Nothing but the Truth (69 page)
Pratt decided to step in. “Your Honor, perhaps we could adjourn to chambers?”
The judge directed her displeasure toward the DA. “We’ve only just gotten started here, Ms. Pratt.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sure you noticed that we’ve got several important people out there—among them possibly our next governor—and I’m not inclined to take any more of their time than is absolutely necessary. Anything we could say in chambers, we can say right here.”
But Randall, true to form, couldn’t seem to let it go and after a short nonverbal exchange with his boss, he piped right up. “We’ve got a very unusual set of circumstances here, Your Honor. I am at this very moment preparing grand jury subpoenas for Mr. Hardy and Lieutenant Glitsky to testify on matters related to his case. They, themselves, may be open to criminal charges.”
Hardy shook his head, derision all over his face, but he remained silent.
“Additionally,” Randall continued, “the DA’s office has repeatedly requested an arrest warrant for Mr. Beaumont, who is seated behind us in the courtroom today even as we speak.”
“It ought to be easy to serve the warrant, then,” Braun said drily.
“Except that the warrant is not forthcoming, Your Honor.”
“And why is that?”
Hardy finally had to say something. “Because there hasn’t been any evidence, Your Honor.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Randall exploded. “We have more than enough evidence for an indictment.”
“So get one,” Hardy snapped back.
Braun cast a stern eye. “Counsel will address the court, not each other. Is that clear?” After accepting the nods of apology, Braun softened her tone. “Now, Mr. Randall, correct me if I’m wrong, but Mr. Hardy’s point seems to me to be well taken. If you have the evidence to indict Mr. Beaumont, present it to the grand jury and it will order a warrant issued. That’s how it’s done. You should know that.”
Pratt spoke up in her assistant’s defense. “He does know it, Your Honor, but our investigation has been hampered at every turn in this case. Indeed, we believe that Mr. Hardy has influenced Lieutenant Glitsky to use his position as head of the homicide department to engage in a systematic cover-up of Mr. Beaumont’s activities.”
Hardy raised his hands theatrically. “Your Honor! This is really beyond the pale.”
But Braun, wanting to hear more, pointed him quiet. “These are serious charges, Ms. Pratt . . .”
Randall took over again. “Which is why, Your Honor, we wanted to explore them with the grand jury, with the police department’s Office of Management and Control, with our own department’s investigative staff.”
“In other words, Mr. Randall, it sounds like you want to do all of this investigating except you either haven’t actually done it or you haven’t found anything.”
Blindsided, Randall stammered, “W—well, no, Your Honor, of course not. We have strong evidence—”
Hardy cut him off. “Your Honor, they have nothing.”
“We are developing a case.”
Eyes on Braun, Hardy nevertheless was arguing with Randall. “And bringing accusations before there is anything to support them.” Now he turned to look up at the judge. “If I may, Your Honor, I have a suggestion that relates specifically to the hearing you have granted today, and will also address the very serious issues and charges raised by the district attorney”—he paused long enough to make the point—“and her staff.”
Braun was getting impatient. She glanced over the lawyers’ heads to the restless gallery beyond. This had already taken too much of the court’s time, of everyone’s time. “All right, Mr. Hardy, let’s hear it, but make it fast.”
Hardy took a breath. He was in the grip of high emotion, but it would serve him little to play to it. When he finally spoke, his was the voice of reason. “The gravamen of the contempt charge against my client—the subject of this hearing—is her refusal to disclose to the grand jury information relevant to a murder investigation. I believe we are all in accord here?”
No one objected.
“Both Mr. Randall and Ms. Pratt have been clear and unambiguous that the information my client refused to disclose bears upon the motive Mr. Beaumont may or may not have had to kill his wife. Isn’t that correct?”
Neither Pratt nor Randall nodded—their defenses had by now come up—so Hardy decided to drive the point home more forcefully. “Put another way, if Ron Beaumont didn’t kill Bree, whatever secret shared by my client and himself is not the proper concern of the grand jury or their investigation.”
“All right,” Braun said thoughtfully. “Where is this leading, Mr. Hardy?”
“It is leading, Your Honor, to this. Mr. Randall has made the point that the deaths of Sergeants Griffin and Canetta were pursuant to their respective investigations into the murder of Bree Beaumont, and I presume by extension that he concludes that all of these killings were committed by the same individual.”
“That’s exactly our contention.” Randall was glad to be able to get in a word, and Hardy was happy to let him do it.
“And it’s a reasonable one to which, for purposes of this hearing, you’d be prepared to stipulate,” he said.
Pratt saw the trap closing, and moved to stop it. “Well, I don’t know, Your Honor. This is a theory we’ve not yet—”
Braun stopped her cold. “Ms. Pratt, I’ve just heard Mr. Randall say that this is
exactly
—his word—what your office believes. More importantly, if memory serves this is the theory upon which you both have based, and raised in open court, your accusations against both Lieutenant Glitsky and Mr. Hardy. Now which is it? Did one man commit these murders or not?”
exactly
—his word—what your office believes. More importantly, if memory serves this is the theory upon which you both have based, and raised in open court, your accusations against both Lieutenant Glitsky and Mr. Hardy. Now which is it? Did one man commit these murders or not?”
