One and Done (Sam Johnstone Book 2)

by James Chandler

  “In any event,” Sam said. “You interviewed with Detective Polson and Corporal Jensen a couple of times?”

  “Right.”

  “Were you ever placed under oath?” Sam asked. He looked and the jury was following him.

  “No.”

  “Read your rights?”

  “No.”

  “Fingerprinted?” Sam asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did they take DNA?”

  “Yeah. At the gym. Detective Polson did. Said he wanted to rule me out as a suspect.”

  “He said he wanted to rule you out?” Sam feigned surprise. Point number one was in the books.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  “What?” Ronnie asked.

  “Why did he want to rule you out?”

  “Objection.” Cathy was on her feet. “Judge, the witness cannot possibly—”

  “I’ll withdraw,” Sam said. If the jurors were listening closely, they could conclude Punch was trying to rule out certain persons. That was enough. “Did Detective Polson ever tell you who he did suspect?”

  “No.”

  “So,” Sam began, “you didn’t know he suspected my client until when?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Well, after he got arrested.”

  “Were you surprised?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course. Someone you know, ya know?” Ronnie looked at Davonte out of the corner of his eye.

  “Let’s talk about when Kaiden disappeared. Had he ever disappeared before?”

  “No. Well, I mean he missed class sometimes—we’ve all done that.” Ronnie smiled. “But then he missed practice. He wouldn’t miss practice. I knew something was up then.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Well, I’d already called his mom, so I started calling other people. No one had seen him, so eventually I called the cops.”

  “Okay, so when was the last time you saw Kaiden?”

  “After the game on the night of November 5. We were at Davonte’s place. Playing games. Then Davonte and Kaiden got in an argument. Kaiden left.”

  “And that was the last time you saw him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “Sneakers, a hoodie. Jeans.”

  “Hat?” Sam asked. He was watching Ronnie very closely now.

  “I don’t think so.” Ronnie was looking past Sam toward Jeannie and P.J.

  “Well, did he have his watch cap on or not?” Sam pressed. He could see Cathy and Rebecca consulting out of the corner of his eye.

  “Uhhh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”

  “So, Kaiden left—then what?”

  “Well, Davonte left a little later,” Ronnie said.

  Ronnie was looking beyond Sam and at Jeannie, so Sam moved enough to block Ronnie’s view of his mother. “Was Davonte particularly angry?”

  “Not that I recall,” Ronnie said, and Sam had the second point made. “Not as mad as Kaiden was, for sure,” he added.

  “Move to strike,” Cathy said.

  “The jury will disregard that last bit,” Daniels instructed. Sam knew that Daniels, not wanting to emphasize what was to be disregarded, had deliberately left the instruction vague. He considered objecting to ensure the jury understood what to disregard, but decided against it. He could clean it up in closing. It was now time to sow a little doubt regarding the DNA.

  “Then what?” Sam asked.

  “Well, me and Trent left.”

  “And did what?”

  “Uh, we . . . went to my place,” Ronnie said. He looked at his feet and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Were you smoking weed earlier that night?”

  “We all were,” Ronnie said, looking away from the jury. “Vaping, actually.”

  “So, everyone being you and Kaiden?”

  “And Davonte and Trent.”

  “Who brought the weed?” Sam asked.

  “Can’t remember. It might have been some of Kaiden’s stuff, or it might have been what Davonte had.” Ronnie tried to peer around Sam to see Jeannie.

  “Where did Davonte get his stuff?”

  “Your Honor,” Cathy said. “Objection. Relevance.”

  “Please approach,” Daniels said. When Cathy and Sam were at the bench, Daniels addressed Sam. “Mr. Johnstone?”

  “I’ll tie it up in a minute, Judge. Just going to show there were lots of folks with a motive.”

  “Overruled,” Daniels said. “But Mr. Johnstone, this trial is not about Mr. Miles.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Sam and Cathy returned to their places. Sam took a drink of water from a plastic cup on the defense table, then put both hands on the podium and addressed Ronnie. “Now, are you aware that your DNA is on the hat found near Kaiden?”

