Joel Goldman - Stone Cold

Henderson flinched. “Y’all can see for yourself.”

“Yes, I can. Now, you know who this man is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but you don’t unnerstand! You don’t know what it’s like!”

“Then help me understand. Tell the jury who this man is.”

Henderson twisted and turned in his chair. “His name is Kyrie Chapman.”

“And who is Kyrie Chapman?”

“He’s a cousin to Wilfred.”

“Wilfred Donaire, the murder victim?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell the jury his name?”

Henderson turned to the judge, his eyes wet. “I got to answer that?”

Judge West didn’t hesitate. “You do.”

Henderson squirmed, looking for a way out, then cast another pained look at his wife, who wiped her eyes and nodded at him. He nodded back at her, letting out a resigned sigh.

“Kyrie come in my shop after Wilfred got killed. He said. .

Bradshaw interrupted. “Objection. Hearsay as to what Kyrie Chapman told him.”

“I’m not offering it for the truth of the matter asserted. I’m offering it to explain the witness’ behavior in this courtroom.”

“Overruled. You may finish your answer, Mr. Henderson.”

“Kyrie say I had to tell the cops that Dwayne killed Wilfred, and I say I don’t know nuthin’ about that. He say that don’t matter, that I had to tell the cops about Dwayne comin’ in my shop sayin’ how he got Wilfred’s chain off a dead nigger. That way when the cops arrest Dwayne, they find Wilfred’s chain and that be enough to put Dwayne away. And I say how you know Dwayne killed Wilfred and he say he know and that’s all I got to know.”

“What else did you and Kyrie talk about?”

“I ax him how he know Dwayne gonna have Wilfred’s chain and he say on account of some girl give it to Dwayne.”

“Did he tell you the girl’s name?”

“Naw.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I tol’ him Dwayne never come in my shop, not in a long time. And Kyrie say he sure as shit did unless I wanna see my family end up like Wilfred. Then he say he gonna bring my wife and kids to court when I testify to make sure I don’t forget. So that’s what I done.”

Alex turned to the jury. Some were leaning forward, heads cocked to one side, mouths open and sympathetic. Others gripped the armrests on their chairs, white-knuckled and angry. Not one could look away from Jameer Henderson. Especially Tommy Bradshaw, who was slack jawed and sweating as his case collapsed around him.

“No further questions,” she said.

“Well, I got one,” Henderson said, his voice rising. “What am I gonna do now?”

Alex stayed in the courtroom while the jury deliberated, too amped up to concentrate on anything. She packed up her file, taking a minute to flip through the crime scene photos, stopping on one that showed the back of Wilfred Donaire’s house, where his murder took place. A horseshoe was hung over the back door. Alex wondered if the jury would see the irony in that.

Her office was a couple of blocks away and she wanted to stay close in case the jury sent out a question or came back with a verdict. Dwayne Reed was back in his cell and the prosecution team was waiting it out in their office one floor above the courtroom.

She was happy to wait there, because the courtroom was her turf. The combination of simplicity and majesty, from the judge’s bench to the jury’s box, reminded her of her place and her purpose. It was a battlefield, and she relished the battle, knowing the stakes were greater than just winning or losing.

It was late afternoon when Judge West poked his head in and waved her into his chambers. She assumed this was a social invitation since it would be improper for him to discuss the case without Tommy Bradshaw also present. Alex knew that lawyers from the prosecutor’s office routinely received and accepted such invitations, but she had never gotten one.

Summer sunlight broke through the windows in the judge’s chambers, casting shadows. He opened a desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and two shot glasses.

“I’d say you earned this,” he said, handing her a drink.

Alex was reluctant to start drinking while the jury was still out, but she didn’t want to offend Judge West. She took a chair in front of his desk and sipped the whiskey, barely making a dent.

“That’s nice. Thanks.”

“Jury’s been out a while.”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Alex said without looking at her watch.

“Any bets?”

She set her glass on his desk. “Should we be talking about the case without Tommy being here?”

“Oh, hell,” West said, grinning, “we’re not talking about the case. We’re just sipping whiskey.”

Glad to have the chance to build a more personal relationship, she took another sip, hoping it would pay off down the road. “The longer they’re out, the better I like my chances.”

“That was a hell of a thing you did with Jameer Henderson. Might be enough to make the difference.”

“Hope so.”

“You really put poor Bradshaw in a box, forcing him to attack his star witness on redirect. He tried every way he could to get Henderson to stick with his original story, but Henderson wouldn’t budge. I thought you and he were friends.”

“We are. Good enough friends to know what happens in the courtroom stays in the courtroom.”

“Well, I hope for the sake of your friendship that Tommy agrees, because that was painful to watch.”

“What else could Tommy do? Henderson was the money.”

Judge West grunted. “The money. That’s what I called it when I was trying cases.”

“I know. I heard you use the term at a seminar on trial tactics right after I joined the PD’s office.”

West studied her before emptying his glass. “Takes the edge off a long day.” He set the glass on his desk. “Interesting thing about a trial like this, a lot of times you end up knowing less than you knew when it started.”

“Like what?”

“Like why would a scumbag like Kyrie Chapman go to so much trouble to nail a scumbag like Dwayne Reed? If he wanted to get even for your client killing his cousin, seems more likely he’d kill Reed himself instead of jumping through all those hoops to get Reed convicted.”

Alex wasn’t surprised at West’s disregard for judicial impartiality. But she was surprised that he was being so candid with her, knowing that she could use his comments to support an appeal based on his bias against her client. She knew she should try to steer the conversation away from the case, but she didn’t want to discourage him from giving her more ammunition. So instead, she drained her drink.

“It makes sense if Chapman killed Wilfred Donaire and was trying to frame Reed for the murder. That’s what I argued in my closing, except for the scumbag part.”

“Are you trying to tell me your client didn’t kill Donaire?”

His question, dripping in disbelief, was more evidence that he’d made up his mind about Dwayne’s guilt. She wondered how far he’d go and why he was going there.

“If you’re asking me if my client confessed, you know I can’t answer that question.”

The judge smiled. “And I wouldn’t want you to since I’m probably going to have to pass sentence on him.” He picked up the bottle of Scotch, swirling the contents, then set it down and inched his chair snug against his desk. “What do you suppose is going to happen if the jury lets your client go?”

Alex shrugged. “He’ll be a free man.”

“Will justice have been served?”

“Yes. That’s the way the system works. That is justice.”

“Even if he gutted Wilfred Donaire like a catfish and fed him his own dick?”