Steve Martini - The Jury

“I understand perfectly.” He wants a stipulation. I can smell it. Some area of inquiry he wants to put off-limits on cross.

“We should go easy on her.”

“We have no interest in beating her up,” I tell him.

“I didn’t think you would. Would you be willing to shorten her testimony a little?”

“In what way?”

“Accept declarations in lieu of certain portions of her testimony?”

Harry wants to know how we can stipulate to anything until we know what she is going to say.

Tannery insists these are not contentious areas, but merely intended to reduce the stress on the witness.

“Certainly you’d be willing to accept that she is the mother of the victim, that they had a close familial relationship? These are painful areas. No need to drag the witness through the details.”

“If she testifies at trial, are you willing to forgo testimony in this area?” I ask.

Tannery has to huddle with his friend the cop. They debate the issue. I can tell the detective isn’t happy. Finally Tannery turns back to us.

“Agreed.”

I look at Harry. He shrugs his shoulders. This sounds good. The details of a close family relationship would highlight emotional issues that could inflame the jury. If we can temper them with a stipulation, so much the better.

“And one more,” says Tannery. “It would be pointless to drag the poor woman through her personal background. Her political affiliations, social acquaintances-ancient history,” he says.

“What are we talking about?” asks Harry. “How ancient?”

“We’re talking about the period of time when she was a student in Michigan. We’ll stipulate that she was involved in demonstrations, what some might have called, at least at that time, a radical movement.”

Harry looks at him askance. “Are we talking a conviction here?”

“No felonies,” says Tannery.

“But she was arrested?”

“Minor disturbance,” says the prosecutor. “A refusal to disperse. She was arrested with a number of other people. She did no time.”

“Was she a minor at the time?”

Tannery shakes his head. This means that the conviction is not sealed. He would have to disclose it even though we could not impeach her testimony on this basis alone.

“And where did this violation take place?” I ask.

“On the university campus,” says Tannery.

My eyebrows rise a little. “Exactly where on the campus?”

“Near the defendant’s faculty office.”

“She was picketing him?” asks Harry.

“With a number of other people,” he says.

“So she has a prior history with the defendant?”

“No history,” says Tannery. “She didn’t like what he was working on. She made her feeling known just like a lot of other students at the time.”

He has a prepared stipulation, one page. He hands it to me and I read, but before I finish the bailiff is on his feet.

“Please rise. Superior Court in and for the county of San Diego is now in session. Honorable Harvey Coats presiding.”

Coats comes down the corridor leading from chambers in a swirl of black and ascends the bench. He takes his seat, a tufted high-back executive chair. “Be seated.” We all sit down. I am still reading Tannery’s stipulation, with half an eye up on the bench.

Coats shuffles through a thin sheaf of papers he has carried with him, looking for his starting place.

“The record will reflect that the jury has been excused, that the press and public have been excluded from these proceedings. Mr. Tannery, are you prepared to make an offer of proof?”

“I am, Your Honor. If we could have a moment. Mr. Madriani is reviewing a document. It may save the court some time.”

Tannery is getting his ducks lined up, his own yellow legal lined notes in order, waiting for me to finish reading.

“Mr. Madriani, am I to understand that your client has opted not to be present today?”

“That’s correct, Your Honor.”

Coats makes a note. Because today’s proceedings are in the nature of a motion to admit evidence, Crone is not required to be present. He will have an opportunity to hear what Tanya Jordan says if she is allowed to testify in front of the jury. For a man who has kept a virtual diary of the trial up to this point, he has a curious reluctance to confront the victim’s mother. Harry thinks it is the doctor’s guilty conscience, though he says he is not certain Crone possesses one, guilty or otherwise.

“The people call Tanya Jordan,” says Tannery.

The bailiff does not call her name but instead heads toward a side door, the one that leads to the holding cell. They have brought Tanya Jordan in this way so that she wouldn’t have to run the gauntlet of the press out in the hall. A few seconds later, she enters the courtroom.

Tanya Jordan is tall, stately. She wears a gray business suit, skirt and jacket, and a blouse with a plain white collar. Despite Tannery’s depiction of the distraught mother, there is no air of trepidation on her part. If she is intimidated by the formal surroundings of the courtroom or the specter of cross-examination, she doesn’t show it.

Nearly six feet tall, she is slender and carries herself with a grace and assurance that is likely to impress a jury. Her eyes are straight ahead, fixed on the judge up on the bench as she walks toward the counsel tables and the clerk. She raises her right hand and takes the oath, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, then climbs the two short steps into the witness box and takes her seat.

Tannery moves to the lectern that is positioned between the counsel tables.

“Your Honor, if I may. We have a stipulation outstanding.” He turns toward me for an answer.

“Do I have a copy?” says the judge.

Tannery has forgotten to give him one. The detective forages at the counsel table and finally gives up his own copy so that the bailiff can hand it up to the judge.

“What is this?” Coats looks at it as he asks the question.

“It deals with the witness’s background, Your Honor. I think we can shorten her testimony if we agree to certain facts.”

“Your Honor, given the limited information we have concerning this witness, I don’t think we can accept this portion of the stipulation.” Harry and I are conferring at the table as I address the issue.

“I don’t see why not, Your Honor. The information is probably irrelevant,” says Tannery. “These activities involving the witness took place over two decades ago.”

“If the defense isn’t comfortable with the stipulation, you know the drill, Mr. Tannery. You can object, and we’ll deal with it then.”

“Your Honor, this was part of a package. Two stipulations.” Tannery isn’t happy. “If we’re not going to agree as to the one, then the previous stipulation offered by the people must be withdrawn.”

Tannery looks over at me, dangling this. He knows that the family history, the relationship between mother and daughter, is a measure of damages he can draw out in front of the jury for emotional impact. That he is willing to offer this up makes me wonder why he is so anxious to avoid the witness’s history as an undergraduate at Michigan. Harry has the same thought. He is making a note to himself on a legal pad.

“We’re willing to accept the one,” I tell the court.

“We’re not,” says Tannery.

“Very well,” says the judge. “There are no stipulations. Proceed.”

“Would you state your name for the record?” Tannery finally turns to the witness.

“Tanya Elizabeth Jordan.” She spells her first and last names for the court reporter. There is no nervous hesitation. She is cool-almost businesslike.

“I know this is difficult for you,” says Tannery. Though you wouldn’t know it from her demeanor. “We will take it slow. If you need time to collect your thoughts, just tell us. You are the mother of the victim in this case, Kalista Jordan?”