets off the stand, but not before Calvin publicly directs Tucker to pursue perjury charges against him. Calvin then tells Tucker and me to come back for a meeting in his chambers.

Tucker is surprisingly subdued in chambers, though I wouldn’t blame him if he were turning cartwheels. Calvin asks me how this disaster happened, and I tell him the truth, minus my previous conversation with Petrone. Both Calvin and Tucker seem to accept my denial that I knew Eddie was lying when I put him on the stand, and Calvin doesn’t seem inclined to sanction me further.

“I think you’ve probably suffered enough,” he says.

There’s no doubt that I have suffered, but not as much as my client, who I happen to be sure is innocent. There is virtually no chance that the jury will agree with that assessment, not now that his defense has been shown to be lying in front of them.

I make it through the afternoon court session in a semifog. I can only liken it to a team in the last game of the World Series, when the other team scores ten runs in the seventh inning to take a fifteen to nothing lead. The trailing team goes through the motions in the eighth and ninth, but they know the boat has sailed.

Ironically and pathetically, my next witness is a cell phone technology expert, whom I’ve brought in to show that the science is inexact as it relates to the night Linda Padilla died. I make some decent points, but Tucker blows me out of the water with his cross-examination.

“If your technology shows a call was made from Camden, could it actually have been made in North Jersey?”

“No,” says my expert.

Game, set, and match.

Our team meeting tonight is more like a wake, with my body the one on display. It is incredibly frustrating: We know who the guilty party is, but we can’t take advantage of that fact. Worse, we’ve been shown to be liars, which is to say that the jury will not believe anything we tell them for the rest of the trial.

Laurie and I take turns beating ourselves up. She feels she should have done more to check out Eddie, though there really is no way she could have in the time allotted. She would not have access to cell phone records, nor did she have the manpower at Tucker’s disposal.

For my part, I put someone on the stand that I was unsure of. In doing so, I staked the reputation of the defense on his testimony, and it took Tucker less than five minutes to leave that defense in shreds. I blew it, plain and simple.

Kevin tries to make both of us feel better, an impossible task if ever there was one. After a half hour or so he gives up, and turns his efforts toward motivating me to prepare for court tomorrow. It’s not an easy job; I would rather spend tomorrow having my eyeballs plucked.

The phone rings and I jump to get it, anything to not have to think about the mess we are in. I don’t even bother to look at caller ID; which is okay, because Willie’s voice is on the other end.

“Andy? It’s me.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping to be drawn into a long conversation about dog adoptions or coffee futures or anything else not having to do with our case.

“Sondra was attacked,” he says, and I now realize his voice is shaky.

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. She says she is. It happened in front of my house.”

“I’ll be right over,” I say, and he doesn’t try to talk me out of it.

I tell Laurie and Kevin what has happened, and Laurie comes with me to Willie’s. Kevin stays behind to go over tomorrow’s witnesses, pathetic though they may be.

Willie still lives in a very run-down area of Paterson. He bought a small house and has done a lot to fix it up. He is wealthy enough to live pretty much anywhere he wants, but feels like he would be a traitor if he left his old neighborhood. I wonder if what has just happened will change his mind, but I doubt it.

Sondra is lying on the couch when we arrive. She seems shaken but not badly hurt. Willie is more upset than I have ever seen him, even when he was on death row.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

“We got home from Atlantic City about an hour ago. I dropped Sondra off in the front and went to park the car because our garage is filled with stuff. I came back and saw her on the steps, with this guy grabbing her from behind.”

I turn to Sondra, who picks up the story. “I couldn’t find my key, so I was waiting for Willie. The guy grabbed me around my neck; I didn’t see him coming.”

Willie takes over, describing how he ran toward the house screaming and the guy took off. Willie hesitated to make sure Sondra was okay before picking up the chase, which allowed the attacker to get away.

“If I had caught him, I’da killed him.”

I have no doubt Willie would have done just that. “Did he take anything?” I ask. I look at the alexandrite locket still around her neck. “Any jewelry or anything?”

Sondra shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

Willie asks if he needs to call the police, and I say that it would be a good idea. Sondra hadn’t seen her attacker, but at least calling would alert the police to be on the lookout for him in the area.

Willie, mostly because of his past experiences, has a healthy distrust of the police, but he makes the call. He reports that they don’t seem too distressed, but promise to send an officer over to take a statement.

Laurie and I stay around awhile, mainly because I don’t want to go back and deal with the grim realities of court preparation. The doorbell rings and I answer it, fully expecting it to be the police. I am very surprised to see Kevin standing there.

“I didn’t know Willie’s phone number, but I knew where he lived,” Kevin says.

“Sorry,” I say, “I should have called you. Sondra’s fine; just a little shaken up.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Kevin says, and for the first time, I notice he has a weird expression on his face.

