Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  “I’m not sure Luke Zlotnik deserves any sympathy for his role in the death of Officer Christopher McCarthy,” Cecilia said, “but if one of you thinks he might, if you look at that young man over there and wonder whether it solves anything to throw his life away too, well, then I say to you—no, the judge said to you—that doesn’t matter. You cannot base your verdict on sympathy. You base your verdict on the law and the facts.”

  One last look at Emily McCarthy.

  “And the fact of the matter,” Cecilia concluded, “is that Luke Zlotnik is guilty under the law of the murder of Officer Christopher McCarthy. That is the fact of this case. That is the law of this case. And that is the only proper verdict in this case. Thank you.”

  Cecilia gave a quick bow to the jurors and walked briskly back to the prosecution table. No matter what else, she was done. It was Talon’s turn.

  “Now, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Kirshner said, “please give your attention to Ms. Winter who will give the closing argument on behalf of the defendant.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Talon rose to her feet. She took a moment to look down at Luke and put a hand on his shoulder. It was partly performance—everything in trial work was partly performance—but it was also partly heartfelt. No matter what, this was the last thing she could do for him. She desperately hoped it would be enough.

  She walked out from behind her own table and walked up to the jurors again, for the last time. She, too, eschewed any sort of formal opening. She, too, was aware of the courtroom full of people, all staring at her, waiting to see what magic words she would employ to try to pull victory from the jaws of defeat.

  But there was no such thing as magic words. Except the two she hoped she’d hear when the jurors finished their deliberations.

  “Not guilty,” she said. “That is the fact of this case. That is the law of this case. And that is truly the only proper verdict in this case. Not guilty.”

  Talon needed to neutralize Cecilia’s arguments, so she figured she might as well start where Cecilia left off. But it wouldn’t be enough just to mimic Cecilia’s closing and add the word ‘not’ in front of every guilty. It wouldn’t be enough to explain why Cecilia hadn’t proven the case. Talon needed to convince the jury not just that Luke was ‘not guilty’—she needed to convince them he was actually innocent.

  “This case,” Talon continued, “this entire case,” she gestured to the gallery, and specifically to Emily McCarthy, whose expression made clear she was not happy being used as a prop by the defense attorney too,” is a tragedy. An absolute tragedy.”

  It was also good to acknowledge where Cecilia was right. Even if only to twist it back on her.

  “But don’t make the tragedy worse.”

  Talon opened up her stance to look back at Luke. “I don’t agree with everything Ms. Thompson just said, of course. But we can both agree this case presents a danger that you will render your verdict based, not on the facts and the law, but on sympathy. We just disagree as to what the biggest danger is for that misplaced sympathy.

  “Ms. Thompson asked you not to have any sympathy for my client. But I don’t think that’s where the biggest danger is.” She turned again to the gallery. Again to Widow McCarthy. “I think the biggest danger for misplaced sympathy is with the people who lost their lives that day. And the danger is that you will do what everyone else in this case has done since Officer Dickerson fired the shots that killed Christopher McCarthy and Miguel Maldonado. Your sympathy for the victims will drive a desire to hold someone responsible for their tragedy. It will drive a desire to convict someone for their murders. It will result in my client being found guilty even though, in fact and in law, he didn’t commit the crime.”

  Talon could do the pace and count thing, too, but she could tell she had the jurors’ attention. The entire courtroom was silent, save her voice. Luke and Miguel’s family rooting for her; McCarthy and Dickerson and Donaldson rooting against her. But everyone was listening to her. That’s what mattered.

  “The jury instruction Ms. Thompson read to you, the one about sympathy,” Talon pointed out, “doesn’t limit itself to sympathy for the defendant. It says you can’t let your verdict be influenced by sympathy at all. And that includes sympathy for the victims and their families. And why is that? Because it’s normal to have sympathy for victims. It’s normal to have sympathy for victims’ families. In fact, I would submit to you, it’s not very normal to have sympathy for defendants. We don’t have sympathy for defendants. We have anger at them. Hatred for them. Disdain, scorn, and contempt for them. You would never feel sympathy for someone who is actually guilty of murder. If you think they didn’t do it, you might have sympathy because they were wrongly charged with the crime. But you’re not going to think someone is guilty of murder, then acquit them anyway because you feel sorry for them.”

  Talon shook her head. “No, that doesn’t happen. That’s not what that instruction is talking about. It’s talking about sympathy for the victims. It’s talking about wanting to give them something for the loss. It’s about finding someone guilty of a crime because it’s easy, or convenient, or what everyone seems to want you to do. It’s about convicting someone of murder because you feel sympathy for the victim’s family.

  “And ladies and gentlemen, that is exactly what you may not do.”

  Now it was time to pace, or at least take a step to the side to make sure the jurors could see Luke. She may have just told them the law didn’t mean sympathy for Luke, but she sure as hell wanted them to have it anyway.

  “Everyone involved in the prosecution of this case,” Talon continued, “has felt sympathy for Officer McCarthy. Most have also felt at least some sympathy for Miguel Maldonado. But it has been that very sympathy that has led us here today, on the precipice, about to convict an innocent man of a murder he did not commit.

