Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  “Urgent?” asked the Judge.

  “Yes, Your Honor. It’s urgent.”

  “It had better be urgent, counsel. Be in the courtroom in fifteen minutes.”

  Scott picked up the Savannah phone book from Daniel’s desk and then turned to Richard and Josh and told them to follow him to Courtroom K. Daniel also followed Scott to the courtroom. The scene in the courtroom had not changed, just a couple of reporters lounging around. In a few minutes, the bailiffs entered with the defendant in tow. Max and Denis arrived just before Judge Desano entered and called the court to order.

  “The prosecutor has requested this session. I understand you have a motion to make, Mr. Marino. You may proceed.”

  “Your Honor, we want to reopen our case to introduce evidence. We have an important witness who was unavailable until today. This is evidence the jury should have.”

  “Well, isn’t that just dandy, Mr. Marino. The jury has been out deliberating since yesterday morning, and you now decide they need to hear the evidence. Tell me you are kidding. Or perhaps you are just proposing a new way of trying a criminal case.”

  “No, Your Honor. And I’m satisfied with the way criminal cases are usually tried. But this is not the fault of the state. This is the fault of the defense suppressing this evidence. I certainly realize that to reopen a case after the jury has begun deliberation is highly unusual, but I submit it is within your discretion. May I explain? I need to have a witness sworn.”

  “I’m all ears, Mr. Marino. This better be good.”

  Josh was called and sworn. He explained the details of the mysterious phone call exactly as he had explained it to Scott in Daniel’s office.

  “Do you have that cell phone with you?” asked Scott.

  “I do.”

  “Would you please display the phone number that appeared on your cell phone when you received the call telling you there would be no trial, and read for the record that phone number, starting with the area code.”

  Josh read the number: “312-711-6722.”

  “That’s all I have of this witness at this time, Your Honor.”

  “Any cross-examination, Mr. Nolan?”

  Nolan remained seated and silent. He turned to look at Max in the back of the courtroom. Max refused to make eye contact. Obviously, no assistance was going to be available. There was a long pause, finally broken by Judge Desano.

  “Mr. Nolan, for your information, the usual response is either ‘No, Your Honor,’ or ‘Yes, Your Honor.’ Now that’s not too difficult, is it?”

  Finally, “No, Your Honor” was heard from the defense table.

  Scott stood again. “Your Honor, before dismissing Mr. Johnson, I request that he be allowed to keep his cell phone rather than introducing it as an exhibit. He needs it for his employment.”

  “Any objection, Mr. Nolan?” asked Judge Desano.

  Again, Nolan remained seated and silent. But this time he did not bother to look for Max. And again the silence was broken by Judge Desano.

  “Mr. Nolan, once again, the usual response is either ‘No, Your Honor’ or ‘Yes, Your Honor.’ Now, let’s practice.”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Oh, much better, Mr. Nolan.”

  Scott was still standing. “Your Honor, I ask the court to take judicial notice that area code 312 is a Chicago area code, as can be readily seen from the front of this local phone book that lists area codes.” Scott handed the phone book to Judge Desano.

  “And suppose I do, Mr. Marino. So what?”

  “Last Tuesday, Mr. Gordon was introduced as being from Chicago. We contend that this phone call, which prevented Mr. Johnson from coming to Savannah to be a witness, resulted from the action of defendant’s counsel or his so-called team. There should be a remedy for such witness tampering. The jury should have this evidence. We ask that the jury be brought back into the courtroom and that Mr. Johnson be allowed to testify to what he observed at the crime scene.”

  “Now, wait a moment, Mr. Marino. All you have is an area code, 312. You haven’t presented any evidence with regard to the owner of that phone number.”

