Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  “Did he change lanes without a signal?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Did he commit any traffic infractions at all?” Talon demanded.

  “Improperly functioning equipment is a traffic infraction,” Flaherty insisted.

  Talon just nodded. “Could you read his license plate?”

  Flaherty considered. “The license plate light was out.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Talon pointed out. “I asked if you could read it. If there was enough light from the streetlights, you could have read the license plate even if the light was out, correct?”

  Flaherty shifted in his seat. “Possibly.”

  “But you don’t remember the lighting conditions where you decided to stop Mr. Frazier?”

  “Not exactly, no,” Flaherty had to admit.

  “So, could you read the plate or not?” Talon pressed.

  Flaherty thought for a moment. “I was able to determine that the license plate light was out, so that means I must have realized the plate was darker than it should have been. So I believe I likely did have difficulty reading the plate.”

  Talon took another step toward her prey. “That’s a long way of saying you don’t actually remember, isn’t it?”

  Flaherty shrugged again. “I know the license plate light was out. I wouldn’t have stopped the vehicle otherwise.”

  “Because he hadn’t committed any other infractions, right?”

  Flaherty frowned. “I suppose so. Not that I recall.”

  New topic. “What was he wearing?”

  Flaherty shook his head at the change in subject. “What?”

  “What was Mr. Frazier wearing?” Talon repeated.

  “Uh…” Flaherty thought for a moment. “I don’t remember. That wasn’t really my focus.”

  “Okay,” Talon accepted the answer. “What color is he?”

  Flaherty raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “What color is he?” Talon repeated. “What race is he?”

  “Uh, he’s African-American,” Flaherty answered, trying to see the trap.

  “And you remember that part?” Talon pointed out.

  “I can also see it right now,” Flaherty said.

  Talon looked back at her client. “Yeah, you sure can, can’t you?” She turned back to Flaherty. “So, let’s summarize.” She took a step toward him with each sentence.

  “You don’t remember how long you were following Mr. Frazier.”

  “You don’t remember whether Mr. Frazier was speeding.”

  “You don’t remember whether Mr. Frazier failed to use his signal.”

  “You don’t remember what the lighting conditions were like.”

  “You don’t remember if you could actually read the license plate or not.”

  “And you don’t remember why his driver’s license was suspended.”

  She came to a stop directly in front of him. She could have reached out and touched that shiny badge of his.

  “The only things you do remember,” she declared, pointing at him and his badge, “are that Mr. Frazier is Black, and that his license plate light was out so you had an excuse to pull him over.”

  Flaherty just stared at her, his jaw having clenched tighter with each assertion, each step. Finally, he asked, “Is that a question?”

  Talon smirked again. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any question about it at all.”

  And she turned and walked back to her seat. “No further questions.”

  Alcott sprang to her feet. “Did you stop the defendant because he was Black?”

  “Of course not,” Flaherty insisted.

  “Nothing further,” Alcott said.

  Talon didn’t have any more questions either. Cross-exam wasn’t about questions. It was about assertions. She’d gotten to make those. And anyway she was itching for a crack at the next witness.

  “The State calls,” Alcott announced as Flaherty made his way to the exit, “Officer Shelby Ruck.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Talon looked over her shoulder to watch Flaherty leave and Ruck enter the courtroom, even if just to see whether the officers might do anything that suggested collusion as they passed. Maybe a fist bump. Optics were important.

  But when she did, her attention was immediately pulled from the officers’ baton exchange to the man seated two rows directly behind her: Marshall Lenox. Looking even more dapper than that first day they’d met. He smiled and nodded to her. She couldn’t help herself nodding in response, but she managed not to smile. It was a big case, with big consequences, even if the jurors didn’t know what they were. Or especially because they didn’t know. They’d be looking at her for clues about just how serious it really was. Smiling at men in the gallery didn’t suggest very high stakes. Again, optics.

  She turned her attention back to the papers and notes she had in front of her.

