'Sometimes with these people -' Fred stops. 'With an offender sometimes -' He wipes his mouth with both fingers. 'An experienced officer, sometimes I think I know pretty well when someone's giving me a line.'
'Yes?'
'We don't always want to take them down to the Hall for the box.'
'The lie box?'
'Right. Here we couldn't. She's laying there with tubes coming out of everywhere.'
'So what did you do, Officer?'
'We tell them we're giving them a box, only we don't' 'You created that impression?' 'That's it.'
'And how did you do that?' 'We put something on her head.' 'What?'
'Something we borrowed from one of the nurses.' 'What?'
'That strap-like, you know, for the heart test?'
'EKG?' 'Right.'
'And you put that around her head? So you could test what she was thinking?'
Lubitsch doesn't answer. His eyes roll up to Hobie and fix him with a dark look meant for the street.
'And was it just the pressure strap? Was that the entire apparatus?'
'No. It had a piece of telephone cord attached.' 'Attached to what?' 'The thing on her head.' 'And what else?'
'A machine.' Lubitsch looks hard at Hobie. Obviously there's no point. 'A copying machine.' 'A photocopying machine?' 'Right. We borrowed that from the nurses, too.' 'Then what did you do?' 'Asked a question.' 'And?'
Lubitsch shrugs. 'Then we pressed a button on the machine.' 'For what?' 'The answer.'
'You get the answer from the machine?'
'That's what we say.'
'Is that what you said to Bug?'
'Right.'
Hobie doesn't speak. Instead, he simply beckons for more with the back of his hand.
'See, we put a piece of paper in the machine before we start. Okay? Then when we press the button, it comes out and we show it to her. Okay?'
'And what was written on the piece of paper?'
' "She's lying." ' There is laughter, of course, a rippling chorus loudest from the jury box.
'So you had this young woman sitting there with a rubber strap
on her head and a piece of telephone wire that was attached to a Xerox machine, and then you pressed a button and it produced a piece of paper that said she's lying and you showed that to her, right?' 'Right.'
'And she believed it?' 'Because she was lying.'
Hobie looks to me, without even bothering to voice the objection. I strike Lubitsch's last answer and Hobie expels a magnificent sigh of disgust as he walks back to the defense table, winding his head. Cops.
'Are we done?' I ask.
Hobie argues vociferously that Lovinia's testimony has to be suppressed. He calls the police 'deceptive' and 'exploitative,' as if the Supreme Court hadn't long ago decided to tolerate such conduct in the name of effective law enforcement. When Molto comes to the podium to respond, I greet Tommy with a dour look. He was running changes on me this morning. One of the iron rules of my courtroom, especially for the prosecutors, is that you pay the price when you mess with the judge. The P As will run you over if you let them, and as a woman, I feel the need to be particularly firm. I'm frosty enough with Tommy to scare him. But I deny the motion in the end. No right of Nile's was violated by what the police did to Lovinia. Bug, especially as a juvenile, would have a pretty strong argument that the statements she made to Lubitsch and Wells can't be used against her. In fact, now that I think about it, I see how Hobie persuaded Bug - and her lawyer - that she could ignore Molto's threats to throw out Bug's deal if she came off her prior statements. Given this monkey business, there's no way Tommy could risk reprosecution, since Bug might walk completely. Hobie, the pro, does not miss a beat when I rule.
'In the alternative, Your Honor,' he says, 'I'd like to make the officer's testimony part of my case. So I don't have to recall him.' Relieved, Molto ventures no objection, but says in that case
he'd like to ask a few more questions of his own. He stands at the prosecution table.
'Officer Lubitsch, after Ms Campbell admitted she was lying -'
'Objection.
He
told her she was lying.'
'Rephrase the question.'
'After this mock-polygraph,' says Tommy, 'Ms Campbell made a statement, correct? And is it fully set forth in your report?'
Lubitsch testifies that each of his reports is an accurate rendition of what Lovinia said.
