James Sheehan - The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

“They wouldn’t have treated a white woman with such disrespect, would they?” Jack could have objected but he let the question go. The jury was entitled to the truth.

“No, they would not have,” Maria answered, looking over at Wesley again.

“And you didn’t like the way Mr. Evans prosecuted the Rudy Kelly case either, did you?”

“No.”

“And you told this to Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you told it to him before he became state attorney?”

“Yes.”

“And you and he planned your resignation from the police department before he became state attorney, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Because he told you before he became state attorney and before he empaneled a grand jury that he was going to prosecute these two men, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Because he already knew they were guilty?”

“Yes.”

Like most attorneys when they get on a roll in cross-examination, Jimmy DiCarlo didn’t know when to stop. He had hit a double and his runner was on the way to third with a stand-up triple, but Jimmy wanted that home run-so he kept going.

“Where are you living now?”

“On a ranch outside of town.”

“And are you living with Mr. Tobin?” Jack couldn’t believe the question. Maria hesitated.

“It’s not like-”

Jimmy cut her off. “Just yes or no, Ms. Lopez. Are you living with Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes.”

“And are you also living with a Mr. Joaquin Sanchez, who was an associate of Ms. Tracey James?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice catching on the word.

“And is it true that you have been living with Mr. Tobin and Mr. Sanchez since the day you left the police department and went to work for Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes.”

“Now I listened very carefully when you testified about this 1988 letter from the Del Rio police. Did you say Mr. Brume had you call the state attorney’s office after he read the letter?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you to get the state attorney’s office on the line?”

“Ye-es,” she said, with a questioning hesitation in her voice.

“Not Mr. Evans?”

“No, I don’t think he said Mr. Evans’s name specifically but I knew-”

Again Jimmy cut her off. “Did you hear Mr. Evans get on the line?”

“No. I had already handed the phone to Mr. Brume.”

“And did you just assume Mr. Brume talked to Mr. Evans, or did you hear Mr. Brume actually say Mr. Evans’s name?”

“I assumed he talked to Mr. Evans because Mr. Evans was the only state attorney who worked on the Kelly case.”

“So you didn’t hear him say Mr. Evans’s name?”

“No.”

“And when Mr. Brume had you get the state attorney’s office on the line, he didn’t tell you the reason, did he?”

“Specifically, no.”

“You just assumed it was because of the letter he had just read, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hear the content of their conversation, correct?”

“Well, I heard Mr. Brume say he’d be right over, but of course I couldn’t hear-”

“You just heard Mr. Brume say ‘I’ll be right over’?”

“That’s correct.”

“How many state attorneys were there in the Cobb County office in 1988 besides Mr. Evans?”

“Four.”

“And is it accurate that the police department spoke with all these attorneys on a regular basis?”

“Yes.”

“And that would include Mr. Brume? He spoke to all these attorneys on a regular basis, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And he went over to the state attorney’s office to speak to these attorneys as well, didn’t he?”

“From time to time.”

“So he could have been calling one of these other attorneys for a completely separate reason, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“But you don’t know for sure, do you?”

“Not for sure, no.”

“And you have no specific evidence other than your assumptions, either that Mr. Evans was on the telephone or that Mr. Brume went to see Mr. Evans-and by specific evidence I mean you never heard Mr. Brume specifically tell you to get Mr. Evans on the phone; you never heard Mr. Evans’s voice on the phone; and you never heard Mr. Brume refer to Mr. Evans while he was talking on the phone, is that correct?” Jimmy rattled it all off like a machine gun.

“Yes, it’s correct. I didn’t hear any of those things, but he read the letter and immediately told me to get the state attorney’s office on the line.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.” Jimmy gave an arrogant look across at Jack as he walked back to his chair, as if to say, That’s the way you cross-examine someone. But the look didn’t faze Jack one bit. He was already rising when Judge Stanton said, “Redirect?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.” Jack was by Maria but he was looking towards the defense table, right at Jimmy DiCarlo. “Ms. Lopez, counsel for the defendants just asked you if you have been living with me since you came to work for me, and you replied affirmatively. Is there a reason why you moved in with me?”

Jimmy was up in an instant. “Objection, Your Honor. May we approach?”

“Come on, come on.” Judge Stanton put on his exasperated look but he was clearly eager to hear what was coming. The whole room seemed to be leaning forward, straining to eavesdrop.

“Judge, this is irrelevant,” Jimmy said as he was still on his way to the bench. “I don’t know what she’s going to say, but I think it could be prejudicial.”

“‘I think it could be prejudicial’-that’s an objection I haven’t heard before. What’s your response, Mr. Tobin?”

“Well, Judge, this is a door that Mr. DiCarlo opened. I did not ask a single question about where Ms. Lopez lives. Mr. DiCarlo wants to leave the jury with the impression that Ms. Lopez, Mr. Sanchez and I are living in some bizarre illicit relationship without allowing her to explain why she has been at my house-because it might be prejudicial to his clients. He should have thought of that before he asked the question and tried to smear all of us.”

“I agree,” the judge remarked. “Mr. DiCarlo, you opened this door. We are now obligated to see where it leads. Objection overruled.”

Jack walked back to the podium. Jimmy returned to the defense table and Clay Evans’s angry glare.

Jack repeated his question. “Ms. Lopez, is there a reason you moved in with me?”

“Yes. I was afraid. Your investigator, Nancy Shea, had been to visit me, and I’d told her what I testified to here in court. She was killed right after she left my house.”

The courtroom erupted, and the jury looked stunned. Several reporters jumped to their feet and started to clamber over their colleagues for the aisle; within seconds it was a stampede, and Judge Stanton could do nothing to stop them. After hammering the gavel several times and shouting “Silence!” at the top of his lungs to no avail, he ordered the bailiffs to clear the courtroom.

It took several minutes to get everyone out. Gradually the hubbub faded away as the room emptied, and those remaining-the judge, the lawyers, the accused, the witness, the jury, and the court personnel-were left in total silence.

Jimmy DiCarlo stood up. “Judge, may we approach?”

“Come up,” the judge said, no expression or sign of impatience on his face. There was no audience to play to.

“Judge, I renew my objection to this line of questioning. I move to strike the answer, and I’m moving for a mistrial. We’re not here to try the alleged murder of this Nancy person, whoever she is. The witness has just accused my clients of a murder unrelated to the charge actually before this court, and if that’s not prejudicial, I don’t know what is.” Jimmy was almost shouting by the time he was done.