Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (20 page)

CHAPTER 37

“You bitch. You black bitch. Don’t you ever do that again.”

They were standing alone in the hallway. The jury had been dismissed for the day.

Without so much as a flinch Phyllis Fisher swung her arm in a long sweeping loop and slapped him square across the mouth.

Neil had not seen it coming and let out a scream. He thought several of his teeth had loosened.

“Don’t you ever call me a bitch again. As for black bitch, if I hear you say that one more time, I’ll take the switchblade that’s in my pocketbook and cut your balls off. You hear me, white boy?”

White boy literally ran out the courthouse, not bothering to look back.

***

The chambers were still silent. Everyone was afraid to utter the first word.

Judge Sugarman was weighing his options.

“Damn all of you. This is a courtroom, not a three ring circus. Mr. Gibson, first, I am holding you in contempt of court and fining you $1,000. Make that $2,000. If it happens one more time, the fine will be $5,000 and five days in jail so you can have plenty of time to reflect on how not to behave in a court of law.”

Billy Jo said nothing. He was expecting worse. Far worse.

Marta clearly was not satisfied.

“Your Honor, I demand a mistrial. What that West Virginia piece of shit said in there was clearly prejudicial, and he damn well knew it. The jury had no right to hear prior inadmissible acts by the deceased.

“Ms. Clarke. First I strongly suggest you watch your language in my chambers. I apologize for my slip of the tongue before. Second, as long as I am the one wearing the robes,” the judge had previously picked up his robes, “you request, you do not demand. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Sugarman kept shaking his head. His very first trial and already a request for a mistrial. What the hell would the Chief Justice say? My reputation would be in the crapper before it ever had a chance to begin.

“I am denying your request for a mistrial. I will instruct the jury to disregard the comments made by our invited friend from West Virginia. I will further instruct the court reporter to expunge any self-serving comments made on the record by Mr. Gibson.”

Judge Sugarman looked around the room, just waiting for anyone to challenge him.

“We will resume at nine thirty and I am giving you all fair warning. One more time and someone will be a guest of the county for at least twenty-four hours. Now get the hell out of my chambers. I have work to do.”

Thirty seconds later the room was empty. Sugarman reached into his bottom draw for a pint bottle of cheap gin.

I need this; and I damn well earned it.

***

Something was wrong; very wrong.

Phyllis was prepared for a battle. She would let the judge know she felt O’Brien should be removed from the panel for his inattention and racist remarks. Instead Neil said nothing. He smiled at her and appeared to pay attention to what was going on.

Billy Jo was in a somber mood and made a brief apology to the judge and jury for his uncalled for remarks the day before. The judge had instructed the jury to disregard the comments. They were not a part of the record and should not be taken into consideration. As every law student knows,
“You can never unring the bell.”

“Mr. Gibson, you may continue your cross exam.”
But watch yourself.

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Detective Alderman. I am not asking if it is likely, I am asking only if it is possible. Considering the angle of the entry of the bullets, to the chest and abdomen, is it physically possible the deceased shot himself? Remember, you are still under oath.”

Detective Alderman began to squirm. He asked the judge if he had to answer the question although he obviously knew the answer.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Yes. Technically it’s possible but I—”

“Thank you, Detective. Your testimony is the .38 Smith and Wesson caused the fatal wounds, there were no fingerprints on the weapon, and it was possible the wounds were self-inflicted. Am I correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“No more questions. You are excused, Detective.”

Alderman restrained himself from spitting in Billy Jo’s face as he walked past him.
Slime bag. No good fuckin’ slime bag.

“Ms. Clarke, it’s now eleven o’clock. Do you want to call your next witness or should we break for an early lunch? Your call.”

“Your Honor. I did not expect cross to end so quickly. My next witness will be available at one p.m. sharp.”

“Adjourned. Be back in your seat at one.”

Neil O’Brien stood up and politely waited for Phyllis to walk by him.

Looks like I scared the shit out of Mr. White Boy. I would never carry a switchblade to court. Or anyplace else.

La’Tasha Williams knew something was going on between Jurors Seven and Eight, but wanted no part of it. All she wanted was for the trial to end so she could go back to her job, assuming she still had one.

***

Lunch consisted of an assortment of sandwiches, potato chips, and soft drinks, for both sides. If this kept up, they would all have to go on a diet.

“Please call your next witness, Ms. Clarke.”

“The State calls Mr. Donny Dombrowski to the stand.”

There were more than a few blank stares in the room. Although he was on the witness list required to be shared with opposing counsel, no one was quite sure who he was and what he had to say.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dombrowski. How are you today?”

Donny looked confused.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, but I think you have confused me with my father. He’s been dead for a long time. My mother knows exactly when.”

Now it was Marta’s turn to be confused. “Why would I think you are your father?”

“You called me Mr. Dombrowski. My father’s name was Mr. Dombrowski. His first name was Frank. I’m just Donny.”

“May I call you Donny?”

“Why would you call me anything else? I just told you that’s my name. Are you really a lawyer? I don’t think you’re very smart. You don’t even know who I am or what my name is. I think I want to go home. I don’t think I like you very much.”

Billy Jo was amused. He felt sorry for Donny, who was obviously mentally challenged. He felt sorrier for the Black Widow.

“I’m sorry, Donny. I think I got off on the wrong foot.”

Donny looked down at Ms. Clarke’s feet. He didn’t see anything wrong. They both looked normal to him.

