“Ah,” Bigelow said. “Well, put it this way, your Honor: I’ve mentioned that problem to him, that it could be a problem, and he’s assured me that it won’t.”
The judge nodded. “Mister Gleason?” he said, “your comment on that proposal?”
Gleason got slowly to his feet, glancing at Richards as he did so. “Your Honor,” he said, “ordinarily agreeing to an unsworn statement, by a defendant to a jury, not subject to cross-examination — ordinarily that would be anathema to me. But since I have asked Mister Bigelow and his colleagues for their indulgence of my hedging, overnight, on whether I will rest first thing, I suppose that in the spirit of harmonious compromise I should defer to him. So I will. Commonwealth has no objection.” He sat down.
“Very gracious, Mister Gleason,” the judge said. “Any other matters we can get rid of here?”
Carolyn Veale stood up. Her hands trembled. “Your Honor,” she said, “may counsel confer in chambers?”
The judge looked startled. “Well,” he said, “usually.… Yes, Miss Veale.” He stood up. “Court will be in recess,” he said. “Court will see counsel in chambers.”
“The fuck was that about?” Richards said at 5:40 in Gleason’s office at 20 Ashburton Place.
Gleason shook his head and smiled. He looked up at McNeil and Consolo. “Funny world,” he said. “Wanna tell all you great people: It’s a funny world. Kathie Fentress told her lawyer that she’s gonna fuck her. Or whatever it is that broads do to broads. Goes up to see her in the conference room this morning, try to keep her bucked up and so forth, and Kathie says to her: ‘You know, Carolyn, Jill and I’ve been separated for a long time now. I can’t even get a man in this damned joint. You’re beginning to look kind of good. Let’s get it on.’ And Carolyn, naturally, is horrified, but tries not to show she is. And Kathie says: ‘I could rape you, you know. I’m, I bet I’m stronger’n you. And I really need some sex. Sick of fingering myself.’
“Carolyn is worried,” Gleason said. “Wants out of the case, pronto. Judge’s not about to let her out, not at this late stage.” He sighed. He reached toward the bottom right-hand drawer. He stopped. He looked at Consolo. “You gonna start in again?”
Consolo looked puzzled.
“He’s gonna get the whiskey out again, Fred,” McNeil said. “And not a moment too soon, either. He wants to know: You gonna pull your Carrie Nation routine on us again?”
“Because, if you are,” Richards said, “you can fuckin’ leave.”
“I don’t like to see people short-changing the rules,” Consolo said. “I don’t care who they are.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” McNeil said.
Consolo crossed his legs. “Oh,” he said, “go ahead. I won’t say anything.”
Gleason resumed his motion. “Actually, what Carolyn is, Carolyn is scared,” he said. He brought out the bottle and the plastic cups. He began to pour. “I don’t envy her, either. Privilege says the client and attorney meet alone. Sure, Carolyn gets attacked, and she can holler loud. Get someone to rescue her. But who the hell wants to go through that?”
“So what’d the judge say?” Richards said, reaching for his cup.
“Said he’d post a stout matron — no reflection, June …”
“Shut up, Terry,” McNeil said.
“… outside the conference room, armed with a truncheon or something, and if Kathie gets consumed by passion, Carolyn should scream and Grendel’s Mother’ll rescue her. Doesn’t sound too promising to me, but Carolyn seemed satisfied.”
“Well, then,” Richards said, raising his cup as Gleason poured the third half-full for himself, “ ‘over the rail,’ my friends. Congratulations, Terry. Like O’Malley said, you tried it smooth and true, and superfine. I myself personally thought it went in like a …, well, never mind. But very nice. You’re a good trial lawyer.”
“Like a what, John?” McNeil said.
“Like a slick dick,” Richards said. “Nice job, my man. Nice fuckin’ job.”
“Thanks,” Gleason said, “but I ain’t finished yet.” They drank.
“You rested?” Consolo said. “Did you rest today?”
“No,” Gleason said, “I didn’t. But I certainly will tomorrow. I’m just waffling tonight. Making Big Mo and them wonder what I’m going to do. Screw up their sleep a little bit at least, huh John?”
