Jessie Black Legal Thrillers Box Set 1

by Larry A Winters

  “My intention is to elicit his impressions so that the Court can draw its own conclusions,” Goldhammer said. “Mr. Caylor, tell us about your experience with Mr. Ackerman.”

  “First time he met with me, he already had a deal from the DA’s office. Told me I should take it. I tried to explain to him that I didn’t kill anybody, that Bobby was the one holding the shotgun and he probably only shot the black guy by accident, but the lawyer, he don’t care. He tells me it’s a good deal, I should take it.”

  “Objection,” Jessie said. “Hearsay.”

  “Don’t tell us what was said,” Goldhammer told the witness. “Just describe the nature of your conversations.”

  “The nature?”

  “Did Mr. Ackerman suggest possible trial strategies, defenses, anything like that?”

  Jessie stood up. “Objection. Leading the witness.”

  “You can’t have it both ways, Ms. Black,” Spatt said. “Mr. Caylor, answer the question.”

  “No, we didn’t talk about defenses.”

  “Did Mr. Ackerman behave normally?”

  “Objection.” Jessie half-rose from her seat, but Judge Spatt shook his head, stopping her.

  “No,” Caylor said. “He acted weird. Like he was on drugs or crazy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His eyes were bloodshot and he kept looking around, like I wasn’t interesting enough for him. And he was shaking a little, his hands. Wasn’t acting like any lawyer I ever saw.”

  “Did he exhibit any other strange behavior?”

  “That’s all I remember.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  Spatt didn’t bother to conceal the smirk on his face as Elliot approached the witness. To his credit, Elliot ignored the judge.

  “Um, hello, Mr. Caylor.”

  Caylor’s lip curled.

  “You testified that Mr. Ackerman was acting—you said—weird. You said he had bloodshot eyes, he was shaking—”

  “I know what I said.”

  “You never saw a person with bloodshot eyes that wasn’t on drugs or crazy?”

  Caylor shrugged.

  “Yes or no.”

  “Of course I have.”

  “How about the shaking. You’ve never seen a person with shaky hands who wasn’t on drugs or crazy?”

  Caylor gnawed his lip and cast his gaze away from Elliot. “I guess some people’s hands shake that are normal otherwise.”

  “And you said Mr. Ackerman kept looking around. Only people on drugs, or crazy people, look around?”

  Now Caylor met Elliot’s gaze. There was a defiant gleam in his eyes. “It was the combination of all three, the way he was.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “He didn’t seem all there. I didn’t get the feeling he was in the right frame of mind to be my lawyer. He—”

  “Mr. Caylor, I didn’t ask—”

  “Well you’re trying to twist my words. You’re taking apart everything I said. Trying to make me sound stupid. I know a person can have bloodshot eyes and not be a fucking crackhead, okay? I’m saying—”

  “Mr. Caylor—” Judge Spatt raised his gavel, but didn’t bring it down. Jessie, by rising from her chair, must have caught his eye. Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself standing beside Elliot in front of the witness stand. “What’s this?” Spatt said. “You gonna tag-team the witness?”

  Jessie looked into Elliot’s shocked face. Quietly, she said, “Sit down.”

  “Your Honor.” Goldhammer was out of his chair, looking incredulous. “What is this?”

  “I’m wondering the same thing,” Elliot said with a huff.

  Jessie ignored him. To the judge, she said, “I’d like to ask the witness some questions.”

  “This is completely improper,” Goldhammer said.

  “You said the rules weren’t as strict at a hearing,” she reminded Spatt.

  “The rules of evidence,” Goldhammer said. “Not the rules of procedure.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Elliot said to no one in particular.

  “Please.” Jessie held the judge’s stare. “I’ll be brief.”

  Spatt sighed, nodded. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  She watched Elliot return to his seat and wondered, for a moment, what kind of mess she was getting herself into. Then the more pressing task of impeaching Caylor descended on her, demanding the entirety of her attention.

  “Mr. Caylor, do you understand why this hearing is being held?” she said.

