Steve Martini - Double Tap

The judge doesn’t stop him: the privileges of sitting inside the bar’s railing.

Rogan steps up to the platform. The judge reminds her that she’s already sworn in. She takes the seat and repeats her name for the record, then spells it.

“Good morning.”

She nods at me and smiles politely.

“Ms. Rogan, as I recall from your earlier testimony, you are employed at Isotenics, Incorporated.”

“That’s right.”

“And that prior to her death you worked as executive assistant to Madelyn Chapman, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the jury where your office is located at Isotenics?”

“I work on the second level of the headquarters building on campus, the executive level, in an open area.”

I pick through the pile of papers on the lectern in front of me and pull out a schematic of the Isotenics headquarters, the wedding cake with a dome out in the hills above La Jolla. The bailiff delivers a copy to the witness and the judge, and one is dropped on Templeton’s table.

The witness identifies the location, marked with an X on the drawing where her desk is located on the second floor. The floor plan is printed to scale.

I have the drawing marked defense exhibit next in order and moved into evidence. There is no objection from Templeton, and a second later the drawing appears up on the visualizer. Now the jury and the two government lawyers who are still sitting there can play along.

“And the two double doors directly across from where your desk appears in the drawing”-I hit the desk and then the doors on the screen with a laser pointer in my hand-“where do those doors lead?”

“That’s the CEO’s office.”

“By CEO , do you mean the chief executive officer of Isotenics, the head of the company?”

“That’s right.”

“And during her time, before she was killed, did Madelyn Chapman occupy that office?”

“She did.”

“How far would you say it is from your desk to those doors?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ten feet.”

“If I told you that, according to the scale on this floor plan, which was obtained with documents that we received from Isotenics, the distance is almost exactly eight feet, would you question that?”

“No. That’s probably right.”

“And inside the CEO’s office, do you see another area with a small rectangle, marked with an X?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the jury what that represents?”

“I suspect it’s the location of the desk. Ms. Chapman’s desk.”

“Does it look as if it’s in the right place in the drawing? Is that about where Ms. Chapman’s desk was located?”

We play a little tongue tag and she finally agrees that the desk was no more than ten feet inside the double doors. While Chapman’s office was immense, one of the interior walls was lined with shelves containing art glass and other collectibles. She had her desk turned toward the two walls of windows that looked out toward the Pacific so that when she sat behind it, her back was to the double doors.

“I know it’s a strange arrangement,” says Rogan, “but it’s what she liked. She wanted the view. She loved looking at the ocean.”

“So while her desk was, say, ten feet away from the doors to her office, by the time she sat in her chair, she was probably less than eight feet from those doors, is that right?”

The witness is nodding. “Yes, I said that’s about right.”

“And if she pushed back from the desk, perhaps leaned back in her chair-say, to talk on the phone-she might be only seven or eight feet away from the door to her office.”

Rogan nods.

“You have to speak up for the reporter.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“So the total distance from your desk to where Madelyn Chapman sat at her desk was no more than sixteen to eighteen feet.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what the doors to Ms. Chapman’s office were made of?”

“They were wood panel. I think they were probably pine. They were a little different than the other office doors on that level: Colonial. They had been put in by a decorator hired by Ms. Chapman.”

“What were the acoustics like?” I zero in: “Was it possible to hear what was being said inside Ms. Chapman’s office if the doors were closed? From your desk, I mean.”

“The walls were thin,” she says. “The building was designed to look old, but it wasn’t. I told her once that her office needed some soundproofing.”

“You told Madelyn Chapman?”

“Yes.”

“And did she have that done?”

“No.”

Until this moment I couldn’t be sure. Now I am. Karen Rogan is signaling me to pop the question. I stop nibbling and put my fork in the enchilada.

“In your capacity as executive assistant to Ms. Chapman, did you place and receive phone calls on her behalf at Isotenics?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever either place or receive a phone call to or from General Gerald Satz at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C.?”

With the mention of the name, there is a little buzz in the courtroom. The judge looks but lets it die down.

“Yes, many times.”

“Do you recall a telephone conversation between Ms. Chapman and General Satz in which Ms. Chapman’s voice was raised in apparent anger?”

“Objection,” says Templeton. “Vague as to the time period.”

“Sustained.”

“Within the last, say, three months before her death, do you recall a telephone conversation between Madelyn Chapman and General Satz in which the tone and level of Ms. Chapman’s voice became elevated in apparent anger?”

“Yes.”

“Objection,” says Templeton. “How can the witness possibly know who the victim was talking to unless she was listening on the other line?”

“Why don’t we ask her, Your Honor?”

“Do it,” says the judge.

“During the time that you heard this conversation, were you listening on the other line?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know that Madelyn Chapman was talking to General Satz?”

“Because Ms. Chapman had asked me to place the phone call and I transferred the general to her line.”

I turn to look at Templeton’s table just as one of the doors at the rear of the courtroom opens. It’s the government lawyer who left, coming back. He hustles up the aisle. This time he is carrying some papers in his hand. He moves quietly through the gate in the railing, hands the papers to the older lawyer, and takes his seat again.

“And after you transferred the call to Ms. Chapman, you hung up after that?”

“Yes.”

“But you say you still heard part of the conversation?”

“I heard Ms. Chapman’s voice.”

“And what was she saying?”

“She was angry. She was shouting.”

“Was there anyone else in the office with her at the time?”

“No.”

“Do you ever remember her shouting like that before?”

“She could get angry, lose her temper. But I’d never heard her like that before.”

“What did she say? Do you remember the words?”

“She said something to the effect that ‘You lied to me. You set me up. You’re using spyware and you didn’t tell me.”’

There’s the stir of voices out in the audience.

“You’re certain about that? That those are the words she used?”

“Yes.” She nods. There is no hesitation.

I turn to look at Templeton’s table. The three lawyers are huddled. Templeton turns to try to head off another revolt.

“Ms. Rogan, do you know what the term spyware means?”

“Objection.” Templeton spins around on his box, trying to put out fires on both fronts now. “The witness is not a software expert.”

“Your Honor, I’m not asking for an expert opinion. I’m asking the witness what her understanding of the term was at the time she overheard this conversation-that is, if she had any understanding.”