Randy Singer - The Justice Game

Kelly shook her head. In the past five years, she had learned her deposition lessons the hard way-don’t let the men push you around. Always get the last word. “It’s a shame,” she said, “that the rookie has to learn how to practice law on my case.”

Beeson chuckled. “Man, I wouldn’t mess with her,” he said to Jason.

The squabbling continued for several more questions until Kelly got back on solid ground. The phone conversation was only one way of showing that the clerks at Peninsula Arms knew this was a straw purchase. The other was the transaction itself.

According to Beeson, he and Larry Jamison had entered the store together. Jamison had talked with the clerk and inspected the firearms while Beeson looked on. Once Jamison selected the gun, Beeson and Jamison went outside the store, and the money changed hands-the cost of the gun and a 50 percent “handling fee.” Beeson went back inside on his own and purchased the gun, gave it to Jamison in the parking lot, and never saw the man again.

It was, Kelly thought, as good a place as any to end the testimony. Beeson wasn’t the best witness, but Kelly didn’t get to pick them. She already knew how she would explain it in her closing argument.

“Boy Scouts don’t participate in the gunrunning business. The other people who know how this transaction occurred are either dead or taking the Fifth. We don’t pick the witnesses, ladies and gentlemen, we just put them on the stand.

“But is he telling the truth? Consider this-Beeson’s confession earned him a twelve-month prison sentence. What human being lies so that he can spend a year of his life behind bars?”

Jason was in full acting mode now. He was so nervous he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Nevertheless, he pushed his nerves aside and adopted a condescending air, an acerbic tone.

Jarrod Beeson was scum. It was important that every part of Jason’s cross-examination deliver that message.

“You seem to be mighty friendly with Ms. Starling,” Jason said. “Have you rehearsed your testimony?”

“Objection,” Kelly snapped. “That question completely mischaracterizes the witness’s demeanor.”

“I thought we were saving our objections for trial,” Jason said.

“Just ask your questions.”

“Well,” Jason said thoughtfully, “let’s probe it a little bit. Have you been sued by Ms. Starling?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

Jason smiled. When witnesses tried to play it coy, it only hurt their credibility. “Okay, let me help you. Have you been served with any official-looking legal documents while you’ve been sitting in jail-documents that demand you pay Rachel Crawford’s husband a lot of money?”

“No.”

“Then let’s assume you haven’t been sued.”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” Kelly said, her voice curt. “I didn’t sue him because he’s penniless. It would be a waste of time.”

Jason pondered this for a minute. He could tell he was getting under Kelly’s skin. She was a good lawyer, but she took everything personally. Maybe he could exploit that. “Will you also stipulate that you didn’t sue the gun store because they’re in bankruptcy?”

“That’s got nothing to do with this deposition,” Kelly said.

“Or how about the fact that you sued my client because they seem to be the only ones that do have money?”

Kelly turned to the court reporter. “Strike that from the record,” she said. Then back to Jason. “Are you going to ask this witness questions, or do you just want to pick a fight?”

“All right.” Jason turned back to Beeson. “Do you know Melissa Davids?”

“No.”

“Have you ever talked to anybody who works at my client’s company, MD Firearms?”

“You mean other than the gun store clerks?”

“Nice try. But they don’t work for us. I mean anybody actually employed by MD Firearms?”

“Don’t think so.”

“And when you illegally buy these guns for criminals, you don’t always buy guns manufactured by MD Firearms, do you?”

Even Beeson knew he couldn’t deny this one. The records were clear. “No. Though most felons seem to like that MD-9.”

Nice touch. Jason gave Beeson a quick smile and reminded himself not to get sloppy. “In fact, some of your straw purchases were at stores other than Peninsula Arms, correct?”

“If you say so.”

“Do you need to see the receipts?”

“Nah. I believe you.”

Jason paused. He knew that periods of silence could sometimes help refocus the attention of the jury. “Then let me ask you this question: If for some reason MD Firearms had decided to no longer sell guns to Peninsula Arms, you could have bought a different gun for Jamison, or you could have gone to a different store and bought the MD-9 there-right?”

Kelly let out a frustrated sigh. “That calls for speculation.”

“And so does your lawsuit,” countered Jason. He honed in on Beeson. “You need to answer the question. The judge will rule later as to whether the jury will hear it.”

“Can you repeat it again?” Beeson asked. It seemed to Jason like he was trying to buy time.

Jason had the court reporter read back the question and Beeson’s face went from concern to triumph-a dull math student finally understanding the formula.

“Maybe,” Beeson said. “But I would have never known that Jamison existed if Peninsula Arms hadn’t sent him to me.”

“Which is all hearsay,” Jason said. “The only person who told you that Peninsula Arms was involved in referring Jamison to you was Jamison himself; isn’t that right?”

“Objection. Asked and answered.”

“Do I answer again anyway?” Beeson asked, looking at Kelly.

She nodded.

“That’s right,” Beeson said. “Jamison told me. And it might be a little hard to cross-examine him.”

As Kelly was leaving the prison, Jason held the door for her. After two hours of fighting tooth and nail, she wanted to tell him he could dispense with the Southern gentleman charade. Instead, she found herself saying thanks. But when he tried to civilly discuss scheduling dates for other depositions and discovery matters, she blew him off. “Call me at the office,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Kelly stopped and looked at him. The audacity. “No, thanks.” She knew she should probably let it go at that. Jason was young. He was good at depositions, but he obviously had a few things to learn about life. “This isn’t Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog,” Kelly said. “Try to kill each other all day, punch a clock, wish each other a pleasant evening.”

Jason looked a little stunned, but Kelly was just getting started. “Your client pumps useless semi-automatic assault weapons into the black market and turns its back while people die. My client has to live the rest of his life without a soul mate. I know you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Jason stood there for a second, taking it all in. “Okay,” he said. “All right, I get that. But did I mention the coffee’s on me?”

Kelly sighed. It was hard to stay mad when he wouldn’t fight back. “Call me at the office,” she said. She turned and headed toward her car, hiding the faintest hint of a smile.

“Drive safe,” Jason called out.

Was he playing mind games with her, or was he really that clueless?

Bella Harper, it turned out, had an opinion on everything. Between smoking breaks, lecturing Jason on how to run a law office, and organizing everything in sight, she also tried to get Jason’s spiritual life squared away. She talked about her own dramatic conversion to Christianity just a few short years ago and how much it had changed her. “Maybe not in the smoking department,” she admitted. “But everything else.”