The One-Eyed Judge

by Ponsor, Michael;

  Sid’s case was a rare instance where the power of the prosecutor could, in a way, work in a defendant’s favor. Ames had no illusion that this miracle had anything to do with the merits of the case. The failed search, the ruling on the motion to suppress, the pending motion to reveal the CI, and the potential embarrassment to the U.S. attorney’s office had bent the prosecutor toward generosity and cracked the case open.

  As soon as she hung up from talking to Campanella, Ames contacted Sid and told him she was walking over. She had good news.

  The autumn rain gathering in puddles on the common did nothing to dampen Linda’s spirits. In fact, the soft, steady tapping on her black umbrella was music to her ears. The cool air smelled of leaf mold and faint wood smoke, and her mind danced forward into the coming weeks. A plea in the Cranmer case would open up time to take Ethan down to Tampa to visit her parents over the holidays. It had been a while since they’d had a real vacation together. They could pop over to Epcot or Universal Studios, or both. She imagined them checking out the rides or looking for some place to eat. Nothing even came close to making her so happy.

  When she got to Sid’s house, Ames thought at first that his reserved manner was just his default mood of gloom. She had prepared herself to fight off his latest round of pastry, but for the first time he didn’t offer. They took their usual seats around the coffee table, him in the rocker, her on the sofa.

  As she described Campanella’s phone call, Ames felt her balloon deflating. Sid’s face grew increasingly remote, with no eye contact. When she finished, Sid was quiet for a painfully long time. She hadn’t expected a celebration at her news, but she’d hoped that, even if he wasn’t cheered, he might at least be relieved.

  Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know, Linda.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about pleading. I really have. I’ve been going over and over it until I’m almost out of my mind. I mentioned the possibility to Claire Lindemann. She was kind of shocked.” He shifted in his seat. “She didn’t like the idea.”

  “Uh-huh. Where did she go to law school?”

  “I just … I can’t imagine getting up and admitting I ordered that DVD.”

  “I see.”

  “I can’t plead guilty to something I’m not really sure I did.”

  Linda Ames wanted to slap Sid Cranmer hard. If he turned down the deal, Campanella and his boss, Buddy Hogan, would decide that Sid was spitting in their faces, and they would be merciless. Norcross was fair, but he was not one of the district’s easier sentencers. If she had to guess, she’d estimate seven or eight years after a guilty verdict, but something over ten was not impossible.

  She folded her hands in her lap. Patience.

  “I hear you, Sid, but please think carefully about this, okay? You can survive a two-year sentence. They’ll send you to a camp, and with good time, you’ll be out in twenty months.”

  “I hate camping.”

  “Don’t be cute, okay? It’s not the Boy Scouts. You’ll be in a dorm with mostly white-collar people, and you’ll spend a lot of time outdoors.”

  “Amherst College will revoke my tenure.”

  “You still have friends at the college. I’m betting they’ll be happy to let you retire. You’re old enough. A nice, clean break.”

  “But I’d have to register …”

  “That’s right, but you’re far enough from the nearest public school that when you get out, you can move back into your house right here, if you want to. I checked it out. Once you’re released, you fill out a form from time to time, and that’s it. Nothing changes.”

  “Except I can’t teach anymore.”

  This was getting ridiculous. “You’re almost seventy, for God’s sake. Most people have retired by your age. Besides, there are community colleges, adult ed. Who knows?”

  “I just don’t see how I can plead guilty to something I didn’t do, Linda.”

  “Sid, here’s what’s happening.” Ames stopped herself, realizing she was getting loud. She looked to the side and shook her head. Turning back to Sid, she forced herself to speak softly. “You’re lying on the railroad tracks, the train’s coming around the bend, and you can stand up and walk away. Do you want to keep lying there?” Sid looked into his lap, not saying anything. “I haven’t pressured you before, but I’m telling you now: If you don’t take this deal, you’re making a huge, huge mistake.”

  Sid cleared his throat and squared himself. He looked up at Ames apologetically. “I can’t do it, Linda. I know I can’t. I can’t physically stand up in court and tell the world I’m that sort of person. That I’d do that sort of disgusting … That I’m that …” He paused. “That I’m that ugly.”

  Ames leaned back and nodded. “Fine. So what’s our plan then?”

  “I guess we go to trial. I’ll testify, and maybe they’ll believe me. If they don’t …”

  The coffee table had four thick coasters with a floral patterns. Ames arranged three of them in a row and placed the fourth facing them from a few inches away.

  “Okay, here you are. Let’s play this out. You’ll tell the jury that you think you actually did download some of the teen stuff, right? You think you probably did do that.”

  “Mixed in with the adult. …”

  “Right, stay with me. And you did go into the chat rooms, and you’re pretty sure you did say some of the things on the government transcripts, but most of it you don’t remember?”

