Defense of an Other

by Grace Mead

  “Did you suffer a severe injury?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Were you lying on the ground after Mr Rand hit you?” Matt wondered if Farrar’s use of the word “lying” was accidental and suspected not.

  “Yeah, I sort of collapsed.”

  “So despite your severe injury and the fact that you were lying on the ground, you claim to have clearly seen everything that happened after Mr Rand hit you?”

  “Yeah, I saw enough.”

  “If you turn to the first tab in the binder in front of you and look on the screen in front of you, can you tell me what that document is?” Farrar zapped the document.

  “An article from the New Orleans Times-Picayune about what happened in the alley that night.”

  “What’s the date of the article?”

  “Sunday, September 9, 2007.”

  “Does this article summarize Mr Rand’s version of what happened in that alley based on the police report?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “Did you read this article?”

  “Yeah, I read it.”

  “Did you read this article before telling anyone else your version of what happened in that alley?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You testified on direct examination you’ve previously been convicted of possession of cocaine with intent to distribute, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you plead guilty to that possession charge, or were you convicted after a trial in front of a jury?”

  “I was convicted after a trial in front of a jury.”

  “Did you testify on your own behalf in your trial?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you testify in that trial you had no idea where the cocaine had come from and that it must have been planted by an angry ex-boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did the jury reject your story that the cocaine was planted and convict you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you lying when you testified an ex-boyfriend must have planted the cocaine?”

  “No.”

  “You testified on direct that you’ve previously sold cocaine, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you testifying that you’re a cocaine dealer but on that particular occasion you think that your ex-boyfriend planted the cocaine on you?”

  “Yes.” A few jurors smiled.

  “Did you understand at your previous criminal trial that you were not obligated to testify on your own behalf?”

  “Yeah. I understood that.”

  “Did you testify in your previous trial that your ex-boyfriend must have planted the cocaine because you wanted to stay out of prison?”

  “I testified I thought he must have planted the coke because I thought he must have planted the coke.”

  “I see,” Farrar said.

  “Objection,” Thibedeaux said.

  “Stricken,” Judge Masterson ruled. “Jurors, please disregard Mr Farrar’s statement. He’s supposed to only be asking questions. You should focus on the witness’s answers, rather than the lawyers’ questions or comments.” The objection and resulting pause punctuated the rapid-fire questions and Joey’s absurd denial.

  “The jury in your prior trial found you’d been lying when you said that an ex-boyfriend must have planted the cocaine, correct?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You testified on direct you had a conversation with Mr Durant a few weeks ago, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you now know that conversation was tape-recorded?”

  “Yeah. Mr Thibedeaux told me.”

  “But Mr Thibedeaux didn’t play that tape when questioning you about that conversation on direct, did he?”

  “No.”

  “I’m now going to play that tape.” Farrar zapped a barcode and, as the call began to crackle over the speakers, Matt hoped Farrar hadn’t oversold it in opening. The jurors were spellbound; many cocked their heads towards the speakers; others stared into space with rapt expressions; and a few scrutinized Matt, Joey and the lawyers for any reaction. But Matt couldn’t tell whether they thought it damning.

  Farrar, as expected, then asked leading questions about the tape’s contents that repeated parts verbatim, departing from the tape itself only when Joey created openings. Matt homed in on Joey; he knew the cross-examination would be so focused and rapid he had to choose between looking at Joey or the jurors.

  “Was that a tape recording of your conversation with Mr Durant from a couple of weeks ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On that tape, you said that you would have gotten hurt worse if Mr Durant hadn’t come to your aid, correct?”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t holding me for the cops.”

  “Did you think Mr Harlan and Mr Rand might beat you up some more while they waited for the cops to come?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Something like that, or did you think Mr Harlan and Mr Rand might continue to beat you up absent Mr Durant’s intervention?”

  “I did. I was scared.”

  “On that tape, you told Mr Durant you guessed he’d found out about the coke, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t say you guessed Mr Durant knew the police had found the cocaine?”

  “No. I didn’t use those words.”

  “And on that tape you said ‘those assholes jumped us,’ correct?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t say why they jumped us.”

  “On that tape, you said you could go away for a long time, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you now entered into a plea agreement with the prosecution regarding the cocaine you had in your possession on the night of September 7?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it a condition of your plea agreement that your testimony here today be consistent with your previous statement to the district attorney’s office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what prison sentence you would have received if you hadn’t agreed to a plea bargain with the prosecution?”

  “I could’ve gotten about five years.”

  “Will you receive a prison sentence under the current plea agreement?”

  “Yeah. I have to go to prison for a year.”

  “By testifying here today consistent with your previous statement, are you shaving four years off your potential prison sentence?”

  “I am. But that’s not why I’m saying what I’m saying.” Joey squirmed and pulled his tie up into a tighter knot.

  Farrar concluded with Joey’s protest. “Nothing further, Your Honor.”