  “Who’s that?” Zeke had seen him too.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Talon whispered back.

  “Boyfriend?” Zeke ventured.

  “No!” Talon hissed. “Now, hush. I have work to do.”

  Officer Ruck approached the judge and raised her right hand to be sworn in. When the judge asked her if she’d tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, she couldn’t just say, ‘Yes.’ She belted out a crisp, “Absolutely!” and rushed into the witness chair, clearly eager to give the prosecutor whatever answers she’d need to convict the defendant.

  Alcott started with the same name, rank, and serial number spiel.

  Shelby Ruck. Police Officer. Eight years as a cop, all with Tacoma P.D. Promoted to Corporal just over a year ago. First-line supervisor. Review reports, confirm schedules, and respond as backup when needed.

  “Did you,” Alcott asked, “respond to a request for backup from Officer Michael Flaherty involving anyone who’s in the courtroom here today?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ruck tended not to turn to the jury as much as most cops. They were trained to do that, to seem more credible, but Ruck’s predilection for formality kept her eyes fixed on Alcott as she answered the prosecutor’s questions.

  “And who was involved?”

  Ruck looked at the defense table, then pointed at Zeke. “That man, there, the defendant, Ezekiel Frazier.”

  At least she used his name, Talon thought as Alcott again declared the record should reflect the witness had identified the defendant.

  “What happened when you arrived?” Alcott asked.

  So Ruck told her the story, turning to the jurors only twice when there was a term she wanted to explain. Otherwise it was like a student answering a teacher’s question. That one, brown-nosing, front-row sitting, perpetual hand-raising student everyone else hated. But then Talon recalled she was kind of like that in school too.

  “When I arrived, Officer Flaherty had already detained the defendant for driving while license suspended in the third degree,” Ruck stated. “For officer safety reasons, I patted him down for weapons. When I did that, I located a baggie of apparent crack cocaine in his front left pants pocket.”

  “Did that change the nature of the investigation?” Alcott asked.

  “Yes,” Ruck answered. “It changed from investigation of driving while suspended in the third degree to investigation of unlawful possession of a controlled substance.”

  “Did you place him under arrest at that time?” Alcott led her along the story.

  “Yes. I placed him under arrest for unlawful possession of a controlled substance.”

  “And did you do anything pursuant to that arrest?” Alcott prompted.

  “Yes,” Ruck began again. “I searched the lunge area of the vehicle.”

  “Did you find anything of note?”

  “Yes. I found a semi-automatic pistol under the driver’s seat. It had a fully loaded magazine, but the chamber was clear.”

  Alcott nodded to her witness. “Thank you, Officer Ruck. No further questions.”

  Alcott returned to her
table and Talon came out from behind hers. Where Alcott’s hands had been full of her notes and her checklist, Talon’s were empty as she buttoned her suit coat and stepped toward the witness.

  “How do you lunge for a gun when you’re ten feet away from the vehicle, you’re handcuffed, a police officer has a hold of your arm, and the gun is stashed under the driver’s seat?”

  Ruck cocked her head slightly at the question. “The lunge zone includes under the seat the suspect was seated in.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Talon responded. “I asked how Mr. Frazier could possibly have lunged for that gun when he was handcuffed and nowhere near the vehicle and the gun was under the seat. I can barely fish my cell phone out if I drop it under my seat. I have to reach under the back seat.”

  A couple of knowing chuckles came from the jury box. Good.

  Ruck sat still for a moment, then asked, “Is that a question?”

  Talon suppressed a grin. Ruck didn’t like her. Also good. If she seemed defensive, or better yet, evasive, the jury wouldn’t trust her.

  “There was no way Mr. Frazier could have lunged for that gun, was there?” she asked.

  “I disagree,” Ruck answered. “He definitely could have.”

  Talon thought for a moment. “Okay. Did he?”

  “Did he lunge for the gun?” Ruck clarified.