“Donny, it’s just a figure of speech. Never mind. Where do you live, Donny?”

“At home with my mother. She drove me here today. I don't drive. I take the bus everywhere.”

Here Donny took out a bus schedule and showed it proudly to Marta.

“It tells me what time the bus picks me up and I know all the stops. I also know most of the people on the bus. They say hello to me and I say hello to them.”

Donny seemed to forget he did not like Ms. Clarke very much.

“Do you see that man sitting over at the table? The older one. Do you recognize him?”

“You mean the one you showed me a picture of the other day? The one who killed Tony. Yes, I recognize him. You told me he’s a judge but not a very nice judge. You told me he should go to jail. He seemed very nice when I talked to him before he killed Tony. I don’t think he really killed Tony. Tony didn’t have any enemies.”

Marta knew any hope of Donny helping her case was now solidly in the crapper. The thought of witness tampering never occurred to her. She had just been setting up the ground work. Donny was a seven-year-old boy trapped in the body of a twenty-three-year-old man. His mind had stopped developing close to sixteen years ago.

She had no choice but to continue.

“When did you first see that man and what was he doing, Donny?”

“I saw him three times. Each time it was just before noon and I was getting hungry. My mother makes me a big lunch every day. It’s always different and my mother is a very good cook.”

“Do you remember when it was?”

“It was two days before and the day you said he killed Tony. He was casing the place. I said hello to him and then I had to go home. I never want to be late for lunch. My mother would be angry with me.”

Marta knew when to cut her losses. She thanked the witness, passed him over to Billy, and said a small prayer.

Billy was just itching to ask a few probing questions.

“Hi Donny. Excited at being here today?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me, Donny, what is your favorite kind of ice cream?”

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“On what grounds, Ms. Clarke? Do you have something against ice cream?

Marta withdrew her objection and quietly sat down.

“Donny, you can tell Mr. Gibson what kind of ice cream you like.”

“Chocolate and cherry. What kind do you like, Mister?’

“I’m a judge, Donny, and I love cherry. Maybe afterwards we can get some ice cream cones.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained. Guess we can’t have any ice cream now, Donny.”

“I don’t like that lady lawyer very much.”

“I can understand that. Now, Mr. Gibson here has a few questions for you. Will you answer them truthfully?”

“Of course. My mother said it is a sin if you lie.”

“Donny, you said you saw that man over there near Tony’s house and he was casing the place. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does casing mean, Donny?”

“I don’t know.

“Who told you Tony was killed?”

Donny stood up and pointed a finger at Ms. Clarke, who was now ready to die.

“I have no more questions for you. If the judge feels it is appropriate now that you are no longer a witness, I would like to buy you a double scoop of cherry ice cream.”

Bob Sugarman was thoroughly enjoying the banter.

“The witness is excused with the thanks of the court. If Ms. Clarke has no objections, I see no reason why Mr. Gibson cannot buy Donny a double dip cherry ice cream cone when we adjourn. As for you, Ms. Clarke, chambers. Now.”

CHAPTER 38

Chambers meant all interested parties, not just Marta Clarke.

“Do you have any idea why I called you here, Ms. Clarke?”

Marta did not say a word. Of course she knew why. She could see her certificate to practice law as a place mat when she was having soup and a baloney sandwich for dinner—alone.

“Casing the place. Did you really think you could get away with that? Even the jurors who were half asleep picked up on that one. Telling that poor disabled kid that Anthony Ricardo was murdered and implying the defendant did it. What could you possibly have been thinking? I have a good mind to report this to the bar association.”

“Do you have any motions to make, Mr. Gibson?”

Billy Jo was feeling sorry for Marta. He wanted to win this one fair and square.

“No, Your Honor. I think it was an unfortunate mistake on her part, but not one that caused any real harm. If a lesson was learned here, and I think it was, personally I would suggest to the court we all forget it. It seems now we are even.”

Bob Sugarman was wavering. It was something everyone in the room had done before.

“Consider this your lucky day, Ms. Clarke. The both of you have used up all your share of brass rings. Now I suggest we adjourn for the day and both of you, and I mean both of you; take Donny and his mother out for dinner and ice cream, wherever they want. Have a nice day.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Marta began to breathe normally again.

***

Phyllis Fisher could not get over the change. Neil had actually taken notes during the day and acted like a gentleman. It was more than she could say for Juror Ten, Brian Andersen. During the
voir dire
he stated he was a retired economist. He was white, divorced, nerdy looking, and appeared to be in his mid-sixties. He had been staring at her legs and chest whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

Brian knew she was also divorced. He did not know she had an overprotective boyfriend. He figured a middle aged, single black woman would be easy pickings. He had a good retirement plan.

Phyllis gave him a look that clearly stated
“I would sooner sleep with a rattlesnake than you, old man. Now put your beady little eyes back in your head where they belong.”

Mr. Nerd looked away. She was not as tempting as he thought she was. Nerdy was also wondering what was going on in chambers with Ms. Clarke. He was sure the judge was reaming out her ass.

The thought of that got Brian excited.

***

Marta declined the invitation to join Billy, Donny, and Mrs. Dombrowski for dinner. She pleaded too much preparation. She offered to pick up half the tab.

“You owe me one,” Billy replied. He knew who the next witness would be. It would make for a most interesting day. He too, had much work to do.