John Nance - 16 Souls

“Did you know that any part of that aircraft had touched your vehicle as it flew over?”

He was all but hyperventilating now and Judith looked at the judge before asking if he needed a moment to compose himself, but Jantzen forced himself to sit up and continue.

“The whole car shook when he passed over but I didn’t think it had touched me,” he continued, “…but it was a lot later, maybe weeks, when I was up on a ladder in my garage and I looked at the top of my car and saw a little antenna was missing. I never knew what that thing did but it was kinda cool, so I remembered it. I didn’t think about it being hit by the plane, because, y’know, I didn’t feel any impact. But then later I began to wonder.”

“Did your employer know you had been on the runway that night?”

“No, ma’am. Well, not until this week.”

“Did you know for a fact your antenna had been removed by the tire of the passing jet?”

“No, ma’am. Not for sure. Not until yesterday, or, I mean, the evening before.”

“Had you read in newspapers or online or heard via radio or television or from any other source that the captain of Regal Flight 12 claimed that headlights had distracted him during his emergency landing?”

Jantzen’s face betrayed something beyond utter confusion — it was the primal look of someone being chased by a grizzly realizing he’s backed up to the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you didn’t come forward or notify anyone that you might have been the source of those headlights?”

In all the corporate litigation Judith Winston had handled, never once had a witness broken into body shaking sobs on the stand, but William Jantzen was instantly beyond the ability to force words out of his mouth, and he sat there, quaking and sobbing as the judge wondered what to do and the jury took it all in.

“I have no further questions,” Judith said at last, as the bailiff gently moved the microphone away from Jantzen’s face, quieting the ungodly sounds that had filled the courtroom.

Judge Gonzales ordered a ten minute recess, which was barely enough time for Jantzen to get himself under control and face a cross-examination

Despite the best efforts of the DA to shake his story, William Jantzen remained consistent, and Richardson finally decided the witness had done enough damage.

“I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Jantzen, you are excused.”

He looked at the judge in confusion.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You may leave the stand and leave the courtroom, Mr. Jantzen.”

It had been, Judith explained to Marty at the next recess, the visit of Scott Bogosian, the evidence he’d collected, and the presence of the airport police chief in Jantzen’s living room that had convinced him that his car had been impacted however slightly by Regal 12. But finding out that without question the flare of his headlights being turned on had actually been a major factor in the crash caused the man to all but collapse. He had offered any help he could, including agreeing to Scott Bogosian’s shoot-from-the-hip question of whether he’d be willing to tell the truth in open court to save a man’s professional life. Jantzen’s immediate “Yes!” had caught Scott by surprise, as had the difficulty of getting Judith Winston to listen to him.

Scott had agreed to take the stand as well to verify the yellow paint in the groove in the 757’s tire, and Grant Richardson had apparently given up fighting the point, permitting the presentation to go forward without a real objection. It was that reaction that further worried Judith. Was he just giving up, or more likely, was he preparing to convince the jury that none of that mattered?

Present Day — September 14 — Day Seven of the trial

Courtroom 5D, Lindsey-Flanigan Courthouse, Denver

Aside from the very real possibility that his exclusive story about William Jantzen and the crash of Regal 12 might result in the offer of a full-time position with the Post, Scott Bogosian realized he had developed a proprietary attachment to the trial of Captain Mitchell. Try as he might to avoid taking sides, he was sliding into Mitchell’s camp and developing a serious dislike for the district attorney. Treating an inadvertent airline tragedy as a criminal act was, to him at least, patently ridiculous.

Scott sat now in the gallery of the courtroom, watching preparations for what might be one of the last days of the trial as Grant Richardson got to his feet to re-call Captain Mitchell to the stand.

It had been a shock, Scott recalled, to see the airline captain in full uniform on the first day of the proceedings. He had thought it pretentious at first, but now the idea that Marty Mitchell the man could be separated from Captain Mitchell, the pilot in command of Regal 12, made little sense. In effect, they were trying the captain of a ship, not an individual, and that was the pivot point for the furious response of most airline people.

Marty adjusted himself in the witness chair again, feeling far more settled than he expected as the enemy walked toward him.

“Captain Mitchell, I just have a few followup questions,” Richardson began, an unctuous smile on his face.

Rather like an open-mouthed rattlesnake getting ready to strike , Marty thought. The image was amusing and also somewhat calming.

“Why, Mr. Mitchell, did you abort the landing on Runway 7?”

Judith was on her feet.

“Objection. Asked and answered.”

“Sustained,” the judge replied.

Richardson was unfazed.

“Very well, let me ask it this way. Is it true, Mr. Mitchell, that a primary reason you elected to abort the landing on Runway Seven was because of your concern over the combination of a two hundred and thirty knot landing speed against the useable length of that runway and with consideration of the severe drop-off at the eastern end?”

“That was… those were major considerations, yes.”

“Were you worried about damaging the airplane?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Well, was your primary concern about the speed and the length and the drop-off that if things didn’t go just right, the airplane might be damaged? Was that your primary concern?”

“Of course not.”

“A yes or no will suffice.”

“No.”

“Very well. Was your primary concern in aborting the landing on Runway Seven the safety of your passengers, including the people on your right wing?”

“Yes.”

“Did you then decide to land on Runway Three Six Right because it would run a lower risk of injury to your passengers, including the sixteen on the right wing?”

“Yes.”

“The primary component of your concern… the reason this wouldn’t be a normal landing… was the excessive airspeed?”

“Well, I was trying not to kill the people on the right wing.”

“Understood, Mr. Mitchell, but…”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Judith interjected. “May we have a sidebar and approach?”

Richardson shrugged and the judge motioned them forward.

“Go ahead, Ms. Winston.”

“Judge, there is a level of purposeful disrespect for the witness in refusing to address him by his title of ‘captain.’ This trial, and the charges leveled by this district attorney, wholly concern his official conduct as a captain, and Mr. Richardson’s tactic of addressing him as ‘mister’ is a calculated ploy to negatively influence the jury by heaping scorn on the witness. I move that the court forbid it.”

“Judge,” Richardson answered, shaking his head, “Mr. Mitchell is a citizen like all of us. His rank is not military, nor governmental, such as would be the case if he were an ambassador or senator statutorily entitled to the use of a title. ‘captain’ is merely a commercial title. Indeed, even the FAA does not use the term ‘captain,’ they use ‘pilot in command.’ He is not charged with a crime his airline committed, he is charged with personally committing a crime. Ms. Winston’s motion should be denied.”