The two prosecutors exchanged glances. Pratt answered. “That is our belief. Yes, Your Honor. Subject to contradictory evidence of which we may become aware at a later date.”
“I would think so,” Braun declared. “Go on, Mr. Hardy. You’ve got my attention.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Therefore, it follows that if Mr. Beaumont can be shown to be blameless in the deaths of either of the two police officers, it may be assumed that he is likewise blameless in the death of his wife.”
“That’s a nice syllogism, Mr. Hardy.” Braun remained tolerant, yet unconvinced. “But ‘blameless’ is a tall order. Do you mean to say that you can prove he’s absolutely innocent of one or more of these killings? Normally, that’s why we have jury trials.”
“But we don’t get to jury trials, Your Honor, until there is a grand jury indictment or preliminary hearing to ensure a threshold of sufficient evidence to where a jury might convict. In this case, we don’t have that, and yet my client’s continued incarceration is based upon Mr. Beaumont’s presumed guilt, and not his presumed innocence, as the law demands.”
“That’s rather elegant, Mr. Hardy, but—”
“Your Honor, if new and damning evidence about Bree Beaumont’s murder comes to light after this hearing, then my client will have the opportunity to testify again before the grand jury about Ron Beaumont. If at that time she declines to answer material questions, she will of course be subject to contempt charges again.”
Just when he might have been about to win one on the legal merits, to take the investigation back to the grand jury and hold Frannie until she decided to talk, Randall opened his mouth again. “Your Honor, with respect, you can’t put Mr. Beaumont on trial for murder right now in your courtroom.”
Braun’s visage was terrifyingly benign. The pupils of her eyes were pinpoints, skewering Scott Randall. “That’s not what I was contemplating, Counsellor. Rather, it seems to me that the question is whether, when faced with what you yourself admit would be compelling evidence of Mr. Beaumont’s innocence of the murder of his wife, you will seek to reinstate Mrs. Hardy’s incarceration for contempt, which is based upon his guilt. Do I have your argument correctly, Mr. Hardy?”
“Perfectly.”
“So, Mr. Randall?”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“What is your decision?”
“I’m not sure I’m clear on what Mr. Hardy is proposing.”
“I presume he is proposing to call some witnesses at this hearing. Am I right, Mr. Hardy?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Sharron Pratt was struggling for whatever face she could save. “And I presume that Mr. Hardy proposes to show that Ron Beaumont is factually innocent of one or more of these murders? Is that the case?”
Hardy agreed that it was.
Pratt was thinking fast. On the one hand, she didn’t have to reveal what was going on in the grand jury. Since the judge couldn’t know what evidence they had, Hardy could never prove here that Ron Beaumont was actually innocent, only that it might be less likely that he was guilty. She could point that out and terminate Hardy’s end run right here.
On the other hand, she knew that her office really had nothing. She wanted badly to know what Hardy knew. And the public appearance of reasonableness was increasingly important as the mayor and the media bashed her office.
She decided to let Hardy have his show. And, of course, they could cross-examine whomever Hardy intended to call. “We don’t object, Your Honor, so long as it doesn’t take too long.”
“All right,” Braun said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
39
But Hardy found himself in an unexpected bind. Having convinced the judge and coerced the DA into pushing ahead smartly with his unconventional game plan, now he looked out into the gallery and realized that he had to stall. He had been planning to start with the testimony of Jim Pierce and had assumed that, like the other witnesses he’d served who were now sitting in the gallery, Pierce would show up on time.
While he’d argued with Pratt and Randall during side-bar, he’d expected to turn around when he was finished and see Pierce seated in the gallery. But now it was time to begin and Pierce hadn’t yet arrived.
Having gotten to here, he couldn’t very well ask Judge Braun for a short continuance or even so much as a recess. He was going to have to juggle while doing a tap dance, and could only hope he could keep the balls in the air until it was time for the main event.
“My name is Abraham Glitsky. I hold the rank of lieutenant in the San Francisco Police Department, and currently I am the head of the homicide unit.”
“And how long have you held that position?”
“Five years.”
“And before that?”
“Your Honor.” Scott Randall was on his feet. “We all know Lieutenant Glitsky.”
“Is that an objection, Counsellor?” Objections, like so much else in a court of law, were part of the orchestrated ballet of justice, and had to be based on deviations from the Evidence Code. Telling the court that everyone knew Abe Glitsky didn’t fall anywhere near that category. But, more, Braun’s response reaffirmed Hardy’s belief that Scott Randall no longer had any kind of friend on the bench. “But Mr. Hardy,” she added, “let’s move it along.”
“I’m trying to make the court aware of Lieutenant Glitsky’s credentials, Your Honor.”
“All right, but briefly, please.”
It took less than two minutes. Five years lieutenant of homicide, twelve years a homicide inspector, steady rise through the ranks from street cop, through vice, robbery, white collar. Four departmental citations, one medal for valor.
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