  “True, Your Honor. We’ve tried to determine the name on the phone number, but it is either unlisted or a cell phone number that is not in the public domain. But adding this to the shady activity that we’ve seen from the beginning of this trial by the defense—a false hair piece and paid look-alikes seated around the courtroom during identification—it’s obvious that this was just another deceptive trick by the defense. You may recall that during the defense opening statement, Mr. Gordon stated we would have only one eyewitness. At that time, we expected to have two eyewitnesses. But the defense knew we would have only one because they planned to notify Josh Johnson not to come. It will take us a couple days to get a warrant for the name of the phone owner of 312-711-6722. And then it will be too late. We need the jury to hear this witness now.”

  “Just what would this witness testify to, Mr. Marino?”

  “He would identify the defendant as the robber. Our witness was in his automobile in the parking lot outside the store. He had a clear view of the robber.”

  “Those are serious accusations, Mr. Marino. If I had proof of that phone call coming from the defense, I would not hesitate to call the jury back in to hear your evidence. But your proof is far from sufficient. All you have is an area code. It raises my suspicion, but it’s not sufficient to reopen this case after the jury has started deliberations. Your motion is denied.”

  Scott, Daniel, Richard, and Josh returned to Daniel’s office. Josh spoke first.

  “No question. That guy at the defense table in the blue suit and red tie is the guy who had the pistol pointed at the clerk. I got a good profile of him on my way to the witness box. No question. Sorry.”

  “Not your fault, Josh. There is evil in this world,” said Scott, “and Max Gordon and his team are a trainload.”

  The phone rang. It was a bailiff from Courtroom K. “The jury has a verdict. Judge wants you down in fifteen minutes.”

  The courtroom was ablaze with activity when Scott and Daniel arrived. Apparently, the news media got the word the same time as counsel. The WSAV-TV cameraman was standing behind his camera, and reporters had returned to occupy all of the front seats in the spectator section.

  The jury filed in, but none of the members looked at the defendant. Scott had always heard that an experienced attorney could foretell the verdict by whether the jury looked at the defendant when they entered or turned their eyes away, but he couldn’t remember which clue matched which verdict. The anxiety that he felt before trial had left him when the trial got underway, but now it had returned with a vengeance. His stomach was churning; he wanted the process to speed up. It seemed that the jurors would never take their seats.

  “Has the jury arrived at a verdict?” asked Judge Desano.

  “Yes, sir,” said the foreperson.

  The verdict was delivered to the judge who examined it and passed it to the clerk to be read. The defendant was ordered to stand.

  “We, the jury, find the defendant, John Harrison, guilty of armed robbery, as charged in the indictment.”

  As WSAV-TV’s camera rolled, most of the news media rushed for the door. The few that remained observed but could not hear the lively conversation going on between the court clerk and Judge Desano. Then Judge Desano spoke.

  “The defendant is remanded to the custody of the sheriff. I will be ordering a presentence report and will notify counsel of the date for a sentencing hearing. I want counsel to remain in the courtroom. I have a matter to be resolved.”

  The defendant was taken from the courtroom by two bailiffs, and counsel took their seats at their tables. Judge Desano looked sternly at Denis Nolan.

  “Immediately after the verdict was announced, the clerk informed me of something very disturbing and very serious. I had agreed to allow counsel to depart the courtroom to await the verdict but to leave a phone number, and an alternate, where counsel could b
e reached. The clerk just reported to me that the phone number that witness Josh Johnson testified to as appearing on his cell phone, 312-711-6722, was one of the numbers provided by the defense. Mr. Nolan, would you like to address this matter?”

  Nolan looked dazed, a look he had worn through much of the trial, and made no effort to respond. He turned to look at the back of the courtroom, just in time to see Max Gordon departing.

  “No, sir,” he eventually managed to say.

  “There appears to be sufficient evidence of witness tampering in this case to turn the matter over to the local law enforcement authorities, and I will do that today. Mr. Marino, you and Mr. Mackay are to ensure that the district attorney is promptly notified. This court is adjourned.”

  The few members of the news media still in the courtroom stood and looked at each other in disbelief. They had a story that those who left early had missed. The guilty verdict would not be the only big story of the trial.

