by John Foxjohn
He addressed the court. “Before we begin, I want everyone in this courtroom to understand that this trial won’t turn into a circus. I have agreed to let you in, and if you disrupt my court, I’ll have this courtroom cleared.”
He turned and glanced at Kayla, then held Proctor’s gaze. “I’m going to give the attorneys involved in this case one warning. There will be no grandstanding in this court. Is that understood?”
Kayla stood. “Your honor, I understand perfectly.”
Proctor, with his face beet-red, didn’t move or say anything. Ballard tilted his head. “Mr. Proctor, you don’t understand these instructions?”
“Judge, I understand them and will abide by your dictate.”
Ballard twitched his mouth. “Is the state and defense ready to proceed?”
When both attorneys agreed they were ready, he instructed the bailiff to bring in the jury. They proceeded in one at a time. The female prison guard entered next to last. Kayla sure hoped she hadn’t screwed that one up.
Kayla went over her opening in her mind as the judge gave the jury instructions. When he finished, he turned to Proctor. Mr. Proctor, are you ready for your opening?”
“Your Honor,” Proctor said, “The state would like to ask the court to evoke the rule.”
“So ordered,” Ballard said. “Would all prospective witnesses in the courtroom rise.”
While Ballard issued their oath, Loren leaned over. “What’s that?”
Kayla leaned close to her. “Normal. It means the witnesses can’t stay in the courtroom and hear the other witnesses’ testimony.”
Loren frowned. “They do it on TV.”
As the witnesses exited the courtroom, Kayla said out of the corner of her mouth, “This isn’t TV.”
“Are you ready for your opening, Mr. Proctor?”
Proctor adjusted his suit coat and rose from his seat as slow as a person could. With a smile and a manila folder, he strolled to a podium set up in front of the jurors. He projected an air of confidence.
He laid the folder on the podium, opened it, and stepped back. “Ladies and gentlemen. I want to commend you on your devotion to duty. It is never easy to take the time out of your busy schedule to decide someone’s punishment for their crime.”
Kayla’s heart thumped as she rose. “Your honor, I object to Mr. Proctor’s opening statement.”
The judge’s brows rose, but Proctor spun away from the jury. “Your honor. This woman has no right to object to my opening.”
Ballard had held Kayla’s gaze as if he couldn’t believe she’d do it. His eyes didn’t move but his head turned to face Proctor. “This woman, Mr. Proctor?”
Proctor closed his eyes tight as if he realized what he had said. It took all Kayla could do to keep from smiling. Her objection turned out better than she ever expected. The women in the jury stared at Proctor.
Proctor took several steps toward the bench. “Your honor…”
Ballard jerked his hand up, palm toward Proctor. He pointed at the prosecutor. “Ms. Nugent referred to you as Mr. Proctor. She showed the due respect. Sir, she’ll get it from you. Do—you—understand—me?”
Proctor took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”
The judged stared at him for several long moments—then turned to Kayla. “Ms. Nugent, what’s your objection for the record?”
Kayla clasped her hands behind her back. “Judge Ballard, it isn’t the jury’s job to decide punishment for my client. Their job is to determine from the evidence if my client is guilty. Also, sir, my client is accused of a crime—she hasn’t been convicted.”
Judge Ballard nodded and stared at her for a long moment. “You’re absolutely correct. Your objection is sustained.” He turned to the jurors. “I gave you instructions before this objection. You are the judge of the facts and evidence. You are not at any time in these proceedings to consider punishment. You can’t consider punishment. The defendant hasn’t been convicted of any crime. It is Mr. Proctor’s job to convince you through facts and evidence that the defendant is guilty.”
Proctor glared at Kayla as she sat. He then proceeded to stumble through his opening. Marvin leaned across Loren. “That went better than you could have expected.”
Kayla nodded but didn’t speak. She focused on her opening—needed a great one, and she thought she had it. All she had to do was deliver it. Words without the effects of the person behind them meant little.
When Proctor finished, he stepped back and thanked the jury.
Kayla’s heart hammered—her palms turned wet. She snapped her head up, realizing the judge called her name. Marvin gave her a thumbs up as she rose. Her throat had constricted and she hoped she could get out what she’d just decided.
She closed her eyes a moment. Instead of taking her position at the podium, she faced the judge. “Your honor, the defense requests to wait on our opening statement until the prosecutor has finished presenting his case.”
Kayla eased back in her seat as a buzz of conversation swept through the spectators. Judge Ballard’s chin dropped and he stared at Kayla over the top of his glasses.
Loren grabbed Kayla’s arm and squeezed hard. “What the hell are you doing?”
Kayla smiled and said out of the corner of her mouth, “Get your hand off me. We’ll talk during the break.”
Loren jerked her hand away. “You’re damn right we will.”
The judge rapped his gavel on the bench. When that didn’t quiet the courtroom, he did it again harder.
He turned to Kayla. “As you see best, Ms. Nugent. Mr. Proctor, are you ready to call your first witness?”
“Ah—Your Honor, the state believed the defense’s opening would have taken us into lunch.”
Ballard chuckled. “I did, too.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s early for lunch, but we’ll go ahead and break now. Let’s be back here at one ready to go.”