  Goldhammer objected. “Beyond the scope of direct.”

  “Overruled,” Spatt said. “Answer her.”

  “You’re trying to decide if Ackerman’s a nutjob.”

  “Do you understand what happens if the Court decides that he is?”

  Caylor shrugged. “Frank Ramsey gets a new trial.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s entitled to a lawyer that isn’t nuts?”

  “But, by that reasoning, wouldn’t you receive a new trial as well?”

  Caylor avoided her eyes. “Never occurred to me.”

  “Of course it didn’t. Do you understand the elements of felony murder?”

  “If your accomplice kills someone, you’re automatically guilty, too.”

  Jessie nodded. “Did your accomplice kill someone?”

  Caylor rolled his eyes. “I already told you he did.”

  “And Mr. Ackerman advised you to plead guilty.”

  “He acted weird.”

  She turned her back on him before he could continue. On her way back to her seat, she said, “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  Judge Spatt grimaced. “Let’s take a fifteen minute recess.”

  11

  She led Elliot to a witness preparation room adjacent to the courtroom, hoping to use the precious recess to plan their next move. But the moment she closed the door and shut them inside the tiny space, he whirled on her. “What the hell were you doing in there?”

  She glanced at the door. “Lower your voice. The walls are thin.”

  “Oh, thanks for the tip. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”

  “I told you, I’m sorry I took over—”

  “You did it numerous times.”

  “Two or three times. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, I can tell. You’re drowning in remorse.” He started to pace the room, a frustrated tiger in a cage. His hair had broken its gelled bonds; strands of it extended in disarray. His suit, too, looked more rumpled than it had an hour before. She watched him with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. She’d wounded his pride in order to save their case. She understood how he felt, but didn’t have time to soothe his hurt feelings just because he couldn’t see the bigger picture.

  The fifteen minute recess was a gift, a chance for them to catch their breath and strategize before Goldhammer launched his next volley. Elliot was wasting the opportunity.

  Elliot stopped pacing. “I want your word that you’ll stay out of my way for the rest of the hearing.”

  She thought about it. She knew she should be appreciative—he was offering her a second chance, rather than running to his uncle. And for the most part, she thought she could live with staying in her seat for the remainder of the hearing. Unless Goldhammer planned another surprise, only two witnesses remained to cross-examine. One was a psychiatrist specializing in psychoses. Jessie and Elliot had prepared arguments for precluding his testimony, and she believed Elliot could persuade Judge Spatt to do so on the basis that another psychiatrist’s testimony would be cumulative after Brandywine’s. But the other witness was Ramsey. The monster had chosen not to testify at his trial—a wise move—but at this hearing he had little choice. He was the only person truly in a position to testify convincingly about Jack’s behavior at the time of his trial. Jessie had taken over the cross-examination of Caylor as a measure of last resort. Could she really promise she wouldn’t do the same thing during Ramsey’s testimony, if she tho
ught staying quiet would result in his conviction being overturned?

  “I want your word,” Elliot repeated.

  “No.”

  He gaped at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Listen to me, Elliot. If you thought Brandywine and Caylor were difficult witnesses to cross-examine, Ramsey will be a thousand times worse. He’s a sociopath. He doesn’t have normal emotions. He can’t be manipulated or trapped like you learned in school. I’ve spent years cross-examining people like him. If we’re going to win, I should be the one who does it.”

  Elliot stared at the table, moving his finger along gouges and chips in the wood, where legions of lawyers and witnesses had left evidence of their use of this room. “So you’re just going to commandeer my case?” he said. “Just like that?”

  “Why do you have to think of it that way? This is our case. We’re working together.”

  He sneered at her. “Yeah, it sure feels that way.”

  A knock on the door cut off their exchange. When the door opened, Jessie half-expected to see Goldhammer’s gloating smile, but Jack Ackerman stuck his head in instead. “Am I interrupting? Sounded like you guys were having a heated debate.”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” she said.

