Майкл Коннелли - Law of Innocence

At that moment, I thought I saw sympathy on Maggie’s face as well. It made me not want to turn to see my own daughter’s face.

“Did Mr. Haller represent you in the new case involving your husband’s death?” Berg asked.

“No, no way,” Trammel said. “He was the one who told them I had buried Jeffrey. I needed somebody I could—”

“Objection, hearsay,” Maggie said.

“Sustained,” Warfield said. “The answer is no. The jury will disregard the rest of the answer.”

Berg retooled for a moment, obviously looking for a way to get to the answer she wanted—that I had ratted out Trammel when she wouldn’t pay me. It wouldn’t be much of a leap from that to believing I would kill Sam Scales when he didn’t pay me.

“Did there come a time when you began to suspect that you could not trust Mr. Haller as your attorney?” she asked.

“Yes,” Trammel said.

“And when was that?”

“When they found my husband’s body and I got arrested for murder. I knew he had told the police.”

“I object again,” Maggie said. “Assumes facts not in evidence. Ms. Berg is trying to put something in front of the jury that is pure speculation. There is no record anywhere that Mr. Haller or any member of his staff broke the rules of the attorney-client relationship, yet the prosecution persists in—”

“You told them!” Trammel yelled, pointing her finger at me. “You were the only one who knew. This was the payback—”

“Silence!” Warfield yelled. “There is an objection before the court and the witness will remain silent.”

The judge’s voice had cut Trammel off like an ax coming down. She paused and looked at all parties before continuing.

“Ms. Berg, you need to school and control your witness on what is hearsay and what is not,” she said. “One more improper outburst and you will both be held in contempt.”

She turned to the jury.

“The jury will disregard the statements of the witness,” she said. “They are hearsay and not evidence.”

She turned back to the attorneys.

“You may continue, Ms. Berg,” she said. “Carefully.”

As attention in the courtroom returned to Berg, I heard a low whisper from behind and turned to see Cisco offering a file across the rail. I tapped Maggie on the arm and signaled her to take the file. She immediately opened it on the table between us.

Meanwhile, Berg was only too happy to end her direct examination of Trammel. She had gotten the message to the jury that I was vindictive when it came to money.

“Your Honor, I have nothing further for this witness,” she said.

The judge threw it to the defense, and Maggie asked for a brief recess before she questioned the witness. The judge gave us fifteen minutes and we spent the time reading the correspondence that had come in from Trammel over the years.

When court reconvened, Maggie was ready. She got up with her legal pad and went to the lectern. She came out aggressive.

“Ms. Trammel, have you ever lied to the police?” she asked.

“No,” Trammel said.

“You’ve never lied to the police?”

“I said no.”

“How about under oath? Have you ever lied under oath?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you lying right now under oath?”

“No, I—”

Berg objected, saying McPherson was badgering the witness, and the judge sustained the objection, telling Maggie to move on. She did.

“Isn’t it true, Ms. Trammel, that early on, you agreed to share any movie revenues from your story with Mr. Haller?”

“No, he wanted publicity, not money. That was the agreement.”

“Did you kill Mitchell Bondurant?”

Trammel involuntarily pulled back from the witness-stand microphone as the question came out of the blue. Berg stood and objected again, reminding the judge that Trammel had been found not guilty in the Bondurant case.

“Everyone knows that a not-guilty verdict is not a finding of innocence,” Maggie argued.

The judge ruled that Trammel could answer the question.

“No, I did not kill Mitchell Bondurant,” she answered pointedly.

“Then, was it established at trial who did?” Maggie asked.

“There was a suspect named, yes.”

“Who was that?”

“A man named Louis Opparizio. A Las Vegas mobster. He was brought in to testify, but he took the Fifth because he didn’t want to.”

“Why was Louis Opparizio a suspect in Mr. Bondurant’s murder?”

“Because they had shady dealings together and Mr. Bondurant had contacted the FBI about it. There was an investigation starting and then Mr. Bondurant got killed.”

“After you were found not guilty, was Opparizio charged with the crime?”

“No, he never was.”

We now had Opparizio on the trial record and known to the jury. If nothing else came out of Maggie’s cross, that was the one thing we could take into the defense phase and work with.

But Maggie wasn’t finished. She asked the judge for a moment and then walked to the defense table, where she retrieved the letters that had been in the Trammel file. She had planned it that way. She wanted Trammel to track her movements as she went to pick up the loose pages. She wanted Trammel to know what was coming.

“Now, Ms. Trammel, you clearly blame Mr. Haller for your current situation in prison, correct?” she asked.

“I’ve owned what I did,” Trammel said. “I didn’t go to trial. I pleaded guilty and have taken full responsibility.”

“But you blame Mr. Haller for the police finding your husband’s body buried in the backyard, do you not?”

“I thought the judge said I can’t answer that.”

“You can speak for yourself. You can’t speak for him.”

“Then, yes, I blame him.”

“But isn’t it true that you are the one who has threatened Mr. Haller and repeatedly told him that there would be consequences for his actions?”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Do you remember writing Mr. Haller a series of letters from prison?”

Trammel paused before answering.

“It was a long time ago,” she finally said. “I don’t remember.”

“What about more recently,” Maggie pressed. “Say, a year ago. Did you send a letter from prison to Mr. Haller?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What is your inmate number at the prison in Chowchilla?”

“A-V-one-eight-one-seven-four.”

Maggie looked up at the judge.

“Judge, may I approach the witness?” she asked.

After receiving permission from the judge, Maggie handed an envelope to Trammel and asked her to open it and remove the letter that was inside.

“Do you recognize that as a letter you sent last April ninth to Mr. Haller?” she asked.

Berg stood to object. She couldn’t know what was in the letter but she knew it was bad.

“Your Honor, I have not been shown the document,” she said. “It could be from anyone.”

“Overruled,” Warfield said. “You’ll get your chance when Ms. McPherson is done authenticating the letter through this unexpected witness, Ms. Berg. You may continue, Ms. McPherson.”

“Is that your prisoner number on the outside of the envelope, Ms. Trammel?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t write it there,” Trammel said.

“But that is in fact your signature at the end of the letter, correct, Ms. Trammel?”

“It looks like it, but I can’t be sure. It could be forged.”

“Please examine these four other letters and confirm that they also bear your signature and inmate number.”

Trammel looked at the letters put down in front of her.

“Yes,” she finally said. “It looks like my signature, but I can’t be sure. There are a lot of women in prison who are there because they forged signatures on checks.”