  “I know it sounds …”

  “Correct. It does. And then, with the DVD, you’re pretty sure you didn’t order it, but not a hundred percent sure. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “You were thinking about it, and you kept the flyer, but you don’t think you mailed it in. That’s what you plan to tell the jury?”

  “Right, because that’s the truth.”

  Ames leaned back, put her hands over her eyes, and groaned. “Oh, the truth! Give me a break!” She dropped her hands and gaped at Sid, getting loud. “The truth? Really? The truth?”

  “Well, if they don’t believe me …”

  Ames waved at him dismissively and dropped her voice. “Sid, don’t worry, they definitely won’t believe you.”

  “But how can I go into court, Linda, and admit to all these things I just …”

  Now, Ames deliberately raised her voice to a shout and slapped her hand down on the lone coaster. “Because if you don’t, you’ll get five years in federal prison!” She leaned toward Sid. “Probably more. And it will kill you.” A long silence froze them—Ames staring at Sid and Sid staring down into his lap again.

  Finally, Ames broke off and looked around impatiently. “Okay, fine.” She stood abruptly, walked to the dining area, took a high-backed chair, and placed it in the middle of the living room.

  “Sit.”

  “What?”

  She pointed. “Just … Just sit in the chair, please.”

  Sid stood uncertainly and had a seat. The chair’s position in the center ring of his hooked rug, with nothing within reaching distance, made him look exposed and ridiculous.

  Ames walked over to a bookcase, pulled out a book, and tossed it into Sid’s lap. “Place your hand on that, please.”

  “This is Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Linda. The annotated version.”

  “I know. It’s perfect. Just do it.”

  Sid put his hand on the book.

  “Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you give to this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “Linda …”

  “Come on, Sid, let’s do this. You say you want to testify. Federal judges mostly don’t have people swear on bibles anymore, but this will get us in the mood.”

  Sid put his hand on the book. “By the soul of Charles L. Dodgson, I swear to tell
the truth.” He tried a weary smile, but Ames was not having it.

  “Good.” Ames turned and walked several paces away from him. She stood next to the wingback, placed her hand on it as though it were a lectern. “I’m going to be Paul Campanella, and you’ll be you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “This will be a mild version of what you’ll get, because I haven’t prepared, and Campanella will have been up half the night for a week polishing his questions, practicing them with the other assistants in his office. But here goes. Now, Professor Cranmer—he’s sure to call you ‘Professor’ as often as possible, since the jury will assume, right off, that anyone who is an academic must have a twist in him. Now, Professor Cranmer, let me take you back to the morning of the DVD delivery.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s no question in front of you, Sid. Don’t say anything until you have a question. This is not a conversation; it’s cross-­examination.”

  Sid did not say anything.

  “Ready?”

  “I’m not saying anything until you question me.”

  “Hilarious. Do you recall the morning last spring when a UPS truck arrived at your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you recall the driver coming to your door and asking if you were Professor Sidney Cranmer?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so? Didn’t he in fact ask you, Professor, whether you were Professor Sidney Cranmer?”

  “I don’t exactly remember, but I do remember giving him my name.”

  “Is it your testimony, Professor, that you might have just given him your name without his asking for it? Did you just open the door and say, ‘Hi, I’m Professor Sidney Cranmer,’ without him saying a word?”

  “No, obviously not.”

  “Obviously is a snotty professor’s word, Sid. The jury already dislikes you. So we can agree, can’t we, that the driver asked whether you were Professor Sidney Cranmer, or words to that effect, and you said ‘yes,’ just as Agent Crawford—the agent who we now know was posing as the UPS driver—told us you did when he testified?” She raised her voice. “Isn’t that correct?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? That’s brilliant, Sid. We’ve taken nearly five minutes to establish a point we should have put behind us in fifteen seconds, and your credibility is now in the very low digits.”

  “Sorry, I’m new at this.”

  “It’s okay. Now, Professor Cranmer, do you also remember that Agent Crawford, in his role as the UPS driver, asked you whether you were expecting a delivery?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of. That’s also brilliant, Sid. And please, please, keep your hand away from your mouth. The pope, or the Dalai Lama, or Mother Teresa come back from heaven, would look like a liar if they kept rubbing their upper lip. Do you remember anything about Agent Crawford asking you, in effect, whether you were expecting a package?”

  “I think he did.”

  “Thank you. Now, assuming he asked you, in substance, whether you were expecting a package—as the jury heard Agent Crawford testify to them that he did—is it not true that you responded that, yes, you were expecting a package?”

  “I don’t think I said that. I think I said it didn’t surprise me that a package was arriving or something like that.”

  “Oh my God. Okay. Stop scratching yourself, Sid. No one ever died of an itch. So you are drawing a distinction between expecting a package, which you don’t think you said but maybe might have, and not being surprised that a package was arriving, which you think you probably did say, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess. Hands away from your mouth.”

