The next day, promptly at 8:35 a.m., Judge Wesley said, “Are you prepared to call your next witness, Mr. Stritch?”
“I am, Your Honor. The State calls Gary Probert.”
Gary Probert walked in from the back of the courtroom and he looked about how I remembered him from the gas station. His hair was still longish brown, he wore black glasses, but now, instead of his uniform red vest, he was wearing a short-sleeved buttoned down shirt and a tie that hung a little short of his belt.
He looked around from side to side as he walked up to the witness stand, then made his way gingerly around the platform as if he were looking for a snake that might bite him. He sat, folded his hands, put them up on the railing, then placed them down in his lap.
Stritch waited until the witness was settled, then said, “Could you state your name please, sir?”
“Gary Probert.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Probert?”
“I'm the manager of the Premium gas station.”
“Is that the gas station on the corner of Century and Stone?”
“It is. Right next to the Taco Bell.”
“Sure. And is that a full-service station?”
“It is. We specialize in providing good, clean facilities for truck drivers who are on the road.”
“Are you nervous, Mr. Probert?”
Gary Probert shot a glance at the jury. “A little.”
“Well, there is no reason to be. I just need to ask you some questions about what you saw the night of the Big Luke concert last August. Were you working there that night?”
“I was. A co-worker called off, so I had to come in around nine o'clock.”
“Was that before the concert was over?”
“I'm not sure, but it was before the after-concert rush at our station.”
“I see,” said Stritch. “So did you have an influx of people that you attributed to the concert?”
“Uhm, what?”
“Did you have a rush of people that night?”
“We did.”
“Did it seem like they were coming from the concert?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know that?”
“We saw an awful lot of merchandise coming through, Big Luke shirts and hats and such. Of course, it was hot that night and the concert had been outside, so we sold a lot of Gatorade and a lot of beer…” Gary Probert trailed off and his eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder at the judge. “But we didn’t sell beer to any obviously intoxicated people, ma’am, that would be against company policy.”
Stritch raised a hand. “No one is suggesting that you did, Mr. Probert. Did that rush eventually die down?”
“It did.”
“How long did it last?”
“I’d say about an hour.”
“And did you see the defendant, Archibald Mack, at any time that evening?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“When?”
“At the tail end of the concert rush. In fact, I’d say it was pretty much over when Mr. Mack came in.”
“Now Mr. Probert, you must’ve seen dozens of people that night.”
“I did.”
“How in the world do you remember Mr. Mack?”
“Well, because he bled on the floor and I had to follow our special protocol to clean it up.”
The jury sat up.
“How do you know he bled on the floor?”
Gary Probert looked confused. “You mean besides watching him?”
Stritch smiled and nodded. “No, I suppose that would be sufficient. What did you see?”
“Mr. Mack came in from filling up on pump four and then walked across the store, right in front of the cash register, to the bathroom. And as I’m watching him, because it was just him and me right then, he just dripped blood from his left hand onto the floor. Left a trail all the way to the bathroom.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, our company’s real clear on biohazards, so I went straight to the back and got the mop bucket and dumped in some extra chlorine bleach and cleaner. Then I wheeled it back out into the store and started mopping. I wanted to clean it up before any new customers came in if I could.” He sat up straighter. “The company's real big on that, having a clean and safe environment for our customers.”
Stritch nodded. “So I understand. And were you able to do that?”
“I was. I was a little surprised. I thought that Mr. Mack would be out before I was done, but he wasn't.”
“What do you mean ‘out?’”
“I mean out of the bathroom.”
“So Mr. Mack was in the bathroom the entire time you were cleaning up the blood?”
“He was.”
“So what happened next?”
“I got the blood cleaned up, and I had put out two caution signs at either end of where I’d mopped and, right about then, Mr. Mack came out of the bathroom. I went back to the cash register and watched him as he walked over to the cooler, thinking I was going to have to clean up again.”
“And did you?”
“No. He wasn't bleeding at all then. He grabbed a couple of things, paid for them, and left.”
“What did you do next?”
“Well, I went into the bathroom thinking I was going to have to do quite the cleanup in there too, but it turns out I didn't have to do anything at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there wasn't any blood in the sink and there weren't any bandages or paper towels in the garbage. I mean, there were paper towels in there, but they didn't have any blood on them.”
“I see. So Mr. Mack took anything with his blood out with him?”
I stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“Let me put this another way,” said T. Marvin Stritch. “When Mr. Mack entered the bathroom he was dripping blood on your floor, correct?”
“He was.”
“And when he came out of the bathroom he wasn't, right?”
“Right.”
“And there was nothing in the bathroom when you inspected it after Mr. Mack had left that had any blood on it.”
“That's right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Probert. That's all I have, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Shepherd?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Probert, Archie Mack walked right by you on the way into the bathroom, didn't he?”
“He did.”
“He wasn't trying to hide from you in any way, was he?”
Stritch stood. “Objection, Your Honor. That’s the same speculation Mr. Shepherd objected to a moment ago.”
“I'll rephrase, Your Honor. Mr. Probert, Archie Mack walked right in front of the cash register on the way to the bathroom, true?”
“That's true.”
“He was two, maybe three feet away from you?”
“That's right.”
“There was nothing between you and him to obstruct your view, right?”
“That's right.”
“No aisles, no display cases, right?”
“That's right.”
“If Mr. Mack wanted to keep you from seeing him, he could have turned right at the door and walked around the rows of snacks, over along the cooler, and from there into the bathroom, right?”
“That's right.”
“Instead, though, he walked directly in front of you.”
“He did.”
“Did you say anything to him about the bleeding?”
“I didn't. By the time I realized what was happening, he was by me and almost to the bathroom.”
“I see. So you said you were done cleaning up by the time he came out, right?”
“I was.”
