Scott Turow - The Laws of our Fathers

'Judge, these answers are calling for hearsay and speculation from the witness. Detective Montague is not a gang member.'

'This is background on Hardcore?' I ask Hobie, and he nods eagerly, pleased I've gotten the point. I overrule the objection. The defense is entitled to show that the state's main witness did not arrive in the courtroom fresh from finishing school. At the prosecution table, Tommy shrugs off my ruling. He merely wanted to assuage Montague, who apparently was feeling beleaguered.

Granted some latitude, Hobie rephrases his last question, asking Montague to describe the leadership structure of BSD, as he understands it. Montague reacts as he did before, rolling his mouth about with mild distaste.

'Again, counsel, these folks don't give us an organizational chart. This particular bunch,' says Montague, 'have some relationship to another gang, called the Night Saints. There were some arrests and convictions, say, a dozen years ago. And this is sort of what you could call the surviving organization, although it's much bigger by now.'

'And how big is that, Lieutenant?'

'Jeez.' Montague directs a few stray hairs back into the black mass shining under the strong courtroom lights. 'From what I've seen, the Force estimates, they place membership in B SD at five, six thousand.' A murmur from the press section follows this news. Glancing over there, I am mildly startled by Seth Weissman, whom I hadn't noticed yet today. He has his arms laid across the chairs on either side, and he is fixed on me, somewhat disconcertingly. Having caught my eye, he issues a smile of greeting, which I return vaguely. Really! I think, although I am not certain if I mean to criticize him or me.

'And is Hardcore in charge of all six thousand?'

'Not as I get it. You know, the head of the Night Saints was a three-timer name of Melvin White, who was known on the street as Harukan. One of his sons now – who's called Harukan-el – son of Harukan, I guess – anyway, Kan-el is supposedly the head of the organization. But he's been in the state penitentiary at Rudyard for many years. So there's a Jeffrey Wilson, Jeff T-Roc, who is usually acknowledged as the top dog in BSD. Or so I understand.'

'And am I correct that this Kan-el is eligible for parole?'

'Supervised release. Parole by another name. That's what I hear. As I remember, he's been up twice. You know, he applies, he gets turned down. He's not a favored candidate, let's say.'

'There's some opposition from the law-enforcement community?'

'Some,' says Montague dryly.

'Judge,' interjects Tommy, 'what's the relevance of any of this?' I tell Molto that I want to hear objections only from the lawyer who questioned the witness, meaning Singh, then direct Hobie to explain his line of inquiry. He says he's only trying to establish where Hardcore fits in the organization in relation to Kan-el and T-Roc.

'Then ask that question,' I tell Hobie.

'Under them somewhere,' answers Montague, when Hobie does. 'Core's what they refer to as a "shot-caller" or "caller." He runs the T-4 set.'

'Was he over this Ms Campbell, this young lady who got herself shot?'

'So I understand.' Montague, although visibly unruffled, cannot resist an addition. 'You've seen her more recently than I have.' At that, Hobie comes to a complete stop. Every trial lawyer has his way. Hobie moves. He's big and seems to try to occupy the entire courtroom as a way of guaranteeing attention. He careers between the tables, slides up on the witness, nodding his dark, bearded face over his shoulder as he retreats. He's effective, too. Sloppy at moments, as when he groped with the money. But cagey and stylish. Now he takes full advantage of Montague's lapse by staring the witness down before moving to strike the last remark. I grant the motion and he goes on to another subject.

'Now, Detective, Mr Singh asked you a couple of questions about the investigation you conducted on September 7 following Mrs Eddgar's murder. Remember?'

'That I had a canvass done?'

'Right. When you canvassed that neighborhood, no officer reported to you that anybody'd mentioned the name of Nile Eddgar, did they?'

'Not that I remember.'

'They mentioned Hardcore, right?'

'Right.'

'But not Nile?'

'No.'

'Then there was this Lovinia Campbell. This young lady on the sidewalk? What's she called in the gang?' 'Bug,' says Montague. 'Bug. Did you speak with her?' 'Very briefly.'

'And did you ask Bug what had happened there?' 'I did.'

'And did Bug tell you that Nile Eddgar had conspired to murder his father, or his mother, or anybody else?'

Tommy prods Singh, who objects that this is hearsay. I overrule. The state opened up the subject of which suspects were named at the scene.

'No, she didn't,' Montague answers, somewhat wearily.

'As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, what she said was this whole thing was a drive-by shooting and Mrs Eddgar had got herself caught in the crossfire – isn't that what Bug said?'

'I suppose that's what she said. You know, she was in shock.'

' "In shock"? Is that your medical opinion, Detective?' Tommy's on his feet. 'Judge, he's arguing with the witness.' 'If anything, I think the witness is arguing with him, Mr Molto.

And I believe this is Mr Singh's witness, and even in a bench trial, I told you, I don't want to be tag-teamed.' I nod to Hobie to proceed.

'The fact here, Lieutenant, is that this Lovinia – Bug – didn't mention Nile Eddgar in any way that day, isn't that so?'

'She mentioned Nile a few days later when she talked to Officer Fred Lubitsch at General Hospital.' In exasperation, Hobie wilts. The question was what she said on September 7. In his worn blazer, Montague stares at Hobie hotly. There's no doubt any more that Lovinia Campbell is the state's problem or that Montague blames Hobie for their trouble. In theory, a defense lawyer is entitled to interview any prosecution witness, but usually when the witness has made a deal with the state, her own lawyer will discourage her from co-operating with the defendant. It keeps the prosecutors happy and avoids the jeopardy that might arise from contradicting what she told the state. Somehow, though, Hobie slipped past Bug's counsel, or even got her help, and the cops and prosecutors don't like it. I'm sure now this is why Hobie brought up Lovinia's name this morning – so I'd have the picture if Montague acted up.

'Come on, Detective,' I say, striking his last answer again. Montague makes a face and composes himself. In the meantime, I jot a note: 'Lubitsch!' No wonder Fred knew the case was a doozy.

'Bug didn't mention Nile that day,' Montague finally says when the court reporter rereads Hobie's last question.

'Truth is,' says Hobie, 'when you were there at the scene -what you heard was basically just this: Hardcore and a drive-by, right?'

Hobie leers a bit, daring Montague to disagree in the face of my warnings. The detective blinks first, then answers, 'Right.'

'Now, from there, Lieutenant, you had a community service officer – Kratzus?' Hobie's looking for the police report on the defense table.

'Kratzus,' says Montague.

'Kratzus went to tell Nile about his mother's death. And you took yourself over to see Senator Eddgar to find out how come Mrs Eddgar'd been driving his car, right?'

'Right'

'And you eventually found Senator Eddgar at his home in Greenwood County?' 'True.'

'Where he told you a big fat lie, right?'

'Objection!' Both prosecutors are on their feet.

'Your Honor,' says Hobie innocently, 'it's right here in Montague's report. He says -'

'Judge!' screams Tommy. 'Judge, Senator Eddgar isn't on the stand. When he testifies,' says Tommy, 'he'll explain this encounter with the police. It has nothing to do with Lieutenant Montague's direct.'