James Grippando - The Pardon

The big mahogany doors in the back of the courtroom swung open, and Gina Terisi strode down the center aisle like a model on the runway. Though her dazzling beauty attracted stares, she didn’t have her usual seductive air. Her makeup was understated. Her navy-blue suit and peach silk blouse were stylish but conservative.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. .”

Please, God, Jack prayed as the oath was administered. The truth was bad enough, but “the whole truth”? He wasn’t sure he-or his relationship with Cindy-could survive it. “Please state your name,” the prosecutor began.

Jack watched carefully as she testified, searching for some sign that she resented McCue’s questions. A downturned lip, clenched teeth, lowered eyes. But, to his consternation, she seemed articulate, cooperative, willing.

“Do you know the defendant?” McCue asked.

“Yes, I do.” Jack listened impassively to the interrogation, trying not to panic as Gina told the jury how she’d met Jack and how long she’d known him.

“Now, Miss Terisi,” the prosecutor shifted gears, “I’d like to turn to the night Eddy Goss was murdered. Did you see Mr. Swyteck on the night of August first?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered. And from that point forward her testimony moved from a wide-angle view to a punishing close-up. Wilson McCue was no longer eliciting bits of background generalities; he had Gina poring over every detail about the night Jack showed up at her door. He wanted specifics, from how Jack looked and what he was wearing, to what he said and how he said it Jack’s fear that he was being stalked by Goss, and his outrage when he discovered that an intruder had broken into Gina’s townhouse received particular attention. Reporters in the gallery scribbled down every word as Gina’s damning story unfolded and Jack’s motive to kill Eddy Goss became clear. Strangely-very strangely, Jack thought-Gina didn’t mention that Jack had had a gun in his possession.

By late afternoon, though, the damage to his defense was clear. The State had plugged the gaping hole in its case: The defendant’s motive to kill Eddy Goss had been the weakest part of the prosecution’s case, and Gina’s testimony had transformed it into the strongest. Jack tried to show no reaction, but he wondered whether things would get worse. Though Gina had been on the witness stand nearly four hours, she had yet to breathe a word of their “indiscretion.” With Cindy sitting right behind him, he could only hope she never would.

“Now, Ms. Terisi,” McCue continued, “did you call the police after all this happened?”

“No,” she replied, “I didn’t.”

“I see,” said the prosecutor as he stroked his chin. “That may seem a little odd to some of our jurors, Miss Terisi. After someone broke into your house, you say you didn’t call the police. Can you tell us why you didn’t call the police?”

Gina glanced at Cindy, then looked back at the prosecutor. “I really don’t have an explanation.”

McCue did a double take. He hadn’t expected that answer. Indeed, it was far different from the answer Gina had given him several times before, when they’d rehearsed her testimony. “Are you saying you don’t remember?” he asked politely. “Because I can refresh your recollection if-”

“I’m saying I don’t have an explanation,” she said firmly.

McCue narrowed his eyes and stepped out from behind the podium. If he was going to have to impeach his own witness, he needed to let her feel his presence. “Miss Terisi,” he said, his tone decidedly less friendly, “when I interviewed you in my office, you told me that Mr. Swyteck had insisted that you not call the police. Isn’t that correct?”

Gina shifted nervously in her chair, but she remained firm. “Yes. I said that. But I wasn’t telling you the truth when I said it was Jack’s idea. I was the one who insisted on not calling the police. Not him.”

Wilson McCue stood in silence. He’d hoped to convince the jury that Jack had prevented Gina from calling the police because he wanted to take care of the problem himself-that Jack had intended to murder Goss. Gina’s sudden switch had thrown him a curve. McCue didn’t know the reason for the change. But he had to make at least one attempt to put his witness back on course.

“It’s okay, Miss Terisi,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “I understand that Mr. Swyteck is the boyfriend of your best friend. And I can understand how you might be reluctant to hurt her and her boyfriend. But come on, now, level with us. You have to admit that it’s a little hard to believe that you were the one who didn’t want to call the police after some stranger had just broken into your apartment.”

Manny rose from his chair. “Is that a question?” he asked sarcastically.

“Objection sustained.”

“My question is this,” the prosecutor said to his witness. “Did you want to call the police, or didn’t you?”

Gina swallowed hard. “Of course I wanted to.”

McCue felt a rush of satisfaction. It had taken a little maneuvering, but he’d placed his witness right back on track. Or so he thought “Then tell us, please: Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I wouldn’t let myself.”

“Excuse me?” Again he’d received an unexpected answer.

“I refused to call the police because-” Gina stopped herself. She looked away and wrung her hands in her lap. “I didn’t call,” she said, lowering her head in shame, “because I didn’t want to have to tell the police that Jack and I had slept together.”

The prosecutor’s mouth fell open, and a murmur of disbelief filled the courtroom. Reporters feverishly flagged their notes with stars and arrows. Jack felt like a man impaled, but he couldn’t allow himself the slightest reaction. He didn’t dare look behind him, knowing that if he did, he’d lose all self-control.

“Order,” said the judge with the bang of her gavel.

Jack couldn’t fight the impulse any longer. He looked over his shoulder at Cindy. Their eyes met for just a split second-long enough for him to see something he’d never seen before. It wasn’t anger or embarrassment or heartbreak or disbelief. It was all of those things.

“All right, miss,” McCue said to his witness. He took a deep breath. Gina had diverted widely from the script, and at the moment his chief fear was that her admission about having lied was something the defense would seize on in cross-examination. He had to prevent that from happening. If ever there was a time to turn lemons into lemonade, this was it. “That was a very painful admission you just made, and I’m glad you made it. It shows that you’re an honest person-you tell the truth, even when it hurts.”

“Objection,” said Manny.

“Sustained,” the judge said. “Let’s not vouch for our witnesses, Mr. McCue.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. But I’m just trying to elicit a very simple point.” He turned and faced the witness. “Ms. Terisi, when you and I talked in my office and you told me that little falsehood about it being Mr. Swyteck’s idea not to call the police, you were not under oath, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t”

“Today, however, you are under oath. You are aware that you’re under oath?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. So, tell us, Miss Terisi. What about all the other things you’ve testified to today, under oath: Are those true, or are they false?”

“They’re true,” she said resignedly. “All of them are true.”

The prosecutor nodded slowly. “And tell us one more thing, please, if you would: Did Mr. Swyteck voice any objection when you told him that you did not want to call the police?”