Defending Turquoise (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 5)

by John Ellsworth

  “Agent Worthy,” said the cop.

  “Yes, Agent Worthy.”

  “Be seated, Miss Russell. The jury will disregard counsel’s question to the court. You’re cautioned, Counsel. No games in my court.”

  Wrasslin turned her attention to her notes, neither acknowledging nor responding to the judge’s admonition. Whereas he might have commented on this snub had it been Thaddeus doing the snubbing, Trautman broke off and lowered his reading glasses off his forehead. He bent again to whatever had his interest.

  “Counsel, cross-examination?”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Now Mr. Worthy, isn’t it true the body was examined for fingerprints?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were Turquoise Begay’s fingerprints found on the body?”

  “No. But neither—”

  “That’s fine, you answered. Now Mr. Worthy, isn’t it true the rifle found in the room was tested and found to be the one that had killed Mr. Begay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell the jury whether the fingerprints of Turquoise Begay were found on the rifle.”

  “No they were not. There were no fingerprints on the rifle at all. It had been wiped down.”

  “Mr. Worthy, when you add commentary in addition to the answer to my question, are you doing that to influence the jury against Turquoise Begay?”

  “Objection!”

  “He may answer. He opened the door.”

  “I’m doing it because—because—I don’t know. I just want the jury to hear the whole story, is all.”

  “So you’re the one who gets to decide what the jury hears?”

  “No.”

  “Then please. Just answer my questions without embellishing. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now. The crime lab reported finding gunshot residue on my client’s shirt, agree?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell the jury whether that gunshot residue was from the bullet that killed Randy Begay?”

  “No.”

  “For all you know, she might have shot that gun that day while watching over the family’s sheep, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Or the day before or even the week before, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Because you don’t know the last time the shirt was washed, do you?”

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Truth be told, you don’t even know that the gunshot residue was from that rifle, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Was there an attempt made to match the GSR on the shirt to the GSR left by the rifle in test firing?”

  “No.”

  “Because it’s impossible to do, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “It’s impossible to match gunshot residue to any particular firearm, correct?”

  “Generally, that’s correct.”

  “There are exceptions such as rifles that fire only black powder, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And some military grade weapons, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Changing the subject just slightly. Isn’t it true you know of no piece of evidence that places Turquoise Begay at the scene of the crime when the shot was fired, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “You have nothing to connect her to the crime itself, correct?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, you don’t have fingerprints, correct? And the gunshot residue isn’t determinative, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And there’s no DNA from Turquoise found on the rifle, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “So what piece of evidence do you have that connects my client to the killing?”

  “Opportunity. She had the opportunity to kill.”

  “So did the FBI, but we’ve ruled out the FBI as the assailant, haven’t we?”

  The witness looked to the judge. “Judge—”

  “Answer the question, Mr. Worthy,” said the judge humorlessly.

  “The FBI has been ruled out, that’s correct.”

  “So you ruled out the FBI?”

  “Correct.”

  “But you didn’t make any effort to rule out Turquoise as the killer, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Your only efforts were to rule her in as the killer, correct?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “I’m asking you. Is it correct that your only efforts were to try to rule her in as the killer?”

  “Correct.”

  Thaddeus sat down. He shuffled his notes and whispered to Turquoise. Then he stood up. “I think that’s all, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, Mr. Worthy—”

  Thaddeus popped back up. “Oh, there is one more thing, I’m sorry.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Mr. Worthy, you testified that my client told you that she wasn’t being forced to have sex with her uncle, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Who was present when she made that statement?”

  “Myself and the district attorney.”

  “Would that be district attorney Wrasslin—Roslin Russell?”

  “Yes.”

  “She heard that statement?”

  “I suppose so, she was right there at the table with us.”

  “Nothing more. Thank you.”

  “You may step down,” said the judge. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll take our afternoon recess now.”

  Again he met with Katy in the hallway. This time they were joined by Turquoise. First the girl used the restroom and then had a long drink of water from the hall fountain. She walked back up to the foster parents and pressed against Katy, laying her head on her shoulder.

  “Tired?” Katy asked.

  “Uh-huh. And scared.”

  “I would be too,” said Katy.

  “How are we doing?” the girl asked Thaddeus.

  He took a swallow of coffee he had commandeered from the jury room, thanks to the friendly bailiff. “We’re doing great,” he said. “But it’s nothing compared to what’s about to happen.”

  “What’s about to happen?”

  “Listen and learn, little one. Listen and learn.”

  Turquoise looked at Katy, who only shrugged and squeezed her shoulder.

  Once back inside the courtroom, the jury was seated and the judge nodded at Thaddeus. “Were you finished with Mr. Worthy, Counsel?”

  “Judge, I know this would be unusual, but Mr. Worthy mentioned DA Russell as being a witness to parts of his testimony. I would like to take Ms. Russell on voir dire before I finish with the Special Agent.”

  The judge looked at Wrasslin, who shot to her feet. “That’s absurd, Your Honor! I can’t be called as a witness!”

