by Debbie Zello
“Are you worried he’ll find you when all of this comes out?”
“I think that is a good possibility. I’m sure it will make the national news. They’ll follow the trial at least. They’re bound to show my face or at the very least say my name. I’m hoping that he has moved on in the last two and a half years. I don’t know if he’s even alive,” she said.
“I can find that out on Monday. I’ll put in a request for information,” he offered.
“Do you believe that old wives’ tale that things come in threes?”
“I think the old wives got it wrong sometimes, why?”
“The thing with Connor was my first bad thing. Then Dan’s murder was the second. I keep waiting for the third. I think about it a lot, actually. I walk around wondering what the next catastrophe will be.”
“Depending on whom you ask it might be me. My mom said I was a tornado when I was little. David is none too happy with me. Yup, I could definitely be number three!” he said laughing.
Briah moved so that she covered his chest with hers. She looked directly in his eyes and said, “You’re wrong, Aiden. You are number one of the good set of three. I have two more of those to go.” He wrapped her in his arms thinking that no one had ever said anything sweeter to him.
Chapter Ten
Blain was accomplished at jury selection. He played poker in his spare time with a local Texas Hold ‘em group that he and a friend had formed ten years ago. There were fifteen men in the group and they played in invitation only tournaments all over the country. His team had played in the World Poker Championship in Vegas just about every year.
Blain was a prosecutor for the intellect and the kill. He played poker for the money and the adventure. Together, he felt he had the perfect life.
The jury was seated with seven men and five women. They ranged from a twenty-year-old dishwasher at a local restaurant, to a fifty-eight-year-old APRN at a well-known doctor’s office in town. Blain was happy with what he saw.
The trial would begin on Monday. Blain decided to go with a chronological order of the events. Briah would testify first, followed by the responding officers and medical personal. The medical examiner next, then forensics, Pete and Aiden, and end with Jeanette, his coup-de-gras.
Briah walked into his office Saturday morning, alone. Aiden would be testifying too, so they needed to keep their individual accounts separate. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning. Are you ready for this?”
“I hope so. I’m nervous.”
“Understandable. I have a secret, so am I!” he admitted. Briah giggled. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or water?”
“No thanks, but you go ahead,” she said taking a seat in front of his desk.
“I’m not going to go over your testimony today. I want it to sound fresh and unrehearsed on Monday. If it sounds like we have point after point it comes off as being made up for court.”
“That makes sense.”
“What I do want to talk about is both body language and how to answer a question.”
“Okay.”
“Your body speaks way before you do. When people aren’t telling the truth, they often break out in a sweat. They blush right down their chests. They’re tense in their seat. They shift their legs and tend to grab the armrests on their chairs. I know that you aren’t going to lie, you have no reason to. Just be careful of the ‘tells’ that liars have and don’t do them.”
“Okay.”
“My examination will be in the order of what happened. When you are cross-examined, he will switch questions around in an attempt to trip you up. Wait for him to ask the full question, before you answer any of it. Take your time in formulating a difficult answer. Cough, sneeze, take a drink of water, and stretch your neck, anything you want if you need that minute or two to think. Just don’t sit there staring, waiting for the wisdom to come to you. That looks like your trying to come up with a lie.”
“This is complicated. Can’t I ask for a recess or something?”
“After you have answered the question and only one time. You can’t bob up and down like a three-year-old that’s toilet training. Any attempt to delay answering will appear to the jury that you’re evading the answer. I will protect you as much as I can, Briah. They can only ask you questions on what I bring in as evidence. What I introduce in my questions to you.
“They can ask briefly about your background. Things like, have you ever testified before, been arrested for anything, and do you pay your taxes. These questions are designed to make you look like a bad person to the jury. In your case that will be useless because you don’t have anything to go after.
“Your Achilles heel is your relationship with Aiden. They can ask personal and probing questions about that. I can’t stop that unless it gets nasty.”
“Define nasty for me, please,” she said taking a deep breath waiting for his answer.
“He will ask when you began this. How it began and when you became physical. Most people know that the only virgins walking down the aisle would be around twelve-years-old. Knowing that, and hearing in open court that you are having sex with your boyfriend are two different things.
“If he went so far as to ask if you have orgasms or engage in oral sex, that I would stop immediately. All those kinds of questions do is enflame the jury. Because I need to know what I’m dealing with and not because I’m nosy, when did it start?”
“After the investigation with me was over. After I came to work in the fraud division. I couldn’t find my car keys. He helped me and we just kissed.”
“How long after that did it become physical? Please don’t say that night.”
“I’m off the hook; it was forty-six days later. The night Aiden arrested David,” she said shyly.
“Way to celebrate!”
“We thought so,” she said with a smile.
“You just went public recently, why?”
“It was awkward working in the same building. It wasn’t anyone’s business, yet it was. It’s better to come out before the trial, than during. Or after when he could use that as a reason for an appeal. It’s better this way, don’t you think?”
