William Bernhardt - Cruel Justice

“For him or for me? I was doing all the work. He never said a word.”

Ben walked back toward the defendant’s table where Leeman sat. For once, Ben wanted the jury to notice Leeman.

“Detective, you’re aware that Leeman suffers from special learning difficulties, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Do you have any reason to doubt it?”

“I’m always suspicious when attorneys start making excuses for defendants.” He winked at the jury. “Most of these guys only turn out to be nuts after the lawyers get their hands on them.”

“Are you a psychiatrist, Detective?”

“No.”

“Are you a specialist in learning disabilities?”

“No.”

“Are you any kind of medical doctor?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then I’ll ask you to keep your uninformed opinions to yourself.” Sometimes, a sharp word was better than an objection. “Did you consider having a therapist present at the questioning?”

“I don’t recall that we did.”

“Did you consider consulting a specialist in learning disabilities or special education?”

“Look, our budget is extremely limited—”

“Don’t make excuses, Detective. Did you?”

“No. Look”—Bickley leaned forward, pressing against the outer perimeter of the witness box—“our job isn’t to make the witness as cozy and relaxed as possible, okay? Our job is to get him to talk. And to accomplish that goal, we do what it takes.” He glanced hastily up at the judge. “Within the boundaries of the law, of course.”

“So in other words, you had no intention of giving Leeman a fair shake.”

“My intention was to follow the law to the letter. Which I did. End of story.”

Ben walked to the VCR, grabbed the remote, and ran the tape back to just before Leeman began his protracted reenactment, when he briefly put his hand over his eyes. See?

Ben replayed the snippet three times, until he was certain everyone had observed the action. “Detective, what is the significance of that gesture made by Leeman Hayes before he began the pantomime?”

“The significance? I suppose the sun got in his eyes.”

“The sun? You appear to me to be indoors. In a room with no windows.”

“Okay, the overhead lights then. So?”

“Your testimony is that the overhead lights shone in his eyes for two seconds just before he began the reenactment—and never before or after. Give the jury some credit, Detective.”

“Objection,” Bullock said angrily. “This is argumentative.”

“Agreed,” Hawkins said. “The objection will be sustained. I remind counsel of my previous warning. I meant it.”

Ben decided to take another tack. “Detective, you’ve acknowledged that Leeman was trying to communicate through pantomime, correct?”

“I guess that’s so.”

“And your testimony is based upon your interpretation of some of his gestures, right?”

“Right.”

“To be fair, then, shouldn’t we try to interpret all of his gestures? Not just the ones you find useful.”

“I think I already said—”

“Shouldn’t we be trying to determine what he meant when he put his hand over his eyes?”

Bickley smirked. “I’m more interested in the gestures that came later. Like when he beat the woman over the head with the golf club.”

“That’s your interpretation,” Ben said evenly. “But it’s a pretty selective one, isn’t it? Interpreting the action to which I directed your attention spoils your entire confession theory, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bickley said, but as Ben gazed into the man’s eyes he was certain that he did. He had undoubtedly told Bullock, too. They knew. They both knew. They had known all along.

“When you put your hand over your eyes in that manner,” Ben continued, “you’re communicating that you’re looking. Seeing. Wasn’t Leeman trying to say that this was all something that he saw ?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“Is that because you didn’t take that meaning, or because you don’t want to spoil Mr. Bullock’s case?”

“Objection!” Bullock shouted. He was getting angry, or at least putting on a good show of it.

“Sustained. Counsel, the only reason you’re not in jail right now is that I don’t want to prejudice your client’s rights in the middle of a trial.”

The hell you don’t, Ben thought.

“ After the trial, I may not be so generous. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll terminate this examination.”

Ben continued to stare down the witness. Hawkins wouldn’t be jumping all over him if he weren’t close to something. He couldn’t let up now. “Isn’t that what Leeman was trying to say? Isn’t that what he meant? That he was going to reenact for you something that he saw ?”

Bickley began to squirm uncomfortably. “How should I know what he was trying to say?”

“Perhaps if you had bothered to consult some people who were trained in this area, you would’ve known.”

“Objection!” Bullock repeated.

Ben ignored him. “Isn’t it true that you didn’t have anyone there for the same reason you didn’t ask anyone about it later. Because you didn’t want an unfavorable interpretation to screw up your airtight case!”

“That’s a crock of—”

“Objection!” Bullock insisted.

The judge leaned forward. “Counsel—”

Ben plowed on ahead. “Isn’t that true, Detective?”

“That’s preposterous. I don’t—”

“ Isn’t it true? ”

“Look,” Bickley said, almost shouting, “we all saw what we saw! The tape speaks for itself.”

“No it doesn’t!” Ben shouted back. “It doesn’t speak for itself because Leeman can’t speak for himself. He can’t defend himself against people like you who are more interested in getting convictions than getting the truth!”

Judge Hawkins pounded his gavel. “Counsel, I want you to sit down! Now! This examination is over!”

“This is a gross injustice, your honor! They stacked the deck against Leeman ten years ago and they’re still stacking it today.”

The judge continued to pound. “I am commanding you to sit down!”

“But this isn’t a search for the truth! This is a travesty!”

The judge motioned for the sergeant at arms.

“All right, all right,” Ben said, brushing him away. “I’m sitting already.”

The judge relaxed a bit, then drew himself up and spoke to the jury in his most authoritative tone. “You will disregard every word of counsel’s outbursts. In fact, you will disregard his entire cross-examination. I order it stricken from the record. And Mr. Kincaid, we will be discussing disciplinary action at the conclusion of this trial. That’s a promise.”

Ben didn’t doubt it. He didn’t look forward to that, but he had to break through the stone wall Bullock and Hawkins were erecting around his client and try to make the jury see the truth. He probably hadn’t accomplished a damn thing, but it was just possible someone in the jury box heard what he was trying to say. At the least, Ben had forced the jury to focus on the central ambiguity of the tape. With any luck, perhaps he slowed down the Bullock juggernaut. A little bit, anyway.

“Mr. Bullock, any redirect?”

“Yes.” Bullock rose to his feet slowly. Ben had the impression he hadn’t actually prepared anything; he just didn’t want the jury to go home with Ben’s impassioned speech ringing in their heads.

“What happened,” Bullock said finally, “after the defendant finished his reenactment of the murder?”

Bickley twisted his neck and adjusted his tie. “You saw it for yourself. He ran away. Ran into the corner and folded up into a ball.”