The Guilty (23 page)

Bratt, still grinning, pulled the TV stand closer to the middle of the room and
facing the judge, then slid his copy of the tape into the VCR.

The interrogation room spra
ng into view on the screen and soon they saw Marlon Small and Philippe St. Jean enter it. The parties to the hearing all settled back into their seats for the viewing, while those in the gallery had to get by with disembodied voices.

Bratt’s eyes constantly traveled between the screen and the judge’s bench, observing Green’s reactions to what was happening, at which times he took notes and when he sat with his eyes half-closed, almost dozing. He knew better than to think the judge was falling asleep at such times, though. Green’s eyes may have gotten tired, but his mind soaked in everything.

As for Parent and Nancy, their eyes stayed constantly glued to the screen. Bratt tried to catch her from the corner of his eye, to see if she would ever look his way, but she never turned her head an inch.

Occasionally, he
heard somebody from the gallery whisper a derogatory comment about Small a little too loudly, usually when they heard him refuse one of St. Jean’s invitations to confess his crime. This would cause Green to flash a fiery look in the general direction of the public, and the whispering would end quickly.

At eleven o’clock, almost halfway through Small’s interrogation, Green sat up abruptly.

“Cut,” he said sharply. “We’ll take ten minutes to stretch our legs, and I mean exactly ten minutes. Then we’ll watch the rest straight through until the lunch break.”

He used his cane to slowly push himself up to his feet.

“I hope the second reel’s got a little more action than the first,” he said to nobody in particular as he limped out of the courtroom.

Once he was gone, Nancy picked up her purse and headed out into the hall, her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. Bratt followed her with his gaze from where he sat, but his view became obstructed by the presence of Parent standing in front of him. In his hand he held the papers that Nancy had been poring over earlier.

“Here,” he handed them to Bratt. “I’m sure there’s nothing in there you don’t already know.”

Bratt took the stack of case law and turned to hand it to Kouri who sat at his side. When he turned back to speak to Parent, the prosecutor was already heading out the door that Nancy had just taken.

That’s fine,
Bratt thought.
No reason to start playing nice now, anyway.

He sat there, looking at the door long after Parent had disappeared through it, and brooding over the cold shoulder treatment that he was receiving. After a minute or two, Kouri
tugged his robe and handed him back one of the photocopied judgments.

“I think you should read this one. And not just the headnote.”

Bratt felt a touch of surprise as he took the document, wondering what Kouri may have found that they didn’t know already. He turned over the first page to get to the body of the decision. On the second page someone had stuck a small, yellow Post-it note. He read the familiar handwriting that was on it.

“You grovel ver
y well. And I miss you too. N.”

He kept looking at the note, rereading the words as if they were written in cod
e, while their meaning sunk in.

I guess my message
got through to her. Maybe things will work out well this week, after-all. As long as I keep my big mouth in check.

He slowly pulled the sticky square off the page, folded it and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Kouri only glanced at him briefly, a slight smile on his lips, then walked out of the courtroom,
leaving Bratt alone with his thoughts.

He realized that Nancy had taken a big risk that Parent might discover her note. He also realized that once more he had underestimated her, and he wondered if she was having as hard a time dealing with her feelings as he was.

Most of the ten-minute break was over, but he never left his chair in the courtroom. It was going to take him longer than that just to get his mind back on the case at hand. His heart began beating faster when he saw Nancy follow Parent back into the courtroom. He thought of giving her a smile or a wink, any sign to let her know that he had gotten her message, but decided against doing anything that might compromise her.

Green was back on the bench exactly ten minutes after he had left it.

Bratt stood to address him. “Act two, my Lord?”

“You wouldn’t have a musical ready to go, by chance?”

“I’m afraid there’s no singing in this one, My Lord,” Bratt said, throwing a dirty look at Parent as he answered.

The last hour and a half of the video was only slightly more interesting to watch than the first. Green’s eyes and ears only seemed to perk up at the point that Small, seemingly wracked with guilt and near the breaking point, called out for a lawyer. Otherwise, the judge showed little reaction or interest in what he was watching.

As the tape concluded with St. Jean leading Small out of the interrogation room, Green slipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“I’ll hear your arguments at two-fifteen,” he yawned. “I’ve already read the jurisprudence you’ve both submitted, so if you would both do me the
favor of being a touch more succinct than you usually are I would be very beholden to you.”

He stood up and the lawyers jumped to their feet, then he slipped his glasses into a small leather case. He hesitated before leaving the bench, as if he might have something further to say. Finally, he sighed and looked at Parent.

“I can’t for the life of me imagine what purpose it would serve to inflict that boring drivel on a helpless jury. I look forward to the Crown enlightening me this afternoon.
Bon appetit
, gentlemen.”

Once Green’s back was turned, Bratt couldn’t help but smile hugely at Parent, who was clearly miffed by the judge’s comment.

It looks like things just might go my way today after-all,
he thought.
Nancy still cares and Green’s obviously leaning toward not admitting the tape. If nothing changes by the end of the day it’ll be one of the few times of late that everything didn’t turn into crap.

Lunch hour at the office was fairly quiet. Without Leblanc’s loud, huge presence, the place held a mournful emptiness for Bratt. He munched on a veggie submarine sandwich that Kouri had gone out to buy, one of those low-fat, low-flavour things that he’d suddenly had the urge to eat, what with the picture of Leblanc’s last breakfast still fresh in his mind.