  “Because it’s a tragedy.

  “And tragedies should be fixed. Righted. Avenged.”

  Talon shook her head again.

  “But that’s the whole point of a tragedy. It can’t be fixed. It can’t be righted. And, ladies and gentlemen, don’t let yourself be tricked into trying to avenge it. That’s not your role. And it wouldn’t work anyway. Because vengeance is for the guilty and Luke Zlotnik is innocent.”

  Talon began the thoughtful pace in earnest, in part to cue the jury that she was being thoughtful. Intelligent. Analytical. Not just an advocate for one side, but an advocate for the truth. At least, she hoped it looked that way.

  “The truth of the matter,” she began her lecture on the weakness of the State’s case, “is that the prosecution has failed to prove several important parts of their case. It might be hard to see that at first, because Ms. Thompson jumped all the way to the end of the story in her closing argument. But if you back up, if you slow down, if you pay close attention and do the job you took an oath to do, then you will see that this entire case is the result of tragic decisions and a rush to judgment. If you back up, slow down, and pay attention, you’ll realize, this entire tragedy happened because a few well-meaning people were scared by a young, brown, teenage boy.”

  That sent a shock wave of discomfort and recrimination through the courtroom. Several of the jurors crossed their arms. Phrases like “Oh, my God” and “How dare she?” popped out of the angry murmurs that exploded from the prosecution side of the gallery. But not all the jurors crossed their arms. And Talon could back up her allegation.

  “Think back to the testimony of Janice Henderschott,” Talon prompted. “She never once testified that Miguel actually said he was robbing the place. He never said, ‘This is a robbery.’ He never showed her a gun. She just got scared. She thought it was a robbery. But that doesn’t mean it was. It means a young, brown, teenage boy said something to her that scared her. Something she can’t even remember now. And because she was scared, she pressed the robbery alarm. That’s how this case began.”

  It was always risky to attack civilian witnesses
. Jurors could have sympathy for witnesses too. Janice Henderschott didn’t ask to be involved in this. But she was. And Talon couldn’t fail to point out the role she played in it. Especially if Talon could spin that role to her client’s advantage.

  “So, when the police were called out,” Talon continued, “they were already thinking, ‘This is a robbery.” Not, ‘This is a trouble unknown’ call where they might arrive looking for indications of what was actually going on. No, they were told by dispatch: this is an armed robbery. That’s how they treated it. And that’s what they saw when they arrived—even if what they saw wasn’t actually a robbery.”

  Talon could look out at the gallery too. She let her gaze linger on the Maldonados. The jurors might not have been told who the Hispanic family in the gallery was, but Talon guessed at least a few of them could figure it out.

  “They burst into the Cash-Town U.S.A., pistols drawn and ready to take down the armed robber,” Talon said. She could also point a finger to the sky. “The only problem is, Miguel wasn’t armed. He was just standing there. Officer Dickerson told you that. He was just standing there, and Officer McCarthy was able to circle around behind him without Miguel doing or saying anything to try to stop him. That doesn’t sound like an actual robber.”

  Talon took a moment to assess her audience. Not the gallery, the jurors. They were all listening to her. At least one of the arm-crossers had uncrossed her arms again. For the most part, they looked interested in what she had to say, but not particularly moved by it.

  “Then, Officer Dickerson killed Miguel,” Talon declared. “Shot him dead where he stood. Three shots, center mass. He never stood a chance. It was practically an execution. Except executions don’t usually take out members of the audience. But Officer Dickerson was so eager to stop the young, brown, teenage boy—he was so threatened by the young, brown, teenage boy, he was so scared by the young, brown, teenage boy, that he opened fire even though his partner, another officer, was directly behind Miguel, directly in the line of fire.

  “Every bullet fired in that store was fired by Officer Todd Dickerson. Every bullet that tore through someone’s body and killed them was fired by Officer Todd Dickerson.”

  Talon hesitated, but only for a moment. She couldn’t argue facts not in evidence, and Cecilia and Kirshner had done a pretty good job of keeping her facts about Dickerson out of evidence. But Talon had slipped in just enough before Cecilia’s objection to say, “Officer Dickerson, who had to leave his old department and start over with Tacoma P.D.”

  That, of course, led to another objection. Cecilia sprang to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor!”

  “Sustained,” Judge Kirshner barked without giving Talon any opportunity to respond. “The jury is to disregard the last statement by defense counsel. Move on, Ms. Winter, or we send the jury out to address your conduct.”

  Talon knew Cecilia would object. And she knew Judge Kirshner would sustain the objection. She was also pretty sure the judge would be pissed and say something roughly along the lines of what she’d just said. All of which underscored Talon ‘s main point to the jury.

  “This case is a tragedy, fueled by people in power assuming the worst and desperate to find someone to blame.”

  Talon could feel Judge Kirshner’s scowl on the back of her neck, but she pressed on.

  “Eleanor Henderschott thought Miguel was a robber because he said something that scared her. The police who responded thought Miguel was a robber because that’s what Eleanor Henderschott reported. Officer Dickerson thought Miguel had a gun in his hand because that’s what Officer McCarthy called out. And Officer McCarthy and Miguel both died as a result of those ill-informed, unsupported assumptions. An absolute tragedy.”

