James Grippando - Blood Money

“Never even talked to us before.”

“That’s true.”

“Never got a hundred thousand dollars in cash from us.”

“No.”

Jack walked back to the podium. No real need to. He just wanted to move, make sure all eyes were following him.

“Now, as I understand your testimony, you were offered fifty thousand dollars for a hung jury. And a hundred thousand dollars for a not-guilty verdict.”

“That’s correct.”

“I can see how someone could buy a hung jury. All it takes is one juror. You simply refuse to vote guilty no matter what, even if the eleven other jurors are beating you on the head with a hammer to vote guilty.”

“Is there a question?” asked the prosecutor.

“My question is this,” said Jack, “Mr. Hewitt, you never stood up in the jury room and announced, ‘Hey, folks, I don’t care what you say, I am never going to vote to convict Sydney Bennett of murder.’ You never said that, did you?”

“No, of course not.”

“You would never have said that,” said Jack, “because you didn’t want to make them angry at you.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Your goal wasn’t to get a hung jury for fifty thousand dollars,” said Jack. “You wanted the not-guilty verdict-the hundred-thousand-dollar prize.”

Hewitt shifted uneasily, exposed for what he was. “Who wouldn’t?”

“And you understood, did you not, that to return a verdict of ‘not guilty,’ the jury had to be unanimous. All twelve jurors had to vote ‘not guilty.’”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“So you needed to convince the other jurors.”

Hewitt looked cautiously at Jack, as if sensing a trap. “I guess so.”

“Well, Mr. Hewitt, you didn’t go to juror number one and say ‘I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to vote ‘not guilty,’ did you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t make that offer to juror number two, did you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t offer to share your hundred thousand dollars with any of the other jurors, am I right?”

“That would be correct.”

“So if you were going to get the hundred-thousand-dollar not-guilty verdict, you had to persuade the other jurors.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

The prosecutor rose. “Judge, I don’t really see the point of this questioning.”

“I’ll give the defense some latitude,” said the judge. “But let’s move it along.”

Jack stepped closer to the witness. “When it came time to persuade your fellow jurors to vote not guilty, you didn’t bring any phony documents into the jury room, did you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t bring any phony pictures into the jury room?”

“No.”

“You didn’t fabricate a medical examiner’s report, did you?”

“Not at all.”

“You didn’t use anything but the evidence that was introduced at trial, am I right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Jack paused and glanced at Hannah. Her expression seemed to say, So far, so good.

“Mr. Hewitt, you’re not a trial lawyer, are you?”

“Hardly.”

“You haven’t received any special training in the powers of persuasion, have you?”

“No.”

“In your entire life, have you ever convinced eleven other people to change their minds about something as important as whether a twenty-four-year-old woman should be convicted of murdering her daughter?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Mr. Hewitt, you were able to convince the other jurors to vote ‘not guilty’ because they already believed my client was innocent. Isn’t that right, sir?”

“Objection. The witness couldn’t possibly know that.”

“I don’t know,” said Hewitt, taking the prosecutor’s cue.

The judge looked down from the bench. “Mr. Hewitt, please wait for me to rule on the objections before answering a question. The objection is sustained.”

Jack waited a moment, setting up the next question. “Mr. Hewitt, convincing the eleven other jurors to vote ‘not guilty’ was the easiest hundred thousand dollars you ever made in your life, wasn’t it.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“I think the witness’ opinion on that is relevant,” said Jack.

“The objection was sustained,” said the judge. “Move on.”

The prosecutor rose. “Judge, I would move to strike this entire line of questioning. I don’t see how any of it is relevant.”

Jack shot her a look of incredulity, then addressed the court. “Your Honor, the simple point is that this alleged bribe had absolutely no impact on the outcome of the trial. The prosecution failed to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. Sydney Bennett was found not guilty. End of story.”

The judge rocked back in his high leather chair, thinking. “Well, I’m not sure that’s the test, Mr. Swyteck. I’ll take the prosecution’s motion under advisement. Any further questions for this witness?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” said Jack. He faced the witness. “Mr. Hewitt, let’s talk about the day you were arrested.”

Hewitt shifted nervously. Obviously not his favorite topic. “Okay.”

“You went to the Bird Bowling Lanes, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Now, you didn’t choose that location, did you?”

“No. He did. The guy who paid me.”

“You didn’t pick the time, did you?”

“No. He said be there at seven o’clock.”

“You didn’t select the locker where he left the money.”

“No. He did.”

“You didn’t tell him where to leave the key-tucked into the baseboard by the drinking fountain.”

“No. He did that.”

“So let me set the scene,” said Jack. “You walked into the bowling alley just before seven, like he told you to.”

“Right.”

“And no one stopped you.”

“No.”

“You walked toward the drinking fountain and got the key from behind the rubber baseboard, like he told you to.”

“Yes.”

“No one stopped you.”

“No.”

“You went into the locker room and opened the locker, like he told you.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“No one stopped you then, did they?”

“No.”

“You got the money out of the locker, like he told you to.”

“Right.”

“You did everything just like he told you to.”

“Yes.”

“And all was going just fine until you stuffed the cash into your bowling bag and walked out of the locker room. Boom! ” Jack shouted, stirring the audience in their seats. “Two FBI agents were all over you.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how it happened.”

Jack went back to the podium and double-checked his copy of the written confession. “And the first thing the FBI agent said to you was, ‘What you got in the bag?’”

“Something like that, right.”

Jack stepped away from the lectern, a quizzical expression on his face. “Mr. Hewitt, how do you suppose that the FBI knew that you were going to be at that bowling alley, at that exact time, with all that money in your bowling bag?”

“Objection. Calls for speculation.”

“Let me put it this way,” said Jack. “Mr. Hewitt, did you call the FBI and tell them you were going to be there?”

He looked at Jack, as if the question were stupid. “No.”

Jack glanced at Hannah, who cued up the recording. “Judge, at this time we’d like to play for the witness the audio recording of the anonymous tip that was phoned into the FBI’s Miami Field Office at three forty-seven P.M. the day of Mr. Hewitt’s arrest.”

“No objection,” said the prosecutor.

With the judge’s approval, Hannah hit PLAY. The courtroom seemed to reach a deeper level of quiet. There was a moment of static hiss, and then the call replayed over the speakers.