Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  They both sat in silent preparation as the remainder of the courtroom cast entered. Bailiff, court reporter, corrections officers, her client. There wasn’t time for anything more than the quickest of interactions.

  “Good luck,” Zeke told her. “My life is in your hands. But I trust you.”

  Before Talon could answer about why maybe he shouldn’t, the bailiff called out Judge Haroldson’s arrival. “All rise!”

  “Are we ready to proceed?” the judge asked even as he sat down, clearly eager to end the case.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Alcott replied quickly.

  Talon stood up and sighed. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Haroldson either didn’t notice her hesitation, or didn’t care about it. “Bring in the jury,” he ordered.

  Once they were seated, he got right to it. The first order of business was for him to instruct the jury on the law. He read them a series of instructions, each defining the legal concepts they would need to decide the case. Possession could be either actual or constructive. Actual possession meant the object was on the defendant’s person. Constructive possession meant the defendant was in control of a larger object, like a car, in which the banned object was located. Possession required knowledge, but knowledge could be inferred from the circumstances. First they would consider the crime of unlawful possession of a controlled substance. If they found the defendant guilty of that crime, then they would answer a special verdict: ‘At the time of the commission of the crime of unlawful possession of a controlled substance, was the defendant armed with a firearm?’ Armed meant in actual or constructive possession of the firearm and it was readily accessible for offensive or defensive purposes. And, oh yeah, the defendant was presumed innocent or whatever.

  When he finished reading them all, he cleared his throat and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, please give your attention to Ms. Alcott who will deliver closing arguments on behalf of the State of Washington.”

  Alcott stood up and took her place before the jurors. The indecision and shell shock she’d displayed trying to cross Eric Emerson was gone. She absolutely radiated confidence.

  “Despite everything else the defense wants you to focus on,” she began, “this is actually a very straightforward case. The defendant is charged with the unlawful possession of crack cocaine, and he is further charged with possessing it while having a handgun at the ready. That’s it. Very simple. And you know what else is simple? The verdict. Because the evidence only supports one verdict. The defendant is guilty as charged.

  “Let’s take a look at that evidence, shall we? The judge just told you that first you consider the charge of unlawful possession of a controlled substance. Okay. Well, what’s the evidence for that? Again, very simple. The evidence that he possessed it is that he possessed it. It’s almost too simple. The drugs were in his pocket. His front pants pocket. They couldn’t have been more in his possession. Pockets are designed specifically to hold our possessions. Keys, phones, wallets, and, in the defendant’s case, baggies of crack cocaine.”

  Talon noticed she kept saying ‘crack’ cocaine. It was a dog whistle for ‘Black’ cocaine. But it was accurate, so she couldn’t really object. And anyway, she didn’t want to. Objecting during Alcott’s opening was important to disrupt her introduction of her case theory. But now, the jury knew they were about to be asked to make a very important decision. They wouldn’t appreciate gamesmanship at this point. Best to just let Alcott talk, then address her arguments when it was her turn to speak.

  “It’s so painfully obvious that the defendant possessed the drugs that it’s almost difficult to explain why you should find that he did. The best way may be to look at the alternative and explain why it’s ludicrous. The alternative explanation, apparently, which came out through defense counsel’s questions of the State’s witnesses, was that perhaps the pants the defendant was wearing were someone else’s pants, and it was this mysterious someone else who owned the crack, and the defendant just didn’t realize he had crack cocaine on his person, in his pocket.”

  Alcott rolled her eyes and gave a mocking chuckle. “I guess you could give points for originality, but when your only defense is, ‘Those weren’t my pants,’ all it does is show how obviously, completely, beyond any reasonable doubt, guilty you are. Remember, the State doesn’t have to prove the charge beyond any shadow of a doubt. We just have to prove it beyond any reasonable doubt. And the idea that the defendant spent the day in someone else’s pants, and during that day never noticed a baggie of crack cocaine in his pants? That is not reasonable.

  “So the State has proven the underlying charge beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  Alcott took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her.

  “So, that brings us to the second question you need to answer. Was the defendant armed with a firearm at the time he possessed the crack cocaine? Again, the answer is simple, and again, the answer is yes. We know it was an actual, operable firearm. Mr. Ungermann confirmed that for us. And we know it was directly under the defendant’s seat. So the only question is whether he was armed with it. But the judge told you what armed means. It doesn’t mean that the gun has to be in your hand, or even on your person. As long as it’s in a place where it’s readily accessible for either offensive or defensive purposes, then you’re armed. And where was the gun in this case?”

  Alcott reached down between her legs to mimic reaching under a driver’s seat.

  “It was right between his legs, the perfect place to both hide it, but also have it ready if he needed it. That’s armed.”

  She pointed over to the defense table. “Now, the defense called a friend of the defendant’s to say that they got the car from someone called ‘Bear.’ Now, do they know who this Bear actually is? No.”

  Yeah, about that… Talon thought, but she kept her expression neutral.