  “Objection. Misstates the evidence,” Cathy said.

  “Sustained,” Daniels said.

  “I’ll rephrase, Judge,” Sam said. “Mr. Norquist, are you aware that the State’s expert has located what she says could be your DNA on the cap found at the scene?”

  “I am.”

  “Can you explain that?” Sam asked.

  “No. I never touched it.”

  Sam had wanted Ronnie’s testimony to help him raise three points. All three were now on the record, and he was free to discuss them during closing to raise a reasonable doubt. It was enough. He could sit down. Instead, he walked to the defense table and poured himself half a cup of water. His stomach was boiling. He drank, put the cup down, and returned to the podium to face Ronnie.

  “Are you certain?” he asked. In his peripheral vision he observed Cathy stir in her chair. Daniels, an inveterate note-taker, had his head up and was looking alternately at Sam and then Ronnie. Sam again moved slightly so that he was between Ronnie and his mother’s line of sight.

  “I—I mean, I can’t,” Ronnie said.

  Sam returned to the table and retrieved the bag with the hat in it. He thumbed through admitted photos until he found the ones he was looking for. “Your Honor, may I approach the witness?”

  Daniels looked at Cathy, who shrugged. “You may,” he said.

  Sam walked up to Ronnie and handed him the bag containing the watch cap, along with two photos of his dorm room. “Take a look at that watch cap. Ever seen it before?”

  “Well, I’m sure I have,” Ronnie said. “It’s Kaiden’s. The team issued one to all the players and managers.”

  “Where’s yours?” Sam asked. He had positioned himself directly between Ronnie and Jeannie.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, where is your watch cap?”

  “It’s back in my room,” Ronnie said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Ronnie said, looking around the room. He shifted in his seat, trying to make eye contact with his mother. Sam was watching the jurors, many of whom were getting uncomfortable.

  “I’m handing you what was marked earlier as Exhibits 12 and 13. These are pictures of your dorm room already introduced into evidence by the prosecution. Take a look at these pictures and let me know when you are ready to answer some questions, please,” Sam instructed. He walked back to the podium, avoiding the temptation to look at Jeannie.

  Sam noted Ronnie’s hands were shaking as he looked at the photos. After a cursory look, he nodded and said, “Okay.”

  “Do you see a watch cap in those photos?”

  “I do,” Ronnie said.

  “Why is it on Kaiden’s bed?” Sam could hear the audience stirring behind him.

  “That doesn’t mean anything!” Ronnie cried. He shifted in his chair, again trying to see Jeannie.

  “Move to strike,” Sam said. “Non-responsive.”

  “Mr. Norquist, just answer the question, please,” Daniels said.

  “Your Honor, I object. He’s cross-examining his own witness,” Cathy said.

  “Overruled, Ms. Schmidt. You know the rules. You may answer,” h
e said to Ronnie.

  “I—I can’t remember the question,” Ronnie said.

  “Whose cap is in that photo?” Sam asked.

  “I must have taken it off and thrown it—”

  “Move to strike,” Sam said.

  “Mr. Norquist, I’m going to ask you once again to answer the question,” Daniels said.

  “Your Honor, I object,” Cathy said. “That wasn’t the question asked; I don’t know where this is going—”

  “Overruled,” Daniels said.

  “The watch cap on Kaiden’s bed in these photos,” Sam began, retrieving the photo from Ronnie. “It’s Kaiden’s watch cap—isn’t it?”

  “No.” Ronnie folded his arms in front of himself.

  “Your watch cap was the one at the scene, right?”

  “No!”

  “I think you wore the watch cap to a meeting with Kaiden. You argued. You struggled. Somehow, he got his hands on your watch cap.” Sam lowered his voice. “Ronnie, isn’t that true?”