  Talon shook her head, lowered her eyes, and allowed the echo of the word ‘tragedy’ to hold the room for a few moments.

  “Then it was time to find someone to blame.” Talon raised her gaze again to the jurors. “Two people were dead. A police officer was dead. You don’t just let a police officer die. Not in the line of duty. Not without consequences. But Officer Dickerson had simply made a mistake, and anyway, he was on the same team. And Miguel was already dead. That was unsatisfying. Surely there was someone who could take the blame. Surely there was someone who could bear the brunt of the anger and recrimination that comes from the death of an officer in the line of duty.

  “Surely,” Talon called back to her opening statement, “there was a scapegoat.”

  That got the reaction she wanted from the jurors. Even the ones whose arms were still crossed at her would remember that word from her opening. She’d had a plan for the trial, and she’d brought it full circle.

  She pointed again to her client. “Luke Zlotnik was that scapegoat. He still is that scapegoat. At least until you conclude your deliberations and return that verdict of ‘not guilty.’”

  That would have been a nice way to end her closing. Circling back to the beginning of her comments, ending again on the most important part: vote not guilty. But there was the small matter of the confession still to address.

  “That just leaves the so-called confession,” Talon said. “It’s no coincidence that Ms. Thompson started her closing argument with that. And it’s no coincidence she didn’t want to talk about all the leaps of faith everyone took, all the conclusions they jumped to, to get us to the point where she could stand up and ask you to convict someone of murder in the first degree with aggravating circumstances just because he was too scared, too ignorant of the law, to tell the nice, friendly, helpful detective to go pound sand.”

  ‘Pound sand’ was in-court talk for ‘fuck himself.’ Talon was pretty sure everyone in the courtroom knew that too.

  “You heard what Dr. Ross had to say,” Talon continued. “She told you: that confession was false. Luke didn’t really confess, because what he said wasn’t true. He didn’t know what Miguel had planned. In fact, after Eleanor Henderschott’s testimony, I’m not sure any of us know what Miguel actually had planned. But we do know one thing: Luke didn’t know.”

  Too many ‘know’s, Talon knew. She pressed on.

  “So, why would he say that he knew about the robbery, if he didn’t?” Talon asked. It was really the central question of the entire case. Good thing she had an answer for it. Or an explanation anyway. “The answer is pretty simple. Just like all of you before you were picked as jurors for this case, Luke didn’t know he could be charged with murder if someone died during a robbery that he admitted to helping plan. He knew he’d been arrested for murder. He knew his friend was dead, and he knew a police officer was dead. He knew he was a suspect in a murder, because the cops told him that. And they told him that to scare him.

  “It worked.”

  Again, a turn and look at Luke Zlotnik. Again, everyone else looked at him too. And Talon was glad he was wearing that borrowed suit that was definitely too big on him. The one he’d worn every other day of the trial, like a freshman wearing his dad’s suit to homecoming. He looked young. He looked naïve. And he looked scared. Talon decided to go ahead and label it.

  “He was young,” she said. “He was naïve. And he was scared. It’s not hard to imagine. And it wasn’t hard for Detective Wolcott to exploit.”

  She turned back to the jury and gave them what she hoped was a sincere, disarming, ‘let’s just be real’ type of shrug. “Look,” she said, “I understand we all have jobs to do. Ms. Thompson has a job to do. I have a job to do. Judge Kirshner has a job to do. You all have a job to do. But so did Detective Wolcott. And his job was to get a confession out of the only surviving suspect so they could charge someone with Officer McCarthy’s murder. That would let them wrap up the case, and it would have the side benefit of drawing attention away from the fact that the one who really shot and killed Officer McCarthy was one of their own.”

  Talon allowed a half-smile. “Can you imagine what it would have been like for Detective Wolcott if he hadn’t gotten the confession out of Luke? If he couldn’t crack som
e eighteen-year-old kid? He would have had to go back to all of his fellow officers and tell them he’d failed. That some kid had punked him. That they were left with Eleanor Henderschott’s paranoia and Officer Dickerson’s itchy trigger finger.

  “No, that wasn’t going to happen.” Talon shook a knowing head. “No, he was going to get that confession. The bad news was, Luke wasn’t guilty. The good news was, Luke didn’t know the law.”

  Talon stepped over to her counsel table and picked up her copy of the jury instructions. “When the judge read you the jury instructions, she told you it was your duty to accept the law in her instruction, ‘regardless of what you personally believe the law is or what you personally think it should be.’ The reason she had to say that is none of you probably knew you could be convicted of murder for what someone else did during a robbery. But I know that. Ms. Thompson knows that. The judge knows that. If you work in criminal justice, you know that.

  “Detective Wolcott works in criminal justice. He knew that. And he knew Luke didn’t.”

  Talon held up the packet of jury instructions. “Detective Wolcott didn’t need to get Luke to confess to murder. There was no way that was going to happen. Even people who are guilty rarely confess to murder. But people confess to lesser crimes all the time. Hell, some people commit lesser crimes because they want to be caught, like homeless people in the winter in places like Chicago and Detroit.