Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (19 page)

CHAPTER 35

Court did not resume until after the lunch break.

“Apologies, Your Honor. I did not realize that…”

“You may continue your opening statement whenever you’re ready, Ms. Clarke.”

Marta realized that for all practical purposes, everyone in the courtroom had seen her in her bra and bikinis. She had a difficult time making eye contact with anyone. She cut her opening remarks from a planned forty-five minutes to less than fifteen. All she wanted to do was sit down, bury her head, and hide.

She was now wearing a dark suit she kept in the office for emergencies. She never anticipated this type of an emergency.

The judge actually took pity on Marta. He realized she had not done it on purpose, and sent the jurors home early.

“We will begin at nine thirty sharp.”

***

“The State may call its first witness.”

Marta Clarke carefully stood up, brushed off some invisible flecks from her navy blue lined suit jacket, trying not to call attention to her bit too tight red silk blouse, and took center stage. Some habits were tough to break.

Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate.

“If the court pleases, the State calls Adam Sidney Orgel, the county medical examiner.”

“Doctor Orgel, will you please spell your last name for the record.”

“O-R-G-E-L. Would you like me to spell Robert for you also?”

Dr. Orgel had testified at the last dozen or so murder cases for the government and the court reporter knew his name as well as her own.

There was no response.

Marta was about to qualify him as a medical doctor, where he graduated, did his residency, and his present position as an employee of the City of Newark when Billy Jo rose.

“Your Honor, we concede Dr. Orgel is highly qualified. We see no reason to waste the court’s time on what we already agree upon. We have great respect for the reputation of Dr. Orgel and the volumes of work he has written on death due to trauma.”

Billy Jo glanced over at the jury as if to say,
We know this is a burden on your time and we do not intend to waste it.

He was sucking up to the jury and both the judge and opposing counsel knew it.

Like chicken soup, it may not have helped, but it sure couldn’t hurt.

“Thank you, Mr. Gibson, we all appreciate your concern.”

Now the judge was being sarcastic.

Marta smiled. She was quickly getting her confidence back.

“Dr. Orgel, did there come an occasion when you had the opportunity to examine the body of the late Anthony Ricardo?”

“Yes.”

“And did you reduce your findings to writing?”

“Yes.”

“And do you have said report with you this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Your Honor, I ask Exhibit #1 be marked for identification only. I will ask it be introduced into evidence after Dr. Orgel reads his findings into the record.”

With that Marta made a big display of handing a copy of the report to defense counsel.

“No objections, Your Honor,” Billy Jo replied.

After close to twenty minutes of leading the witness, it was the medical opinion of Dr. Orgel that Anthony Ricardo died of gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. Wally was becoming concerned Billy Jo was not taking any notes. How could he cross examine if he did not have all the facts at his fingertips?

Billy shook his head.
Nothing to be nervous about. I know what I’m doing.

Wally was still nervous.
It’s my life; not yours.

“Your Honor, we ask Exhibit #1 be received in evidence.”

“No objection.”

“Clerk, please mark Dr. Orgel’s report Exhibit #1.”

Marta turned to Billy like a victorious gladiator.

“Your witness, Mr. Gibson.”

Marta felt good. The witness had not screwed up; had not made one single mistake; not one noticeable flaw. There was nothing Billy Jo could do to poke holes in the report. He could examine to his heart’s content and Orgel would not change his story. The facts were the facts.

Adam Sidney Orgel, M.D., was a professional and had been well coached.

Billy approached the witness. He did not carry his yellow pad with him.

Marta immediately had a bad feeling.

“Congratulations, Dr. Orgel.”

The doctor merely nodded at opposing counsel. He was feeling proud of himself. He was prepared for whatever Billy was ready to throw at him.

“I have read the report. It is very professional, well-reasoned and succinct. I have only two questions, then you may go back to your lab and do whatever it is you do there.”

Now both the Judge and Marta were getting nervous. Only two questions for the City Coroner who had just established cause of death.

“I assume the weapon found at the scene killed Mr. Ricardo?”

Dr. Orgel looked at Billy in amazement. He was totally unprepared for the question. He had no idea it was a throwaway, to get the good doctor out of his zone of comfort.

“Oh my goodness, no. I am a pathologist, the city coroner, not an expert in ballistics. I cannot tell you if that was the gun that was used in the crime or not.”

Billy Jo smiled. He was now ready for his last question, the one he’d had in mind from the very beginning.

“It is alleged my client was the only one in the room when the deceased was murdered. Can we rightly conclude it was Judge Kolkolski who killed him?”

Dr. Orgel just looked at Billy like he was crazy.

