Parnell Hall - The Anonymous Client

“Yes it is.” Margaret Millburn drew herself up. “And I know nothing about this case other than what I have already testified to in court, and I object to being dragged through it again.”

Harry Dirkson grinned.

“I’m sure you do, Miss Millburn,” Steve said. “And I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I’ll try to make this as brief as possible.”

Steve Winslow walked to the defense table. He reached into the paper bag and detached the list of names from the metal clipboard. “Your Honor, I ask that this piece of paper be marked for identification as Defense exhibit A.”

Harry Dirkson stood up. “May I see that?”

“Certainly,” Steve said, and passed the paper over to him.

Dirkson took it, frowned, and said, “No objection, Your Honor.”

The court reporter took the paper and marked it. Steve took it back from him and approached the witness.

“Now, Miss Millburn, I hand you this paper marked for identification as Defense exhibit A, and ask if you have ever seen it before.”

The witness took the paper, looked at it, then glared at Steve Winslow.

“Well?” Steve said.

“Yes, I have.”

“I want to be sure of this,” Steve said. “Will you look at the list again? And read it over to yourself?”

The witness glared at him. Then looked down at the list. A few moments later she looked up. “Yes,” she said.

“You’ve read the list over?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And to the best of your recollection, you have seen this list before?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Steve said. He crossed back to the defense table, and took the metal clipboard out of the paper bag. “Your Honor, I ask that this clipboard be marked for identification as Defense exhibit B.”

“Any objection?” Judge Graves said.

“None, Your Honor,” Dirkson said.

“So ordered.”

The reporter marked the clipboard. Steve took it back from him.

“Now,” Steve said, “I am going to take the paper, Defense exhibit A, and attach it to the clipboard, Defense exhibit B, and hand it to you and ask you if this is not the way the paper was presented to you when you saw it before.”

The witness took the clipboard. “Yes. That’s right. It was.”

“Fine,” Steve said. He looked around the courtroom. “Tracy Garvin. Please stand up.”

Tracy got to her feet.

“Now,” Steve said. “I ask you to look at the young woman standing in the back of the courtroom, and ask you if you have ever seen her before.”

“Objection, Your Honor. Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

“I’ll connect it up in a moment, Your Honor,” Steve said.

“I think the connection should come first,” Dirkson said.

“Very well,” Steve said. “In that case, I will withdraw that question and ask you this: is it not true that the person standing in the back of the courtroom, Tracy Garvin, is the person who handed you the clipboard which you now hold?”

“Objection. Same grounds.”

“I can connect it up, Your Honor.”

“I still maintain the connection should come first,” Dirkson said.

“Very well,” Steve said. “Then let me ask you this: did you know that that person standing there is a private detective in my employ? Did you know that the clipboard you are holding in your hand is a highly polished metal clipboard used by private detectives for the purpose of obtaining clear latent prints of suspects? Did you know that Tracy Garvin, on my instructions, got you to handle that clipboard just as you are holding it now, specifically for the purpose of obtaining your latent prints for comparison? And did you know that when we compared your prints, two of them matched absolutely with the latent prints taken from the decedent’s apartment and introduced in evidence here in court?”

Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Objection!” he thundered. “Your Honor-”

Judge Graves’ gavel cut him off. “That will do,” he snapped. “Court is still in session. Jurors will remain seated. Witness will remain on the stand.” Judge Graves paused, took a breath, and then glowered at the defense table. “Attorneys,” he said grimly. “In my chambers.”

Dirkson angrily paced up and down in the judge’s chambers while he waited for the court reporter to set up his stand.

When everyone was ready, Judge Graves said, “Now, Mr. Dirkson.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. He glowered at Winslow and Fitzpatrick. “I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. It is a barefaced lie. Counsel may have obtained the fingerprints of the witness, but he’s never compared them to the prints in evidence in court. He doesn’t have them. It couldn’t have been done. It is a trick. A theatrical grandstand. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct.”

Judge Graves turned to Steve. “Mr. Winslow?”

Steve smiled. “I wish the prosecutor would make up his mind. A few minutes ago he was threatening to charge me with abuse of process for having no definite purpose in mind. As I understand it now, his charge is that I have a definite purpose in mind, but he doesn’t like it.”

“Mr. Winslow, the charge is that you are making a false statement in court. That you are claiming to have compared the fingerprints of the witness to those introduced in court, when you have in fact, not. What do you say to that?”

“I say it’s none of his business,” Steve said.

Judge Graves’ face darkened. “Mr. Winslow, this is not to be taken lightly.”

“If he did compare those prints,” Dirkson put in, “I charge him with tampering with a prosecution exhibit.”

“You see, Your Honor,” Steve said. “As far as Dirkson’s concerned, I’m damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t. I still maintain it’s none of his business. And whether I compared those prints or not is totally irrelevant. And I beg to correct the District Attorney-I did not make the statement in court that I had compared those prints. I merely asked the witness if she knew that I did. I am asking her for her own knowledge, which is what I have every right to do.

“And I maintain that however objectionable the prosecution may feel the form of that question to be, the answer to it is entirely relevant. This witness has testified that she was never in Bradshaw’s apartment. If her testimony is true, she will answer by saying, ‘no, you must be mistaken, those couldn’t be my fingerprints, because I was never there.’ If she can’t answer that way, it means that her testimony was false. That means she’s guilty of perjury. And if she’s guilty of perjury, she’s certainly a biased witness. And that bias is something I have a legal right to establish. The witness has given testimony on a very material point, i.e., the altercation in Bradshaw’s apartment at the time of the murder. Therefore, if there is the slightest chance that she committed perjury, I have every right to bring it out.”

“Only by legitimate means, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel’s question is entirely irregular.”

Judge Graves took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson. On the surface, it might appear to be. However, as counsel has said, he is merely asking the witness whether she knew certain things to be true. But I think you’re missing the point here. A young woman is on trial for murder. If there is a chance that one of the prosecution’s witnesses is committing perjury, I want to know it. And I think you should want to know it too.

“However,” Judge Graves went on, turning to Fitzpatrick and Winslow. “Once that charge is brought up, if she is not committing perjury, I want to know that too.

“I am now going to rule. To begin with, the objection is overruled. I want the question answered. And I want it answered without any sparring between counsel. And I am referring to that particular line of questioning, Mr. Dirkson. I don’t want you jumping up on the follow-up question, unless a new point is raised. As far as this line of questioning goes, I’m going to allow Mr. Winslow to pursue it to its conclusion. But-”