“Yours isn’t gonna be too peaceful, I miss my guess,” McNeil said.
“Well,” Gleason said, “when I say I’m gonna rest, I don’t mean I’m finished. There’s still work to do.”
“You got that right, my friend,” Consolo said. “You got that last part right.”
“Fuck’re you talking about?” Richards said.
“You shouldn’t’ve, you shouldn’t rest,” Consolo said.
“Fred,” McNeil said, “willya? All right? This’s a strenuous life around here. Strenuous enough’s it is, ’thout all your commentary.”
“He rests,” Consolo said, “he rests without puttin’ Mackenzie on, then the next thing that’s gonna happen is that Morrissey does exactly what he says he’s gonna do, what he said he’s gonna do, and Tibbetts and his doctors’re gonna get up there, and lie and lie, and then Tibbetts’ll go free.”
“Fred,” Richards said, “not again, all right? Terry tried the case tight. They get out of it? They get out of it. You got to learn to have some understanding of this life. The best you can do is the best you can do. It’s not good enough? Then it wasn’t. But it’s all you can do.”
“Not if you leave half the laundry on the floor,” Consolo said. “Not if you say: ‘Well, this here’s a little chancey, so I think I won’t do that.’ This Tibbetts guy’s a fuckin’ menace. He’s got to go away. This guy’s the fuckin’ mastermind, and you’re giving him ways out.”
“He’s worse’n Klein,” Richards said to Gleason.
“No, he’s not,” Gleason said. “What Fred is, is concerned. And I sympathize.”
“Well then,” Consolo said, “do something, will you?”
“Doing all I can, Fred,” Gleason said. “Doing all I can.”
“Look,” McNeil said, “lemme jump in here, all right? I got two things to talk about, and I got to start in now. Because I got to call her. Call her before six.”
“Call who?” Richards said. “Who you got to call?”
“Christina Walker, Terry,” McNeil said. “She let everybody else leave, when the court shut down tonight, and then she came up to me for some private conversation. What she wants is: talk to you. Talk to you alone. Meet you someplace private, since she clearly can’t come here. Ball’s in your court, Terry — what do I tell her?”
“Well,” Richards said, “the first thing you tell her’s that Terry’s not meeting her alone. That is flat, fuckin’ out.”
“But he’s got to meet her, though,” Consolo said. “ ’Less we really are, that all we’re doing’s, throwing in the goddamned sponge.”
“I agree with that, John,” Gleason said. “Not the part about the sponge, but I do have to see her.”
“Wonderful,” Richards said. “Then she either accuses you of rape, or she takes the stand and says you promised her something, she lies about her brother. Or Tibbetts. Or the dykes. Then what? You’re a fuckin’ witness. You’re disqualified. What the hell do I do then, Terry? Start all this again? Is that what I do?”
“No,” Gleason said, “you don’t.” He looked at McNeil. “Call her up, June,” he said. “Tell her that I can’t. Don’t tell her why it is that I can’t — just that it can’t be done. And then do the best you can to see if she will talk to you.”
“Well, she won’t,” McNeil said. “Not if the second item, if what I got from Fiona today’s the straight stuff. Way Fiona tells it — and she does know this family — way she tells it is that Christina’s been the kind of kid you’re glad other people had — not you. Very independent. Doesn’t accept substitutes. If it’s you she wants to talk to, she’s not gonna talk to me —
from what Fiona says. Ever since she’s fourteen or so, this kid’s been doing as she very well damned pleases. And apparently — she’s very bright — apparently when she was about sixteen, seventeen, she went out to California or something, sees her brother. Supposedly. And she gets out there, and she meets Sam Tibbetts, who’s about six years older’n she is and really radical. And she started fucking him, and her mother was scared shitless that Christina’s father’d find out what his pride and joy was doing.”
“Is she still with him?” Richards said. “This little honey tries bringing him a gun or something, things could get a little active up in Judge Bart’s quiet court. Keep an eye on her, June, willya, while she’s sitting behind us? Make sure there’s no contact between them, no little packages.”