'And returning to September 12 in the hospital, did you ever tell Ms Campbell what Hardcore had previously told the police?'
‘I didn't know
what
Hardcore had said. It wasn't my case. Montague asked me to talk to Bug because I knew her. That's all. She told me a story, we did our lie-box thing, and she made her statement.'
'You didn't tell her what Hardcore said?'
'Nope. That's not my s.o.p.'
Tommy nods. He's just made up a great deal of ground. Sorting through it all, the critical issue in evaluating Bug's testimony is whether what she said to the cops in the first place was true. I could believe she told them what they wanted to hear, not so much because she seems easily cowed - even at fifteen she isn't - but because she's clever enough to deal that way. But if Bug didn't know what Core had said, there' s only one way, realistically, her sworn statements to Lubitsch could match Hardcore's version of events: because that's what happened out on the street. At least, that's the way I add it up. Tommy does, too. He's gone back to his seat with an unbecoming little swagger, enjoying the fact that he's finally put Hobie in his place.
In his chair, Hobie again is taking his time, his lips gummed over each other, staring at Lubitsch once more, puzzling something through.
'Officer, did you figure on testifying in this trial?' he asks suddenly.
'Huh?' answers Lubitsch.
'Did you have it in mind as this trial was coming up that you'd end up as a witness?'
'I don't know. I thought I might.'
'You did?' Hobie pushes through the mess of papers on the table. 'You weren't on the state's witness list.'
Lubitsch has an uncomfortable moment. His eyes briefly close, lizardlike.
'I saw Montague at Area 7 last week. He said the witness might be doing a spin, and if she did, I was going to have to come stand behind my paper.'
'Just a warning.'
'That's all.'
'You didn't go review your reports at that point?'
'No. I kind of live a day at a time, counsel. I woulda thought she was too smart to flip, but you live and learn.' That's meant as a jibe. He's clearly had an earful about how Hobie led the girl astray.
'And how did you find out you were going to have to come testify today?'
'When I come on the job at eight, at roll call, I got a message: phone Montague.'
'You didn't spend the day yesterday getting ready to testify?'
'I'm off Wednesdays. I was putting up sheetrock, if you want to know.'
'And when you reached Montague today, did he explain why you were gonna be needed in court this morning?'
‘I don't know,' says Lubitsch, vamping. 'Sort of.'
'Sort of,' says Hobie. 'Well, at some point today did someone - Molto, Montague, Mr Singh - did one of them explain that Lovinia had testified that in persuading her to change her story, you'd told her what Hardcore had to say?'
'I heard that.'
'And you realized, didn't you, that it would help the state if you could testify that didn't happen?' 'Nobody told me what to say.'
'I understand, Officer. But you've been around a lot of trials, haven't you? And you recognize the significance of your testimony that you didn't tell Bug, don't you?'
Lubitsch's eyes cheat just a trifle in my direction. I get the feeling that in somebody else's courtroom Fred might try a line, a dodge.
‘I have the picture generally.'
'Now, Officer, I want to hand you a copy of your report of September 12, marked as Defendant's Exhibit 1, and I'm gonna ask you to read out loud the part where it says you didn't tell Lovinia Campbell what Hardcore had said.'
Lubitsch sits a minute, staring outward. He has that look again: stop fucking with me. He bothers only with a bare glance at the report, which Hobie has laid on the rail of the witness box. He does not even touch it.
'It's not there.'
'It's not there,' says Hobie. 'So this is just something you remember?'
‘I said it's not my s.o.p.'
'It's not your standard operating procedure to tell one witness what another witness has said, correct?' 'Exactly.'
'And that's why you say you didn't tell Bug?'
'I say I didn't tell her that, cause I don't have any recollection that anything like that ever happened. That's why I say it.'