  Ames knew she was being cruel, but she also knew that this ordeal was nothing compared to what Sid would face if he took the stand in the actual courtroom. The fact was that, one way or another, he was going to have to reveal himself and probably face humiliation whether he pleaded guilty or went to trial and testified. Going to trial and exercising his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent would, in the face of the government’s evidence, be tantamount to a plea of guilty with none of a plea’s advantages. That option was out.

  Ames shifted to the other side of the wingback, the way Campa­nella would move from one side of the podium to the other, to keep the jury’s attention and mark a transition. “I could play with you for another few minutes about your uncertainty about whether you said you were expecting a package, but let’s just focus on what you’re telling the jury you probably did say. You think you probably said that the arrival of this package didn’t surprise you? That’s your testimony?”

  “Yes, that’s what I probably said.”

  “Now, Professor Cranmer, was there any package on its way to you, other than Exhibit One, the DVD that the jury has seen, that it would not have surprised you to receive that morning?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, was there some other package on its way to you, other than this one? Hand, Sid.”

  “Maybe. From some colleague, or journal, or professional society or something.”

  “From who? Can you identify anyone else besides Tiger Entertainment that might have had a package on its way to you that morning that you wouldn’t have been surprised to receive? At this point, I walk over and pick up the exhibit and wave it in front of the jury.”

  “I can’t give you any name.”

  “A package that pretty clearly contained a DVD, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, but I can’t give you a name.”

  “But we can agree that you said you weren’t surprised to receive the package, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Uh-huh. Do your colleagues often send you DVDs?”

  “It’s mostly drafts, or articles …”

  “Can I have an answer to my question, please? Do your colleagues often send you DVDs?”

  “Not really.”

  Ames clapped her hands together lightly. “Well, let me put it this way. Can you tell the jury any occasion within, let’s say, the last ten years when a colleague, or journal, or professional society has sent you a DVD, Professor?”

  “I can’t think of any right off the top of my head. Maybe once.”

  “Who sent you that?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “When was it?”

  “Maybe seven or eight years ago.”

  “I see, but you admit, at least, that you said you weren’t surprised when this DVD arrived at your house that morning? You admit that?”

  “I’ve said I wasn’t surprised several times now.”

  “Great, Sid. That condescending answer confirms you’re a jerk. Professor Cranmer, isn’t it true that, about a week earlier, you had filled out this form—here I pick up Exhibit Two and wave it in front of the jury—ordering this DVD—now I’m holding Exhibit One in this other hand—and that is why you were not at all surprised when it arrived that morning? Isn’t that just the simple, and as you would say obvious, truth?”

  “No, it’s not true.”

  “But you admit you did get the flyer. You remember that? Campanella might not be lucky enough to ask this question, but let’s say he does. You remember getting the flyer, right?”

  “Yes, I remember getting it.”

  “But you don’t recall what you did with it, do you?”

  “I just can’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember throwing it away, for example?”

  “I may have, but I’m not sure.”

  “You might have put it aside somewhere?”

  “I’m not sure. I might not have gotten around to throwing it out.”

  “Really. You didn’t do what anyone else in your position would have done and tear the sickening thing up and throw it in the trash? You don’t
remember doing that, do you? I’d object, and Norcross might sustain my objection, but you know, don’t you, Sid, exactly what the jury will be thinking?”

  “I just don’t remember. I can’t say I remember something when I don’t.”

  “Ah, the truth thing again. Okay. Let’s try another angle.” Ames shifted so she was standing in front of the wingback, a little closer to Sid. “You admit that when Agent Crawford handed you the package with the DVD in it, with the name Tiger Entertainment right on the label, you signed for it, and you took it right away, isn’t that correct?”

  “Right.”

  “You didn’t say, ‘Gosh, there’s been some mistake, I didn’t order anything from Tiger Entertainment. I didn’t order any DVD.’ You didn’t say that, did you?”

  “Well, I didn’t …”

  “Thank you. Don’t squirm, Sid, when you give up a damaging answer. It just confirms that I had to dig it out of you. And the reason you didn’t indicate that there was any mistake was because you had, in fact, ordered something from Tiger Entertainment, and as you said, weren’t surprised when it arrived?”

  “No.”

  “I see. But you took the DVD, without any hesitation or questions for Agent Crawford, just signed for it and took it and went back into your house, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s what happened.”

  “And you got a pair of scissors, or a knife, or some sharp tool, and you immediately, right away, began to open it, because you couldn’t wait to see what UPS had brought you? Isn’t that true?”

  “I wouldn’t say I ‘couldn’t wait.’”

  “Oh, I see. You weren’t all that eager. But isn’t it true that within one minute, or two minutes at the most, after you had the DVD in your hands, you started to open it? Isn’t it true that, in fact, you didn’t wait?”

  “Yes. I started—”

  “Eyes up.”

  “I started to open it right away.”