Silent Son (42 page)

“Does he know the difference between truth and fantasy?” King asked.

“Rephrase it,” Hanks ordered.

King looked down at the witness. “If I said it’s dark in here would that be the truth or a lie?”

Granville raised his eyes to the lit chandelier overhead. “Lie,” he said.

“And if I said this is knife,” he raised his pen, “would that be the truth or a lie?”

“Lie,” Granville replied.

“So you think you can tell the difference between the truth and a lie,” King said.

“Yes,” answered Granville.

“So if I said that you
did
remember the thing that your dad has been asking you about, would that be the truth or a lie?”

“Objection,” Gardner said. “There’s already been testimony on that point.”

Judge Hanks leaned forward in her chair. “I think he can answer. Overruled.”

“If I said you
did
remember what happened to you at the Bowers Corner store,” King repeated, “would that be the truth or a lie?”

Granville closed his eyes as if he were trying to understand the question. It was confusing enough, even for a grown-up.

“Truth!” he finally said.

King widened his eyes and took a step back. “It’s the truth that you remember what happened at the store? The truth, not a
lie?”

Granville nodded, and Gardner looked at Jennifer. This didn’t make sense.

“Judge, ask that the last answer be stricken from the record,” King said. It was definitely not the one he was looking for.

“But
you
asked the question, Mr. King,” Judge Hanks replied. “I’m afraid
you’re
stuck with the answer.”

“But
I
want it stricken!” King demanded. He was clearly shaken.

“Too late!” Hanks said. “The testimony stands.”

King scowled. It was time for another conference with Jacobs. “A moment, please, Judge.”

“Make it fast,” Hanks replied.

“What’s going on?” Jennifer whispered.

Gardner looked at his son in the witness chair. The faraway eyes evoked by Starke and Miller were back. The boy’s mind was
obviously on the move.

At the other table, King and Jacobs were talking excitedly. Maybe Granville had not misspoken. Maybe when he said “truth,”
he meant it. Maybe he did remember.

Granville looked at Gardner and smiled weakly. He was trying his best to help Dad, just like he promised. It really hurt,
but he had to keep going. Dad was counting on it.

Gardner and Jennifer were sprawled on the couch at the town house. It had been a hell of a day. The battle over Granville’s
witness qualification had filled the entire trial time slot. The boy had been on the stand for five hours, and after the King-Jacobs
team got through with him, Gardner cross-examined. Yes, Granville said, he did understand the difference between the truth
and a lie. Yes, he knew it was wrong to tell a lie. Yes, he knew he could be punished if he told a lie in court. Yes, he knew
what the oath was: promising to tell the truth. Yes, if he took the oath, he
would
tell the truth. That was it. All the key questions answered in the affirmative. The boy had hung tough. And the judge had
ruled he was a competent witness. The defense had decided not to press their other issue: that Granville’s memory loss disqualified
him. After Granville implied that he
did
remember, King and Jacobs left it alone. So Granville
could
testify. And the only question now was: would he have anything to say?

“Tired?” Jennifer asked.

Gardner shifted a pillow behind him. “Totally,” he said, then he looked at Jennifer. “I almost went over the edge, didn’t
I?”

“Yes.”

“Not very professional.”

Jennifer shook her head no. “You can’t lose it like that in front of the jury.”

“I know,” Gardner said, “so I’ve been thinking…”

Jennifer blinked her eyes. “What?”

“You do the honors…”

“As to what?”

“The direct examination of Granville. You handle it.”

Jennifer frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Gardner replied. “You take it.”

“When did you decide that?”

Gardner sat up. “This afternoon, while we were in court. And I’ve changed the order of witnesses. I want Granville to lead
off.”

“What?” Jennifer was astounded. “The first witness?”

Gardner stood and began to pace in front of the couch. “He’s on the verge. I can feel it. He recognized something in there
today. Just a little push. That’s all it will take. Dr. Grady said that once the dam breaks it will all come out. There’s
a crack now. It won’t take much more to bring it down completely.”

Jennifer frowned. “Are you sure? That’s a real gamble. What if he can’t do it?”