“Of course not. I wasn’t there. I have no idea who killed Mr. Ricardo. It could have been anyone.”

Reasonable cause.

Dr. Orgel immediately realized what he had just said and looked sheepishly at Ms. Clarke.

Marta was livid.

Judge Sugarman covered his mouth with a file to hide his grin. Billy Jo had been absolutely brilliant. And he took less than three minutes.

Billy looked at the now shaken witness.

“Thank you for your honesty, Doctor. No one really knows who was actually in the room at the time. No further questions. Unless, of course, Ms. Clarke has redirect.”

Marta was too angry to reply.

“I think now would be a good time for a fifteen minute recess,” the judge intoned.

Judge Sugarman banged his gavel and headed to chambers before he actually burst out laughing.

CHAPTER 36

Bastard. I should have seen that coming.

Marta told herself she was not playing with some young amateur. She would be more careful. She would better prep her witnesses.

Dr. Orgel had apologized to Ms. Clarke, but of course, the cat was already out of the bag.

“No one told me he would ask if Judge Kolkolski killed Mr. Ricardo. I deal in how, not who.”

“You did very well, Doctor. Thank you. Now if you will please excuse me, I have to prepare for my next witness.”

Marta could no longer stand the sight of him.

***

The next witness was Scott Alderman, a senior detective and ballistic expert who had done his training at the FBI facilities in Quantico, Virginia and was now the go-to man with the Newark State Police.

He took no bull from anyone. His table manners may not have earned him a dinner invitation to the Mayor’s inauguration, but his forensic skills were beyond reproach.

Let’s see Billy Jo try and screw with him. He’ll hand him his head as an appetizer.
Marta was still stewing over the way she had been sandbagged by Billy.
It will not happen again.

Again Marta attempted to qualify the witness. Again, Billy Jo attempted to concede the qualifications of the witness.

“The People appreciate Mr. Gibson’s attempt to save the time of the court, but we believe it is important for the jury to completely understand the training and background of the witness. We would ask the court for leave to continue with Senior Detective Alderman’s qualifications.”

The judge merely nodded. He was in no mood for a minor pissing match for the sake of two super egos.

“You may continue to qualify, Ms. Clarke, but let’s not take all day.”

Billy Jo sat down. He tried, what else could he do? The less time Alderman was on the stand, the better.

“Detective Alderman, would you be so kind as to read your C.V. to the court and jury? And take your time, we’re in no hurry, are we, Mr. Gibson?”

“Not as long as it’s factual, Ms. Clarke.”

“Is this little show really necessary?” the judge admonished both lawyers.

Five minutes later Senior Detective finished reading his credentials. It was impressive by anyone’s standards.

Juror Seven, Neil O’Brien, appeared bored with the entire process. He had a crossword puzzle in his lap and kept peeking down at it while Ms. Clarke was doing whatever she did.

Jurors Six and Eight, La’Tasha Williams and Phyllis Fisher, both black women, kept staring at him, not that it did any good.

O’Brien would brush back his bushy, bright red hair and stare right back at them. He never mentioned, not that anyone had asked, that he had an identical twin, Teal. Twenty-seven-years-old, both lived at home and were “trying to find themselves.” Neil was in no hurry to find a job and jury duty put a few bucks in his pocket. More importantly, Neil was out of the house during the day. When he was home his mother was always nagging at him and finding things for him to do that he would eventually screw up.

Usually on purpose.

La’Tasha Williams was a thirty-three-year-old black woman, now five months pregnant. Her doctor refused to write her a medical excuse. She was healthy, there was no physical work involved, and the trial would take no more than a few weeks. She was the receptionist at a local GM auto dealership. Business was slow and her boss had no problem giving her the time off.

It was Phyllis Fisher, Juror Eight, a mid-fifties black woman who was most annoyed. She was divorced, living with her boyfriend, more out of economic need than desperate love, and was putting in as much overtime as she could get as a sales clerk at a high end department store.

She resented O’Brien and his attitude. If he was going to serve, the least he could do was pay attention and put the damn crossword puzzle down.

***

“Detective Alderman, did you have an opportunity to examine a certain weapon, to wit, a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver that was found at the crime scene?”

Yes, and I began running a—”

“Objection, Your Honor. Mrs. Clarke asked if the witness had the opportunity to examine a certain weapon. That calls for a simple yes or no answer. She did not ask if he began running tests on it.”

“Approach.”

In a stage whisper, Judge Sugarman let both counsel know he was not going to put up with any more petty antics.