“What is it?” I ask.

“There’s been another murder,” he says. “A woman’s been strangled and her hands were cut off.”

• • • • •

D
ENISE
B
ANKS HAD
been out dancing with friends at the Belmont Club in downtown Paterson, approximately six blocks from Willie’s house. Friends say that she complained of a headache and left the club alone at eleven
P.M
. Her body was discovered an hour later in an alley fifty feet from her car.

We get this information from television, along with an unconfirmed report that Ms. Banks was strangled and her hands were cut off. If the reports are correct, either the same killer has struck again, or a copycat killer has taken over.

We are all stunned, both because of the murder itself and also because of the strong likelihood that Sondra was almost the victim. It’s certainly possible that there were two attackers in the area around that time, but I don’t believe in coincidences, and I’m not going to start with this one.

We head over to the murder scene, and Willie and Sondra come along. Their report to the police is even more significant now, but in all the turmoil it may take the cops a while to get around to them.

Vince is already on the periphery of the scene when we arrive, though he has no more information than we do. I’m sure he’s upset that a woman has been murdered, but his focus is elsewhere. “You think this will get Daniel off?” he asks, and I deflect the question, mumbling that we’ll have to wait and see exactly what happened.

Laurie says, “I’ll take Willie and Sondra inside.”

I nod. “We’ll be right here.”

She then leads them into the area where the police are concentrated, able to make her way in because she knows most of the officers guarding the periphery.

Vince, Kevin, and I spend the next hour and a half standing in the same spot, waiting for their return. I see a number of people that I know leave the scene, including the coroner, Janet Carlson. She sees me and just shakes her head sadly; it’s another night of exposure to the inhumanity of humans. I wouldn’t do her job for all the money in the world.

Finally, Laurie, Willie, and Sondra come out, and I’m very pleased to see that Pete Stanton is with them.

“Let’s find someplace to talk,” Pete says.

“I know a coffee shop three blocks from here,” says Vince.

Pete shakes his head. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

I’m sure Pete doesn’t want to be seen talking with the enemy, and I don’t blame him. I also don’t want a big crowd for this conversation, but there’s no way we’re going to get rid of Vince. “I think we should help Willie get Sondra back,” I say. “She’s been through enough tonight.”

Willie shakes his head. “I don’t need no help. There ain’t nothing going to hurt her.”

I believe him totally and they head home. The rest of us go back to my house, with Pete taking his own car. I ask Laurie what she has learned, but she explains that everybody was tight-lipped, and she was going to give up when she saw Pete. He was heading out, and he agreed to fill us in.

Pete asks us not to reveal that he spoke with us, since he knows Captain Millen would have a stroke if he found out. Pete also knows that all this information is due to us in discovery anyway, so he is merely giving us a couple hours head start.

“It’s the same killer,” Pete says.

“No chance it’s a copycat?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not according to Janet. She said the angle of the strangulation and the way he cut are identical. She said it’s the same guy; she told Millen while I was there.”

“What did he say?”

“That she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, and should go back and examine the body more carefully.”

“Which she’s doing now?” Laurie asks.

“Yeah. But she told me her opinion won’t change, that there’s no doubt.”

“Anything else we need to know?” I ask.

He nods. “The killer left a note. I think I remember the exact words . . . ‘Only fools kill the messenger.’”

This is another bombshell in a night full of them. “He’s talking about Daniel,” I say. “He had said that Daniel would reveal him to the world. Daniel was his messenger, and he’s telling the cops they are killing the wrong guy.”

Pete leaves, and Kevin and I immediately start to focus on the most effective way to use this information in court. We are both confident that it will be admissible, and we discuss strategy in case Tucker resists. More likely, he’ll see it as a futile effort; he knows as well as I do that every juror must already know about tonight’s events by now.

Laurie and I aren’t in bed until almost three
A.M
., and we spend some more time reflecting on the amazing turn of events. Today was a true disaster in court, but now I don’t see how we can lose.

“Too bad Denise Banks had to lose,” she says.

This comment jolts me; it’s pathetic how little attention I’ve paid to Denise Banks. I’ve been so caught up in my own situation that a victim of a vicious murder became a piece of a strategic struggle.

Also absent from my thinking has been the fact that the killer is still out there, probably preparing to strike again. Once again his actions defy understanding: Why go to all the trouble of framing Daniel only to commit an act that could get him off the hook days before his certain conviction?

I fully believe that Lassiter is the murderer, but these are not the actions of a dispassionate contract killer. It seems like more of a game, or an ego trip, a taunting way to embarrass the police. A more deadly version of his paint-ball game with me on the Manhattan street.

I’m up at six, refreshed despite getting less than three hours’ sleep. I watch the news as I prepare to go to court, but though it’s far and away the dominant story, there is less-current information than I got from Pete.