“Fiona,” McNeil said, “Fiona says she thinks: ‘No.’ Her understanding is they came the parting of the ways about three, four years ago. Says she remembers being home for either Thanksgiving or Christmas, and she saw Mrs. Walker, and Mrs. Walker told her she was so relieved, because little Christina’d gone back to school and seemed to be settling down. Not doing hard drugs anymore, and sleeping around with Lenin. So, Fiona’s not sure, but she thinks it’s all over.”
“So she’s no threat, then,” Richards said. “On the sanity thing, I mean.”
“No threat either way,” Gleason said. “She hasn’t been with the guy since Seventy-four, Seventy-five? Her opinion’s no better’n Mackenzie’s. I think we give this babe a pass, June. Try to talk to her, still — there might be something there. But she’s potential dynamite, up there on the stand. One defendant’s sister and another’s jilted girlfriend? Fuck that — Morrissey or Bigelow wants to load up that goddamned cannon, let ’em do it. Liable blow up in their faces. And if it doesn’t, I’ll spike it on cross.”
“You’re throwing this case,” Consolo said.
“What?” Gleason and Richards said in unison.
“You guys,” Consolo said, “you guys’re either trying to lose this thing, or you don’t care if you win. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it doesn’t matter enough, matter enough to you. But here you’ve got, you know you’ve got one guy, guy in custody, that at least knew Tibbetts sometime. And he can tell you that son of a bitch was as clear as a glass of gin. And now you’ve got, you’ve heard about, this broad, and she might have something, and you’re just gonna pass it up. ‘Ah, hell with it — I’m tired.’ ”
“Fred,” Richards said, clearing his throat, “after this’s over, matter how the thing comes out, I’m going over Ten-ten Com. and see if I can get you a nice comfortable position sorting paper clips and sticky tape, out in Framingham. Away from the public, away from trials, and most of all, from me. You ain’t suited to this demanding way of life, I think. It strains your brain too much. You get all overheated and start making stupid statements. That is what you do.”
“You know,” Consolo said, “I’m never going to forget any of this. The way you people’ve acted. Everything about it.”
“Good, Freddie,” Richards said. “And if you learn even a little bit from what you’ve seen go on, well, that will be a bonus. And we all will be grateful.”
SEPTEMBER 15, 1978
17
The jury came down at 10:08. The judge came out and sat down. Gleason stood up and said: “Good morning, your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Your decision, Mister Gleason?”
“The Commonwealth has completed its case,” Gleason said.
The judge made a note. “Very good,” he said. Gleason sat down.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury,” the judge said, folding his hands on the desk and facing the box, “the Commonwealth has rested. Given what I have to say next, it may seem to some you rather silly that we brought you all trooping down here for that one piece of information, but it is a significant point in each trial, and I continue to believe that the jury’s role in these proceedings is such that you should be present for all such ceremonies. Our rituals are important. They represent indicia of our civilization, emblems of our liberty, that so many have died for. And it doesn’t do to sell them short.
“Now,” he said, “normally the defense at this point presents motions and arguments for which the jury’s presence is not required. So, having brought you down, we are going to send you up again. There being four defendants, each being entitled to present whatever questions the attorneys may deem significant, I expect those presentations will take the better part of the morning. So, if you wish to dawdle over your second cups of coffee, feel no compunction about so doing.
“Be assured,” he said, “that we will not be dawdling down here. All of us know that some of you — those picked earliest — have now been away from your homes, families and jobs for more than a week. And that you are anxious to return to them and resume your normal lives. So my practice, when the timing works out as it has in this case, is to move the luncheon recess around as necessary on the day when the Commonwealth rests, in order to make the best use possible of the usual court day. Your lunch will therefore be brought to you at noon. When counsel have finished their arguments, and the Court has ruled, and any other problems have been dealt with, the attorneys and the clerk and I will take one half hour for lunch, instead of the usual hour, and whenever that half hour ends, you’ll be brought down again. That way, I hope, we can pick up an extra hour or so of work today, which is one less ahead of us the next time that we meet. Jury is excused.”