As the jurors filed out, Kayla leaned across Loren. “Marvin, would you make sure we have an empty conference room and we are undisturbed?”
* * * *
Kayla parked herself in the conference room and crossed her arms. Loren, eyes narrowed to dots, stood, but leaned on the back of a chair. Thick silence fogged the room. Loren ground her teeth. “What the hell are you doing in there? This is my life you’re playing with.”
Kayla leaned back, arms still crossed. “I’m getting ready to defend you.”
“I’ve read up on courtroom procedures. I’ve listened to all those experts on TV talk about how important the opening statement is.” Loren slammed her hand on the table. “You want me to go to prison, don’t you?”
Kayla waited to see if she’d say anything else. “Oh—I’d love to see what those women in prison would do to you. But you’re the one who insisted I represent you.”
Loren jerked the chair out and flopped down on the edge. “I should fire you right here and now.”
Kayla smiled. “Please do. Take your butt to the judge and tell him you have fired me.”
“You don’t think I won’t?”
“I personally don’t care. Since you have done so much study, I’m sure you know this, but in case you don’t—you waited too long. It is simple—Judge Ballard would never approve it. In order to change attorneys, he’d have to postpone this trial, and he isn’t about to. You’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not.”
Kayla leaned forward and placed both hands on the table, pushed herself up, closer to Loren. “Now, I’m going to tell you something. I know what I’m doing. I don’t care if you, those talking heads on TV, or anyone else agrees or not.”
Kayla pointed at Loren’s face. “Those jurors in that courtroom,” she pointed toward the door, “Are not watching me, the judge, or Proctor. They are watching you and your reactions.”
Kayla paused to calm down, and took a deep breath. “This will be a long trial. The jury will have plenty of opportunity to observe you and your reactions. Whether you know this or not, the people sitting on that jury,” sh
e pointed toward the courtroom, “have already formed an opinion of you. These are the people you have walked on, and treated like lower forms of life. They have the opportunity to pay you back.”
Kayla paced the room when Loren hung her head. Guilt formed in her chest as tears pooled in Loren’s eyes. Maybe she’d said too much. After all, she had taken a huge chance in there, and Loren would pay if Kayla didn’t get the job done. However, she wouldn’t get the job done if she had to explain her actions at every turn or if those jurors watched Loren Estes and decided to punish her no matter what went on in the trial.
She sank into her seat and didn’t speak for a long moment. “Listen, Loren. If you didn’t trust me to do the job to the best of my ability, you should not have insisted I represent you. It’s that simple.”
Loren raised her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, “I’m scared.”
“You have a right to be. We both have a job to do. Mine is to defend you and try my best to get you acquitted of these charges. I can’t do it without your help.”
“Kayla, I’m sorry. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to sit in that courtroom and not react one way or the other. I don’t care if it goes bad or good. You have to remember, whatever anyone says in the courtroom, those jurors will watch your reaction. They will form opinions on your reactions.”
* * * *
Outside the courtroom, John Sutherland waited in his car for Darren Duval to leave. He and two of his assistants had followed Duval there in separate vehicles. Convinced that Duval knew they followed him, he didn’t know what good it would do. Kayla had called him two days before to cancel the surveillance, and send her his bill.
He sent the bill but had to put down a minor mutiny when he attempted to take his men off the job. Even though he’d dismissed them, he did not intend to leave himself.
They refused. Told him straight out that her danger had not left, and neither would they. They continued without pay, and so did he.
He’d always liked Kayla and she treated him well. Most of the other attorneys wouldn’t spit on his face to put out a fire, unless it had something to do with an investigation and they had to work with him. Kayla Nugent, from the day he’d met her, acted differently toward him.
She affected people in a positive way, and that was the reason the men he hired refused to quit. He’d learned a long time ago that money meant little in the end. If he got in trouble, he had no doubt Kayla Nugent wouldn’t leave him.
As Duval left the building, heading for his rental car, Sutherland keyed the walkie-talkie to tell everyone to crank up. He stiffened as a shiny black limo eased around the corner.
They’d followed Duval for two months and the limo hadn’t returned. Kayla wanted to know who hired Duval and he did, too. Duval climbed into the back seat of the limo and shut the door. Sutherland had a decision to make.
He keyed the mike. “When Duval leaves, I want the two of you to take him. I’m following that limo.”
Both Robert and Murphy acknowledged.
Ten agonizing minutes passed before Duval exited and the limo eased away. With light traffic at this time of morning, Sutherland had no problem following. With every turn the limo made, he became more convinced he knew where the car headed.
He made another decision. He needed to know who occupied that car, not where it went.
Taking a chance, he sped up and passed it on the right. He never looked at the limo—couldn’t see in, anyway. He turned and pulled into the first floor of a parking garage, backing into a space close to the entrance.
Time crept by and he feared he’d guessed wrong. He’d never leave and find the limo.
About the time he decided to leave, the limo, like a black panther, crept in.
His pulse ticked off the seconds as the car idled, and no one got out.
John Sutherland, beyond anything surprising him, stared in shock when the man finally exited the limo.