Gardner stopped pacing. “He will. I have a plan to make it happen—”

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Jennifer answered. “Brownie!” she exclaimed, then she handed the phone to Gardner.

“Gard, I hope you’re not mad,” Brownie said, “but I had to split this afternoon. I’m in New York.”

“New York?” Gardner sputtered. “God, Brownie, I need you down here. In case something comes up. Things are moving fast at
the trial.”

“I’m onto something,” Brownie said. “My theory—”

“Still on that?” Gardner asked. “Thought you’d given up.”

Brownie chuckled. “I never give up.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“Like I said before, Gard, there might be another side to this thing. I almost got it rooted out.”

Gardner let out his breath. “We start testimony tomorrow, Brownie, and I’m putting Granville on the stand.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Brownie?”

“I heard you.” He sounded disappointed. “You do what you gotta do, but just…” His voice faded.

“What?”

“Keep an open mind. If I’m right about this, you might have to make some adjustments.”

“We’re committed,” Gardner said.

“So am I,” Brownie answered.

The morning after Granville’s qualification hearing, the trial officially began. Gardner and Jennifer were present and ready,
and the defendants were at the defense table with their lawyers. Miller was stiff and sullen, Starke more relaxed. Granville
was sequestered in the prosecutor’s office. And the courtroom was packed with potential jurors, talking quietly as they waited
for something to happen.

Judge Hanks entered and wasted no time in starting the clock. “We can select the jury this morning, go to opening statements
after lunch, and be ready for the first witness late this afternoon. Let’s get moving.”

So the jury selection began, and in an hour and a half the overtly biased people had been weeded out. That left a group from
which the final twelve would be selected. A cluster of farmers, retailers, housewives, and retirees. Gardner scanned the array,
and came to a conclusion: one juror was as good as any other in this case. Addie and Henry could have been grandmother and
grandfather to the entire bunch. And Granville the son. These people were going to convict if the evidence was there. The
final roster would make very little difference.

For the next hour the parties took their strikes, each side dismissing jurors with prejudices, each side keeping jurors they
thought might vote their way. And for the most part, the selection was smooth. As the lunch hour approached, the jury box
was full.

“Is the jury as now constituted acceptable to the state?” the judge asked.

Gardner checked the two rows of serious faces. It was a snapshot of a church picnic, law and order all the way. “Acceptable,
Judge,” he replied.

“Mr. King? Mr. Jacobs? Is the jury acceptable?”

They looked at their jury rosters. Each had remaining strikes. If they used them now, the procedure could go another two hours.
“Acceptable,” they finally said.

Jennifer nudged Gardner’s arm. “Why didn’t they use all their strikes?” she whispered.

Gardner shook his head. “They didn’t need to use any,” he replied. “King and Jacobs are banking on the fact that Granville
can’t do it. Who’s on the jury won’t make any difference.”

Jennifer focused on Gardner’s somber expression. “And you’re sure he can.”

Gardner closed his eyes. “He has to,” he said.

The lunch break zipped by, and court reconvened at 2:00
P.M
. Under Judge Hanks’s blitzkrieg schedule, opening statements were to begin immediately. And that put Gardner in a dilemma.
If he told the jury he was going to prove a fact, and during trial he didn’t deliver the goods, the case was dead. At this
point he was caught between conflicting theories: the Miller version and Brownie’s Starke hypothesis. And then there was Granville.
His testimony was still an unknown. Gardner was not in a position to tell the jury anything specific about the state’s case.
How could he? He didn’t know himself.

So Gardner decided to give a generic opening statement. He introduced himself and Jennifer to the jury and gave a procedural
rundown of how the case would proceed. He told them to listen to the evidence, to be fair, and to pay attention throughout
the trial. And then he predicted that they would reach a verdict that would do justice to the memories of Addie, Henry, and
Purvis Bowers. Then he sat down.

King went next, and gave his own generic response. The state
didn’t
have any evidence. The state
never
had any evidence. There was
no
case at all against his client. The whole thing was a sham. A disgrace. And a travesty. “If they had anything they would
have told you about it in opening statement. But they
don’t,
and they
didn’t!”
End of story. “You will acquit!” King predicted. Then he sat down.

