Alibi (55 page)

“Part of me wants to believe James Matheson is innocent, and part of you will too. But the sad fact is, this young man with so many outwardly wonderful characteristics, this young man, the epitome of the American Dream, is a murderer plain and simple.

“However,” he said, straightening again, looking each and every juror in the eye, “I can promise you that, no matter what my feelings of regret, no matter how difficult it may be to shatter the reputation of a young man with so much to live for, no matter how upsetting it will be to know that James’ upstanding parents are learning the true nature of their son for the very first time, I will present the truth about the defendant—for Jessica, for her unborn child, for the Nagoshis, and most of all for the system of justice that this country represents.

“And so,” he said taking a breath, his face giving off the slightest trace of a sheen, “when you see that the evidence is irrefutable, when you realize that Mr. Matheson is the only viable suspect, when you hear that he lied to the police, that he concocted an alibi, that he confessed to his friends, and that he fathered a child who he killed in cold blood . . . you will have
no choice
but to swallow your sorrow and do your duty as well. For any less would make a mockery of this court, and fail to uphold the principles that we, as Americans, hold dear.”

David was in shock. Katz had taken his entire opening statement, based almost exclusively on James’ good character and turned it against him. It was a disaster. They were losing their case before they even had a chance to begin.

“David,” whispered Sara. “You have to take a recess, we have to regroup. We . . .”

“No,” he said, realizing that now, as Katz had taken his seat, the entire jury were staring directly at him. “We call for a break we look weak. Katz has left us with only one way out and we have no choice but to take it.” He was starting to sweat.

“How? David, please.”

“David,” said Arthur just as David rose to his feet. “Sara’s right. You need to think about this, you need to . . .”

But it was too late. David was up. Sara clasped James’ hand under the desk and the jury sat frozen in anticipation. The press had stopped scribbling, and the crowd held their breath. David glanced briefly up at the judge who, he could have sworn, gave him the slightest nod of encouragement before moving forward, swiftly, toward the twelve men and women on the other side of the room.

“Mr. Katz is right,” he said, beginning on the same spot it had taken Katz ten minutes to reach. “James Matheson is a person I am proud to call friend, and I will not take any more of your time repeating the positive attributes the ADA so rightly bestowed upon him.

“Mr. Katz is right. Murder is the ultimate tragedy and all of us, most significantly my client, would give anything to reverse the clock and return Jessica Nagoshi to her family.

“Mr. Katz is correct when he says that satisfaction and sorrow come as two equal and opposing by-products of our profession, and Mr. Katz is right again when he says it is your duty to convict the true killer no matter how privileged or promising he may be.”

David paused there, his heart beating triple time. He knew it sounded to the jury like he was giving in, like he was conceding his client had made the ultimate “mistake.” But this was right where he wanted them, in a state of confusion, uncertain as to what he was about to say next and on the edge of their seats, ready and willing to hear every single word.

But as they sat there, staring at him, he did something none of them could have anticipated. He turned his back on them. He turned and stopped and looked directly at his client, his green eyes locking with James’ in some unspoken promise of truth. And in that moment it was as if all else in the room had disappeared, as James nodded in thanks and David refocused, turning back to the jury quickly, decidedly, with a new edge of determination in his voice.

“James Matheson did not kill Jessica Nagoshi. He loved her, and he would have loved the child that he also lost at the hand of a so-far unidentified monster. Mr. Katz talked of sorrow, of loss and pain and regret, but unfortunately nobody—nobody—knows those feelings better than my client.

“This seems to be a morning of promises,” he said, the slightest trickle of sweat now making its way down his brow. “And so allow me to make you a pledge as well. A declaration of innocence is one thing but verification is another, and as Judge Stein so rightly instructed, no decision should be made without the guarantee of proof.

“And so, I promise you—each and every one of you—that I shall prove my client is innocent for one reason and one reason only. James could not have killed Jessica Nagoshi because Jessica Nagoshi was murdered by somebody else. And I . . .” he began, the room so still and silent that he swore he could hear the snow falling, softly, peacefully outside. “We,” he said, before gesturing at his fellow defense counsel behind him, “. . . know exactly who it is.”

The courtroom exploded as David moved quickly back to his seat, the judge calling for order, Katz already on his feet accusing David of lying to the jury in his short but shocking opening address.

“Your Honor,” the ADA screamed above the hubbub, “this is outrageous. Mr. Cavanaugh obviously has no respect for the good people of the jury. He insults them and he spits in the face of the police and the District Attorney’s Office who have been investigating this case for months.”

“Calm down, Mr. Katz. Order,” Stein called to the room. “I am afraid Mr. Cavanaugh has every right to make suppositions in his opening statement, and now it is his lot to back them up.” Stein turned to David.

“Mr. Cavanaugh, a word of warning, if I feel you are setting out on a path of unsubstantiated accusations, I shall shut you down before you have a chance to extend your finger and point.”

But David was sure that Stein knew better. He could see it in the old man’s eyes. “We have the proof, Your Honor.”