  “The best they can offer is some generic description of a guy with skinny arms and a lot of tattoos,” Alcott continued. “And that’s because Bear doesn’t exist. There is no Bear.”

  Talon fought not to shake her head at that.

  But you know what?” Alcott asked. “It doesn’t matter. Even if there were some guy named Bear who loaned them the car, so what? You didn’t hear any testimony that the gun was Bear’s. The car? Fine. But the gun? No, the gun was right where the defendant could grab it. And even if Bear did leave the gun there, too, the defendant was the one who had access to it—the one who was armed with it.”

  Alcott took a thoughtful step to the side and nodded to herself, and the jurors.

  “No, ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t a case about racist cops, and overly zealous equipment enforcement. It isn’t a case about men who strangely wear other men’s pants. It isn’t a case about lions, tigers, or bears. It’s a case about that man over there, the defendant, and the choices he made that day.

  “He chose to possess crack cocaine.

  “He chose to be armed with a gun.

  “He chose to break the law.

  “And now your only choice is to find him guilty. Thank you.”

  Alcott strode confidently back to her seat. Judge Haroldson waited for her to be seated, then turned back to the jurors. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, please give your attention to Ms. Winter who will deliver the closing argument on behalf of the defendant.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Talon came around from behind her counsel table and took the same spot in front of the jury Alcott had used. Centered, grounded, powerful. But they held all the power. All she could do was beg them to use it wisely.

  “The State,” she pointed back at Alcott, “has utterly failed to prove any of the allegations in this case.”

  A good beginning. Strong anyway. But she had to link it to what the jury really cared about.

  “Because,” she moved her finger to point at her client, “Mr. Frazier is not guilty. He didn’t knowingly possess a controlled substance. And he wasn’t knowingly armed with a firearm. He is innocent. And you are the
only thing standing between him and the greatest of injustices.”

  She paused, in part to gather her thoughts, but also to let that assertion sink in. She knew that, above all, they wanted to do the right thing. They wanted to be able to tell their friends and family that they had been a juror and they had done the right thing. We all want to do the right thing.

  “The prosecutor just got up here and scoffed at the defendant,” Talon continued. “At the idea that he might not know what was in his own pockets. But when she did that, she also scoffed at her own burden of proof. She scoffed at the presumption of innocence. She scoffed at the American criminal justice system.” Talon raised her arm again and pointed at the jurors themselves. “She scoffed at you.”

  She gestured at the entire courtroom. “Why even have trials? I mean, if a cop finds you with drugs, that’s it, right? No need to go further. No need to consider other options, right? But see, that flies in the face of the presumption of innocence and the heavy, heavy burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt. The best way I’ve heard that explained is this: if there is any reasonable interpretation of the evidence that is consistent with innocence—even just one—then the jury has to adopt that interpretation even if there are a hundred others consistent with guilt.

  “So, when you go back into the jury room and deliberate, ask yourselves two questions. Have you ever borrowed clothes from someone else? And if so, did you know what was in every pocket of it? And if your answers are, ‘Yes, I have,’ and, ‘No, I didn’t,’ then you have no other choice than to vote not guilty. Because there’s at least one reasonable interpretation of the facts consistent with innocence.”

  Talon paused for a moment, signaling a change in topic. “Now I’m going to discuss the firearm allegation. I want to make sure that you understand, I have to do this, but it doesn’t mean I think Mr. Frazier is guilty of possession of a controlled substance. In fact, I don’t think you should, or will, reach the question of whether Mr. Frazier was armed with that gun. But I have to address it anyway, just in case.”

  She reached easily down between her legs, mimicking Alcott. “The prosecutor made it sound just like a movie, the dangerous drug user pulling a gun out from under his seat to start firing at anyone who stands between him and whatever drug-addled glory he seeks. But you know what?”

  She pantomimed a far more difficult effort to pull something out from under a driver’s seat.

  “That is the absolutely worst place to put something you want easy access to. It’s nearly impossible to pull something out from under the driver’s seat while you’re still seated in it. I mean, apart from the fact that something like a gun will just slide right into the back seat the first time you pull away from a stop sign, there’s no way to get an angle to reach under the seat while you’re seated in it.

  “That easy grab Ms. Alcott showed you in her closing argument? She would have smashed her face on the steering wheel. No, a gun tucked way under the driver’s seat is not being armed with it. At best it’s possession. But it’s not that either, if you don’t know it was there. And how do we know Mr. Frazier didn’t know it was there? Precisely because that’s where it was.”

  Several of the jurors offered puzzled expressions at that. Which is exactly what Talon wanted. It meant they were still listening, and wanted her to explain more.

  “If Mr. Frazier wanted to be armed with a firearm, he could have put it between the seat and the center console, or in the door, or even in the dash. But under the seat is the worst place to keep it. You won’t be able to grab it, but if it’s found, you’ll get charged with it. It’s a ridiculous place to put it. An unreasonable place to put it. So the only reasonable explanation is that Mr. Frazier didn’t know it was there. And that explanation is supported by the testimony of Jamal Jeffries.

