William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

Ben’s eyes flared. “You lied to me. Again !”

“It’s not like I planned to meet him!” Zak insisted. He seemed frenetic, grasping. “All I wanted to do was take a leak, and this moron stops me in the corridor. I didn’t even know who he was till he told me.”

“You lied to me,” Ben said. “You lied to your own lawyer.”

“Oh, what the hell’s the big deal? The jury was going to find out anyway. It’s not like you could’ve stopped it.”

“If I’d known, I could’ve prepared the jury for it. I could’ve warned them that there was an angry meeting, but that it’s no proof of murder. Instead, I told them you’d never met the man, which wasn’t true. They think I lied to them.” Ben glanced back over his shoulder at the jury box. “And they’re not likely to forget it.”

“Mr. Kincaid,” Pickens said, drumming his fingers. “If you intend to cross-examine, now’s the time.”

Ben turned away from Zak. There was nothing he hated worse than crossing a witness who had basically just told the truth. People shouldn’t be victimized for doing their civic duty. But he had to do something to undercut this testimony. If the jury believed Zak had threatened Gardiner just before he was killed, how could they help but convict him?

Well, at least there was one obvious cross-ex point he could score.

“Mr. Peabody,” Ben began, “you’re aware that my client was the leader of the local Green Rage team, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes. Sure.”

“And you’re aware that they oppose many of the activities of the loggers in the area.”

“Sure. I read the papers.”

“So how can we know that your testimony isn’t tainted by your pro-logger bias?”

“My what?”

“You said you’ve lived here all your life. You must have friends, family. Your customers at the grocery store.”

“Not really. Actually, we Peabodys may be the only family in Magic Valley that’ve never had anything to do with the logging industry. Frankly, I tend to side with the environmentalists.”

Ben felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. And the only thing that could possibly make him feel any worse was seeing Granny fold her arms across her lap, a self-satisfied ear-to-ear grin plastered across her face.

“Mr. Kincaid?” Pickens said. “Will there be any more questions?”

Ben’s brain was racing. One of the cardinal rules of cross-ex was: Never quit on a down note. But he had been scraping just to come up with one line of questioning, and it had exploded in his face. How could he poke holes in the testimony of a witness who was telling the truth?

“I guess not,” Ben said. He left the podium and slithered back to defendant’s table. This was, he thought, in all likelihood the worst cross-ex of his entire career. His client lied to him, the prosecutor blindsided him, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

The judge began his pre-lunch spiel to the jury. Zak leaned close to Ben and whispered, “Hey, this isn’t going too well, is it?”

Ben just couldn’t come up with the words.

After the disaster of the morning, Ben had hoped for a long lunch break, if not a recess for the day. He didn’t get his wish. Judge Pickens called for a short lunch break, then asked everyone to be back in the courtroom by one. It seemed the prosecution was almost finished, and he wanted to get through them all by the end of the day.

“Well,” Christina said, as she returned to the courthouse after lunch, “it wasn’t a great morning. A few setbacks, a few big surprises. Things can only get better.”

Ben tried to smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t. As it turned out, the biggest surprises were yet to come. Starting with this one:

“The State calls Rick Collier to the stand.”

Rick? Both Ben and Zak flew to their feet. Rick? The second in command at Green Rage? The man who’d just been discharged from the hospital? He couldn’t be testifying for the prosecution!

But he was.

Ben ran to the judge’s bench, Granny clicking her heels close behind him.

“What’s going on here?” Ben demanded. “He’s not on their witness list!”

“And I apologize for that, your honor. I really do.” Granny was doing her best to seem contrite. “But this witness just came to our attention this morning.”

“Baloney,” Ben barked. “They must’ve subpoenaed him.”

“We did not,” Granny said emphatically. “He’s a volunteer.”

Ben stared at her, flabbergasted.

“You can check that with my staff if you wish. We had no idea he was coming; he just showed up-with important information that has a direct bearing on this case. I wasn’t even there when he arrived; I didn’t find out about it until the lunch break.”

She rustled around in her leather satchel, then drew out a file folder.

“We’ve prepared this motion to amend the witness list, your honor, and I filed it on my way back to the courtroom.” She handed a copy to the judge, then to Ben. “I know this is irregular-”

“Irregular?” Ben barked. “It’s outrageous!”

“But we simply had no choice,” Granny urged. “And when you hear what he has to say, your honor, I think you’ll agree that justice is best served by letting him speak.”

“Your honor,” Ben cut in, “I must object to this in the strongest possible way. This is trial by ambush! We’ve had no time to prepare.”

Judge Pickens held up his hand, his signal that Solon was about to speak. “I’m going to let the man have his say.”

“But your honor!”

Pickens looked at Ben sternly. “I’ve ruled, Kincaid, so stop arguing. If you need extra time to prepare your cross-examination, I’ll give it to you. If you need any other accommodation, I’ll consider it. I’m sympathetic-this is an unusual situation. But Granny’s right-we don’t serve justice by silencing important witnesses. I’ll let him speak, then let you do whatever you need to do to have a fair opportunity to cross.”

“Your honor, this is reversible error!”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure Granny has documented the fact that the witness arrived at the last minute”-Granny nodded-” and under those circumstances, there’s precedent for allowing him to testify, so long as the defense is treated fairly. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Now stop arguing and let’s get on with the show.”

Ben returned to defendant’s table, a grim expression set on his face. Critical information, Granny had said. Rick had critical information about this case. What could it be?

“What’s going on?” Zak asked, yanking Ben’s shoulder. “He’s not going to testify against me, is he?”

Ben nodded curtly.

“Would you state your name, please?” Granny asked, after Rick was sworn.

“Rick Collier. That’s short for Richard.” Ben noted that Rick was pointedly not looking toward defendant’s table.

“And what do you do for a living?”

Rick shrugged. “Well, it’s not much of a living, but I’m currently working in the Green Rage organization.”

“Really? So you worked with George Zakin?”

“Extensively. I was generally considered the next in the chain of leadership. After Zak.”

“What’s going on here?” Zak whispered in Ben’s ear. “He can’t testify against me. He’s my friend!”

I wonder, Ben thought silently. I just wonder.

Granny continued her direct examination. “Would you say you spoke with Mr. Zakin on a regular basis?”

“Oh, yeah.” He flipped his ponytail back. “Like every day.”

“About Green Rage matters?”

“Sure. But not only that. We confided in each other, you know? We told secrets.”