“Timing is everything. Do you have any questions for me?”
“I don’t think so,” she said shaking her head.
“Okay, then I’ll see you Monday morning at eight-thirty. We’ll meet in a conference room, just prior to going into court. Aiden won’t be there because he can’t hear your testimony. You can stay for his and actually watch everything once you’ve given your direct and cross.
“A marshal will pick you up and bring you home for a while. Just as a precaution. They’re in for a big surprise once they see that you are the eye-witness.”
“Yeah, big surprise.”
Aiden wanted to make her night special. He thought they might go to LoDo (lower downtown) and hit a few of the nightclubs which inhabit that area of town. They hadn’t been bar hopping yet. He told her to wear something hot.
When she opened the door to his knock, he realized he should have said warm. What she had on was scorching. The top looked like chainmail. Something worn into battle. The skirt was white and tiny. Her legs were bare, ending in silver stilettos. “Wow!” Was about all he could say.
“You said hot. I don’t own anything hot so I borrowed this from one of the girls in the office.”
“It’s not what you are wearing, baby. It’s how it covers that body. I was going to leave my gun in the car. I think I should keep it on me, I might need it.”
“Stop, you’ll embarrass me,” she said bumping his shoulder with her hand.
Once they parked, it was easy to walk from club to club. At the first, Aiden saw the hunger in the eyes of the males in attendance. He kept Briah close and kissed her often. After a couple of hours of dancing and a wine or two, the DJ took a break. Aiden whispered in her ear, “Do you want to stay, move on, or go home?”
She shyly looked up at him and said, “I want
to go home, unless you want to stay.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said taking her hand.
Sunday, they went for a long walk. Aiden tried to gauge her anxiety with a few questions. “How do you feel about testifying?”
“I’m nervous. Blain went over what I can expect to happen. We didn’t talk about what happened because he doesn’t want it to sound rehearsed.”
“Blain is very good at what he does. You’re in good hands with him. Do you have it all straight in your head?”
“It’s strange. I see it repeatedly in my head. It plays out in slow motion. You can’t even embellish on this kind of horrendous occurrence. It’s so awful it stands alone.”
“It’s the embellishing that gets you into trouble so don’t do it anyway. Giving credence to one particular part sometimes blinds you to the rest. Don’t dwell too much. Blain will move you along anyway.”
“He didn’t tell me how long it might take and I forgot to ask him.”
“I’m on for Tuesday, so I believe he’ll direct you in the morning and then cross after lunch. I wish I could be there for you,” he said squeezing her hand.
“Me too.”
Chapter Eleven
Cody Williams was waiting at eight in the morning, to drive Briah to the courthouse. He had worked for the marshal service for three years, doing everything from delivering summons to guarding evidence. This was his first baby-sitting job.
He was told on Friday, that he was going to be the chauffer/bodyguard/baby-sitter for a witness in a murder trial. Great! He was paying his dues, biding his time, until something opened up and then he was pouncing. Enough of the crap duty he was always getting.
Cody was standing outside of the car, leaning against the door. He looked up from checking his watch, to see a lovely young woman walking towards him. She wore a light beige skirt-suit with a white frilly blouse under it. Her shapely legs were long and beautiful. Her heels clacked on the sidewalk as she was hurrying toward the car. “Are you here for Briah Spencer?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m Cody; are you Briah?”
“I am, and I hope I haven’t made us late. I changed my mind at the last minute on what to wear. What do you think?”
“What are you going for?” he asked having dealt with women before and not wanting to give the wrong answer.
“Sophisticated, non-bimbo, has a brain, but not stuck-up.”
“Yup, I can see that!” he said feeling that was a safe answer. What she really looked like to him was a knockout masquerading as a secretary. He might enjoy this baby-sitting gig after all.
She was quiet on the drive to the courthouse, and Cody didn’t press the issue by trying to engage her in conversation. He just looked her way occasionally in the mirror. She sat in the center of the backseat. She looked far away in thought. He didn’t know that much about who she was or what trial she was involved in, but for her to have an escort it must be something special.
He pulled into the underground garage, as he had been instructed to do. Briah felt it was all a little silly to take so many precautions, but went along uncomplaining, with the plan. Cody parked and got out, coming around to open the door for Briah. She slid over in the seat and climbed out. He escorted her to the prearranged conference room and opened the door. As she went to walk in, he said, “I’ll be right where I parked when you are finished for the day. Have a bailiff bring you down to the garage and I’ll drive you home. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Cody,” she said walking through the door. Blain was waiting for her, dressed in his black, perfectly tailored three-piece suit. He looked like he had just stepped off the page of a designer’s portfolio. He smiled widely.
“You look sensational, Briah. Pretty and professional, how do you do that?”
“Spackle and spanks; my two deadly weapons,” she said giggling.
“Did you get some sleep last night?” he asked chuckling.
“With the help of two Advil and two glasses of Zinfandel. I thought I’d worry about addiction later.”