At seven I get a call from the court clerk: Calvin is summoning us to his chambers for an early meeting. Laurie takes Tara for her walk, and I pick up Kevin so that we can strategize before our meeting. The way Calvin handles this will decide Daniel’s fate.

“Well, gentlemen, we’ve got some issues to deal with” is how Calvin begins. He invites Tucker to update all of us on the events of last night, and Tucker quickly does so. His version has Janet Carlson less confident that the killer is the same, and neglects to mention the note.

“Did the killer contact anyone?” I ask innocently. “Or maybe leave any kind of message?”

Tucker nods and grudgingly tells us about the note. “You leave anything else out, Mr. Zachry?” Calvin asks with obvious annoyance.

Tucker says that he has not, and goes on to argue that this latest murder should not be presented to the jury, that it could be a copycat and does not change the facts concerning the previous murders.

We are prepared for this argument, but any first-year law student could win it. Kevin gives me a copy of the transcript of Tucker’s direct examination of Captain Millen. I read back to Calvin the exchange during which Tucker asked if any further murders have been committed since Daniel’s arrest.

When I’m finished reading, I drive the point home, though it’s already been made. “Clearly, if the question was proper when the prosecution asked it, it will be proper when I call Millen back to the stand and ask it again.”

Tucker has no answer for this, at least none that Calvin finds remotely persuasive. He asks me whom I plan to call, and I tell him just Millen and Janet Carlson. He decides to delay the start of court until after lunch, to give both of them time to get here.

I use the additional time to talk to Kevin about our final strategy for these witnesses, though it will be a cakewalk. When we’re finished, I realize I haven’t talked to Daniel since all this went down, and I arrange to meet with him in a court anteroom.

The first thing Daniel says when he’s brought in is, “Is it all true? Did he really kill someone else?”

I confirm that it is in fact true and bring him up-to-date on where we stand. He takes it all in, a look of some wonderment on his face. When I finish, he says, “It’s weird: An innocent person dies and it makes our case.” My opinion of him instantly goes up a very large notch; his reaction is exactly what mine should have been.

Understandably, he soon focuses on the trial. “Is there any way we can lose? I mean, there has to be at least reasonable doubt now, doesn’t there?”

I always try to be honest with my clients when I have bad news, so I might as well continue with that approach when the news is good. “Unless we get another surprise, I think Tucker will have to move for a dismissal.”

I call Captain Millen to the stand, and before I start my questioning I have to make sure I’m not salivating. He doesn’t put up any real resistance, answering my questions honestly and dispassionately. He admits his belief that Denise Banks’s killer is the same person who killed Linda Padilla and the other women, though he says he cannot be sure.

Janet Carlson is next, and she puts the finishing touch on a perfect afternoon. She says there is no doubt that one man has done all the killings.

“So if we assume that Mr. Cummings has been in custody for the past three months, would you say there is reasonable doubt that he killed Linda Padilla?”

She looks at the jury as she answers. “I would say there is no doubt whatsoever. Mr. Cummings did not kill Linda Padilla.”

Tucker does not cross-examine and asks for a brief recess. When it’s over, he stands and addresses the court. “Your Honor, I don’t think it’s any secret that the events of last night have cast a new light on this case. It has always been the policy of this state to treat everyone in a fair and impartial manner, and my office conducts this and all cases with that fairness as our primary concern.”

I allow myself a look at Kevin, and his expression confirms my feelings. Tucker is about to give it up.

“With that in mind, Your Honor, we believe that you should order a directed verdict of not guilty, and all charges against Daniel Cummings in this matter should be dismissed.”

There is an uproar in the courtroom, but my feelings, while I’m happy with the result, are unlike any I’ve experienced in my career. We’ve won, a client I believe is innocent is being set free, but I feel I’ve done little to accomplish that fact. Forces outside of my control intervened to provide this victory, and mixed in with my joy and relief is a slight discomfort.

It’s possible that the actual mechanics of the event are causing my reaction. I’m used to the tension and buildup before a verdict; this opposition surrender has a bit of the surreal to it. But it’s happened; I only have to glance at the press section to confirm that.

I look at Daniel, who seems stunned even though I told him this was a very likely result. He stares at me, questioning, and I smile and nod. Only then does his face reflect his joy.

Calvin dismisses the charges and it’s over. Daniel hugs Kevin and me, and Tucker comes over to congratulate us all. It’s a surprisingly gracious gesture from a man who is sure to face some difficult media scrutiny.

Vince comes down to the defense table. He hugs Daniel, then Kevin and me, and I think he’s actually tearful. “Man, you did it,” he says to me. “You did it.”

It’s not true, of course, but I don’t bother to correct him. Someone else did it, last night, by strangling and mutilating Denise Banks.