Steve Martini - The Jury

“And why did you take this class? I mean, I assume it wasn’t a required course?”

“I took it to get information.”

“What kind of information?”

“At that time, it was suspected that he. .”

“Doctor Crone?”

“Yes. It was believed that he was gathering information to show that blacks, African-Americans, lacked certain cognitive abilities based on their genetic makeup.”

“The ability to reason, to form judgments.” Tannery is leading her shamelessly, but Harry and I don’t object. We want to see what the witness has to say. It will be another thing if she gets in front of the jury.

“That’s correct.”

“And I take it this was controversial?”

“Dynamite,” says the witness. “It was not something they wanted out in the public, at least not until they were finished, until he had his studies done. Then it would take time to refute the findings. While that was being done, Dr. Crone would have been all over the airwaves promoting his study, giving it wide publicity.”

“Which takes us back to the question of why you took the course from the defendant in the first place.”

“Because I was asked to.”

“By whom?”

She takes a deep breath. “We were activists. We called ourselves Students for Racial Justice. Some were grad students. Others undergraduates.”

“And you were a member of this group?”

“I was.”

“Why did they pick you? I mean, why not some graduate student who was doing research with Dr. Crone?”

“There weren’t any minority graduate students involved in his project. He wouldn’t have them. At least that was the rumor.”

“Objection. Move to strike.”

“Sustained.”

“Were there any black graduate students working on Dr. Crone’s project?”

“No.”

“Were there any minorities of any color?”

“He had one Asian graduate student, and the rest were all white.”

“So the only opportunity to get close to the project was as undergraduate?”

“That’s correct.”

“Now, with reference to the undergraduate class that you took from Dr. Crone, were there any other African-American students in that class, besides yourself?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The word was out on campus that this was not a class that African-Americans would want to take.”

“Why was that?”

“It was believed that Dr. Crone had a racial bias.”

“Objection. No foundation. Speculation on the part of the witness.”

“Let me rephrase the question,” says Tannery.

“Did you have occasion to talk to other black and minority students at the time about this class?”

“I did.”

“And based on those conversations, did you form any conclusions as to why minority students might not want to take this class being taught by Dr. Crone?”

“Yes. I concluded that there was a general feeling that Dr. Crone was racially biased.”

“And what was this based upon?”

“Stories regarding his work.”

What the witness means is rumors, since none of the students were close enough to know the nature of his work.

“How many students were there in the class?”

“Roughly a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty.”

“And you were the only African-American?”

“That’s right.”

“Now you say you were selected by this group. This Students for Racial Justice. Why were you selected to do this?”

“I majored in education, minored in science. I had good grades. Also, I worked at the university part-time, which gave me access to certain information and to some offices.”

Harry looks at me as if the shoe has just dropped.

“This access, did it involve faculty offices?”

“It did.”

“Including the office of Dr. Crone, the defendant?”

“Yes.” She looks at me and smiles as she says it.

“Except for your daughter, have you ever told anyone else about this?”

“Only the people involved in our group.”

“You’re talking about this organization you belonged to, Students for Racial Justice?”

“That’s right.”

“And during this period, did you actually enter Dr. Crone’s office?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“I can’t remember the exact date, but it was in the spring, near the end of the academic term.”

“And did you take anything from that office?”

She looks directly at me, Crone’s alter ego, before she answers. “I did.” She says it with purpose, as if this was the culmination of some mission.

“And what was it that you took?”

“I copied some research papers. Handwritten notes in a binder. There were also printed forms with raw data and some conclusions, written by him in his own hand, based on that data. I copied all of it.”

“By ‘him,’ I assume you mean the defendant, David Crone.”

She nods.

“For the record,” says Tannery.

“That’s correct.”

“Why did you copy these papers?”

She hesitates an instant before responding. “They were evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Of what he was working on.”

“And what was that?”

“Racist studies,” she says.

“Objection.” I’m on my feet. “Your Honor, this is irrelevant, prejudicial. It is hearsay. It’s beyond the scope of any evidence before this court. The worst kind of speculation by this witness.”

“We’re not offering it to prove the truth of the matter,” says Tannery, “that these documents or that Dr. Crone’s work was racist, but only to show the state of mind of this witness. As a motivating factor.”

“Motivation for what?” I ask.

“We’re getting to that,” says Tannery.

“I assume there is some relevance?” says the judge.

“Absolutely,” says Tannery. “If you’ll just allow me a few more questions. .”

With the jury out of the box, on an offer of proof, there is little harm to be done, so Coats permits Tannery to go on an evidential safari. It is little wonder the prosecution gave up so easily on the theory of a love tryst. Intimation of racial bias would be far more damaging. From a tactical point, it is also better because it doesn’t sully the reputation of the victim.

“These documents, these copies, what did you do with them?”

“I turned them over to some people.”

“The people from your organization?”

She nods, then remembers about the court reporter and gives an audible “Yes.”

“And what did they do with them?”

“They turned them over to the newspapers. The campus newspaper was the first, but then there were demonstrations, and the major press got involved. I believe the Trib picked it up, and then it went national. The wires got the story. The Associated Press.” She says this with a smile.

“And what happened?”

“There was a mighty furor,” she says. Her voice rises an octave in indignation. “All hell came down. On the university. On Crone. He was called in by the administration. There were meetings of the academic senate. There was an investigation, a lot of questions. In the end, the research stopped.”

Harry looks at me, trepidation in his eyes, an expression of I told you so from the lips up. Harry is thinking what I am: mother and daughter, history repeating itself, only Mom had the good grace and foresight to copy the papers from Crone’s office instead of taking them.

“Did Doctor Crone ever find out that you were responsible for obtaining these documents and releasing them to the press?”

“Not that I know of. I don’t think he did.”

“So it was never made public? At least not until today?”

“That’s right.”

“And you were never arrested?”

“How do you mean?”