James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

“No, the murder of Sal Paglia is still unsolved.”

“Did you recover the slugs that were used?”

“Yes.”

“What type were they?”

“Nine-millimeter Parabellum, or Luger, standard grain.”

“Are they similar to the bullet used in Mr. Robertson’s murder?”

“They are the same.”

Jack now knew who had sent him Sal Paglia’s autopsy report. “Where were the slugs that you recovered?”

“One was lodged in a concrete column. That was the head shot. There were two other shots that were imbedded in the floor.”

“So there were three shots?”

“Yeah. The way we figured it, the initial shot was at point-blank range to the back of the head. That was the fatal shot. After that, the killer put two slugs into the body for insurance.”

“And you’re saying they all passed through the body?”

“Yes. You shoot a person with a Glock using that type of ammunition at close range and the bullet is going to pass through unless it hits a bone or something and shatters.” That statement directly contradicted the testimony of the coroner.

“The bullet in Carl Robertson’s murder was lodged in the back of his skull, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“What does that tell you?”

“That he probably was not shot at close range. At close range the bullet would likely have passed through the skull.”

“Have you tested the slugs from Sal Paglia’s murder to see if they came from the gun that was recovered last week?”

“No. We really couldn’t because the slugs were too distorted.”

“How about the shell casings?”

“We never found the casings.”

“Did you look?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What did you conclude must have happened to the shells?”

“The murderer picked them up. This was a hallway outside an elevator. If the murderer didn’t pick them up, we’d have found them.”

“Does that happen often that a murderer stops and picks up the shell casings?”

“No. It’s a sign that somebody is taking their time. They are very deliberate. It’s the sign of a professional.”

“Why would picking up a shell casing be important?”

“Because the shell casing can be matched to a gun. If the slugs are distorted, you won’t be able to match the gun and the slug. If you had the casing, though, you could.”

“Is that another similarity between Carl Robertson’s murder and Sal Paglia’s-the fact that no shell casings were found?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Detective. I have no other questions.”

“Cross-examination?” the judge asked Spencer Taylor. Jack wondered if Spencer had the balls to go after Nick. Of course, at this point he obviously had nothing to lose.

“Yes, your honor,” Spencer replied. He was livid. He wanted to rip Nick’s throat out. He had never seen a cop give that kind of testimony in a criminal case.

“Detective Walsh,” Spencer began, “you were the lead detective on this case, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So it was your decision to arrest the defendant and charge him with the murder of Carl Robertson?”

“That’s correct.”

“This woman you talked about, is it accurate to say that you considered her an accomplice in this murder?”

“That was a possibility we considered, yes.”

There it was-the connection that Jack feared most.

“A possibility?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. We had no evidence linking the two. It was no more than a supposition.”

“I want to talk about the bullet for a moment. Are you telling this jury that the defendant could not be the shooter because the bullet did not pass through the skull?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I don’t have that kind of expertise. All I can say is that I would expect the bullet to pass through the skull if it was fired at close range.”

“That would be speculation on your part, then?”

“Yes.”

“And you would defer to the coroner’s opinion as to what occurred in this case?”

“Yes.”

Spencer had actually scored a point. He decided to quit while he was ahead. “No further questions, your honor.”

“Redirect?”

“No, your honor,” Jack replied.

Nick Walsh stepped down from the witness stand.

“The defense rests, your honor.” It was four o’clock in the afternoon.

“Do you have any rebuttal, Mr. Taylor?”

Spencer wanted to bring the coroner back on to rebut Nick Walsh’s testimony, but it was too dangerous. Besides, he had done okay with Nick on cross. “No, your honor,” he said.

“All right. I think we’ll adjourn for the day and have closing arguments in the morning.”

Luis left the courtroom immediately after Nick and caught up with him in the hallway by the elevators.

“Mr. Walsh,” Luis said. Nick turned and looked at him questioningly. “I just wanted to thank you for your honesty in that courtroom. It may have saved my son’s life.”

“It’s my job to be honest,” Nick replied.

Luis expected that would be all, but Nick lingered. Luis could tell he wanted to say something else.

“You know, my younger brother Jimmy died a few years ago,” Nick began. “He had his own war with drugs. There weren’t too many positive things in his life. That kick in that championship game was one of them. He took it with him always, talked about it all the time. He also talked constantly about a guy named Rico who made it all happen. So I guess I want to say thank you to you too.”

Luis was speechless. He hadn’t even realized Nick knew who he was. The two men shook hands warmly and then parted.

Jack took Dick, Joaquin, Henry, and Charlie out to a steak house that night. He invited Luis, but Luis was still too nervous about the outcome to eat. The trial certainly was not over for Jack either. The verdict was always in doubt until the jury delivered it. But these people had put their lives on the line for him and this cause, and he wasn’t letting them get out of town without showing his appreciation.

Even though Henry had just met Dick and Joaquin, they were all getting along famously.

“We’ve been talking, Jack,” Dick said, “and we’ve decided that being your friend is very dangerous to our health.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack volleyed back. “But look at the benefits-a couple of weeks on a beautiful lake in the Virginia mountains, travel to Wisconsin and New York City, free steak dinner.” They all laughed.

“Next time we’re actually going to swim in the lake,” Charlie added.

They were seated in a private little spot in the back of the restaurant. Jack had ordered a couple of bottles of wine, and the waiter poured. Jack stood to offer a toast. He surprised himself by getting a little choked up.

“You all went beyond the limit for me, and for Benny and Luis. It’s something that words cannot do justice to. I cherish you all.”

“Hear, hear,” Joaquin added as they all clinked glasses.

The steaks were delicious. They drank and laughed until a little past midnight. Then they went their separate ways.

The courtroom was packed the next morning, and speculation was running rampant. Would Jack Tobin’s strong presentation be enough to carry the day, or had the jury already decided Benny was guilty before Jack even started his defense? There was a theory among lawyers that the first side to score a blow was usually the winner. Jack didn’t endorse that theory. He gave jurors a lot more credit than that.

Spencer Taylor was first up. The obvious frustration that he had displayed in court the day before had vanished. He was back to his old self, making eye contact with each juror and flashing that winning smile as he thanked them for their attention and service.

“You are the backbone of our system of justice,” he reminded them before jumping into the substance of his argument.