After the door had closed behind the last juror, the judge accepted sheafs of paper from each of the four defense lawyers. He heard arguments on motions: to dismiss; to compel disclosure of the names and addresses of informants; to renew motions to suppress; for directed verdicts; and to strike to certain evidence as unduly prejudicial. He denied all of the motions, noting objections and saving exceptions. At 12:10 he said: “Any other necessary formalities, people?” There was no response.
“Very good,” he said. “It must be my turn, then. Have the attorneys for the defense decided among themselves the order of their presentations?”
John Morrissey stood up. “We drew straws, your Honor,” he said. “Mister Tibbetts will go forward, followed by Mister Walker, then Miss Franklin, and finally Miss Fentress.”
The judge made notes. “Each of you will make an opening statement, I presume?” he said. “May I have an estimate of length?”
“I will need about twenty minutes,” Morrissey said.
“I think fifteen will be ample for me,” Bigelow said.
“Waive opening,” Klein said, “if I may be permitted unlimited time for my closing.”
The judge’s right eyebrow went up. “Care to comment, Mister Gleason?”
“Well,” Gleason said, standing up, “it’s the Court’s discretion and all, but I for one have no desire to see this turning into a rerun of the Lincoln-Douglas debates. I’ll object to ‘unlimited.’ If Mister Klein wants to add, say, half an hour to whatever the Court sets as a limit for other counsel, if there’s to be one, then I wouldn’t object to that.”
“Well,” the judge said, “I do like to have some sort of a ceiling. Suppose I offer this, Mister Klein: Each defendant to have a maximum of one hour to sum up, except that in your case, an hour, twenty minutes. And the Commonwealth to have a maximum of one hour and a half. Think that will be sufficient?”
Klein pondered. “I believe so, your Honor.”
“Miss Veale?” the judge said.
Carolyn Veale stood up and tapped on the top of the defense table with the eraser of her pencil. She frowned. She shook her head. She looked up. She cleared her throat. “Your Honor,” she said firmly, “we will waive opening.”
The judge nodded and made notes. “Fentress waives opening. Any other matters?” he said. “Before we break for our abbreviated lunch?”
“One, if I may, your Honor,” Bigelow said. He produced a six-page document which he delivered to the clerk. He gave copies to each of the other lawyers. The judge scanned it. He look
ed up. “For the record: Mister Bigelow has presented a proposed stipulation of agreed facts, always appreciated in protracted cases. It’s rather detailed. I’m therefore going to suggest that our truncated luncheons be extended for our study of this document over our sandwiches. When we come back, at, say, one P.M., I’ll expect the Commonwealth’s reaction. For your information, Mister Gleason, in case I haven’t made it clear, I like these things. They can save a lot of time, if the parties can find some way to agree.” Gleason said he understood.
Gleason put Bigelow’s stipulation on the window sill and unwrapped his sandwich. “Fuck’s he want?” Richards said, in the small office on the seventh floor. “We agree that Walker’s innocent?”
Gleason bit into the bulky roll. He shook his head. “Uh uh,” he said. He swallowed Coke. “Take a look at it, you want. It’s reasonable enough. What he did was have the Badgers go back and track down every goddamned job that Jimmy’s had since he got out of school. Must’ve cost ’em a fuckin’ bundle.”
“What good does that do him?” Richards said. “We never said the kid was lazy, we said he killed people.”
“What good does it do?” Gleason said. “Does Walker very little. But does Bigelow a lot. Puts it on the record that Bigelow got something, all the money he laid out. That he was diligent, hardworking, that he really prepared his case. Anybody decides to come around a year from, James’s doing time, and say John Bigelow did no homework, right there in the case file is Bigelow’s retort — ‘An exhaustive defense. Investigation conducted by Investigations, Inc., the best in the whole world No stone left unturned. Blah, blah, blah.’ ”
“He’s cute.” Richards said.
“Got to be cute,” Gleason said, “you’re charging fees like his Course some of the time that he’s being cute, he’s not being cute protecting your ass — his client’s — he’s protecting his own. So you’re paying him your money to protect him against you, not you from somebody else. Which doesn’t seem quite fair.”
Outlaws (Vintage Crime/Black Lizard) Page 15