  Scott and Daniel took the elevator upstairs to brief Nick Cox. He already had news of the guilty verdict and gave them both broad smiles and congratulatory handshakes. Broad smiles were rare from Nick, and compliments even rarer. But he was lavish in his praise and anxious to hear about the phone call that had sidetracked Josh Johnson. If the investigation resulted in criminal charges, he vowed to handle the case himself.

  Once the victory celebration in the DA’s office was over, Scott drove home, stripped off his suit and tie, and got into comfortable clothes. He drove to the Library for lunch. There were a number of students still there who had been watching the trial on the big screen that Juri had set up in the Study Hall. Short news clips of the verdict were now being played every half hour. A couple of local attorneys were interviewed about the verdict and the mysterious phone call to the witness who did not appear.

  Jaak and Juri had been glued to the TV throughout the trial, like most of the Savannah Law student body. Jaak saw Scott as he entered and grabbed him in a big bear hug. Turning to Juri, he said, “Lunch is on the house for this TV celebrity. Anything he wants, Juri. Never know when we’ll need a good attorney. He looks famished.”

  Scott sat at the bar, ordered a sandwich, and discussed the trial with Juri and Jaak. Their conversation was frequently interrupted by congratulatory handshakes from Savannah Law students. His cell phone was also active. One call was from Grady Wilder, sending his congratulations. The verdict clip was also being replayed on Atlanta TV every half hour. A second call was from Jennifer.

  “Hello, Big Shot. You were going to call me when the verdict came in. Where are you—being interviewed by Larry King?”

  “No, I’m at the White House. Sorry, Jen, I was going to call... but I was famished. I’m over at the Library having a ham sandwich and listening to Juri’s stale jokes. How about joining us?”

  “Can’t. Still getting ready for afternoon classes. And study group tonight. But save your appetite for tomorrow night. Dinner about six. That is, if we still have a date—and if your head can get through the door.”

  “Come on, Jen. I’m still just a country boy from Tennessee. And my appetite will be fine tomorrow night. Would you like me to bring something?”

  “Nope, my treat. It’s a celebrity roast. On second thought, yes, bring a good movie. And don’t forget the Dean Search Committee meeting tomorrow at three.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Friday, September 15

  Early Friday morning, Scott made a pot of coffee and spread the morning paper across his small dining table. By habit, he turned first to the sports page. The good news was that the Braves had finally beaten Philadelphia 4-1 Thursday night, after losing both games of a doubleheader Wednesday night. The bad news was that “Chipper” Jones was still being dogged by injuries, and it was unlikely the Braves would make the playoffs—the first time in “Chipper’s” entire career. Then he turned to “Local News” and was surprised to find nothing about the trial. He soon realized that was because the article was on the front page, sharing space there with reports from Capitol Hill and Iraq. It occupied two columns and was accompanied by a photo of the defendant and Nolan as the verdict was read.

  Harrison Found Guilty

  In a highly publicized trial that saw the dismissal of a prominent defense attorney and allegations of jury tampering, a jury found John Harrison guilty of armed robbery.

  Harrison, the estranged son of former Georgia Senator David Harrison, now in a tight race for governor in the November elections, faces the prospect of a lengthy prison sentence for robbing a Savannah convenience store clerk two years ago.

  The media-intensive trial began Monday at the Chatham County Courthouse. Nationally prominent criminal defense lawyer Max Gordon had been retained to defend Harrison, but Gordon’s opening statement for the defense Tuesday morning prompted Superior Court Judge Lawrence J. Desano to discharge him as Harrison’s counsel.

  Denis Nolan, the assistant defense counsel and a Savannah College of Law Professor, replaced Gordon.

  The jury began deliberations Wednesday. When Thursday morning arrived without a verdict, the prosecution asked the court to allow it to bring in an additional eyewitness to the crime.