  Chapter 11

  The prosecution rested after Joey’s testimony and Thursday morning offered Matt his first opportunity to explain what had happened. The night before, Matt had insisted Farrar spend a couple of extra hours listening to his account and peppering him with potential cross-examination questions. He needed to quiet the doubts that sometimes tugged at the edge of his consciousness late at night, like a barely forgotten dream. And he yearned for impartial observers to absolve him.

  “Present your first witness, Mr Farrar,” Judge Masterson said.

  “I call Matthew Durant to the stand.”

  Matt stood. Twenty-four eyes bored into him and he knew he was now the exclusive focus of their attention. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and controlling his breathing as he walked up to the witness stand. He was the one telling the truth—he just needed to explain what had happened.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Judge Masterson’s clerk asked.

  “I do,” Matt said.

  “Mr Durant, can you describe a bit about your background?” Matt knew Farrar was hoping open-ended questions about his background would relax him, cause the questions to recede into the background, and allow the answers to stand out.

  “I grew up in Lafayette, Louisiana. My fat
her died when I was fourteen, and my mother works as a nurse. I went to high school in Lafayette, where I also worked various jobs. Through a combination of scholarships and loans, I was able to attend LSU Law School. After graduation in 2004, I moved to Lafayette and spent a year clerking for Judge Michael Thompson of the Louisiana Third Circuit Court of Appeal. After my clerkship, I went to work for the law firm of Farrar Levinson here in New Orleans.” Matt sat back in the witness chair and faced the jury that would decide his fate.

  “So you used to work for me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you go to work on Friday, September 7, 2007?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do after leaving work on Friday, September 7?”

  “I left work around seven-thirty that evening and went to the gym. After the gym, I went home and watched some TV and drank a few beers. I then decided to take a cab to a club named Drink in the French Quarter.”

  “What kind of club is Drink?”

  “It’s a gay club.” Matt looked directly at the jurors as he said it, though his eyes swept across the jurors as a group, rather than focusing on any single one. He then returned his attention to Farrar’s questions.

  “Why did you decide to go to a gay bar that night?”

  “I’d just broken up with my girlfriend of several years and I was experiencing some confusion about my sexual orientation. I’ve had several girlfriends over the years.” He paused. “But I’ve always been attracted to men. Even if I shouldn’t be ashamed of that attraction, as I sit here today, it’s something that I’d change if I could.” Matt’s voice softened and he blushed despite the hours of practice. He didn’t know whether he was embarrassed about his sexual orientation or embarrassed to be embarrassed.

  “I think life’s probably much harder in certain ways if you’re gay,” Matt continued. “But I thought that there wouldn’t be as much risk to my reputation if I interacted with strangers. I just wanted to see what going to a gay club by myself would be like.”

  “Were you nervous?”

  “I was very, very nervous. I’d been attracted to other men for years, but I’d managed to avoid it, to repress it perhaps, largely by focusing on school and work. I was nervous about being seen, but more than anything else, I was scared that I’d enjoy it.” Matt feared he was departing from Farrar’s instruction to state his sexual orientation simply, but he couldn’t describe his attraction to men and the resulting inner turmoil—even long before the attempted assault—as simple. It wasn’t.

  “Why were you scared that you would enjoy it?”

  “I wasn’t sure how my family, friends or coworkers would react. I’ve been fortunate enough to gain the respect of many people throughout the course of my education and in the early stages of my career. I’ve come to crave that respect. I didn’t want to lose it.”

  “What happened when you arrived at Drink?”

  “I went to the bar, sat down, and ordered a gin and tonic. Joey Buckner began talking to me and we talked about everyday things for a while. We had a few drinks.”

  “Did you dance with Mr Buckner?”

  “I did.” Matt nodded.

  “What happened after you danced?”

  “We moved to a table in the back of the bar and talked for a bit. Mr Buckner said he needed to use the restroom. He returned and said he hadn’t actually used it because the line was too long, and he suggested going out into the alley to relieve ourselves. I told him I was worried about getting arrested for public exposure.”

  “What did Mr Buckner say in response?”

  “He said not to worry because he peed in the alley every weekend.” Matt hoped the truthful answer consistent with Joey’s appearance before the jury as feckless; though perhaps he was at fault for failing to detect it that night.

  “Did you go out into that alley for any reason other than to go to the bathroom?”

  “No. I heard Joey testify that I went out there to buy cocaine. He’s lying. Neither one of us ever mentioned the word cocaine. I certainly didn’t go out there to buy any. I’ve never bought cocaine in my life.” His language was emphatic, but he spoke softly.

  “I’d like for you to turn to tab one in your binder.” Farrar displayed a picture on the screen. “Is this a picture of you and Mr Buckner exiting the club?”

  “Yes.”

  “What, if anything, does this picture show happened as you went into the alley?”

  “He put his hand on the small of my back.”