Judge Hanks turned to Joel Jacobs. “You now have the right to make an opening statement.”

Jacobs stood up and smiled. “I’d incorporate the comments of Mr. King and apply them to my client,” he said.

“Anything else?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.” The message was clear: my man has nothing to worry about.

“Very well,” Judge Hanks said, then she turned to Gardner. “Call your first witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”

Gardner swallowed and stood up. This was it. The moment of truth. “I have a motion, Judge. With respect to the witness, Granville
Lawson.”

Hanks leaned forward. “What is it, Counsel?”

“I move that we transfer the trial to Bowers Corner, and take the witness’s testimony
there.”
Gardner had concluded that there was only one way to be sure Granville’s memory would come back. He had to return to the
scene of the crime.

Brownie was upset. His appointment at the hospital had not panned out. He had arranged to meet a lady named Anna Gleason in
the records section, but she’d not shown up for work today, and no one knew where she was.

“Can you call her?” Brownie asked.

The red-haired receptionist gave him a blank look. “We’ve called already.”

“And?” Brownie didn’t have time for a runaround.

“And she didn’t answer.”

“Give me her home address,” Brownie said.

The redhead shook her curls. “Can’t do that, sir.”

Brownie pulled out his police ID and slapped it on the counter. “I’m a cop!”

The girl studied the badge. “Do you have a summons?”

Brownie tried to hold his temper, but it was slipping away. “No. I do not have a summons.”

“Then we can’t give out any information at all.”

“Thanks a lot,” Brownie said sarcastically. Then he ran down the hall to the pay phone. He didn’t have time for this. He’d
hoped to get the truth from Anna Gleason, a records custodian at the Sacred Heart Hospital for the past forty years. Brownie
had worked his charm on the phone, and convinced her that the privacy rule could be bent a little to solve a murder case.
But that avenue was closed, it seemed. Ms. Gleason was AWOL. He’d have to shift to plan B. Rather than going for the documentation,
he’d have to go to the source. Right now, there was no other choice.

Brownie picked up the phone and dialed a number that he’d been saving. This was not what he’d envisioned. A direct confrontation.
But maybe, if they were lucky, it might work.

“Starke residence,” a voice answered.

“I need to speak to Mrs. Starke,” Brownie said.

“May I say who’s calling?”

“This is Sergeant Joseph Brown, county police in Maryland. It’s
very urgent
that I speak with her.”

“Just a moment, sir,” the voice replied. There was a hush as the line went quiet and the servant went off to find the lady
of the house. She was an eighty-five-year-old widow who lived in lonely opulence. Florence Eggers Starke, wife of the late
Lieutenant Wellington Starke, Jr., IV Starke’s grandmother. The keeper of the family secret.

Gardner’s request to move the trial to the crime scene had taken King and Jacobs by surprise. They conferenced hurriedly,
then King stood up. “No way, he said.”

“Are you objecting?” Judge Hanks asked.

“Yes,” King answered, “most vigorously. And Mr. Jacobs as well.”

Hanks seemed nonplussed. ‘Do you have any legal authority as to why it cannot be allowed?”

King stared at Gardner. This guy was crazy. Forcing his own son back to the murder scene, he was obviously ready to do anything
to win the case. “It would prejudice our clients,” King finally said.

“But do you have any case citations that forbid it?”

King shook his head no.

“Your objection is noted, Mr. King,” Judge Hanks said. “What about you, Mr. Jacobs? Do you have anything to add?”

Jacobs stood up. “As Mr. King said, going to the scene would be very detrimental to our clients’ position, not to mention
a logistical nightmare. Please do not permit it.”

Hanks turned back to Gardner. “Any response, Mr. Prosecutor?”

“It is permissible under the law,” Gardner replied. “And I’m sure the move can be made with a minimum of hassle.”

Hanks nodded. “Under the circumstances, I would be inclined to grant the state’s motion,” she said, looking at the clock on
the far wall. “It’s three forty-five now. Too late to get things set up. Let’s suspend the proceedings and meet out at Bowers
Corner at nine tomorrow morning.”