“Mr. Gibson, technically you are correct. Now I suggest you sit down, listen, and stop objecting to every little detail. You know it will all get into evidence, one way or another. Remember, Mr. Gibson, soon it will be her turn to object.”

Sugarman turned to Ms. Clarke.

“For the sake of moving forward at any kind of pace, please try and come close to the rules of evidence. Step back.”

In unison, “Yes, Your Honor.”

While the two lawyers were having a sidebar with the judge, Phyllis Fisher punched her high heel on Neil’s foot, reached down, grabbed the crossword puzzle book, and stuffed it in her purse.

Neil was about to scream but covered his mouth and said nothing. At least not now.

“You’ll get it back when we adjourn.”

Bitch,
Neil mouthed to his new jury mate.

War had been declared.

***

“I ran a series of ballistic tests to recover slug remnants fired from the weapon in question. I then found traces of the bullet that killed the deceased. There was an exact match.”

Alderman then put on a slide show worthy of the new Apple Watch presentation to shareholders. The jury sat mesmerized. They did not have the first clue what the detective was pointing to or saying.

By now Neil was sulking. It wasn’t what he always saw on television. It was taking far longer than one hour, the time everything is solved on the tube. He had nothing to do and didn’t understand the terminology. He wanted out. As far as he could tell, there was no way.

I can beat the system; I always do.

***

“Thank you, Detective Alderman, you have been most helpful.”

Marta turned in the general direction of the defense table.

“Your witness.”

As Marta headed back to her chair she walked in front of Billy Jo and whispered, “Don’t even think about it. He’ll eat you up alive.”

Billy looked over his notes for a few minutes, shuffling papers. He was in no hurry. He could tell the detective was getting edgy. Finally, the judge looked down at Billy.

“I assume you wish to cross, Mr. Gibson?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. My notes seem to have fallen out of order.”

Thirty seconds later Billy stood in front of an impatient witness. He had accomplished exactly what he wanted.

“My compliments on your presentation, Detective. I’m not an expert in ballistics, but from what I gather, your testimony is the weapon found at the crime scene is the same weapon that was used to shoot poor Mr. Ricardo. Am I correct so far?”

Alderman did not like the tone of Billy Jo’s question and was waiting for the “but.” He would not be suckered in like Dr. Orgel.

“Yes.”

“You were not surprised, were you?”

“My job is not to be surprised at anything. I have been at this far too long.”

Perfect. Just what I was hoping he would say.

“Dead body, smoking gun. No surprise. Sort of fits right in, doesn’t it?”

No response.

“Let me ask you this? Did you examine the weapon for fingerprints?”

“Of course I did. What do you think, I’m incompetent?”

“That’s not for me to decide. It’s why we have a jury.”

Detective Alderman was about to get out of his chair and wring the prick’s neck when he caught the eye of ADA Clarke. The message was loud and clear,

“Don’t let the SOB rattle you.”

“And what did you find, Detective?”

Again no response.

“There were no prints, correct?”

Alderman was slow to answer.

“Perhaps you did not hear me. Shall I repeat the question?”

The detective was close to his boiling point.

“There were no fingerprints on the gun, were there, Detective?”

“No.”

“So anyone could have fired the gun, including the deceased himself. Right?”

“That’s absurd. Why would the deceased want to kill himself?”

“Have you ever heard of the word suicide, Detective?”

Without thinking, Alderman asked the rhetorical question Billy was hoping for.

“Why? What good reason would Mr. Ricardo have to take his own life?”

Before Marta could stand up, Billy answered the question himself.

“Maybe because of guilt. Guilt that he had been found guilty by a jury of raping a young girl, twelve to one. Maybe because the judge overturned the jury verdict, maybe because Mr. Ricardo returned the favor by—”

“Objection. Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Gibson is now testifying.”

“—because Mr. Ricardo returned the favor by sleeping with the judge’s ex-wife. Maybe because he knew what he had—”

Judge Sugarman was furious. He could not stop banging the gavel.

“Order, damn it, order.”

“Your Honor, I ask for a mistrial. No, I demand a mistrial.”

“Quiet, Ms. Clarke. Chambers, everyone. Now.”

Detective Alderman remained in the witness stand.

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. He baited me and I fell for it.

Walter Kolkolski followed the two attorneys and the court stenographer into chambers. In all his years on the bench, he had never declared a mistrial because one of the lawyers spoke out of turn.

It’s the nature of the beast.

Judge Sugarman had thrown his robe on the floor and was pacing the room.

“What the fuck is going on here? This is my God damn courtroom.”

The court reporter sat quietly. Her hands remained at her side.

No one said a word. They all stood there waiting.