The court was called to order promptly at 9:00 a.m., the jury was seated, and Judge Thaler nodded toward Scott for his closing argument.
He began with some brief words—the expected, and perhaps obligatory, words thanking the jury for their service. Then, after a recap of the events at Toussaint’s and the horrible consequences, he launched into an exposition of the proof requirements for the charges and how each piece of evidence fit—beginning with the Form 4473 showing the pistol purchase just a few days before the murder. He led the jury step by step through the voice ID process with the cassettes and concluded with reference to the pair of tattooed fingers, an image still vivid in the mind of each juror. The closing was just over an hour and a half long.
Max Gordon’s closing was shorter. He began by telling the jury how important their decision would be. “Tomorrow, and each day of your life thereafter,” Gordon said, “you will have to look yourself in the mirror and ask, ‘Did I do right with that young man?’ You’ll not have a second chance to undo the wrong if you convict … ”
But Max Gordon’s argument simply did not ring true this day, in this courtroom. The powerful magical voice that had carried him and his clients to so many impressive victories was hollow. The longer he spoke, the more subdued his voice and the more implausible his argument. It held no sense of hope or promise, proclaiming to all within hearing that he himself was not convinced of his argument. Had it been any other attorney, it might have pained Scott to watch.
After struggling for just under an hour, Max returned to his seat and stared off at a far wall. The storied conqueror of the courtroom was now in full-blown retreat.
As Scott began his rebuttal argument, his sixth sense told him the jury had heard and seen enough. He concluded with a simple appeal for the jury to bring in a verdict that speaks “truth and justice, a verdict of guilty to all charges.” When he returned to his seat, it was almost noon.
“We’ll take a recess until one-thirty,” said Judge Thaler. “We should be ready for jury instructions then.”
****
Scott and Fasi entered the courtroom at 1:15. The gallery was packed like the morning session, which surprised Scott. Why would anyone come early to sit and listen to any judge droning on for the hour or more of jury instructions this multiple-count indictment would require? Scott looked for familiar faces. He saw Bill Baldwin and Roger Curlin, but Alexis Dimitris was again absent. In the back row again were Daniel and Doris Voss. He also noticed Carl DeBickero seated in the first row with another GBI agent, directly behind the defense table.
Scott listened carefully to each instruction—certainly the most boring part of any trial but one still demanding careful attention. Bad jury instructions can result in a new trial for a defendant but never for the prosecution after an acquittal. It was almost three when the jury retired to consider its verdict.
Now the verdict wait, the most excruciating time for any trial attorney, would begin. Though confident in their evidence, Scott and Fasi would never be confident in the verdict until they heard it read in court. There had been too many surprises in this case to think otherwise.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The waiting time was much shorter than expected. Just before 6:00 p.m., the attending bailiff, who had been seated just outside the jury room, notified Judge Thaler that the jury had a verdict. Fifteen minutes later all the parties were present, and the gallery was again packed. The jury filed in and was seated. A young lady stood with papers in her hand. Judge Thaler inquired if she was the foreperson. She was.
“Have you reached your verdicts in this case?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
A bailiff delivered the verdict forms to the judge. The judge reviewed them and handed them to his clerk to be published.
“The defendant and his counsel will please rise,” commanded Judge Thaler. Apparently he thought his usual nod of the head would not be sufficient. Max Gordon, Archie Lantham, and John Harrison rose.
The gallery remained hushed as the clerk began to read the verdict. “We, the jury, on count one of the indictment: felony murder, find the defendant, John Harrison, guilty. On count two of the indictment: attempted murder, we find the defendant, John Harrison, guilty.” And so it went, on each count, guilty.
The dissonant noise that suddenly rose from the gallery as the last verdict was read was quelled by a single tap from Judge Thaler’s gavel. He quickly polled the jury, set a sentencing date, and adjourned the court. Two guards walked to the defense table, handcuffed John Harrison, and led him from the courtroom.