'Okay,' says Hobie. 'You don't have any recollection.' He's moving around again. By now, I know it's a bad sign for the state when Hobie starts roaming. If I were the prosecutor, preparing a witness for cross, I'd tell him, "Watch out. If Turtle starts moving, that means he has you on a roll." But Lubitsch doesn't know that and sits there, with his bulk and his attitude, still thinking he's doing okay. 'And it's fair to say, isn't it, that you haven't had a lot of time to review the reports or to get it firm in your mind exactly what went on in your interviews of young Miss Lovinia?'
‘I remember what happened, counsel.'
Hobie scratches his cheek. He is doing his best to remain mild, if not genial, in the face of Fred's hostility. Someone - Dubinsky, probably - has told him Lubitsch is a regular here, something of a favorite of mine.
'Well, let's talk about your visit to Bug's hospital room on September 12. You say Montague asked you to go over there because you know her, correct?'
'Not like we're pals. I arrested her twice.'
'But you had a good relationship with her as a result?'
' "Good relationship"? I don't know what that means.' He's reared back, then subsides a bit, aware perhaps of how contrary he's becoming. 'I'm not trying to be cute, counsel, but you'd say we had a professional relationship. She knew I'd be professional with her. The first time where she got cracked, we sort of caught them in the act - I mean, when we, you know Tactical, when we get in the area, this operation of BSD, they're very good at rolling things up. But this time I saw some car tearing off and Bug and me had a little foot race and I grabbed hold of her and I told her how it was and she was co-operative.'
'You "told her how it was"?'
'Usually, when these kids are out selling small stuff, usually they'll keep it up in their mouth. The seams. So they can swallow it if the Man comes on them. It's not enough to kill them. So they swallow. And I grabbed Bug and told her if she tried to swallow I'd have to choke her, or pump her stomach, and for her just to spit it out and she did.'
'And you made friends,' says Hobie. The delivery is droll, not quite disparaging, just enough to bring out the sad ridiculousness of the entire situation. He derives uproarious laughter from everyone, including me. Yet there is a homely truth here. There are probably two hundred kids in T-4 with whom Lubitsch and Wells have this kind of relationship. They know their mommas and cousins, their gang standing, maybe even in a remote way how they're doing in school. They treat them with some feeling. Fred has reason to be riled and he treats Hobie to an acid look.
'I didn't ride her, okay? It was a thousand feet of a housing project. I could have charged her as an adult. I didn't. We did it as a juvie beef, she did some home time, she got out.'
'You were fair.'
‘I try to be,' says Lubitsch and hitches his massive neck. 'And knowing you had been kinda fair to her in the past, Montague asked you to see her in the hospital?' 'That's the picture.'
'And you went with your partner -' Hobie starts through the reports. 'Wells.'
'You and Wells went and you told her to roll, to make a deal, didn't you?'
'That I remember.'
'And she told you what you took for a lie, namely that the shooting of Mrs Eddgar was just a drive-by by a rival street gang.' 'That's what she said.' 'Are there drive-bys in that neighborhood?' 'Plenty.'
'But you were confident she was fibbing?' 'Lying was my impression.'
'Even though this girl was more or less in your debt? Even though she'd been kind of co-operative with you before, you didn't believe her?'
Lubitsch permits himself a slight wise-guy smile. Grow up, he'd like to say.
'I didn't.'
'You remember why in particular?'
Lubitsch looks to the ceiling. 'Didn't hit me right.'
'Could it be,' says Hobie slowly, 'that Montague had already told you what Hardcore had said?' Hobie stops to watch Fred. This is where he wins or loses. Lubitsch takes a breath and once more lets his eyes rise in reverie. He teeters an instant on the
brink of denial. But now the events have begun to come back to me. That was the day Wells and he were in my chambers calling the case a doozy. Fred said he was going to General. And he was gloating, because he knew all about it by then. He
knew
Hardcore had made Nile a suspect. "Fred," I want to say, "for Chrissake, Fred." Instead, with little conscious intention, I clear my throat. His eyes hit mine. The pupils seem to enlarge in that half-instant, he shrinks back in his seat, and it comes to him just as it has come to me. He almost nods, as if his obligation to tell the truth arises as a matter of personal allegiance.