John Nance - 16 Souls

“Yes,” Judith replied. “There was a neck injury to a male passenger caused by the collision, but the amazing thing was, when the 757 began to go sideways at that blazing speed, the Beech fuselage skidded off pretty much cleanly and rocketed right down the runway and it didn’t tumble. The Boeing actually went tumbling ahead of it. The Beech fuselage collided with part of the disintegrating right wing of the 757, or that would have been the only injury. Michelle would have walked away.”

“But she’ll make a complete recovery?” Joel asked.

“She was in a coma for two months. There was a massive concussion and a closed skull injury, and when she awoke, she couldn’t walk or talk coherently, so she’s made incredible progress and I’m told will eventually fly again.”

Judith could sense Joel was holding back a less optimistic analysis of the day for a private conversation later. She could see it in his eyes, despite the broad smile. But providing some much needed relief for Marty right now was more important, and she repeated her earlier compliments about his self-control, and the cool authority he had projected throughout the time on the stand.”

“So how are you feeling?” she asked Marty.

“I’m good. But how are we doing?”

Judith forced herself not to hesitate or glance at Joel. “I think we’re on target. Richardson will get a shot at you tomorrow or the next day, and he’ll have his whole team working on how to get a rise out of you, but just repeat today’s outstanding cool and we’re fine.”

When they had called it an evening and dispersed, Judith shoved the card key in her hotel room door and gratefully closed it behind her. Her smartphone had been buzzing with increasing urgency, but she’d suppressed the urge to pull it out until now. She kicked off the pumps that had begun to cause her real pain by the end of the afternoon, and read the screen. Three missed calls and an urgent text from her assistant.

Judith, I’ve been trying to reach you! I know you’ve got to be exhausted but there’s a reporter for the Denver Post about to break a very important story on Regal 12 and he’s been battering our door down to get to you.

A weary sigh accompanied her callback to her assistant’s cell phone.

He answered on the first ring with the name of the reporter.

“Okay,” she said, pushing her hair back and thinking about a hot bath and delighted there was a jetted tub even though she had yet to use it. “Please call Mr. Bogosian and inform him that I will not give any interviews on or off the record until… what?”

It was uncharacteristic for her assistant to interrupt her, but his voice was urgent.

“No, Judith. He doesn’t want an interview. He wants to give you information he says is vital to Captain Mitchel’s case.”

“Did he say what that information was? Could be a ploy.”

“Only that he’s been in the courtroom every day and although he’s not taking sides, whatever it is will be extremely important to a just decision.”

She snorted. “Who the hell talks about just decisions anymore?”

“His words, Judith. Not mine.”

She copied down Bogosian’s cell number and punched it in, noting the fact that he, too, answered on the first ring.

“I understand you want to talk to me, urgently, Mr. Bogosian? This is Judith Winston.”

“Where can we meet?”

She sighed. “Whoa, hold your horses! I’m… it’s been a very long day, and I’m already in my hotel room…”

“It’s not quite eight and I’m sure there’s a bar.”

“Yes… of course there’s a bar. There’s always a bar, and I just left it, but…”

“Please tell me the hotel and I’ll meet you in that bar in fifteen minutes.”

“Seriously? I have no idea who you really are or why you’re even calling.”

“Google me. I absolutely promise you it’s vitally important, what I have to tell you.”

“Okay, but… is this really necessary? Tonight, I mean? Can’t you tell me over the phone?”

“Yes, it’s very necessary and no, I need to talk to you in person, and tomorrow my story will be front page above the fold and I would feel very bad if you were blindsided.”

“Front page, huh? And this concerns Captain Mitchell’s prosecution?”

“Materially.”

“You understand I will not be giving you any information or interviews on or off the record?”

“Absolutely. I accept that ground rule. I’m the one doing the talking.”

“Alright, Mr. Bogosian. Hyatt Regency bar, then. Fifteen minutes.”

Present Day — September 13 — Day Six of the trial

Courtroom 5D, Lindsey-Flanigan Courthouse, Denver

“Your Honor, I request a sidebar,” Judith announced.

“Approach!” Judge Gonzales said with a weary wave to both lawyers.

“I have an emergency addition to the defense’s witness list,” she offered.

Judith watched Judge Gonzales take the information in stride but instantly look at Grant Richardson, who looked at her incredulously.

“Your Honor, I object. We haven’t been notified of any motion for inclusion of a new witness. The state is surprised.”

“Of course, you’re surprised, Counsellor,” Judith said, smiling as sardonically as she could manage. “So are we. That’s the very nature of a material witness who emerges at the last minute about whom nothing was known previously.”

As she expected, Richardson’s argument was heated and built around the concept that even if the offered witness confirmed the existence of a car on the runway, that had nothing to do with the primary question of whether or not Captain Mitchell knowingly caused the death of anyone.

“Judge,” Judith began, “if there was no vehicle on Runway Three Six Right , then the fact that Regal Flight Twelve crashed does not disprove prosecution’s contention that whether the defendant chose Runway Seven or Runway Three Six or any other, it was his refusal to slow down that in essence constituted knowingly causing a death. In other words, there was no runway he could have landed on at two hundred thirty knots without killing someone. But, if he could have landed safely on Three Six Right even at two hundred thirty knots, that means his ultimate decision, the one on which he acted, did NOT constitute knowingly causing a death. Therefore, the presence or absence of the alleged vehicle is material and incredibly important in determining whether a safe landing could have been made if no car was there. Therefore, this witness must be heard.”

From there, the ruling for inclusion was all but unavoidable for Gonzales, especially since Judith’s hands were clean regarding any prior knowledge of a witness named William Jantzen.

It had been obvious to Judith that Marty would be concerned to the point of near panic over why she had broken with the usual pattern and, instead of briefing him and the team, had closeted herself with someone Marty had never seen before. There had been no time for Judith to explain, and he had the distinct impression that she had intentionally engineered it that way.

Now as the unfamiliar name of the new witness was called, a slim, sandy haired young man in his twenties, wearing a slightly bushy mustache, walked unsteadily down the aisle, his features and his color ashen, his shoulders stooped as if he was carrying an unseen burden. He was wearing an open-collar shirt over black slacks, and Marty watched him in deep puzzlement.

When the witness was sworn and all the usual opening questions of name and employment had been completed, Judith walked toward the witness box.

“Mr. Jantzen, what exactly is your job at Denver International Airport?”