Scott Turow - Presumed innocent

Stern does his little cut-rate bow, inclining his head and shoulders. I find myself disconcerted by Sandy's lapse of judgment. He has taken a beating in the presence of the jury, a setback which was entirely predictable, and I still do not understand what he is trying to accomplish. He's already cast his shadow over Molto with that file. Why does he harp on it? The jury is bound to be disappointed, particularly when he keeps promising to produce evidence that we do not have in hand. We cannot offer the letter I found in the B file, because it is hearsay. I do not understand Stern's bluff, and he is cavalier whenever I steer him toward the subject. He treats it as if it is just another courtroom effect.

Stern, in the meantime, has come back to the defense table.

"Now, Detective Lipranzer, Mr. Della Guardia asked you some questions About the telephone records." Sandy holds up the documents. "As I understand your testimony, it was you who raised the matter of his home number with Mr. Sabich, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"He did not bring it up?"

"No."

"He did not ask you in advance not to obtain the records from his home? Am I right?"

"Absolutely correct."

"In point of fact, he informed you at the start that you might find calls from Ms. Polhemus to one of his phones?"

"In his office, right."

"He didn't ask you or tell you not to seek any records for that reason, did he?"

"No, sir."

There is a ringing emphasis to all of Lip's answers. Stern is putting on a demonstration now, showing what a cross-examiner can do with a friendly witness. But it is all too clear. There is no resistance. Lip is more or less allowing Stern to testify. He quickly endorses Stern's proposal that it was Lipranzer's own idea not to obtain my home records. He considered them irrelevant; I simply acquiesced in the suggestion, saying, as people often do, that a subpoena was best avoided since it might upset my wife. Sandy returns to counsel table for a document. He numbers it, and hands it to Lip for identification. It is the original subpoena duces tecum to the phone company.

"Now, what prosecutor issued that subpoena?"

"Rusty. Mr. Sabich."

"His name appears as the authorizing signatory on the face, does it not?"

"Yes."

"And by its terms does that subpoena require production of these very records?"

"According to what it says?"

"That's my question."

"The answer is yes. The subpoena would cover these records."

"Does it contain any exemption for Mr. Sabich's home?"

"No."

"And any time you or anyone else wanted to examine the records of Mr. Sabich's home, this subpoena would require the production of those records?"

"Yes."

"As a matter of fact-please do not answer if this is beyond your knowledge-when Mr. Molto and Mr Della Guardia decided that they wanted those records, they relied on the authority of this subpoena to obtain them, did they not?"

"I think that's right."

"And so Mr. Sabich stands on trial here on the basis of evidence that he himself subpoenaed, correct?"

The courtroom ruffles. Nico objects. "The question is argumentative."

Larren shakes his head benignly.

"Mr. Della Guardia, you're tryin to show here that Mr. Sabich hindered the gathering of evidence, as a way to prove guilty knowledge. And the prosecution is entitled to do that, but the defense is entitled to show that the evidence that is being presented was actually gathered through his efforts. I don't know how else they meet your proof. Overruled."

"I repeat," says Stern, standing before Lipranzer, "Mr. Sabich is being tried here with evidence he himself subpoenaed."

"Right," says Lip. Eager as a recruit, he adds, "Just like the fingerprints."

"Just so," says Sandy. He proceeds to the fingerprints. It was Sabich who personally visited McGrath Hall, met with Lou Balistrieri, demanded that the prints be processed. True, Sabich was busy, running the entire P.A.'s office while Horgan campaigned, but again it was his own efforts that produced the evidence now being used in an attempt to convict him. Did he obstruct you?" Sandy asks at the end.

Lip sits straight up in his chair. "No."

"Did he impede you?"

"Not in my book."

"Indeed, Detective, I believe you told Mr. Della Guardia that even if you had known of this evidence, your respect and affection for Rusty Sabich after many years' association is such that you would never have suspected, let alone believed, that he had committed this murder. Is that right?"

The way Lip hesitates, I fear for a moment that Stern has gone too far. But then I see that Lip is merely making his own ungainly effort at dramatic effect.

"Never," he repeats, and Stern sits down. As he does, he smiles furtively at me, a gesture meant largely for the jury. Nonetheless, for the first time I have the feeling that the jurors are not satisfied by Stern's performance. It is unconvincing. This tour de force still does not explain why I did not volunteer to Lip the information about the calls from my phone, especially the one on the night of the murder. Stern's cross does not offer any reason why I could not work with Harold Greer, whose appearance is surely far more impressive to the jury than Lipranzer's. It does not show what alternatives I had to going to Lou Balistrieri when Lipranzer-not to mention Horgan-was nagging me to do that. And this last exchange, while touching in its awkwardness, is simply baloney. No one could fail to be discomfited by the discovery of the phone records and the prints. The doubtful nature of the cross is emphasized by Lip's obedient response to Stern's guidance. It is all too clear: Lipranzer is a friend, willing to be misled. The jury will not fail to perceive this. It is as I always feared. The rule of equal and opposite reactions applies in the courtroom as well. Due in large part to his visible reluctance, Dan Lipranzer has been the most damaging witness against me to date.

The afternoon continues the downward movement. The stipulations are prepared and read. Coming on the heels of Lipranzer's testimony, the revelation of the actual content of the telephone records is crushing. Nico reads the stip himself. He has finally caught the measure of this jury. They are a bright bunch and want the facts delivered without varnish. Nico assumes a flat, understated tone and looks up just a little when he finishes reading so that he can watch the evidence drive home. The jurors are attentive to him and I feel the weight of their calculations. I discover that, as a defendant, you experience the lows in the courtroom far more acutely than as an advocate. My afternoon settles into a feeling of weakness, suppression with a coefficient of palpable nausea.

The stipulation about the carpet fibers is lengthy, but it has a similar impact. By agreeing to forgo the testimony, Nico, in theory, lost the drama of a live presentation. But the technical witnesses tend to be dry and overly involved. The written summaries are direct enough to have some bite. There is no chance this way that Stern can engage in any of his masterful misdirection or minimization. The facts, as they are, emerge with painful silence. The one favorable aspect-that none of my clothing matched any of the fibers found-is too easily explained. The clothes I wore that night were discarded-with the murder weapon. Or simply did not shed. These conclusions, inevitable and arithmetically direct, seem to thicken the air of the courtroom. I can sense them taking place in every quarter. And with them a kind of hush or calm inhabits the place, a dawning resolution. It is more than the mid-afternoon lull. Instead, it seems that all of the observers, including the jurors, have perceived a change in direction, a swing of momentum more in line with original expectations. It has taken the prosecutors longer than it should have, but they are assuming control of the trial, proving their case.