  “Remember, Mr. Jeffries told you they got the car from a man named ‘Bear.’ And it makes sense that this other man, Bear, would hide the gun where he didn’t think anyone would find it, let alone access it. If he’d put it in the trunk or the glove box, someone would have seen it. But under the driver’s seat? Perfect. No one will find it there. It’s hidden. It’s safe. And Mr. Frazier can sit right on top of it and not even know it was there.”

  Talon paused. She was almost done. And yet, somehow, it felt like she hadn’t said enough. If she kept talking, they couldn’t start deliberating. And if they never started deliberating, they couldn’t send a man to prison for the rest of his life.

  She couldn’t tell them that, but she could remind them of what she’d told them at the beginning.

  “Be careful, ladies and gentlemen.” She pointed to her client one last time. “Zeke is a real person. He’s sitting right there. And his fate is in your hands. When the prosecutor tells you the case is simple, tell her it’s not. When the State wants you to think too hard, think twice as hard. And when they tell you that you have no choice but to return a verdict of not guilty, you show them exactly how much power you have.”

  She let her shoulders drop. “Thank you.”

  She returned to her seat. It was all over but the crying. Zeke patted her on the back and shook her hand. He was pleased. The jury was watching, so she made sure to respond warmly to her client, while still looking serious, grim even.

  Judge Haroldson wrapped everything else up. He excused the alternate jurors, admonishing them to still not discuss the case in the event they were needed to return and replace one of the other jurors before a verdict was reached. He instructed the bailiff to take the remaining twelve jurors into the jury room to begin their deliberations. Then he instructed the attorneys to leave their contact information so they could be reached once the jury had a verdict. It was only mid-afternoon. They could be back quickly. Don’t go too far.

  The corrections officers swooped in to get Zeke back to the jail. Talon promised to visit him that night—assuming there wasn’t a verdict in the next couple of hours. And she sure hoped there wasn’t. Fast verdicts were rarely good for the defense. They suggested overwhelming evidence. Like crack cocaine in your pants pocket.

  Marshall came up to Talon as she headed for the exit. “Great job.”

  Talon shrugged. “I don’t know if it’ll matter.”

  “It already does,” Marshall said. “That man got the best defense he could get. The system doesn’t work if we don’t all give our best. You did that. Regardless of what the jury does, you gave that man your best.”

  Talon nodded, but couldn’t manage more than half a smile. “We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Talon sat in her office, glued to her phone until 4:30, when court adjourned for the day. No call. No verdict. So, she’d kept them out for at least a second day. Small victories.

  She stayed in her office for another hour, thinking about nothing and everything all at once. Then one more half hour to make sure the timing would be right. Then she finally got up and headed out for the jail.

  But not the Pierce County Jail. The Regional Justice Center in Kent.

  “Hey, sis,” Will said as he entered the visiting booth. He seemed in good enough spirits. Life on the inside was at least comfortable for him, she supposed. “I didn’t expect to see you any time soon. Aren’t you in some big trial?”

  “Just finished,” Talon explained. “Jury’s out.”

  “Oh, man. Good luck,” Will said.

  “Thanks.”

  She wasn’t very good at small talk, so she got right to why she’d come. “Can I see the tattoos on your back?”

  Will laughed. “What? Why?”

  “Humor me,” Talon responded. She didn’t explain why. She wasn’t going to ask another lawyer’s client any questions. But she was going to get answers to hers if she could.

  Will shrugged, but stood up. “Sure, I guess.”

  He turned around and pulled his jail issued shirt up over his head. “You thinking about getting a tat, sis? Maybe like a lady justice or something?”

  Talon didn’t answer. She just frowned. />
  Will had a lot of tattoos on his back. Judging by the inferior quality of the artwork, it looked like most of them were done in prison. There was what looked like a dragon, a totem pole, the silhouette of some birds, a skull—of course—and there, at the top, between his shoulder blades: the Big Dipper. Six black stars, connected in the shape of the sky’s most famous constellation.

  “Thanks, Will. You can put your shirt down again.”

  Will pulled his shirt back on and sat down again. “You see anything you like?”

  “No.” She stood up to leave. “I didn’t like what I saw at all.”

  CHAPTER 42

  “The jury has a verdict.”

  The words over the phone the next morning from the bailiff somehow managed to both stop Talon’s heart and send it racing.

  “The judge wants everyone assembled in the courtroom in fifteen minutes.”

  “Of course,” Talon replied. She looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty. They’d agreed on the verdict when they went home last night. They just wanted to sleep on it. So, it was a quick verdict. So, she was screwed.

  Talon grabbed her file and headed for the door. “The jury has a verdict,” she told Hannah on her way past.

  “Oh!” Hannah replied. “I—I’ll call Mr. Lenox. And Curt.”

  Talon didn’t reply. She didn’t care. She just needed to get to court.

  With traffic lights and parking, it was thirteen minutes later when she entered the courtroom. Alcott was already there. Of course. Her office was right upstairs. Zeke was there too. The jail was right next door. Talon ignored Alcott and went directly to her client.