  Ronnie sat very still for a moment, then began to shake. His lip quivered and his eyes welled with tears as he looked to the back of the courtroom, where Jeannie sat. Sam turned and looked at Jeannie, who put her head in her hands. He wanted to vomit, but he had to follow up. “Ronnie, isn’t it true that you had a struggle with Kaiden—”

  “It was an accident!” Ronnie shouted, then put his hands to his face. “I didn’t mean to!” Sam watched for a long time and said nothing. He looked at each juror in turn while Ronnie looked up and wailed. “Kaiden was going to call the police! That would ruin everything!”

  Sam waited for Ronnie to continue. When he didn’t, Sam was forced to follow up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Kaiden said—”

  “Objection!” Cathy was on her feet. “Hearsay.”

  “Sustained,” Daniels said.

  “So, Ronnie,” Sam said softly. “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t let that happen. Davonte’s been saying all year that when he gets drafted and goes to the NBA we are going with him. So if Kaiden called the cops it would ruin everything!”

  “So—”

  “So, me and Trent were in my room. Kaiden called me and told me—”

  “Objection,” Cathy said.

  “Sustained,” Daniels said.

  “Tell me what happened without telling me anything Kaiden said,” Sam instructed. He turned and looked at Jeannie. She was in tears.

  “Sam, no,” she mouthed.

  “He needed a ride to the hospital and to the police station,” Ronnie said. “We were walking from the sidewalk to my car. He was bleeding a little from his mouth, so I told him I would take him to the hospital first.”

  “Did you?” Sam asked.

  “No. Well, I was gonna. We were walking from the dorm to my car and we started arguing because he wanted to go to the police station first. He slugged me here,” Ronnie said, indicating the middle of his chest. “Then he grabbed my hat and threw it. I went and picked it up and told him to stop, and he told me he was going to tell the cops all about Davonte. He was going to ruin everything! He turned around on me and I grabbed a snow shovel that was on the sidewalk and . . . uh . . . hit him.”

  Sam sat down at the chair at the defense table. “Then what?” he asked, no longer intent on blocking Ronnie’s view of Jeannie.

  “He wouldn’t wake up!” Ronnie sobbed. “I got scared and dragged and carried him to the creek. He wouldn’t wake up! He was going to ruin everything!”

  Again, Sam looked at the jurors. Two of them were wiping tears from their eyes. “No more questions, Judge,” Sam said at last. He could sense, more than hear, Jeannie and P.J. leaving the courtroom, followed closely by a couple of the reporters.

  Daniels observed Cathy and Rebecca consulting and gave them a moment. When Cathy looked up at him, he asked, “Cross-examination?”

  “No, Your Honor,” she said.

  “Mr. Norquist, you may step down,” Daniels said.

  Ronnie left the witness box and walked slowly past the defense table, mouthing, “I’m sorry,” to Davonte as he walked by. Davonte looked away. Every eye in the courtroom, Sam knew, was on Ronnie until he left. As courtroom security opened the doors, Sam could hear the questions being hurled at Ronnie. The doors closed and it was quiet again, except for the low buzz of spectators discussing what they had just observed.

  Daniels stared down the crowd until the discussion abated. “Mr. Johnstone, call your next witness.”

  Sam stood. “The defense rests, Judge.”

  Late the next morning, Sam and Davonte sat alone at the defense table; Paul was nowhere to be found. That bridge had been burned, Sam knew, and rightfully so. He thought briefly about renewing his motion for judgment of acquittal prior to the jury delivering its verdict, but under the rules an uncorroborated confession by a witness—especially one from a witness called by the defense—was an insufficient basis for a dismissal. It was more than enough to raise reasonable doubt, though—assuming the jury believed it.

  “We good?” Davonte had asked moments before, when they were alone in the counsel room, awaiting the verdict. After Sam had concluded his case, Cathy had eschewed presenting any rebuttal evidence, and Daniels had instructed the jury. Cathy and Sam made their closing arguments and Daniels had given the case to the jury late in the afternoon. The jury had spent a couple of hours deliberating before being given the night off. Sam never slept well while a jury was out; instead, he’d lie there and replay the trial—always with an eye toward what he might have said or done better.