  “Judge,” said Thaddeus slowly, “she was a witness and her name has been used as a person who has knowledge of statements my client allegedly made. In the defendant’s case we will be denying the truth and veracity of what Mr. Worthy is saying, and part of our approach will be to use the very words he has testified to. But we don’t want to have to put the defendant on the stand to do that. So we’d like to call the district attorney for voir dire on the issue.”

  The judge leaned back, the frustration apparent in his tight lips and red face. He rubbed his hand up and down on the side of his face. He fiddled with the reading glasses, up-down, up-down, forehead to nose, forehead to nose. He studied his desktop.

  “Ms. Russell,” he finally said, “I think I have to allow it.”

  “Judge, it’s unethical for an attorney to be a witness in a case where she’s also serving as counsel. If I have to testify it would be an ethics violation.”

  The judge looked at Thaddeus. The disgust in his voice and anger upon his face was unmistakable. “Mr. Murfee? What authority do you rely on here?”

  “Well, Judge, the district attorney is absolutely c
orrect. It would be unethical for her to testify. I’m relying on Arizona Rules of Professional Conduct, ER 3.7, where it’s provided a lawyer shall not act as advocate at a trial in which the lawyer is likely to be a necessary witness. There are exceptions, minor and inapplicable here. It would be unethical for her to testify, true. But the defendant’s right to cross-examine the witnesses against her far supersedes the lawyer’s ethical obligations. Turquoise has the right to cross-examine Ms. Russell, who has been named as a witness by the chief investigator on the case, who, we have been told, is representing the State of Arizona. In his role as representative of the State of Arizona, he clearly has the authority to name the witnesses who he knows about. He has done that, using her name as an authority to back up what he’s saying, and I’m just asking for the right to take her on voir dire and see what she knows about my client’s statements.”

  “She probably has to testify, by law,” the judge said begrudgingly. His eyes were coals and they burned into Thaddeus with all the rage and fury he was struggling to control in front of the jury. But his anger wasn’t lost on anyone. Everyone in the court was affected, in spite of his efforts. Everyone was cowed by him, and he knew it. That last thing he wanted to do as a judge and an elected official was to turn off a jury box full of voters. But his scorn overrode his desires.

  “Judge, I refuse to testify,” said Wrasslin. “It’s unethical. Besides, I don’t know where it would go, where it would end. I can’t take that chance.”

  “Then the defendant moves for a mistrial.”

  The judge looked from Thaddeus to Wrasslin.

  “Counsel?” he asked her.

  “I won’t testify. If it causes a mistrial, so be it.”

  The judge looked at the jury.

  “Mr. Bailiff, please take the jury to the jury room.”

  The bailiff dutifully led the jury out of the courtroom. By now there were some whispered grumblings. They considered the case belonged to them at this point and wanted to be in on everything. Slightly hostile would be good, Thaddeus thought. Good, keep them guessing. Keep them antsy to finish up and go home.

  Once the jury had abandoned the courtroom, Judge Trautman turned his attention to Thaddeus.

  “Counsel, what is it, exactly, that you think you can get out of the district attorney that you can’t get out of our FBI agent? Why the need? Convince me, Counsel, though I doubt you can. But I’m listening, Counsel. And let’s all remember the presence of State Bar Trial Monitor Judge Kampbell, shall we? Any spurious motions or arguments at this time will be reported by him, I’m confident.”

  Thaddeus brushed the threat aside. “Judge, the district attorney was a witness to statements allegedly made by my client. Those statements bear a disproportionate probative value on whether my client had the mental state to shoot Randy Begay in self-defense or with premeditation. That’s how broad the spectrum is. It’s not only what my client purportedly said that’s at issue, but also how she said it, her surroundings, whether she was frightened, her own mental state—all of these are areas that I have the right to question the DA concerning.”

  “You have the right if I say you have the right,” Trautman retorted. It was clear from his tone that he had already had his mind made up against Turquoise. Thaddeus plowed ahead.

  “No, Judge, the Bill of Rights gives my client, and thus me, the right to confront her accusers. Clearly the DA is one of her accusers because it’s the DA who has brought these charges in the first place. It’s not you who gives me the right of examination of the witness, it’s the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights says in all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right...to be confronted with the witnesses against him—or her. Which means—”

  “Counsel, I know what it means. Believe it or not I studied Constitutional Law just like you. Please don’t speak down to me.”

  Thaddeus spread his hands. “Judge, I wasn’t speaking down to you, I was merely making the point—”

  “I’ll decide if you’re speaking down to me, Counsel.”

  “No, Judge, you’ll get my intentions from me and it was not my intention to speak down to you!”

  “I am the judge. You’re just a lawyer. I will decide intention in my courtroom. Judge Kampbell, this is the kind of arrogant insulting I called you about. Here we have an attorney telling the court I don’t have the power to interpret and give meaning to his intentions. Clearly I do, Judge.”

  “That may be, but you won’t decide my intention. I will.”

  The judge showed his teeth like a rabid dog. He huffed and puffed as if entering the game on fourth-and-one with thirty seconds left. He’s pumped, baby, Thaddeus thought, he’s moving now. Keep after him.

