Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done.

by Storyteller, Bad-Boy

  “So you teach sign language for the deaf?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you teach any other classes?”

  “Yes, I teach an advanced class that includes speechreading.”

  “Tell me about speechreading. Can anybody do it?”

  “Well, yes, anyone can learn. It’s better known as lipreading; it is the technique of learning speech by visually interpreting the movements of the tongue, facial muscles, posturing of the lips, and then simply converting the physical information into context, or language.”

  “Can you read everyone’s lips?”

  “Well, yes and no…It depends much on the person. Some I can read with one hundred percent accuracy, while there are a few people who pose more of a challenge.” William nods for him to explain in more detail. The professor continues. “One example would be a man who has a bushy mustache; another would be what we call a dead cell—a person who speaks using little or no emotion.”

  With that William grins and faces the jurors, turning his back on the professor, and declares loudly to the courtroom, “I believe Professor Seth Johansen to be a liar and a fraud!” Everyone seems confused. The witness seems oblivious. Then he again places himself directly in the professor’s sight and asks, “Professor Johansen, are you yourself deaf?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  The crowd is impressed, and some commotion begins until William speaks over them. “And how well were you able to read the person on the disc I sent you?”

  “Quite well. In fact, I—”

  “Objection.” Milkowski stands up fast, holding out a hand to halt the witnesses’ testimony. “Your Honor, I thought these discs were found just late last night?”

  “Overruled,” Judge Cooper sighs, giving Milkowski a look that says “We all know William’s full of shit, and we both know it’s next to impossible to deny any evidence in a high-profile, circumstantial murder trial.” Besides that, she herself is curious as to where all this is headed.

  William presses forward, asking the question again. “Professor Johansen, are you able to read with one hundred percent accuracy the person on the disc?”

  He looks to Judge Cooper, who says, “You are allowed to answer the question, professor.”

  “Yes,” he declares proudly. “The person on the disc is quite easy to read. Actually, his speech is very timed and concise, and his delivery is full of emotion— anger, actually, the easiest of all emotions to read. When people are angry, they tend to use extremely precise facial expressions, not to mention the fact that I went over it many times to make certain of my testimony today.”

  Milkowski wears a mocking exterior for William and his witness; however, on the inside he’s screaming. What in God’s good name did you do, Cools? What the fuck did you say?

  William smiles wide to the jurors, none of whom return the gesture. Then he very politely asks the bailiff to hold in the air the disc titled “Video,” as he emphasizes, “This is exhibit A. It’s a home surveillance recording that was taken the first morning Detective Cools came to my client’s home. In it you will see the two of them engaging in a conversation in the driveway. And Professor Johansen will explain to you word for word what Detective Cools is saying.” Then he asks the bailiff to play the disc.

  Judge Cooper gives him a nod, and he leaves the courtroom, returning shortly with a television on a rolling stand. Next he hands over the remote to the witness.

  Professor Johansen pivots toward the jury to set things up. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have speech-read the person on this video clip, and I can tell you every word he says. But don’t just take my word for it; I’ll show you. What I’ve done is written down all the words he used and put them to a musical scale, so I will be reciting what he says in synch with his movements; and you will see for yourself exactly what he is saying.”

  Then he adjusts his paper in front of him. He presses the play button and, when cued, begins to narrate. “I have to let you go for now, but first…I do not like you—you sick fuck!” Then the jury can clearly see Detective Cools eyeball his gun and flash it around. And again the professor recites, “These things accidentally go off some times, punk. It’s rare, but it happens. Next time…next fucking time!”

  The jurors gasp. Newspaper reporters turn off their recorders and rush out. Milkowski leaps from his seat, trying to argue but to no avail. People start whispering, even the jurors, and then begin talking less discretely. Joshua lifts his hands up and down, encouraging an uproar, and the courtroom becomes louder with every passing second. Judge Cooper slams her gavel down hard. “Order! Order in the court!” she bellows, motioning Milkowski to sit down, since they both know there’s nothing he can say or do anyway. He returns to his seat as she addresses the jurors, in her now quieted courtroom, stating, “This is all evidence you will be taking into consideration at the proper time—that is, at the end of the trial—and not one moment sooner.” The fear of her, in their eyes, tells her they understand. She then turns back to William, asking, “Are you done with this witness?”