  He’d finally given up and had gotten to the courthouse before seven a.m., where he drank coffee and looked at his phone until they brought Davonte over. He and Davonte had talked quietly about basketball, the army, and the future—everything and anything except the trial—until the bailiff informed them that the jury had reached a verdict.

  “I think so,” Sam said. He looked steadily at Davonte. “But like I told you all along, there are no guarantees.”

  “The time they were out—that good or bad?”

  “I wouldn’t begin to guess,” Sam said.

  “I’ll say one thing,” Davonte said, shaking his head slowly. “You got balls, man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You burned your partner’s son.” Davonte smiled. “But I gotta tell you: I knew you would.”

  “My job is to get the jury to find reasonable doubt on behalf of my client,” Sam explained. “To do that, I needed to have Ronnie on the stand. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was going to be able to get from him. I thought maybe Paul got to him.”

  “You let Paul stay on the team,” Davonte said. “He could have screwed me if he talked you out of callin’ Ronnie. You risked my ass.” Davonte stretched his long legs in front of him. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “Well, I can’t say I did—at least not all the way through,” Sam admitted. “Like I’ve said before, when it looks like the State has enough evidence to convict, you’ve got to look for ways to create reasonable doubt. So I worked to try and poke holes in the State’s evidence, one piece at a time.”

  “That’s it?” Davonte was incredulous. “That was my defense?”

  “That’s it.” Sam shrugged. “You didn’t give me a lot else to work with, now did you? What else did we have? I can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.” He smiled briefly, and then turned serious. “But I started thinking about something you said.”

  “What was that?” Davonte asked.

  “You said—and it made sense—that the State had generally the same evidence against Ronnie as you. So, I decided to try and eliminate the drugs as a motive. Then the phone stuff—I could mess with that a little. But when their expert testified that Ronnie’s DNA was on the hat, I got to wondering why. Kaiden’s DNA on the hat made sense. After you finally explained what happened, your DNA on the cap made sense. But Ronnie’s didn’t make sense, unless he was somehow involved or except as a secondary
or tertiary transfer or whatever—which was unlikely.

  “So a couple of nights ago I remembered the photos and I noticed there was a hat on Kaiden’s bed that was exactly like the one found at the scene,” Sam explained. “None of you said he had a hat on when he left, and I got to thinking, ‘What if the cap at the scene wasn’t Kaiden’s?’ Again, I just needed one juror to buy the theory, right? So I put Ronnie on and figured he’d deny any knowledge. If he would have denied everything, then I’d have been done and we would have submitted to the jury based on the doubt I’d got to that point. But he admitted everything—I didn’t see that coming. He’s just not that kind of kid,” Sam concluded.

  Davonte laughed out loud, then remembered where he was and quietly asked, “When did you come up with that?”

  “After you refused to cop to manslaughter.”

  Sam and Davonte stood as Daniels entered and approached the bench. When he had been seated and the jury returned, Daniels turned to the jury and asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

  “We have, Your Honor,” said a short woman in the front row. Sam could hear the crowd outside the courthouse. They’d been on site for days, and now that the verdict was in, there was an anticipatory roar from each direction.

  “Please give the verdict form to the bailiff,” Daniels instructed. When the bailiff had the form, he took it to Daniels, who read it to ensure it was properly completed. Satisfied, he handed it to the clerk. “Ladies and gentlemen, upon the reading of the verdict, there will be no demonstrations, remonstrations, celebrations, disapproval, or sound of any sort. Violators will be removed summarily,” he concluded, nodding to the security officers arrayed around the courtroom.

  “Mr. Blair, please stand,” Daniels instructed. Sam and Davonte stood, Davonte taking Sam’s elbow as Sam’s leg was feeling a little tight that morning. “Ms. Marshall, please read the verdict.”

  Violet Marshall, the county’s elected clerk of district court, stood, and with shaking hands and a quiver in her voice, read: “As to the charge of murder in the first degree, we the jury find the defendant, Davonte Blair, not guilty.” She took a deep breath. “As to the charge of murder in the second degree, we the jury find the defendant, Davonte Blair, not guilty.”