“Good thinking. I’m going to go and shake hands with the poor people who have been paid a fortune to defend a murderer. They’ll call you in as soon as the court settles and the jury is seated. It might be several minutes in case there is any last-minute wrangling to do.”
“I’ll be right here, twiddling my thumbs. Good luck with everything,” she said seriously.
“Thanks. Relax, you got this.” He walked out, leaving her alone in the bleak room. She wondered if all courthouses were decorated by macabre-are-us.
She walked around the room, figuring she would be sitting for quite some time so she kept moving while she could. She looked out the window at the people walking by, who had no idea what was happening in the courtroom down the hall; that, right now, the man who’d shot Dan in the groin and face was sitting in a chair while Dan was buried forever. The door opened.
“Miss Spencer, they are ready for you now. Please follow me,” the bailiff said. She followed him out, noticing that he had a gun at his side. Given the identity of the defendant, it shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did.
He opened the door to the courtroom for her, allowing her to enter in front of him. It was a very large courtroom. Briah had watched some court shows on television, but this one was much larger than any she had seen. To her dismay, it was full, leaving no empty seats at all.
She walked alone down the aisle, first looking at the judge. He sat behind an ornately carved, large, raised desk. He had a statue of Blind Justice on the far corner. Flags and such were behind him. To Briah’s left sat Blain, along with two other men and one woman. To her right, was a table with five men, one of which was David Slater. He was dressed in his own three-piece suit and she wondered briefly why he wasn’t wearing an orange suit with a ball attached by a chain to his leg. That would have suited him better than this suit did.
The judge pointed to the left of his desk, to a chair that was higher than the floor but not as high as his desk, for her to sit in. “Please take a seat, Miss Spencer,” he said to her.
“Thank you,” Briah said. Sitting down, she crossed her leg and tucked her skirt under her.
“Please swear in the witness,” someone said. A woman stood up and walked to Briah.
“Stand please and raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth in these proceedings?”
“I do.”
“State your name for the record, please.”
“Briah Spencer.”
“You may have a seat.” Briah repositioned herself in the chair. Blain stood at his table.
“Good morning, Miss Spencer.”
“Good morning, Mr. Kurtz.”
And so, it began. For the next three hours, Briah retold all of the gory details of what had happened in the office that afternoon. What she heard and what she saw. Blain took her through everything as easily as he could.
Max Delmar, the lead defense attorney, bounced up and down in his chair like a puppet. He objected to just about everything Blain asked. Briah loved the look on David’s face, when she first said she had seen the whole thing from the closet. It was his moment to realize how badly he had screwed up.
They broke for lunch with Briah a little more than half way through her testimony. It was apparent that with the bobble-head defense they wouldn’t finish her cross today. She would have to come back tomorrow.
Blain had sandwiches brought into the conference room for his team and Briah. “You did very well, Briah. I’m so happy with what we have done so far. Keep it up,” he told her.
“I’m exhausted from my head swiveling back and forth because they keep objecting.”
“They do that to interrupt my train of thought, and your ease of answering. It’s a tactic, and if you could see the judge’s face as I can, you’d see he is getting sick of it as well. Soon, he’ll drag all of us into his chamber and put an end to it. All that does is confuse the jury. Which is also what they want. A confused jury usually acquits.”
> “Don’t say that. Dan needs justice. I need to know it’s possible.”
“It’s early, Briah. So much can happen. We haven’t brought in the tape or the gun. Those two things along with your testimony will be enough to convict him. I’m betting a year’s salary on it.”
“You found someone to take that bet?”
“I have friends that will bet on anything. Eat your lunch. An hour goes by quickly,” he said smiling. Briah walked around the room again and made sure she used the rest room before she went back.
The judge reminded her that she was still under oath, and Blain began questioning her again. The afternoon wore on, and just before the fifteen-minute break at three o’clock, Blain concluded his questions and turned Briah over for cross-examination. They went on the break and came back.
“Miss Spencer, you have testified that you saw everything from a crack in the door, is that correct?” Max asked.
“Yes.”
“How big was the crack?”
“I’d say about three inches.”
“Are you a carpenter that you would know what three inches looks like?”
“No sir, I’m a woman with a keen eye and a sharp mind,” she said stone-faced. The entire courtroom burst out laughing.
“I see, so you are imagining that it was three inches? What else did you imagine about what you say you saw?”
“Nothing, sir. I saw your client,” she said pointing directly at David for the second time. “Standing in front of my boss, Dan Post. I heard him arguing with Dan, and I heard him shoot him, killing him.”
“I object to the witness’s characterization of my client. Please instruct her to answer with a yes or no and not to embellish her answers,” Max shouted.
“The witness will answer with a yes or no,” the judge said looking at Briah.
“Yes, your honor, sorry,” she said contrite, as the courtroom quieted.
“So, you’re in this closet and you’re filing, right?”
“Yes.”
“How long had you been in there?”