Stein nodded, a nod that soon turned into a shake. “All right, but I warn you, the road you travel is a dangerous one.”

“I understand that, Your Honor.”

“Judge, please,” urged the Kat.

“You had your fair share of airtime this morning, Mr. Katz. So I suggest you move on and prepare to call your first witness. We shall adjourn for an early lunch and then hear the testimony of . . .”

And then it hit him—as he remembered who the first witness was and realized what he had done to him. David saw it in the half-smile now spreading across the ADA’s face.

“Detective Joseph Mannix,” said Katz, speaking to the judge but looking at David. “We shall be calling the Boston Police Homicide Unit Commander directly after lunch.”

And in that moment David recognized the trap he had set for himself—and worse, for his good friend Joe.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Arthur as he pulled David and Sara into a vacant office along the Superior Court corridor.

“He set me up,” said David. “I had no choice.”

“Bullshit,” said Arthur. “You could have conceded a loss. Katz got you fair and square, David, and you made it worse by taking the bait. This is only the first morning, we had time to make up ground.”

“No,” David said again. They were pacing now, around a stranger’s office. “The odds are stacked against us, Arthur. We can’t afford to start in second place. At least I narrowed the playing field and . . .”

“And created a massive problem for Joe.” Arthur took a breath, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Having a witness for the Commonwealth on our side is a huge advantage, but you just pissed that into the wind because you cannot stand to lose to your longtime foe.

“Joe didn’t hear your opening, David, he assumes you stuck to the original. He has no idea you told the world that we know the identity of the real killer and Katz is going to grill him on it within the hour. You boxed him into a corner, David. This is nothing short of catastrophic.”

In all his years with Arthur, David had never seen him like this. The man had a temper, sure, but this was more than that. Arthur wanted to save James as much as he did, and he could see their chances slipping away by the minute, thanks to David’s hatred for Katz, and his selfish need to challenge the clever ADA every step of the way.

“I’m sorry,” said David at last, falling into the chair at the far corner of the office before burying his head in his hands. “This is my fault. I have placed us in an impossible position. I have promised something we can’t deliver. We have no
proof
.”

“Then we’ll get it,” said Sara, speaking for the first time.

Arthur turned to her as David lifted his eyes.

“Enough is enough,” she went on. “Dwelling on what is done won’t get us anywhere. First, we have to work out how the hell we are going to save Joe’s testimony, and then . . . then we do everything in our power to nail the real killer. That is all that is left to us, and so that is what we will do.”

The Kat began slowly. He was smiling and this in itself Joe found disconcerting. He started by asking Joe to state his position and give a brief description of his duties as Boston PD’s homicide chief. He even stopped along the way to compliment Joe on his “impeccable record,” which was enough to confirm to Joe that something was up.

“Lieutenant Mannix,” said the Kat, now parading like a peacock before the court, “I want to begin by making one thing clear. You have been following this investigation from the outset, is that correct?”

“Yes. The Wellesley police took the call, but myself and my partner Detective Frank McKay were the first homicide detectives on the scene.”

“And you surveyed the crime scene, supervised the collection of evidence, organized the analysis of such evidence, conducted interviews first with Miss Nagoshi’s family and then, subsequently, with her colleagues, friends, associates?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like an extremely thorough investigation to me, Lieutenant.”

“Every investigation we undertake is thorough, Mr. Katz,” said Joe, stealing a quick glance at David.

“Of course,” said Katz. “And I would expect no less from you, Lieutenant.”

The ADA proceeded to run through Joe’s investigations, starting with his first interview with James at the Deane University boathouse all those months ago. Joe had expected this. He knew Katz would be determined to paint James as a liar from the get-go, and unfortunately, there was nothing Joe could do to stop him.

“Yes, Mr. Matheson lied to us on that occasion,” Joe confirmed after a series of questions. “He certainly seemed to be uncomfortable given we approached him in front of his peers. Believe it or not, Mr. Katz, myself and Detective McKay have been known to trigger reactions of stress and discomfort even in the purest of innocents.”

Joe said this in a manner that could have been read as an attempt at humor, but he made his point to the jury. He was giving James an out, an explanation for his lies in that first all-important interview. But Katz knew this too, and was not going to take it lying down.

“Come now, Lieutenant, embarrassment is one thing but a blatant misrepresentation of the truth—to two
police officers
, no less—is most certainly another.” Katz stopped in front of the witness, shaking his head, his frame now captured in a lone muted sunbeam that streamed through the northern window, his shadow long and impressive.

“Mr. Matheson told you he barely knew Miss Nagoshi, is that right?” he asked, picking up the pace.

“Yes,” said Joe.

“He said he had no idea why she would be sketching him,” said Katz as he moved to his desk to pick up Jessica’s sketchbook, displaying the impressive drawing for the jury before entering the sketch pad as exhibit number 1.

“That’s right,” said Joe.

“And correct me if I am wrong, Lieutenant, but the defendant,” he said, now turning to point at James, “went on to tell a blatant lie regarding his whereabouts at the time of Miss Nagoshi’s death.”