  “Yes, I am, Your Honor. And now I would like to recall Detective Cools to the stand.”

  “Very well,” she replies, still eyeing each and every person in her court. “Bailiff, please bring in Detective Cools.” Again the bailiff leaves as everyone waits with much anticipation, watching William and Joshua joke back and forth privately.

  Cools walks in and right away knows something has happened. He senses them evaluating him. Joshua stares at him, smiling, and lets out a subdued laugh of victory. Cools returns a glare. The tension between them is clear to everyone.

  William then adds to Cools’s annoyance by flashing a wink and asking in a smartass tone, “Detective, do you now remember the conversation you had with Mr. Siconolfi in front of his house on the twenty-ninth of December?”

  “No, I do not,” he replies to the jury, realizing that they don’t seem to believe him.

  “Do you now remember when you threatened Mr. Siconolfi to make a statement?”

  “No, I never did any such thing!”

  “Then how about the threats you made the day of his arrest?”

  “No! I read him his Miranda rights, and that is all.”

  William raises his eyebrow. “And is that all?”

  Feeling the need to add more, he says, “I may have told him how much he disgusted me, and that I would prove he killed his wife, Kimberly.”

  “Anything else ring a bell, detective? And I would like to remind you that you are under oath.”

  Cools perceives he’s missing something and is growing increasingly agitated. Milkowski waves a finger, catching his attention, swaying him to slow down, while attempting to lend the sense that everything is going to be fine. But Milkowski, as well as everyone else in the room, can see that Detective Bradley Cools is going down in flames.

  For an extended moment, he reflects on the morning in question and subsequently answers as calmly as he can, “No, I do not recall any other conversation.”

  William then spins nimbly on his heels, offering exhibit B and requesting the bailiff to play the compact disc. And while the bailiff is cueing it up, he explains to the jury that the night prior to Joshua’s arrest, he’d accidentally left the audio recording system on in his living room music studio. Suddenly it begins to play over the very same speakers brought in two days before by the prosecutor, Milkowski. First they can hear Joshua.

  “You’ve made a big mistake, top cop!”

  “And how’s that?”

  William pauses the CD and asks Cools if this is his voice.

  Immediately he remembers some of the things he said and contests it, stating, “It doesn’t sound like my voice…and he could’ve dubbed it in with all his studio equipment.”

  “That’s fine,” William exclaims neatly. “I’ll be bringing in a voice analysis expert who will confirm that indeed it is.” Then he plays the CD again, turning up the volume.

  The jury strains to hear a kind of whisper.

>   “The devil comes, the devil does, and the devil goes; and I bet you think the blood on the yacht is Kimberly’s.”

  “Listen here, you freak. I’m tired of hearing your bullshit. I don’t need her blood. I will find her body. And now that I have you, I have your DNA. And I don’t care how careful you think you are, asshole; I will plant your hair, your blood, even your semen if I have too.”

  The rumbling in the courtroom starts up again; however, Judge Cooper is expedient with her gavel. “Quiet down! Quiet down now!”

  And as she’s dealing with an ever angrier crowd, William skips back and plays once more, even louder: “I don’t care how careful you think you are, asshole; I will plant your hair, your blood, even your semen if I have too.”

  The excitement mounts as it plays a second time, burning the unforgiving words into their ears, burning vengeful passions into their hearts.

  “Order in the court! And sit down William. Do not play that again!” He obeys, although most of the press ignores her as they discuss the implications. She slams her gavel repeatedly. “I said order in the court! I will have you removed…” They finally submit and begin to quiet down, and all eyes move back to Cools. No one has any doubts that his career is over. Some suffer feelings of sympathy, while others hold utter contempt. Nonetheless, they all expect a reaction.

