Steve Martini - Double Tap

“Rufus won’t be able to make payroll,” says Harry.

This morning Larry Templeton positions himself to lay one more stone on top of the platform that is beginning to crush Emiliano Ruiz.

Gilcrest’s earlier ruling that the state may not use the security tape of Chapman and Ruiz on the couch in her office because of its prejudicial effect has forced Templeton to do the next best thing. He calls Karen Rogan to the stand.

Rogan is the only firsthand witness who saw any part of the events shown on the tape, even though from the film it appears that she was in the room only briefly.

Templeton has already had a chance to evaluate Rogan during Sims’s motion to quash the evidence that is still bottled up out at Isotenics. Rogan was not entirely cooperative during that outing, and Templeton knows it. He seems tentative in his approach with her.

“What is your position at Isotenics?”

“Personal assistant.”

He is looking down at the podium, checking to make sure he has all the items covered in his notes.

“To whom?” He looks up and realizes that the question isn’t clear to the witness. “For whom did you provide these services?”

“At the present time, for Mr. Havlitz,” she says.

“No. No. That’s not what I mean. Before that. Before Mr. Havlitz.”

“Who did I work for?”

“Yes.”

“Madelyn Chapman.”

“So you were Ms. Chapman’s personal assistant, is that correct?”

“Objection: leading the witness.” The objection is weak. The judge would probably overrule it, but he doesn’t get the chance.

Templeton rephrases the statement into a question before Gilcrest can rule. “What was your position in regards to Ms. Chapman?”

The game here is one of control. With the objection, Rogan’s eyes dart toward me. It doesn’t take a palm reader to anticipate that Rogan might not be comfortable testifying about the events in Chapman’s office that afternoon. I try to give her a signal: she has friends in court.

“I’m sorry, what was your question?” she says.

“Your position in regards to Ms. Chapman: What did you do for her?” Templeton has to work to get her attention back on himself. His task is to control her as best he can.

“Oh. Personal assistant,” she says.

“I take it that that was a position of trust?” Templeton is back to his notes.

“I don’t understand what you mean by trust ,” she snaps at him a little, piercing green eyes from under the red hair.

When he looks up, Templeton seems flummoxed, flustered, suddenly overcome by a convulsion of awkward gestures.

“I didn’t mean that you betrayed any trust.” Seen from behind, standing on the stool, his arms waving, he looks like half of a conductor whose orchestra is out of tune. “What I meant. . what I meant to say is, did you have ready access to her office, to the private space where Madelyn Chapman worked?”

“I suppose.”

Templeton’s misstep in his choice of words has made her wary.

“I mean. .” Templeton glances over his shoulder at me. He would like to ease into the subject delicately, lead her by the hand into the tulips of the frolic on the couch, but he knows this isn’t going to happen.

“What I meant to say is, as Ms. Chapman’s personal assistant, did you have ready access to her office?”

“At times, yes.”

This isn’t the answer Templeton wants.

“What I mean is, did you have to knock before you entered her office?” Templeton wants to show that Rogan caught them in the full bloom of the act because nobody thought to lock the door.

“Sometimes I would knock. It would depend.”

Templeton, who has started out on the wrong foot, now ends up in a hole.

Templeton takes a couple of seconds at the podium to regroup. He drops “Mr. Cute” and gives up trying to be nice. He draws the witness up sharply, bringing her attention to the date in question. “Did you knock when you entered Madelyn Chapman’s office that afternoon, about one o’clock?” he says.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Was the door locked?”

“No.”

“So you were able to enter Ms. Chapman’s office?”

“Yes.”

“And as you entered, what did you see?”

“There was someone in the office with Ms. Chapman.”

“And can you tell the jury who this other person was who was in the office?

“It was Mr. Ruiz.”

“Do you mean the defendant, Emiliano Ruiz?”

“Yes.”

Templeton gets into his stride. It seems the key to this witness is a firm hand.

“And what was Mr. Ruiz doing as you entered the office?”

“He was seated on the couch next to Ms. Chapman.”

“Seated?” Templeton’s voice goes up a full octave as he says it. If Templeton was uncertain how far the witness would go in corroborating the contents of the videotape, he now has his answer.

“Did you say seated ?”

“Yes. As I said, next to Ms. Chapman.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Objection: asked and answered,” I say.

“Sustained.”

Templeton tries to get a word picture of them at least semi-reclining: “Where were they on the couch?”

“At the far end. As I recall, Mr. Ruiz was at the end of the couch nearest the far wall. And Madelyn-Ms. Chapman-was sitting close to him, nearest to me, as I walked in.”

The relative positions of Chapman and Ruiz as stated by her are consistent with the video, though sitting is not exactly how I would characterize most of the action on the tape.

“Let me ask you, when you walked into the office that afternoon, did Mr. Ruiz have his clothes on? Was he fully dressed?” Templeton asks.

“As I recall, to the best of my recollection, I think he was.”

“Was he or wasn’t he fully clothed?” says Templeton.

“There was a lot of movement. It all happened so quickly. It’s possible they were rearranging their clothing.”

“Rearranging?” says Templeton.

Rogan is bright. She gives him just enough so that Templeton can’t have the judge jump on her to demand a straight answer.

At the other end of our table, Harry is leaning back in his chair, one elbow on the armrest with his hand up in front of his mouth, trying to shield the smile.

“What. . how. . how do you define rearranging ?” asks Templeton.

“You know, straightening them. Sort of pulling things together,” she says.

A few of the jurors are now smiling. Before Templeton’s eyes, Karen’s testimony is transforming a heated happening on the couch, replete with scenes of pink flesh on tape, into a roguish fling in the hay.

“Were they putting their clothes on?”

“No. My recollection is that they were dressed. But as I said, it happened so quickly. As I recall, it’s possible Mr. Ruiz may have been closing a button on his shirt and Ms. Chapman was straightening her skirt.”

From behind, Templeton looks dazed. He thinks about what he’s going to say next. “I’m sure this is very difficult for you. .”

I suspect it’s harder on him.

“. . but I want you to think very clearly,” he says, “about the details of what you saw that day.”

She nods innocently from the witness box.

“You say that Mr. Ruiz”-he points back with a hand, not looking in the direction of Emiliano-“was closing a button on his shirt?”

“As I said, it happened very quickly.”

“I understand that. But I want you to be clear.” There is a menacing tone in Templeton’s voice as he says this, one notch from cautioning the witness about perjury.

“This movement that you saw: You said you saw movement when you came through the door?” says Templeton. “Where was this movement? Where did it take place?”