Michael Connelly - The Reversal

“Detective Bosch is sitting with Sonia Reyes, who has agreed to help the prosecution as a witness consultant.”

The judge looked from Haller to Reyes and back to Haller.

“You want to run that by me again, Mr. Haller?”

“Judge, Ms. Reyes is acquainted with the witness. Because the defense did not make Mr. Roman available to us prior to his testimony here, we have asked Ms. Reyes to give us advice on how to proceed with our cross-examination.”

Haller’s explanation had done nothing to change the look of suspicion on Breitman’s face.

“Are you paying her for this advice?”

“We have agreed to help her get into a clinic.”

“I should hope so.”

“Your Honor,” Royce said. “May I be heard?”

“Go ahead, Mr. Royce.”

“I think it is quite obvious that the prosecution is attempting to intimidate Mr. Roman. This is a gangster move, Judge. Not something I would expect to see from the District Attorney’s Office.”

“Well, I strongly object to that characterization,” Haller said. “It is perfectly acceptable within the canon of courtroom procedure and ethics to hire and use consultants. Mr. Royce employed a jury consultant last week and that was perfectly acceptable. But now that the prosecution has a consultant that he knows will help expose his witness as a liar and someone who preys on women, he objects. With all due respect, I would call that the gangster move.”

“Okay, we’re not going to debate this now,” Breitman said. “I find that the prosecution is certainly within bounds in using Ms. Reyes as a consultant. Let’s bring the jury back.”

“Thank you, Judge,” Haller said as he sat down.

As the jurors filed back into the box, Haller turned and looked back at Bosch. He gave a slight nod and Bosch knew that he was happy. The exchange with the judge could not have worked better in delivering a message to Roman. The message being that we know your game, and come our turn to ask the questions, so will the jury. Roman now had a choice. He could stick with the defense or start playing for the prosecution.

Testimony continued once the jury was back in place. Royce quickly established through Roman that he and Sarah Gleason had a relationship that lasted nearly a year and involved the sharing of personal stories as well as drugs. But when it came to revealing those personal stories, Roman did a cut and run, leaving Royce hanging in the wind.

“Now, did there come a time when she spoke about her sister’s murder?”

“A time? There were lots of times. She talked about it a lot, man.”

“And did she ever tell you in detail what she called the ‘real story’?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Can you tell the court what she told you?”

Roman hesitated and scratched his chin before answering. Bosch knew this was the moment that his work either paid off or went for naught.

“She told me that they were playing hide-and-seek in the yard and a guy came and grabbed her sister and that she saw the whole thing.”

Bosch’s eyes made a circuit of the room. First he checked the jurors and it seemed that even they had been expecting Roman to say something else. Then the prosecution table. He saw that McPherson had grabbed Haller by the back of his arm and was squeezing it. And lastly Royce, who was now the one hesitating. He stood at the lectern looking down at his notes, one armed cocked with his fist on his hip like a frustrated teacher who could not draw the correct answer from a student.

“That is the story you heard Sarah Gleason tell in group counseling at the rehabilitation center, correct?” he finally asked.

“That’s right.”

“But isn’t it true that she told you a different version of events-what she called the ‘real story’-when you were in more private settings?”

“Uh, no. She pretty much stuck to the same story all the time.”

Bosch saw McPherson squeeze Haller’s arm again. This was the whole case right here.

Royce was like a man left behind in the water by a dive boat. He was treading water but he was in the open sea and it was only a matter of time before he went down. He tried to do what he could.

“Now, Mr. Roman, on March second of this year, did you not contact my office and offer your services as a witness for the defense?”

“I don’t know about the date but I called there, yeah.”

“And did you speak to my investigator, Karen Revelle?”

“I spoke to a woman but I can’t remember her name.”

“And didn’t you tell her a story that is quite different from the one you just recounted?”

“But I wasn’t under oath or nothin’ then.”

“That’s right, sir, but you did tell Karen a different story, true?”

“I might’ve. I can’t remember.”

“Didn’t you tell Karen at that time that Ms. Gleason had told you that her stepfather had killed her sister?”

Haller was up with the objection, arguing that not only was Royce leading the witness but that there was no foundation for the question and that counsel was trying to get testimony to the jury that the witness was not willing to give. The judge sustained the objection.

“Your Honor,” Royce said, “the defense would like to request a short break to confer with its witness.”

Before Haller could object the judge denied the request.

“By this witness’s own testimony this morning, you have had since March second to prepare for this moment. We go to lunch in thirty-five minutes. You can confer with him then, Mr. Royce. Ask your next question.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Royce looked down at his legal pad. From Bosch’s angle he could tell he was looking at a blank page.

“Mr. Royce?” the judge prompted.

“Yes, Your Honor, just rechecking a date. Mr. Roman, why did you call my office on March second?”

“Well, I seen something about the case on the TV. In fact, it was you. I seen you talking about it. And I knew something about it from knowing Sarah like I did. So I called up to see if I was needed.”

“And then you came to my offices, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You sent that lady to pick me up.”

“And when you came to my office, you told me a different story than you are telling the jury now, isn’t that right?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember exactly what I said then. I’m a drug addict, sir. I say a lot of things I don’t remember and don’t really mean. All I remember is that the woman who came said she’d put me up in a nicer hotel and I had no money for a place at that time. So I sort of said what she told me to say.”

Bosch made a fist and bounced it once on his thigh. This was an unmitigated disaster for the defense. He looked over at Jessup to see if he realized how bad things had just turned for him. And Jessup seemed to sense it. He turned and looked back at Bosch, his eyes dark with growing anger and realization. Bosch leaned forward and slowly raised a finger. He dragged it across his throat.

Jessup turned away.

Thursday, April 8, 11:30 A.M .

I have had many good moments in court. I’ve stood next to men at the moment they knew that they were going free because of my good work. I have stood in the well in front of a jury and felt the tingle of truth and righteousness roll down my spine. And I have destroyed liars without mercy on the witness stand. These are the moments I live for in my professional life. But few of them measured up to the moment I watched Jason Jessup’s defense unravel with the testimony of Edward Roman.

As Roman crashed and burned on the stand, my ex-wife and prosecution partner squeezed my arm to the point of pain. She couldn’t help it. She knew it, too. This was not something Royce was going to recover from. A key part of what was already going to be a fragile defense was crumbling before his eyes. It wasn’t so much that his witness had pulled a one-eighty on him. It was the jury seeing a defense that was now obviously built upon a liar. The jury would not forgive this. It was over and I believed everyone in the courtroom-from the judge to the gadflies in the back row of the gallery-knew it. Jessup was going down.