  But the one they get does not come from him.

  Joshua explodes within the sudden stillness. “Ha, ha, ha, top cop. I told you, you were fucking going down—you fucking dirty pig! You liar! You fucking—”

  “Subdue him!” Judge Cooper screams. The bailiff hits him with fifty thousand volts. Joshua begins flailing around, out of his chair, onto the floor. Members of the courtroom step backward and position themselves to see Joshua, who is still uttering muffled curses between the shocks. The voltage is increased to the maximum amount allowed; he jerks harder. Everyone loses their breath, and then at last he surrenders.

  William seizes the glowing moment. “Detective, now do you remember?”

  Judge Cooper raises her gavel, intending to bang the holy hell out of her bench, but instead she turns to Cools for his answer. Everybody turns. His eyes are boiling, his muscles bulge under his shirt, and he looks like he’s about to detonate.

  “Answer the question. Answer the question, Detective!” William pushes.

  Cools wrenches in his seat. The color in his eyes melts away like man prepared to die for vengeance. And no one is quite sure if he’s going to stay in the witness box or spring from it in a violent rage. He says nothing, just holds a long, scorching, homicidal stare until Judge Cooper demands him to answer.

  “I…I am going to plead the Fifth Amendment,” he replies furiously, broken.

  Then Joshua points his finger at him and spits out all he can muster. “You tell lies, and when they work no longer, you hide like a coward!”

  “Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” Cools shrieks, pouncing out of the witness box.

  The bailiffs intercept him. Judge Cooper pushes the red button, calling in reinforcements as they struggle around tables and chairs with Cools cursing, “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

  Judge Cooper bangs her gavel. “I’m calling an emergency recess; I want Joshua taken immediately back to his cell!” The jurors are swiftly escorted out, and other security guards rush in to diffuse the situation. Judge Cooper continues shouting over the mayhem. “And I want all council in my fu—in my damned chambers right now!” Everyone starts moving in all different directions. “And you, too, Detective Cools. In my chambers!”

  Ninety seconds later William and Milkowski stand in her chambers next to Cools, who’s sitting in a chair with a bailiff above him. “This is a goddamned circus,” she wails, glaring at all of them. Each one of them knows to be utterly silent, even William, despite the fact that he’s reveling in his glory. She paces back and forth, gaining her bearings, trying to figure what course to take. She inhales a breath of air before talking it out. “Milkowski, I’m throwing out Joshua’s statement, leaving you to win with what you have.”

  “Sounds good to me,” William cracks. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to leave you all to your problems, so I can prepare for my next witnesses.”

  “You don’t have any other witnesses on your list,” Milkowski states, somewhat confused.

  “I’m calling Detective Cools again. I never excused him, and I am not done with him yet. And then I’m putting Joshua on the stand.”

  Milkowski coughs nervously. “You are seriously going to put Joshua on the stand?”

  “You would if you knew what I do,” William beams arrogantly. “Now may I be excused?” Nobody says a word, and from the looks of them, no one is standing in his way to leave their sight. He walks out, engorged with pride.

  The door shuts behind him, and Judge Cooper continues chastising them. “Cools, this is probably already on Fox News and CNN, so you’re going on a leave of absence, effective immediately. And if I were you, I wouldn’t say one word to anybody until you talk to your attorney.”

  “Judge, I’d like to just say—”

  “Stop! I said do not say anything. I like you, Cools, and I am trying to help you. You’re going to get back on the stand, plead the Fifth over and over again, and when you leave, you’re going to say nothing to the press. Then go talk to an attorney, because you are in a lot of trouble, Detective. Now get out of my sight and be ready to be in my courtroom in two hours!”

  Devastated and disillusioned he heeds her advice and walks out of her office toward the rear exit, where he can escape the building undetected.

