Erle Gardner - The Case of the Troubled Trustee

"A newscaster and analyst."

"You say it's a favorite of yours?"

"Yes."

"Do you listen every night?"

"Almost every night, yes."

"And is that the only program that you listen to?"

''Oh, no."

"You listen to others?"

"Certainly."

"What is the nature of these other programs you listen to?"

"Well, I have two or three favorite newscasters."

"Such as what?"

"Well, I have Carleton Kenny. I try to listen to him every night."

"Oh, yes," Hamilton Burger said, "he comes on at eleven o'clock?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what others?"

"Well, two or three others."

"What was the program you were listening to at nine o'clock when you heard this sound which you took to be a shot?"

"I was listening to Ralph Woodley."

"Woodley?" Hamilton Burger said.

"No, no," the witness corrected himself, "I meant George Tillman."

"Now, just a minute," Hamilton Burger said. "You said first it was Woodley you were listening to."

"Well, I thought it was. That is, I suddenly realized-"

Hamilton Burger said, "You suddenly realized that one program comes on at nine o'clock and the other program comes on at ten. You said that you were listening to Woodley. He comes on at ten, does he not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when I asked you to give the program you were listening to, the name Woodley slipped out before you thought."

"It was an inadvertent slip of the tongue."

"But when I asked you, you said before you had any opportunity to think that you were listening to Woodley's program."

"Yes."

"Then the shot could have been at ten o'clock."

"No, sir, the shot I heard was at nine o'clock. It was just before I went in to tune in the nine o'clock program, the last thirteen minutes of it."

Hamilton Burger, his manner suddenly magnanimous, said, "Now, Mr. Holbrook, I don't want to take any unfair advantage of you. I want you to listen carefully. Suppose I should assure you, as I do now assure you, that two reputable citizens who lived even closer to the seventh tee than you do are prepared to swear that shortly after ten o'clock, just as the Woodley program was going on the air, they heard a single pistol shot, or a sound which they interpreted as being a pistol shot coming from the direction of tee number seven. Would that testimony change your recollection and would you then state that the sound you heard, which you took to be a shot, was at ten o'clock rather than nine o'clock?"

George Holbrook seemed for a moment completely baffled. Then he slowly shook his head. "I thought it was nine o'clock," he said.

"I know you did," Hamilton Burger said, his manner suddenly sympathetic, "but you could have been mistaken. There was a lot of excitement that night. You went to pick up your wife's sister?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how did it happen that you didn't report the matter to the police the next morning when you read of the murder?"

"I didn't read of the murder," Holbrook said. "We decided to take a trip and we threw some things together late that night, got three or four hours' sleep and took off at daylight the next morning."

"Oh, yes," Hamilton Burger said. "And how long were you gone, Mr. Holbrook?"

"Three weeks."

"And you didn't know anything about the murder all the time you were gone?"

"I knew about it but didn't know that it had taken place on the golf links right across from our front porch, so to speak."

"So you didn't realize the importance of this sound you had heard until some three weeks later?"

"Yes, sir-sometime later."

"And then you tried to reconstruct in your mind the exact date that you had heard this shot?"

"Yes, sir.''

"And the time you had heard the shot?"

"Yes, sir."

"After an interval of three weeks?"

"Yes, sir."

"Three full weeks?"

"Yes, sir.''

"And it could have been while you were listening to the Woodley program, just as you said when I first asked you?"

"Yes, I thought it was the- No, no, wait a minute. The Woodley program comes on at ten o'clock. This was at nine o'clock."

Hamilton Burger smiled indulgently. "If the other witnesses fix it as being when the Woodley program was on the air, would you change your testimony once more, Mr. Holbrook, and again say that it was at the time of the Woodley program?"

"Well, I… I thought it was at nine o'clock."

"You thought it was," Hamilton Burger said, his manner suddenly stern, and then leaning forward and fixing the witness with a direct gaze. "You can't swear to it, can you?"

George Holbrook thought for a long moment, then said, "No, I can't positively swear to it."

"Thank you," Hamilton Burger said. "That's all."

Hamilton Burger turned away from the witness, glanced at the jury and for a moment a swift grin came over his features. Then he masked his face as though desperately trying to keep his emotions concealed from the jury.

"Very well," he said, "that's all."

Judge Alvarado said, "I have a matter which has been on the calendar for some time set for this hour and it's a matter I have to take care of. I am going to continue this case until tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. During the recess of the Court, the jurors will remember the usual admonition of the Court not to form or express any opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant, and to refrain from discussing the case among yourselves, and particularly not to let anyone discuss it with you. Court is recessed until ten o'clock tomorrow."

As the spectators started filing out, Dutton leaned toward Mason. "How did I do," he asked, "-on the stand?"

Mason, putting papers in his brief case, said, "About the way I expected."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

Mason shook his head and said, "Go ahead and get a night's sleep and try to forget about the case. No one ever knows what a jury is going to do."

The lawyer nodded to the bailiff and to the officer who was coming forward to take Dutton into custody, managed a reassuring smile for Della Street, then walked out of the courtroom, his shoulders squared, his manner confident, his chin up, his stomach cold.

Back in his office, all of Mason's assurance vanished.

"Well?" Della Street asked.

"Get Paul Drake," Mason said. "We've got to do something or our man is going to be convicted of first-degree murder."

"What can you do?" Della Street asked.

"We've got to do something," Mason said. "We're going to have to think up something."

"You think it's that bad?"

"I know it's that bad. The idea of Dutton bucketshopping the stocks in the trust fund and deliberately deceiving the beneficiary into believing the trust fund was being exhausted just didn't sit well with that jury."

Della said, "Paul Drake's on his way down here now."

A few moments later, Drake's code knock sounded on the door, and Della opened it to admit the detective.

Drake raised inquiring eyebrows and Della shook her head.

Mason, pacing the floor, was engrossed in thought.

Drake slipped across to the client's chair and seated himself.

Mason said, "We've got to pull a rabbit out of the hat, Paul."

Drake nodded.

Mason continued his pacing the floor. "Something dramatic. Something that will drive home our contention."

"How does it look?" Drake asked.

"You know how it looks," Mason said, without changing the tempo of his stride or even glancing at the detective. "Hamilton Burger has alienated any sympathy the jurors might have had for the defendant. He's mixed up the only witness we had who could give any evidence that would enable us to talk about reasonable doubt."

"You've licked him so many times in front of a jury," Paul Drake said, "that I think you're being unduly pessimistic this time."