Seconds later, Carl DeBickero stepped behind Max Gordon and placed a hand on his shoulder. Gordon turned to face DeBickero.
“Mr. Gordon, I’m Carl DeBickero, an agent for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. I have a warrant for your arrest for subornation of perjury. Sir, place your hands behind your back. Now.” Gordon was stunned, and the “now” was delivered with such authority that there was instantaneous compliance. He did not speak, but his face said it all: shock, fear—and resignation. DeBickero’s assistant quickly slipped handcuffs on Gordon and moved him to the rear of the courtroom to be given his Miranda rights.
Scott had observed the entire event. He was as stunned as Gordon—but felt a thrill of satisfaction. As Gordon was led away, Scott walked toward Carl, who gave him a broad smile.
“As I said a few months ago, Scott, we would take care of it.”
“So, tell me how you broke it.” Scott was now also smiling.
“Standard procedure to toss all names of interest into our network. Remember Gordon’s Georgia Bar sponsor for the retrial, Clarence Wilborn? We got an alert on his name—arrested for some serious drug offenses. He’s involved with a major syndicate—could be put away for the rest of his life. It didn’t take much to convince him to cooperate in our perjury investigation. Besides, he thinks Gordon stiffed him for his work in that case. Turns out, he’s the one who delivered the funds, all cash to both Patel and Johnson. Gordon negotiated the terms and Wilborn delivered the goods. We have warrants for the arrest of Patel and Johnson.”
“That’s great news. Judge Cox will be pleased to hear it. He’s very interested in this case.”
“He already knows. I asked him to sign the arrest warrants. He refused, saying he had too much of a personal interest in the case and didn’t want to contaminate it. But he immediately introduced me to Judge Feather, and she signed the warrants.”
Scott saw that Bill Baldwin and Roger Curlin were still in the courtroom, talking to other reporters. Scott called them over. He knew Carl and Bill were acquainted, and he introduced Curlin to Carl.
“Carl, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going home. I’m totally exhausted. These two guys will have lots of questions. Hope you’ll give them facts, because if you don’t, they’ll just make ’em up.” He smiled at Bill and Roger. “Have at it guys, see you later. I’m out of here.”
Joe Fasi was still standing by the prosecution table, speaking to a reporter. Scott walked over, and they shook hands.
“Congratulations, Scott,” said Fasi. “Well done. This is really one for the record—now I guess you have to prosecute the defense counsel. What’s next for you?”
“Next? Well, for tonight, I’m calling Jennifer. I’ll let her decide. And if you need me tomorrow, call me on my cell. I don’t think I’ll be in.”
“That’s fine, Scott. Give Jennifer my best. See you Monday.”
Scott was on his way to pick up his briefcase when he heard a soft male voice behind him. “Mr. Marino?”
Scott stopped and turned. It was Daniel Voss.
“Thank you—for keeping your promise. And I hope you can forgive me, sir.”
“I already have, Mr. Voss,” Scott said as Daniel shook his hand. “And I am so sorry for your loss.” Scott noticed tears well in the large man’s eyes. Voss turned, and just as quickly, he was gone.
Scott was on his way to his office to lock up when Jennifer called.
�
��I saw it all on TV,” she said. “Congratulations, Scott.”
“And I’m on my way. We are going out and celebrate.”
“No, I’ve a better idea. I have an unopened bottle of Chianti and a dish of your favorite lasagna cooking right here. I’m sure we can find an appropriate way to celebrate.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a much better idea,” Scott said, warming to her voice. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
THE END
Also by William Eleazer:
Savannah Law. A law professor's obsession with a female student and a high profile, media frenzy, criminal trial in beautiful Savannah provide the backdrop for Savannah Law, winner of the 2010 Gold Medal for Adult Fiction awarded by the Florida Publishers Association. Hard cover, 360 pages. Order at discount from www.elexpublishers.com or call (800)-546-ELEX (3539).
The Indictments Page 27