He looked out the window, saw the usual groups of tourists gathered in front of Notre Dame Basilica and the occasional lawyer or court clerk that he recognized heading to one of the many nearby lunch spots, and he felt a silent contentment. He had seen enough, and not just in the last two weeks, to know that he could never predict how things were going to turn out, either in court or in his personal life, yet he felt a small dose of optimism.

At two o’clock he called Kouri from his office and they headed together to the courthouse, walking with brisk, confident steps.

“You think it’s going to go well, don’t you?” Kouri asked.

“I guess I don’t have much of a poker face. Yeah, Green can already see my point, but that doesn’t mean Parent can’t get him to change his mind.”

“If we get the video thrown out, we’ve got those two good alibi witnesses ready to go. This case is beginning to look like a winner, don’t you think?”

Bratt nodded wordlessly. He had been trying to think as little as possible about those “two good alibi witnesses.” He had decided to trust his client, which was what he was supposed to do anyway, and call them for the trial. Just as long as he didn’t have to spend too much time thinking about them.

Green took the bench at precisely 2:15, and Bratt was already standing before him, ready to present his arguments. He opened his mouth to begin, but the judge cut him off.

“Mr. Bratt, you write in your motion that the videotape is highly prejudicial, yet of little probative value.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“You think the conclusion your colleague will ask the jurors to draw, that your client looks and acts guilty during the interrogation, is too subjective and not necessarily warranted on the facts.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve read my motion, My Lord.”

“Yes. It was a model of concision and clarity. You must have had help on it.”

Managing a smile, Bratt waved a hand in Kouri’s general direction.

“My assistant drafted it. I do
n’t think you’ve met Peter Kouri.”

“Spare me the introductions. This isn’t a social occasion. I was merely pointing out that all your arguments seem to have been included in your written motion and unless there’s something vital you think you’ve left out of it, I fail to see why you’re standing there.”

Bratt struggled to maintain his polite smile.

The bastard’s obviously going to grant me my motion,
he told himself.
But he won’t even let me have the satisfaction of arguing it first. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tells Small that Kouri won it all with the written arguments he drafted and that my own role was superfluous.

Bratt opened his mouth to make a final comment, found he had nothing left to say, and sat down, feeling totally frustrated.

Green turned to Parent and glared at him over his glasses. Parent merely stood up and bowed slightly toward the judge. Whether the judge had made his mind up already or not, he was still going to have to listen to Parent make his point.

“Mr. Parent. I am obviously tottering on the precipice, at risk of agreeing with your adversary before you’ve had a chance to say something, which you may be sure I am loath to do. Please throw me a rope if you can, and pull me back to your side before it’s too late.”

“Well, My Lord, since you obviously recognize the danger of granting my colleague’s motion, I feel it is but my duty to save you from this grievous mistake.”

Green smiled like he felt nauseous, lay his pen down on his desk, and sat back in his chair, his arms folded.

“Clearly, the Crown feels the statement of the accused is admissible,” Parent began. “It was not coerced from him in any way. It was given with full knowledge of his legal and Charter rights-”

“What is given?”

“Why, his statement, My Lord,” Parent answered, taken aback by Green’s unexpected question.

“From what I read, his entire statement concerning the shootings is, and I quote…Oh, wait. My mistake. Mr. Small actually never says a single blessed thing about the shootings, does he?”

“Well, perhaps not in so many words…”

“In how many words then?”

“There is a great deal of non-verbal communication on his part.”

“Are you planning to call in experts on body language, Mr. Parent?”

“No, My Lord.”

“You’re certainly not planning to comment on his silence in the face of your detective’s verbal assault are you?”

“Well…”

“You know, people do have the right to silence in this country. At least since the Inquisition, if my memory doesn’t fail me.”

Bratt smiled to himself at that comment.
That’s hitting a former Jesuit where he lives.

“He does react verbally at the end, and what he says may be very informative to the jury.”

“Such as?”

“Such as when he’s feeling cornered by the detective at the end of the interrogation. He calls out for a lawyer because he knows he’s going to be caught otherwise.”

“Ah yes, that inconvenient right to counsel. In this example we see how cleverly a criminal can use it in conjunction with the previously mentioned right to silence. Really mucks up a policeman’s job, doesn’t it? But if I let you stand up in front of the jury and make the slightest comment about a suspect asking for a lawyer, how long do you think it would be before Mr. Bratt gets the Court of Appeal to order a new trial?”

“Not long,” Bratt said in a stage whisper.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mr. Bratt.”

Parent was clearly not getting anywhere with Green, and his displeasure about the judge’s constant interventions was evident. Nevertheless, he sucked in his breath and tried again.

“Proof of consciousness of guilt is admissible as evidence. I respectfully submit that the jury can interpret the accused’s behavior during the interrogation as evidence of his guilty conscience.”

“Well, to me he doesn’t necessarily look like he feels guilty, he just looks scared. And I think he’d have just as much reason to feel scared, if not more so, if he were innocent than if he were guilty. Furthermore, the very fact that how he looks and acts is open to these two interpretations leads me to conclude that his alleged actions are too ambiguous to constitute consciousness of guilt. The tape in question has very little probative value, particularly in comparison to the great prejudice that many parts of it can cause the accused.”

Parent was beaten, but he remained unbowed. He dramatically slammed his file folder shut and sat down, head still held high. Green looked on with a sour expression.