Parnell Hall - The Baxter Trust

Inside the gate, Maxwell Baxter stopped to look over at his niece. The effect that look created in the minds of the jurors could not have been a good one in terms of the defense. It was the look a stern parent might give a particularly naughty and unruly child.

Maxwell Baxter met Steve Winslow’s eyes. The look Max gave Steve was one of pure contempt. Steve merely smiled.

Max took the stand and was sworn in. Dirkson approached the bench.

“Your Honor,” he said. “This is a hostile witness. He is the uncle of the defendant, and he has refused to answer any questions put to him by the police or the prosecution. Therefore I may need to ask leading questions.”

“I will reserve that ruling until it becomes necessary,” Judge Crandell said.

Dirkson turned to the witness. “You are Maxwell Baxter, the uncle of the defendant?”

Max stared at Dirkson as one might stare at a particularly loathsome bug. “I am.”

“You are, I believe, her trustee?”

“That is correct.”

“Is hers a large trust?”

“That depends what you mean by large.”

“What is the amount of the trust?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“And yet you are the trustee?”

“That is correct.”

“And yet you state you don’t know the amount of the trust?”

“That is correct.”

“Why don’t you know the amount of the trust?”

“A large portion of the trust is in stocks, which constantly fluctuate. It would take an accountant to tell you what they’re worth.”

Dirkson looked at Judge Crandell in helpless exasperation.

“Very well,” Judge Crandell said. “You have your ruling.”

Dirkson turned back to Maxwell Baxter. “Mr. Baxter, is Sheila Benton’s trust worth more than a million dollars?”

“It is.”

There was a reaction from the spectators.

“Is it worth several million dollars?”

“What do you mean by several?”

“You tell me. How many millions would you say the trust is worth?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”

“More than five?”

“Yes.”

“More than ten?”

“Yes.”

“More than twenty?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mr. Baxter, are you telling me that the amount of Sheila Benton’s trust is somewhere close to twenty million dollars?”

“I’m not telling you anything. I’m answering your questions.”

“Yes, you are. Let me ask you another one. As trustee, you are familiar with the provisions of the trust, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“And is not one of the provisions to the effect that if Sheila is involved in any scandal that would damage the family name, the trust is declared void and the money goes to charity?”

“Yes. That is true.”

That produced another reaction in the courtroom. However, Dirkson stood there and looked all around the room, and particularly at the jurors, just to be sure they all got the point, before he announced, “Your witness.”

Steve rose to his feet. As opposed to the ponderous dramatic air of Dirkson, he was bright and breezy as he smiled and approached the witness.

“Yes, Mr. Baxter,” he said. “And whose discretion is it whether Sheila’s behavior is scandalous enough to warrant terminating the trust?”

“The decision is mine, as trustee.”

“Yours alone?”

“Mine alone.”

“And if someone had proven to you that Sheila was involved in an extramarital relationship, would you have considered that sufficient grounds for terminating the trust?”

“Certainly not,” Max said. “I consider that provision in the trust particularly idiotic. I would always interpret it as leniently as possible.”

Steve smiled. “No further questions.”

Dirkson rose to his feet. He also was smiling. He could have objected to Winslow’s question, but he had a counterattack of his own planned.

“I have some redirect, Your Honor. Mr. Baxter, did your niece, Sheila Benton, know that you wouldn’t terminate the trust if she became involved in a scandal?”

Max glanced at the defense table, expecting an objection, but Steve just sat there. Max turned to the judge. “I think that’s an improper question, Your Honor.”

“There being no objection from the defense, you are required to answer.”

“I can’t answer for what my niece may or may not have known,” Max said, evasively.

“Let me put it this way. Did you ever tell your niece that you wouldn’t terminate the trust under those circumstances?”

Again Max looked at Steve and got no response. “I fail to see how what I may or may not have told my niece is relevant,” he said to the judge.

“It is up to the court to decide what is relevant, Mr. Baxter,” Judge Crandell said. “In the absence of an objection from the defense, you will answer the question.”

“Then I will have to say that I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember telling your niece?” Dirkson asked.

“No.”

“Then you probably did not.”

“I can’t remember,” Max said.

“Then let me put it this way. Was there in your own mind the intention not to tell your niece that you didn’t intend to break the trust, because by letting her think that you would break the trust you could control her actions?”

Maxwell Baxter, who had been well coached by his attorneys as to the type of objections he could expect Steve Winslow to make in his behalf, and who was thoroughly frustrated at not hearing them, now came out with them himself. “That is a wild allegation on your part,” he blustered angrily, “assuming facts not in evidence, calling for a conclusion on my part, and inquiring into matters that are incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

Judge Crandell banged the gavel. “Mr. Baxter,” he said sternly. “Another such outburst and I’ll hold you in contempt of court. Must I remind you that you are not a lawyer?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Max said. “But someone has to function as a lawyer around here, and my niece’s inexperienced attorney is just sitting there letting the prosecution get away with these objectionable questions.”

Steve Winslow got slowly to his feet, smiled and said calmly, with elaborate condescension, “Your Honor, I haven’t been objecting because I don’t want the jury to get the impression that Sheila has anything to hide. I think it would damage her case to do so. I assumed that Mr. Baxter was an intelligent man, capable of taking care of himself. If, however, he would like me to come to his rescue at the expense of his niece’s best interests, I’ll endeavor to do so.”

Judge Crandell’s gavel silenced Max’s angry retort. “That will do,” Crandell said. “The objection, if any, is overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

“Did you intend not to tell your niece?” Dirkson asked.

Max, defeated and furious, looked around the courtroom. “No,” he said. “I didn’t intend to tell her.”

Again the courtroom broke into a low murmur.

Dirkson smiled. “No further questions.”

“Any recross-examination?” Judge Crandell asked.

Steve Winslow rose. “Yes, Your Honor.” He strode up to the witness stand, smiled at Max, and said, “Mr. Baxter, do you like me?”

There was stunned reaction in the courtroom. No one could quite believe he had asked that.

Dirkson recovered first and struggled to his feet. “Your Honor, I object. Of all the absurd-”

Crandell banged the gavel. “That will do. If you have an objection, state it in legal terms.”

“Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial,” Dirkson said.

“It’s always relevant to show bias, Your Honor,” Steve said.

Dirkson, still upset, said, “What bias? This is the defendant’s uncle. He’s biased for her.”