Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

“Do you know where the cell phone was when she came in?”

“I’m pretty sure Dani was holding it, staring at it. I’m not even sure she knew Angela was there. She was kind of in shock. We both were.”

“But you noticed Angela? Why?”

“Because, like I said, I was paranoid. I was worried that if the kidnapper found out that anyone else knew, he’d…” Russell swallowed, then continued. “So I wanted her to get out. But she kept fussing, setting up the tea and the brown sugar and who knows what.”

Terry paused and gave a sweeping glance across the jury to make sure she had their attention before asking her next question. She needn’t have worried. The jury was riveted.

“So…Angela had both the time and opportunity to see the text on your cell phone.”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Now, you’re here testifying for the defense. I take it you don’t believe Ian had anything to do with this?”

I could’ve objected. What Russell believed was irrelevant. But why bother? The jury already knew it by now.

“No. There is not one doubt in my mind about this. Ian Powers is not guilty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Antonovich. I have nothing further.”

Declan tried to give me an “atta girl” look of encouragement. But as I stood up and walked to the lectern, I saw the jury sit back in their chairs-a clear sign they’d made up their minds. It was over. But I didn’t care. As long as they were still sitting in that jury box, I intended to keep on fighting, no matter how lost the cause.

“Mr. Antonovich, how many times would you say you’ve spoken to me since this case first broke?”

“Several. I don’t remember.”

“Yet you never told me or the lead investigator on this case, Bailey Keller, anything about your trouble with the union in Las Vegas, did you?”

Russell leaned forward and fixed me with an angry look. “Because you never asked. You focused on Ian Powers right from the start. I tried to tell you he couldn’t have done it. But you didn’t care about the truth. You just had to have someone go down for this-it didn’t matter who.”

I could tell he’d been waiting to unload that one on me for some time. But I was ready for it.

“You honestly believed that I wouldn’t look into the possibility of another suspect?”

Russell set his jaw. “Yes.”

“So let me get this straight: You were willing to let your best friend stand trial for the murders of your daughter and Brian Maher rather than give the police even one shot at exonerating him by investigating your theory?”

A few jurors looked mildly interested, and Russell shifted uncomfortably in the witness chair, but he remained resolute. “Yes. I guess I didn’t trust them to really follow through.”

That was a lame answer. Either this was a weak spot Terry couldn’t cover or a blind spot she’d forgotten to cover. I went after it.

“And so you never even tried. You, as his best friend, didn’t do everything possible to see your friend exonerated? Because you didn’t think the police would do a good enough job?”

“How do I know you wouldn’t try to scare off the witnesses?”

“Who would I scare off, Mr. Antonovich? The union workers? They didn’t look like the type to get scared off to me.”

Russell became even more truculent. “But you might’ve gotten to Angela. I don’t know. And maybe the person who really did this got to Jack Averly. Maybe that’s why Averly never showed up in court. Someone knew Averly was going to clear Ian and he wasn’t going to let that happen.”

This particular defense spin had swirled around a bit before the trial started, but Terry had never delivered on it. I noticed that the low buzz coming from the defense table had just picked up tempo. Either Russell’s last answer had been programmed and they were pleased, or he’d gone off script. Whatever the reason, it meant they were distracted. I launched my final salvo.

“So now we have yet another conspiracy? One to silence Jack Averly?”

“Yes.”

“Because Averly was going to exonerate Ian Powers?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Averly, the guy who drove Ian Powers to Boney Mountain, who wound up in New York with your daughter’s iPad, who bought a plane ticket in Brian’s name to frame Brian for Hayley’s murder, this was the guy who was going to prove that Ian Powers-”

Terry jumped to her feet and shouted, to drown out the rest of my question. “Objection! Argumentative!”

“Your Honor, this is cross-”

“And it’s argumentative,” the judge said with a disapproving glare. “Move on, Ms. Knight.”

But a sidelong glance at the jury showed me there was no point. Three were leaning back, arms folded, two looked irritated, and the rest were simply stone-faced. I knew I was violating the cardinal rule that you never spar with a victim, but I had no choice. I had to take the risk. Now, I could see that my gamble hadn’t paid off. I’d lost. “Nothing further, Your Honor. But I ask that Mr. Antonovich remain on call.” If by some chance those threatening letters turned out to be bogus, I’d put him back up there and shove them down his throat.

“Your next witness, Ms. Fisk?”

Terry stood, and I heard the note of triumph in her voice. “None, Your Honor. The defense rests.”

“Rebuttal, Ms. Knight?”

“Can we have a brief sidebar, Your Honor?”

The judge nodded and turned to the jury. “Why don’t we take our afternoon break, then? It’s three o’clock, I’ll see you back here at three fifteen.”

Declan and I stood as the jury filed out. Not one of them looked in our direction. Bailey leaned toward me. “Nice cross, Counselor.”

“Not that it mattered.”

Bailey sighed. “I’d like to tell you you’re wrong…”

I moved toward sidebar with leaden feet. I knew I probably shouldn’t even bother with rebuttal, but I couldn’t let go. If there was any way to rescue this case, I had to find it.“Your Honor, as you know, the defense had said they intended to call many more witnesses than they did, so I expected the defense case to take at least a couple of days longer-”

“And you don’t have witnesses ready for today,” the judge said. “Is that where you’re going?”

“In a nutshell, yes. I can get them in tomorrow, I believe.”

Terry’s chin jutted out as she leaned toward the court reporter. “This court has made it very clear that we had to have witnesses standing by every day, and that if either of us ran out, it would require us to rest our case. The defense has abided by that rule and I’m urging the court to enforce it for the People as well. If Ms. Knight doesn’t have her witnesses, then there should be no rebuttal. The case should go to the jury.”

“Ms. Fisk is right,” the judge said.

I started to respond, but he held up a hand and cut me off. “I’ve heard your position; it doesn’t require any further explanation.” The judge folded his arms and pursed his lips as he looked down at the space between us. The court reporter’s hands hovered over the keys, waiting to hear what he’d say. I reflexively crossed my fingers, my heart in my throat. Finally, the judge made his decision.

“I’m going to allow the People to start their rebuttal tomorrow. I want to make it clear that the only reason I’m doing this is because Ms. Knight is correct: the defense witness list was extensive, which created the impression that it would take a great deal more time than it has. Ms. Fisk, you’ve dropped at least seventy percent of the witnesses you originally indicated you’d call. I really can’t, in all fairness, punish Ms. Knight for relying on your representations. So I’m granting the People’s request. But I warn you, Ms. Knight, I won’t brook any delays tomorrow. I want this case to go to the jury as soon as possible, so make sure you have everyone here.”