  Milkowski drops his face into his hands and listens in as Judge Cooper makes a call. “Captain, your boy just left my office. I want him shepherded for a while. I want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupider than he has already… Uh-huh…Oh really…Shit…Well, that’s not going to help…Okay…Good-bye.”

  “Okay, Andrew, here’s the deal. Word just came from the coroner’s office stating that Jane Doe from Everett is twenty-seven-year-old Julie Something-or-other, known prostitute, died from a heroin overdose. Now, I’ll grant you two hours,”—she checks her watch—“so you’ll need to be ready to go at one. And when William puts Joshua on the stand, I want to see you break him. Use every trick you have; destroy this asshole! And bring this fucked up trial to an end!”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Cools—now a complete madman—squeals out of the courthouse parking lot in a police cruiser. One of Captain Jackson’s men follows. Cools is so infuriated he doesn’t notice his shadow, as he recklessly drives to the Shelter. He needs a drink, many drinks. He parks in the back alley behind the bar; Captain Jackson’s man parks a half block away and watches him storm into the seedy establishment, and yet another man, who is also following, takes detailed pictures of both of them.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Inside his office Captain Jackson yells into the speakerphone, “Cools is a man with nothing much to lose; under no circumstances will you let him out of your sight. I want you inside that mobster bar, sitting in the booth right next to him. And if he tries to run, you’re gonna arrest him and bring his ass to me!”

  Milkowski storms in and stands impatiently in front of his desk. Next the captain says, “All right, I’m gonna put you on hold for a second.” He pushes the hold button. “What do you want?”

  “Between the deputy’s, Hubbard or Martinez, which one can I trust most?”

  “What’s this all about, Milkowski?”

  “You’re better off not knowing; now tell me—which one?”

  There’s a pause of consideration before he replies assertively, “Martinez.”

  With that Milkowski leaves as fast as he came. And once back inside his office, he makes a call. “Hello, is this Martinez?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “This is prosecutor Milkowski, and I need you to do something for me, and then I will owe you one.”

  Martinez, knowing the value of prosecutor Milk
owski owing him one, and the potential consequences of not complying, replies, “I’m listening.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  After viewing a television report claiming a loss of control over her courtroom, Judge Cooper has extended the recess until two thirty and has ordered some local contractors to build a temporary, soundproof, Plexiglass box for Joshua to sit in. Plus the builders are paid double if they disclose to the media that construction was scheduled for yesterday, giving Judge Cooper some retroactive clemency. They work expediently, but it’s after three o’clock before she can organize everyone and get things rolling again. So now, with the gang all back in positions, Joshua fidgeting in his new surroundings and a half-drunk detective waiting in the hall, the trial resumes. She lends the court to the defense, expecting that William will be calling Cools, but he has a slight change of plans.

  “Your Honor, I would like to petition the court, with prosecutor Milkowski’s consent of course, to add one more thing into evidence.”

  Milkowski is thrown a bit and stammers, “Uh…”

  William continues, “I’d like to add into evidence a taped client-attorney conversation that explains how my client is responsible for the blood being on the boat.”

  The jury’s attention shifts back to Milkowski, who holds up a finger asking for a moment. It has to be some kind of a trick. He expects me to object. But why would I? The more Joshua says, the more ammunition I have when he takes the stand. Besides I really don’t have a lot to lose at this point. He drops his finger and replies. “I have no objection, Your Honor.”

  Judge Cooper looks surprised at his unexpected accommodation and affirms, “Well, if the prosecution doesn’t contest it, then I will allow it.”

  William glances at Milkowski with almost pity and moves to insert an audio CD into the sound system. Milkowski now reasons that he’s made a grave error.

  While holding the remote control, William sets it up. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. This is a private conversation between not just client and attorney, but that of father and son. Some of the dialogue might strike you as bizarre, and I apologize in advance for any of my personal shortcomings, as this recording was never expected to be public record.” He presses the remote, and Joshua’s voice comes across unusually soft and genuine. All cameras zoom in on him sitting inside his strange-looking and confining glass cubicle.