  “Yes,” Talon confirmed. “Did he lunge for the gun?”

  Ruck thought for a moment. “No.”

  “Did he make any furtive movements toward the vehicle at all?”

  Another, “No.”

  “And did Officer Flaherty ever mention Mr. Frazier making any motions like he was trying to reach under his seat?”

  “No,” Ruck admitted.

  “Because he didn’t know there was a gun there, right?” Talon asked. She knew Ruck wouldn’t agree with her, but she wanted the jury to hear the question stated explicitly, in case some of them didn’t quite catch what she was suggesting.

  “Or because he didn’t want to get shot reaching for a gun with two armed police officers standing right next to him.”

  “Right, right,” Talon nodded. “Because police officers shoot Black men even when they don’t have guns, right?”

  Ruck’s eyes flared.

  Alcott jumped to her feet. “Objection!”

  Judge Haroldson shook a finger at Talon. “Counsel!”

  And Talon, for her part, didn’t give a shit. She just shrugged. “It’s a fair question, Your Honor. The witness should answer it.”

  “The question,” Haroldson growled, “is inflammatory, argumentative, improper, and slanderous. The objection is sustained, the question is stricken, and the jury is ordered to disregard it entirely. Ask another question, Ms. Winter. But be careful.”

  Talon nodded for a few moments, then changed directions completely. “Who verified that the pants Mr. Frazier was wearing were his?”

  Ruck shook her head slightly at the question. “What?”

  “Who verified,” Talon repeated, “that Mr. Frazier owned the pants he was wearing?”

  Ruck didn’t seem to know how to respond. “I don’t understand. He was wearing them.”

  “Sure, sure,” Talon agreed. “But the prosecutor suggested in her opening that maybe they weren’t his pants. So who confirmed it, and how?”

  Alcott stood up again. “Objection, Your Honor. I did not suggest that in my opening. What I said was—“

  But Talon interrupted. “I don’t think we want the prosecutor to go down that road again, Your Honor. She raised the issue in her opening. I’m entitled to explore it.”

  Haroldson exhaled audibly. He couldn’t let Alcott talk again about what evidence the defense might or might not put on.

  “Or am I not going to be allowed to ask any questions?” Talon followed up. She knew it would piss him off. And she wanted it to. She wanted the jury to see the judge and the prosecutor ganging up on her.

  Haroldson narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not test me, Ms. Winter. I am the judge, not you. And I will decide what areas may be inquired into and what areas may not.”

  Talon didn’t respond. A silent sign of assent, and therewith a modicum of respect. For the position, if not the man. But enough to get what she wanted.

  “You may ask the question,” the judge said. He turned to Ruck. “And the witness may answer it, if she can.”

  “Did you ever verify that Mr. Frazier owned the pants he was wearing?”

  Ruck just shook her head again. “He was wearing them.”

  “Was there a receipt for the pants in the back pocket?”

  “No.”

  “Was his wallet in the pants?”

  Ruck thought for a moment. “Officer Flaherty already had his I.D. when I arrived. I don’t know where his wallet was.”

  “Did you do a DNA test to see if anyone else’s DNA was on the pants?”

  “No. We don’t do DNA for that.”

  “But you could?”

  “We don’t.”

  “But you could?”

  “DNA testing is for major crime scenes,” Ruck insisted. “Not drug possession.”

  “And drug possession isn’t as important as a major crime?” Talon paraphrased.

  “I mean, not exactly,” Ruck tried to equivocate.

  Talon pointed at her client. “Do you think it’s important to Mr. Frazier?”

  Ruck thought for a moment. “I suppose it probably is,” she admitted.

  Talon pointed at the jury box. “What about these jurors, on this case? Do you think it’s important to them? Should it be?”

  Ruck hesitated again. She could dismiss the defendant, but she knew she shouldn’t downplay the importance of the jurors. “Yes. I’m sure it is.”