TWENTY
At one, the bailiff announced the judge’s return to the courtroom. Kayla rose with the others and remained standing because Judge Ballard required everyone to stand when the jury entered.
As the bailiff opened the door to let the jurors in, Kayla motioned for Loren to rise. When she did, she crossed her arms and glared at the judge. Out of the corner of her mouth, she snapped, “Why the hell do I need to get up for those people? Law doesn’t require me to stand except for the judge. You said so yourself.”
Kayla sucked in a couple of deep breaths before she responded. “Two reasons, Judge Ballard requires it in his courtroom. All judges are different. Those people, as you refer to them, will take an even dimmer view of you if they walk into this courtroom and you’re the only one sitting. Besides, you really don’t want to get on the judge’s bad side.”
Ballard asked Proctor if he was ready to proceed. Proctor, in his best political voice, announced, “Your honor, the state calls Stephanie Pate to the stand.”
As a young woman in a navy suit sitting on the first row rose, Kayla leaned over to Marvin. “You were right. He plans to go in chronological order.”
Marvin nodded. “He’ll call the first police officer on the scene next.”
Stephanie Pate stood while Ballard issued the oath, then sat on the seat’s edge, her face tight, but controlled.
Proctor sat and leaned back. “Ms. Pate, please state your name, where you live, and your occupation, please.”
She leaned toward the microphone. “My name is Stephanie Pate. I live in New York City and I’m senior editor for Durst and Dunlap Publishing in New York.”
“Ms. Pate, did you know the victim, Patricia Faraway, also known by her pseudonym, Michelle McCrery?”
When she nodded, Judge Ballard turned to her. “Ma’am, you must answer the questions. The stenographer can’t put down a nod.”
“Yes, I know Michelle—ah Patricia.” She turned to the judge. “I’m not sure what to call her here?”
“That’s understandable,” Ballard said in a congenial tone. “Call her what you’re most comfortable with.”
“Thank you Your Honor.” She turned and faced the jury. “I’ve known Michelle for eight years.”
Marvin leaned toward Kayla. “Only professional witnesses know to turn to the jury. Proctor has coached her.”
Kayla, not looking up from the yellow legal pad in front her, whispered out the corner of her mouth. “He’s not taking any chances.” She glanced at the jury who had their entire focus on the witness.
“Ms. Pate, was your relationship with the victim personal or professional?”
Pate glanced at Loren, and then turned back. “Both.”
“What was the exact nature of your professional relationship with the victim?”
“I’m Michelle’s editor, and we work closely together.”
Proctor half-turned and signaled his assistant. In the corner of the courtroom where the witness and jurors could see, a forty-eight inch projector screen lowered when the assistant hit a button on a remote control. A headshot image of Michelle McCrery, smiling into a camera, appeared on the screen.
“Ms. Pate, would you direct your attention to the screen.” He pointed as if those in the courtroom needed him to tell them about the screen.
“Is that the person you knew as Michelle McCrery?”
Her voice trembled as she answered, “Yes, it is.”
When the image faded out, another eased in and caused murmurs throughout the courtroom—a blown up shot of a woman lying on a carpeted floor, face visible, but head covered in blood.
“Ms. Pate, was this the person you know as Michelle McCrery?”
The witness buried her face in her hands and sobbed. After a couple of minutes, Judge Ballard said, “Ms. Pate, please answer the question.”
Stephanie glanced up, her mascara running. She turned her head away from the picture, her voice quivering. “Yes, that’s Michelle.”
Kayla gritted her teeth as Proctor, with no conce
rn for the witness, pushed forward. “Could you tell the court where you were on April sixteenth, approximately eight-twenty in the evening?”
She looked confused at his question, and Kayla and Marvin exchanged a glance.
“I think I had left the office and headed to my house.”
Now Proctor had a confused expression, but his assistant leaned over and handed him a note. Proctor read it and laid it on the table, face down. “Ms. Pate, I made a slight error. I didn’t take into account the time difference, so I’ll ask the question another way. Could you tell the court where you were on April sixteenth approximately nine-twenty in the evening?”
“I was in my office at my desk talking to Michelle on the phone.”
“Would you relate to the court what went on in that conversation?”
As she told about her conversation with Michelle McCrery, Kayla doodled on her legal pad in the hopes the jury would look at her and think something was wrong with what the witness said, but in truth, she could do little with the editor’s testimony.
The questions continued and Kayla attempted not to look bored, then Proctor passed the witness.
Kayla turned a page on another legal pad she’d used to write out potential questions. “Ms. Pate, let me first say that I’m terribly sorry that you have to be here. I’m also sorry you lost a friend. My questions won’t take long.”
Kayla waited while Stephanie nodded before she continued, noticing the gratitude in the woman’s eyes. “What would you say your main job is as an editor for the publishing house you work for?”
“I work closely with writers under contract to us. I read their work and make suggestions on how to edit it to make the manuscript stronger.”
“Would it be a fair statement to say that you’re proficient with grammar and the written English language?”
“I’d like to think I’m proficient with spoken English, too.”
The courtroom rippled with laughter. Even Judge Ballard smiled.