  “You, sir, are just about to be cited for contempt. Your attitude toward the court is contemptuous. Judge Kampbell? Are you getting this?”

  The retired judge’s voice was thin and unconvincing. I—I—”

  “Judge, I feel contempt for this court—your court. You’ve belittled me and threatened me through this entire prosecution and I’m sick of it!”

  “Contempt? You feel contempt for me? Is the court reporter getting all this? Judge Kampbell?”

  Again the retiree’s voice came from behind Thaddeus: “Noted,” he said. “To be reported back to the Office of Professional Responsibility when we’re done here today.”

  The court reporter stretched her hands and rubbed her fingers quickly. “I am.”

  “And I’m asking that the court remove itself from this case and let a fair judge take over. I’ve come in here and made a perfectly reasonable request to call a witness who has accused my client and the court is obstructing me. I’m prepared to file a judicial complaint for obstruction of justice, Judge Trautman! And I can probably find other lawyers you’ve bullied and belittled to sign it with me! How about that, Judge Kampbell? Are you making notes about this judge?”

  Trautman roared, “You, sir, are one sentence away from spending the weekend in jail.”

  “And then where does your trial go? You’re going to have a trial of my client without me present? Come on, Your Honor, let me call the witness or give me time to appeal your ruling so my client isn’t prejudiced!”

  “Counsel—Ms. District Attorney—” Spittle was forming at the corners of his mouth and beginning to work down his chin. His face was mottled red and pale white. His eyes were full of alarm, as if he expected to be accosted by armed gunmen at any moment. His court—his sense of decorum—had fled. He was in a rage and unable to fully express it, for fear of repercussions—Judge Kampbell cut both ways. So he shifted gears.

  “Yes?” said the district attorney. She was pale, afraid to interject.

  “How soon can you have an assistant DA over here to take over this case so you can testify?”

  “I—I—”

  “Fine. I’ll give you until Monday. You can re-staff this case and then prepare yourself to give testimony.”

  Thaddeus wasn’t finished. “Judge, I begin trial in State versus Angelina Steinmar in two weeks. I cannot be in trial here next week and be expected to begin that trial a week later. I’m only one lawyer.”

  “Then take that up with the other judge.”

  “That would be Judge Gerhardt, Your Honor. You know he’s about to be appointed to the Court of Appeals as soon as his calendar clears. The Supreme Court might not like it if you delay their appointment for your own calendar.”

  The judge slumped back. All in all he had to admit Thaddeus was correct in his assessment. The last thing he wanted to do was give the supremes reason to hate him any more than their rulings on his cases already indicated. He sighed deep and long. He drew a breath and bounced upright.

  “Very well. We’ll continue for—Madam Clerk, when is my next clear week?”

  Thaddeus held up a hand. “We’ll need two weeks, Judge. I have witnesses, too.”

  “Then two weeks, Madam Clerk. Where does that put us?”

  The clerk clicked her tongue and sadly shook
her head. “Summer. That puts us into mid-June.”

  H. Ivan Trautman focused again on Thaddeus. He glowered down at him and sneered in full and complete disgust. “Happy, Counsel?”

  “No. Relieved for my client’s sake. But I take no joy in arguing with prejudice. None.”

  “Noted,” cried Judge Kampbell from behind. “Insulting commentary!”

  “Mr. Bailiff, bring the jury back in, please.”

  They returned and took their seats. Several gave hard looks at the judge and the court’s machinations that were eating into yet another day of their lives. They were not happy with him and their looks said so.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes cases can end abruptly when one of the attorneys asks for a mistrial. Mistrials are granted where the fairness of the case is somehow tainted by something that’s come up during the trial. That’s our situation here. But I plan to avoid a mistrial. We have too much time invested for a mistrial, plus I know you want to decide this case, now that we’re underway. We have an evidentiary problem that can’t be sorted out by ordinary means, so we’re going to be forced to continue trial for an extended period. I’m sorry but at this time the court is continuing this matter for a time to be decided by the clerk and communicated in writing to the jurors at their respective addresses. Counsel, in my chambers, five minutes.”

  Thaddeus turned to Turquoise. “Trial is over. Ride home with Katy. I’ll be along later and explain it all to you.”

  “Did we win?” she whispered back.

  “Sort of,” he said. “Anytime we can stop the trial against you, that’s a win. It might only be a temporary win, but still a win. We’ll talk more later.”

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze instead of shaking it as he normally would with a client. Turquoise joined Katy at the rear of the courtroom. “Later,” Katy mouthed to Thaddeus, and the twosome left.

  Five minutes later the DA and Thaddeus entered the judge’s office.

  “Sit, both of you,” the judge said in a sour voice. “Needless to say I am very unhappy. With both of you. Counsel, how long have you been a prosecutor?”

  “Nine years,” said Wrasslin. Thaddeus noted her hand shook as she spoke, and he realized she was frightened. Which surprised him. The wrestler Wrasslin was actually scared!