  “Do you think someone could have mistaken that for an exchange of drugs?”

  “Hard to see how, but I guess it’s possible.”

  “And, just to be perfectly clear, were you buying drugs from Mr Buckner?”

  “No.”

  “What happened after you went out into the alley?”

  “Well, we relieved ourselves. As we were finishing, three men approached. One of them, I now know it was Mr Rand, was absolutely enormous. The big guy called us faggots and said they’d been looking for a couple of fucking faggots to beat up.”

  “What happened next?”

  “The two smaller guys grabbed Mr Buckner by both arms and Mr Rand hit him in the face, really hard. Blood was everywhere.” Matt broke eye contact with the jury and stared into space. It was the only way to maintain his composure.

  “Did you think about running for help at the time?”

  “Yes.” He looked at the jury as he spoke.

  “If you’ll turn to tab two in your binder, you’ll see another picture.” Farrar flashed it on the screen. “Is this a picture of the alley that you were in when you encountered Mr Rand and his companions on the night of September 7?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you explain, with reference to this picture, why you didn’t just run for help?”

  “Well, I started to back away, but then I changed my mind.” Matt took a deep breath and second-guessed the pause. “Rand and his friends were standing near the exit door of the club on one side of the alley. On the other end of the alley, the path was choked off by a dumpster and a U-Haul truck. I was afraid if I tried to run, they’d catch up and beat me to a pulp. And I was afraid to leave Joey alone with those guys. They’d already hurt him really badly and I was worried they could kill him.”

  “So what did you do instead?”

  “I thought I’d try to break past them into the club, which was full of people. I started to walk toward them, but I didn’t make it far. Mr Cutler broke off from the group. As he approached me, he pulled out a knife.”

  “What did you think when you saw the knife?”

  “I was afraid he was going to stab either me or Joey, maybe even kill one of us,” Matt said. He fought back tears.

  “So, what did you do when you saw Mr Cutler’s knife?”

  “I went toward him, keeping the beer bottle in my left hand. I threw a couple of left jabs at him, with the beer bottle in my closed fist, and I also threw a right uppercut.”

  “How long did it take you to throw those three punches?”

  “It may have taken two or three seconds.”

  “What was the effect of those punches on Mr Cutler?”

  “I could tell they stunned him, but they didn’t have enough power behind them to really stop him. He still had a knife in his hand, and he had two other guys at his back.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I doubled up and threw two left hooks with the beer bottle in my hand, turned so that the neck of the beer bottle would hit Mr Cutler in the side of the head. It was the only way I could think of to stop him.”

  “Why did you hit Mr Cutler twice?”

  “Well, I’ve been training in boxing for about a year and a half. After practicing a few months, doubling up, or throwing two punches in quick succession, was instinctive.”

  “How long did it take you to throw the two punches?”

  “It only took about a second, maybe less.”

  “Were you able to evaluate the effects
of the first punch before you threw the second punch?”

  “No.”

  “So why did you throw two punches?”

  “Instinct and muscle memory, I guess.”

  “Did you intend to kill Mr Cutler?”

  “No. I just wanted to stop him.”

  “What happened after you hit Mr Cutler?”

  “He went down and his friends rushed to his side. Mr Rand yelled for an ambulance.”

  “Did you try to run away?”

  “No.” Matt shook his head. “I ran to the bar for help.”

  “Why didn’t you try to run away?”

  “The three guys weren’t a threat anymore, and I knew the police were on their way.”

  “Were you afraid the police would arrest you?”

  “I certainly knew it was possible, but I knew I’d acted to defend Joey, and I thought that if I was initially arrested it could be straightened out.”

  “The prosecution has suggested you went into that alley to buy drugs. Have you ever used cocaine?”

  “No.”

  “Did you take a drug test prior to this trial?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what were the results of that drug test?”

  “Negative.”

  “If you could do it again, what would you have done differently in that alley on the night of September 7?”

  “I don’t think that I’d have done anything differently once I was in the alley. I’ve gone over it in my mind again and again. If it had just been me, I would’ve made a run for it. If I got caught and beaten, then I would have gotten caught and beaten. I probably would have been overwhelmed by the three of them anyway. But I wasn’t alone in that alley. Joey was there and he was down on the ground, hurt. I had to try to get to the people inside the club as soon as possible. And then Mr Cutler came at me with a knife. I’m sorry he’s dead. I never wanted to take another person’s life. But I really don’t see how I had any choice.” Matt said the last quietly, aware that he was asking the jury to legitimize a decision with terrible consequences.

  “You say that you’d do the same thing again to save Mr Buckner, even though he’s testified against you?”

  “Sure. He may not be telling the truth, but he’s a human being. He didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor,” Farrar concluded. The jurors remained attentive but impassive; unreadable to Matt. Mary sat on the edge of her seat, well aware that even if the direct examination had gone well, now came the true test.