  Elliot stood up. “I was just leaving.” He elbowed past Jack and slammed the door behind him. For a moment, Jack watched the door vibrate in its frame, a comical expression on his face. Then he took Elliot’s seat at the table. “Way to inspire loyalty in your troops, Sarge.”

  “Don’t start.”

  Jack laughed. “Maybe you should have given him more of a chance to prove himself. Everyone starts somewhere.”

  “This hearing is too important to be a learning exercise.”

  “I disagree. The tough cases are the best learning exercises. He might have risen to the occasion, if you’d given him a little more room.”

  “Or he might have irrevocably destroyed your career.”

  Jack shrugged. “Or that.”

  She smiled. How he could be in such a lighthearted mood after hearing two witnesses describe his mental problems was a mystery. But she was grateful. After Elliot’s anger, Jack’s humor was a relief.

  “Caylor was lying,” Jack said. “About the bloodshot eyes, the shaky hands. I never had any of those symptoms.” His face was serious now, as if it were important to him that she know this information. “And you know there was nothing strange about seeking a plea bargain. Not with an open-and-shut felony murder charge. It took me two grueling days to negotiate Caylor’s plea bargain. Believe me, there was nothing ineffective about my work.”

  “Who was the prosecutor?”

  “Andrew Meyer. I’m sure he would testify—”

  She nodded. “I’ll give him a call if we need to. Since Caylor was a surprise witness, Spatt should allow us to add a new rebuttal witness. But honestly, I’m hoping your testimony this afternoon will be enough. We’ve still got a few minutes. You want to go over the questions again?”

  Jack sat back in his chair and smiled.

  “What?” she said.

  “I don’t know. This. You and me working together. I never thought it would happen. It’s fun.”

  “That’s not the word I would use.” She sighed, but felt a smile tug at her mouth a moment later. “It is nice to be on the same side for once, though.” She looked at her watch. “Recess is over. Back to work.”

  12

  Back in the courtroom, there was no trace of Elliot.

  “I guess he really took off,” Jack said after surveying the courtroom.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Warren’s not going to be happy.”

  Jessie tried not to imagine the inevitable confrontation in her boss’s office. “Probably not.”

  She watched Jack walk to his seat in the gallery, then headed toward hers up front. Goldhammer and Ramsey were already seated across the aisle. As she approached, Goldhammer rose to meet her.

  “Where’s your partner?” His smile was all teeth.

  “He’s been called back to the office on another matter.”

  “What a shame. He seemed perfect for this case. Ineffective lawyering obviously being his specialty.”

  If he had expected her to laugh at the joke, he was disappointed. Ramsey, sitting within earshot, did not laugh either. He looked away from his lawyer as if he were embarrassed to be associated with him.

  “I don’t know where you were admitted to the bar, Mr. Goldhammer, but in Pennsylvania, we practice something called professional courtesy.”

  He grinned at her. “From what I’ve seen, that’s not exactly your forte either.”

  “My forte is putting murderers in prison.” She glanced at Ramsey, caught his eye. “And keeping them there.”

  “Yes, I know,” Goldhammer said. “Your reputation is very intimidating.” His mocking tone caused her to grind her teeth, but she didn’t break eye contact. Backing down from a man like Goldhammer would only make him bolder. “I’m looking forward to Mr. Ramsey’s new trial. It will give me a chance to put you in your place, show the locals there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Ramsey’s already had his trial. He isn’t getting another one.”

  “I’m sure that’s what you think.”

  Jessie took her seat, fuming. This day was getting worse and worse.

  Judge Spatt stared at Goldhammer, incredulous. “You want to put another headshrinker on the stand? Doctor Gin-and-tonic wasn’t enough?”

  “Dr. Brandywine testified in his capacity as Mr. Ackerman’s therapist, Your Honor. Dr. Putnam will assist the Court in understanding the complexities of Mr. Ackerman’s condition.”

  Jessie shook her head and was relieved to see her own frustration reflected in the judge’s weary gaze. “Your Honor,” she said, “Dr. Brandywine testified as to both his firsthand knowledge of Mr. Ackerman and as an expert. Further expert testimony relating to the same psychiatric concepts would be merely cumulative.”