  In a hearing outside the jury’s presence, the witness testified that he had received a phone call telling him not to appear. Scott Marino, the Savannah College of Law clinic student prosecuting the case, argued that the call came from someone on the defense team. Judge Desano did not allow the jury to hear this testimony. But he turned the matter over to authorities for investigation of possible jury tampering.

  Court observers could recall no similar incident in recent history in local courts. Roger Curlin, a reporter covering the trial for the National Law Journal, said it did not surprise him because of Gordon’s reputation for trying criminal cases around the country “with a vade mecum of dirty tricks and an entourage of pernicious and disbarred associates.”

  The crime commonly known as “jury tampering” is a felony, punishable by imprisonment for not less than two nor more than ten years.

  A local law-enforcement spokesman declined to discuss the case. But he did confirm the FBI had been called in because of the allegation of interstate use of the wireless phone system.

  Scott was pleased to read that the FBI was joining the jury tampering investigation. Visualizing Gordon in a faded orange-colored jumpsuit brought a smile to his face.

  • • •

  The members of the Dean Search Committee, along with Dean Adams as ex-officio and the registrar, Deborah Channing, all arrived about the same time Friday afternoon. Name signs directed each member to their respective seats around the large conference table. Jennifer and Scott were seated on opposite sides. Ben Sterner, committee chair, called the meeting to order promptly at three. Sterner was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late sixties. He still had a full head of hair, all silver and neatly parted. He was a prominent Savannah civic leader, an original member of the Board of Trustees, and one of the school’s most generous benefactors. Scott saw from his manner and voice that he was a no-nonsense business executive with little tolerance for small talk and the idle chatter that so often precedes committee meetings. Other than having the members introduce themselves, he immediately got down to business.

  “We have an important task with a tight timeline. We have twenty-seven applicants so far and will be accepting applicants for two more weeks. Our job is to complete the vetting process and send the best three names to the Board of Trustees no later than January 31. In order to do that, we must start culling right away. Ms. Channing has prepared and placed in front of you a folder with information on all the applicants to date. We can make short work of many, perhaps most. I believe you will find only a few who are truly qualified. Some of the applications are comical, including one from a disbarred attorney who claims his legal problems have given him great insight into the deficiencies of legal education.”

  Dean Adams interrupted. “Ben, please tell me he’s not one of our graduates.”

>   Before Sterner could respond, Jacqueline Hinesley, president of the Alumni Association, said, “Sorry, Dean Adams, I believe I recall him from my Legal Ethics and Professionalism class.”

  The committee members laughed, including Sterner. But Sterner quickly returned to the business at hand. “We must consider all applications and let them know promptly if they are, or are not, still in the hunt, so that they can move on with their career objectives. That will be my personal responsibility as chair. Your job is to make the decisions. Here’s how we will proceed: after you have studied the candidates, we will take a vote by hand. An applicant who does not receive at least four votes to remain in consideration will be dropped and notified. Those who remain in consideration will be asked for additional personal information and references.”

  This was not exactly a democratic committee process, Scott thought. Ben Sterner personally set the rules of procedure and never inquired if the rules were agreeable with the other members of the committee. But it was perfectly acceptable to Scott. He liked the decisiveness of this no-nonsense leader. Sterner’s rules went unchallenged, and the committee members went to work examining the material in their folders.

  An hour and a half later, Sterner began the voting process. No secret ballots for him. This would all be by raised hands. He asked Deborah to stand and tally votes. Out of the first seventeen applicants, five received four or more votes. A few received two or three, but most of the remaining, including the disbarred attorney “with great insight,” received none. After each vote, Deborah would call out the results, even though the hands were visible for all to see.

  Professor Nolan was the eighteenth applicant to be considered. When his name was called, a sudden stillness enveloped the members seated at the conference table, and there was complete silence. Then, as if on cue, each committee member began looking around at the others. Only heads moved. No arms moved. In a soft but decisive voice, Deborah said, “Zero votes.”