  Then Talon pointed back at Ruck and over to Alcott as she asked, “It’s just not important to the Tacoma Police Department or the Pierce County Prosecutor’s Office.” It wasn’t a question.

  Before Ruck could give the obvious protest, Talon announced, “No further questions.”

  Alcott sprang to her feet. “He was wearing the pants, right?”

  “Objection. Leading.” Talon interrupted. It was petty, but she was right.

  Haroldson had to sustain it. “Rephrase the question, Ms. Alcott.”

  But that was a difficult question to rephrase so it wasn’t leading.

  “Whose pants where they?” Alcott tried.

  “Objection,” Talon interrupted. She made it back to her place at the defense table, but she didn’t sit down. She could do this all day. “Lack of personal knowledge. Calls for speculation. The witness just admitted the police did nothing to ascertain who actually owned the pants.”

  Haroldson sighed. “Sustained,” he practically admitted. “Rephrase.”

  “Who was wearing the pants?”

  “Objection. Asked and answered.” Talon was still standing, her fingertips pressing down on the table top.

  Haroldson pushed himself back in his overstuffed judge’s chair. “It has been asked and answered,” he agreed, “but I will allow the witness to answer, or else we’ll be here all night.”

  “Who was wearing the pants?” Alcott repeated.

  Ruck pointed at Zeke, as if she were identifying the man who murdered her child. “The defendant. The defendant was wearing the pants.”

  “No further questions,” Alcott exhaled, and sat down quickly.

  “Any recross examination?” Haroldson dared Talon.

  But Talon knew better. “No, Your Honor.” And she sat down.

  “Not my pants,” Zeke leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  Talon allowed the slightest smile, and nodded. “Not your pants.”

  Ruck was excused and Judge Haroldson announced to the jury that they were finished for the day. There might have been time to squeeze in one more witness, but what he really meant was that he was done. Talon wondered how much of her advocacy the old man could handle. But not because she had any intention of changing it.

&n
bsp; CHAPTER 32

  Once the jurors were safely out of view, confined to the jury room until released by the bailiff, the guards only had a short window to transport Zeke, once again handcuffed, out of the courtroom without them seeing him in restraints. As a result, there wasn’t time for more than a “Thank you” and a “See you tomorrow” before Zeke was gone and Talon was alone in the courtroom.

  Alone with Marshall Lenox, that is.

  “Not his pants?” he asked.

  Talon shrugged. “Pretty unbelievable, huh?”

  Marshall gave a thoughtful expression. “I would have thought so. But now, maybe I could believe it. Nice advocacy.”

  “You should have seen my opening,” Talon answered. “Or rather, the prosecutor’s. She was the one who brought it up.”

  “Why would she do that?” Marshall raised an eyebrow.

  “Because she’s easy to trick,” Talon laughed. “Did I mention I love trial work?”

  Marshall nodded. “I’m sure you did. Do you think you could come to love appellate work?”

  Talon looked askance.

  “That position opened up, like I thought it would,” Marshall said. “I want you to take it. I want you on my team.”

  Talon thought for a moment. “Is that a job offer? I thought I’d have to apply in normal course, or whatever.”

  “It’s a job offer, if you’ll take the job,” Marshall answered.

  And for the first time that day, Talon was at a loss for words. Maybe she was just out of them. It had been a long day.

  In any event, before she could summon any, Curt burst into the courtroom. “Talon!” he shouted. “Your brother’s in jail.”

  “What?” Marshall spun to face Curt, then turned quickly back to Talon.

  Talon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I knew that.”

  “You did?” both men asked in unison.

  “Of course,” Talon answered. “Who do you think he called first?”

  Curt thought for a moment and then nodded at the obviousness of it. Marshall joined him.

  Then Talon realized something. “Wait. How did you find out?” she asked Curt.

  “Uh,” Curt hesitated. “Hannah told me.”

  Talon put a hand on her hip. “And how did Hannah find out?”