  “I agree. I’m granting the Commonwealth’s motion to preclude Dr. Putnam’s testimony.”

  Finally, something had gone according to plan. She wished Elliot had been here to see it. Goldhammer pouted, but managed to thank the judge anyway. “In that case, Your Honor, I’d like to call my final witness, Frank Ramsey.”

  Every prosecutor hopes that the defendant will forsake his right to remain silent and risk the witness stand. Frank Ramsey, under counsel of Jack Ackerman, had been too smart to testify at his trial, but at this PCRA hearing, where the issue was not Ramsey’s guilt or innocence but the effectiveness of his trial lawyer, Goldhammer had decided that Ramsey’s testimony was necessary. Jessie planned to show him the error of his ways.

  The bailiff escorted Ramsey to the witnesses stand and helped him into the chair. If Ramsey was embarrassed by his shambling walk and jingling chains, he didn’t show it. He sat with his spine straight, acknowledged the judge with a nod, and faced Goldhammer.

  “Tell us about your court appointed defense attorney, Jack Ackerman,” Goldhammer said.

  “Well, I’m not surprised to hear he had psych problems. Explains a lot.”

  “What do you mean?” Goldhammer prompted.

  Ramsey turned a maddeningly neutral expression toward the gallery, where Jack sat watching the testimony. “The decisions he made were irrational and unreasonable. When I tried to discuss why I thought his strategies were flawed, he refused to listen.”

  Jessie wrote the words on her legal pad: Irrational. Unreasonable. Refused to listen. Goldhammer had studied the Pennsylvania case law on ineffective assistance of counsel and had coached his client well.

  “Can you remember any concrete examples?” Goldhammer said.

  “There was a witness, a sixteen-year-old girl.” Hearing Ramsey speak of Kristen Dillard—the girl he’d raped, stabbed, orphaned, and attempted to kill—made Jessie grind her teeth. “She claimed to be a victim and an eyewitness,” Ramsey continued. She failed to pick me out of a photo arr
ay, but then she picked me in a lineup. I told Ackerman she had to be either lying or mistaken. Because I was innocent. I told Ackerman he needed to drill her with questions. Find the inconsistencies and contradictions. They had to be there. But Ackerman refused. I think it was part of his nervous breakdown—”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Jessie said, barely able to keep her tone civil. “The witness is not a psychiatrist. In fact, the witness is not even a high school graduate—”

  Spatt leveled at her one of his warning stares. “Sustained.”

  “Without speculating about Mr. Ackerman’s mental condition,” Goldhammer said, “tell us what happened.”

  “He barely questioned her,” Ramsey said. “It’s like he was sick of attacking witnesses, like he’d done it so many times as a public defender that he was burnt out—”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Mr. Ramsey,” Goldhammer said, “do you think Mr. Ackerman’s refusal to aggressively cross-examine Kristen Dillard resulted in your losing the trial?”

  “I know it did. The jury found me guilty based on her testimony. She was either lying or confused—I don’t know. Because of Ackerman, the jury never doubted a word she said.”

  Jessie could not even muster a polite smile for the man on the witness stand. He regarded her with a neutral mask—the face of a sociopath, if she’d ever seen one.

  “Did Mr. Ackerman explain to you his rationale for not, as you put it, drilling Kristen Dillard on cross?”

  Goldhammer bounced up from his seat. “Objection. Ms. Black is mischaracterizing my client’s testimony. She’s taking that word out of context.”

  “Your Honor, I apologize. I wouldn’t want to make the witness sound bad.”

  Behind her, she heard Goldhammer mutter something.

  “All I know,” Ramsey said, “is she told the jury she was one-hundred percent sure I was the man who did all those things to her and her family. She was either lying or she made a mistake.”

  “I see. What, exactly, were the things she said you did?”

  “Objection,” Goldhammer said. “We all know what crimes Mr. Ramsey was convicted of. They’re not relevant here.”