Scott Turow - The Laws of our Fathers

'Now, the evidence will show, Judge, that one day in September, the week of Labor Day, Nile Eddgar urged Senator Eddgar to meet with Hardcore. Nile told his father Hardcore had something important to discuss with him. And Senator Eddgar agreed to meet. What he did not know was that his son, Nile Eddgar, had promised to pay Hardcore $25,000 if Hardcore would arrange to murder his father. He did not know that Nile Eddgar had made a $10,000 down payment.' Tommy with his notes on yellow sheets looks up at me for the first time. 'The People, Judge, will offer in evidence cash, currency that Ordell Trent received from Nile Eddgar on which Nile Eddgar's fingerprints have been identified.'

News. Movement in the jury box. In the bench book, I make my first note: 'Prints?' The harsh sibilance of whispers continues throughout the courtroom, and is brought to an immediate conclusion by another walloping smack of Annie's gavel. She scans the space with a menacing look. Tommy, in the meantime, has paused, and wiggles his shoulders about, appreciatively absorbing the impact he has made.

'Indeed, Judge, Mr Trent's testimony about this will be corroborated not only by fingerprint evidence but by telephone records showing a long pattern of communication between Nile Eddgar and him, including a page to Mr Trent twenty minutes before this murder took place.

'And you will hear the details of this murder plan, not only from Ordell Trent, from Hardcore, but from a young female gang member, a juvenile named Lovinia Campbell. Ms Campbell, Judge, is fifteen years old, and you, Judge, you will hear evidence that Hardcore told her that at Nile Eddgar's request -'

Hobie has again taken his feet. 'Objection.'

'Grounds?'

'That is most emphatically not what the evidence will show. Mr Molto's engaged in argument.'

'Overruled. I wouldn't know if it's argument or not. Mr Molto, I'm sure you recall your obligation to merely describe the evidence.' I smile, a gesture which Tommy finds momentarily confusing. Hobie resumes his seat, satisfied that he has tagged the issue.

'Ms Campbell will tell you that Hardcore described the plan to her. A plan in which the evidence will show – he turns briefly toward Hobie – 'Nile Eddgar's name was in fact mentioned. The plan, Judge, was for Ms Campbell, a member of Hardcore's narcotics operation, to meet Senator Eddgar. She would be there when Senator Eddgar drove up to the agreed spot. As the car approached, she would make a cell phone call giving a code word. And then she would greet Senator Eddgar. She would tell him she was going to get Hardcore. And she would exit that area. And as Senator Eddgar waited in his white Chevy Nova, a rider on a bicycle would come around the corner and sweep Senator Eddgar's car with gunfire from an automatic weapon. Ms Campbell would then approach the car, ostensibly to aid Senator Eddgar, to see if he was alive, and in reaching over the body, Ms Campbell, according to the plan, would plant a packet of drugs in Senator Eddgar's hand. And the story afterwards would be that Senator Eddgar was a white drug buyer, that his visits to the area were for drug reasons, not political reasons, and that he was killed randomly, in a drive-by shooting by a rival gang.' Tommy waits again to let the details, the horror, the cleverness of these calculations sink in. He knows it sounds right. The bicycle has become the murder wagon of today – maneuverable where cop cars cannot go, easily ditched behind a bush, and not identified by license plates.

'That was the plan, Judge. It did not work out. Senator Eddgar was not able to make it that morning. Other commitments in the state house had come up. And unfortunately, Judge, Mrs Eddgar was here. She lives in Marston, Wisconsin, Judge. Lived. But although Dr Eddgar and she divorced many years ago they remained close and she was here visiting him and her son. She came to the Tri-Cities often to do that, Judge, she was often in the county, and on this morning Senator Eddgar, when he was called away to his other business, he and the decedent, he and Mrs Eddgar agreed that she would drive down to Grace Street. As I said, Judge, Senator Eddgar's acquaintance with Mr Trent had political aspects and he did not want to offend Mr Trent by missing this meeting. He could not reach him by phone and so June Eddgar agreed to go down and apologize in person for the senator.

'And so she went, Judge,' says Tommy, 'and so she died. The evidence will show that when June Eddgar arrived in the area, when they realized that it was her in the car, not her husband, everyone – Lovinia Campbell and Ordell Trent – they tried to get her to leave quickly, but it was too late, Judge, to stop this plan that Nile Eddgar had put in motion. The zip bike came and it arrived too fast for the rider to see Ms Campbell's signals to stop. Ms Campbell was shot herself, Judge. And June Eddgar was killed. And I'm sure, Judge – it really isn't disputed – that Mr Turtle will tell you that Nile Eddgar didn't intend to kill Mrs Eddgar. Indeed, Judge, we'll offer a statement he made to the community service officer who came to inform him of his mother's death, in which Nile Eddgar all but admitted he intended to kill his father instead.'

'Objection!' Hobie booms. Both arms are raised. ' "All but admitted"? Your Honor, that's argument, clearly argument. Defendant did no such thing.'

I strike Molto's comment.

'Sorry, Judge,' he says before I can reprimand him further. Molto's tiny, darting eyes shy away, knowing he was caught. 'The point, Judge, is we acknowledge that the defendant has lost his mother, Judge, which undoubtedly has caused him some anguish and some grief. But that, as you know, is no excuse in the eyes of the law.'

With this, my attention falls again to Nile. I felt a momentary kinship with him this morning as I arrived on the bench, thinking about my mother and a childhood lived in the shadow of political commitments. But I'm struck now by a more distant perspective: Nile is simply odd. For the moment, he is occupied with his notepad. Defense lawyers often try to find a focus point like this for their clients, knowing that they are best off showing no reactions at all to the proceedings. But my sense of Nile is that he's beyond the grasp of any plan or discipline. There is an abiding ungainliness about him. He's potbellied, and when he walks he moves from the balls of his feet, in a loafing, dopey Alley Oop gait. Indeed, for someone who made his living in these courtrooms, he appears remarkably baffled. When he stood before me this morning, his head bobbed about like a barnyard hen's, and he is clearly uncomfortable in his go-to-court clothes. His tie knot is too large and askew, and his shirt collar will not stay in place. Yet Nile is my riddle to solve. What did he do? What did he intend? The most basic tasks in judging, they seem in this case frightening and enormous. Molto is winding up.

'What the evidence will show is that Nile Eddgar planned to murder, took substantial steps in furtherance of that plan, and that a murder resulted. That is the People's evidence, Judge. And once you have heard it, we expect you to find the People have proved beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant Nile Eddgar is guilty as charged of conspiracy to commit murder.' Tommy nods to me politely, convinced he has done a good job, which he has.

Meanwhile, in the jury box, another conspiracy is afoot. Several of the journalists are huddled, trying in hasty whispers to reach their usual consensus about the parts of Molto's presentation which are newsworthy. By striking this accord they ensure that no editor can complain that his reporter was scooped or missed the mark in her story. I can imagine what they're asking one another: What do you think about this stuff about the father and the gang guy having some political deal? What about the fingerprints on the money? I wonder myself. I make a few more notes.