“It's fair to describe what you cleaned up as scattered drops of blood, isn't it?”
“It is.”
“It wasn't a large amount, was it?”
“It was not, it’s just that, with our biohazard policy, any amount is too much and nee
ds to be cleaned up right away.”
“And you were done with that cleaning by the time he came out of the bathroom, right?”
“I was.”
“You mentioned that he bought a few things when he came out, right?”
“He did.”
“In fact, he bought a Tall Tea and beef jerky and put it on the counter, true?”
“That's true.”
“Then he thought about it, went back to the cooler, and picked up some beer, right?”
“That's right.”
“He wasn't hiding from you at all, was he?”
“That would be a funny way to do it.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? Mr. Mack talked to you that night, didn't he?”
“He did.”
“You asked him if he’d had a tough day?”
“I did.”
“And he replied that it had been a tough year, right?”
“That's right.”
“And then he paid and he left, correct?”
“That's correct.”
“Did he seem nervous or jumpy to you?”
Stritch stood. “Objection. Speculation.”
I shrugged. “The witness is allowed to say how the defendant appeared to him.”
“Overruled,” said Judge Wesley.
“He did not.”
“Did he seem angry?”
“No.”
“Excited?”
“No.”
“How did he seem to you?”
Gary Probert thought before he said, “Tired. Like the end of a long day. I assumed he'd gotten off work.”
“I see. After he left, you testified that you went into the bathroom and did not discover any bloody bandages or towels, true?”
“That's true.”
“Did you appreciate that?”
“What?”
“I said, did you appreciate that? Not having to clean up bloody paper towels?”
“Actually, I did. I still wiped things down, just to be safe, and to comply with our company policy, but yeah, it had been a long day and I was glad that it was easy.”
“Do you have people change their kids’ diapers in your bathroom?”
“Sometimes,” Gary Probert said. “We have a changing station. We try to create a clean, family-friendly environment.”
I nodded. “Do some families leave their dirty diapers in the wastebasket?”
“They do.”
“And do some families take it out with them and dispose of them somewhere else?”
“Sometimes.”
“And you appreciate it when they do that?”
Gary smiled. “I know the next customer does.”
There were a couple of chuckles from the jury.
“Thank you, Mr. Probert. That's all I have.”
Stritch stood. “Mr. Probert, did the police eventually come and interview you about whether Mr. Mack had been in your station that evening?”
“They did.”
“And when they came to see you, was there any blood evidence for them to evaluate?”
“Well, like I said, I had cleaned up the blood.”
“And there was none in the bathroom either, right?”
“There was not.”
“That's all I have. Thank you.”
I stood. “Mr. Probert, the police came and spoke to you about a day and a half after Mr. Mack was in your station, true?”
“Let's see,” Gary Probert looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Yes. Yes, that's true.”
“All of the garbage and waste from your store from two days earlier was gone by that time, wasn't it?”
“Absolutely.”
“And the floors had been mopped multiple times by then, true?”
“That's true. We have the cleanest stations in the industry.”
“Thanks.”
“Mr. Probert, you may step down,” said Judge Wesley. “Next witness, Mr. Stritch?”
T. Marvin Stritch looked at the clock and said, “Your Honor, could we perhaps take our morning recess so that I can check on the status of our next witness to make sure she is here?”
Judge Wesley looked at me.
“No objection here, Your Honor.”
“Very well, let's take fifteen minutes.” Judge Wesley hit the gavel and the jury was dismissed.
After they'd left, I turned to Stritch and said, “Who's up?”
“I'll let you know in a minute,” he said and went out into the hallway. A few moments later, he returned. “We’ll be calling Abby Ackerman next,” said T. Marvin Stritch.
“Thanks,” I said and returned to our table.
Archie Mack turned white.
39
I put a hand on Archie’s shoulder. “You knew you had to see her eventually.”
He nodded. “I just thought I'd have more warning.”
I glanced at Stritch. “That's why he's doing it this way. You need to be calm and you need to be cool and you need to show nothing but concern for her.”
Archie looked at me sharply. “I have nothing but concern for her.”
“Good.” I thought then tapped his shoulder. “C’mon. You're going to the bathroom.”
“I don't have to.”
“Yes, you do.” I took Archie by the arm and led him out of the courtroom. As we walked out, I whispered, “When you see her, smile and nod.”
Archie looked mildly sick, but he nodded back.
As I expected, Abby Ackerman was standing out in the lobby. She was leaning on a cane and had her other hand on Hamish Mack’s arm and appeared to be listening to him, nodding. The two of them looked up. Abby smiled while Hamish scowled and puffed up a bit. I nodded, as did Archie, and we walked down to the bathroom. We used it, washed our hands, then returned. By the time we did, Abby and Hamish were already in the courtroom. We followed them in.
There were a few more spectators today. Mr. and Mrs. Mack were there, of course, in the middle row. Olivia was seated in the row right behind us. When I saw Ted Ringel of the Ash County Torch, though, and a woman I didn't recognize with a small notepad, I realized that Stritch must've put the word out that today was the day that the victim was testifying. Abby and Hamish sat in the front row behind him.
Archie and I took our seat at the counsel table next to Danny. Judge Wesley emerged a moment later and recalled the jury.
We stood as they filed in. One of them, the crisis counselor, spotted Abby. A series of nudges later, the whole jury was looking at her.
“You may be seated,” said Judge Wesley. “Mr. Stritch, are you ready to call your next witness?”
“I am, Your Honor. The state calls Abby Ackerman.”
All eyes turned to Abby.
Abby stood and, when Hamish stood with her and handed her the cane, she took it and waved him away. I saw Mr. Mack smile and Mrs. Mack nod as Abby made her way, slowly, toward the witness stand. Stritch held the gate open for her and she made her methodical way—cane, step, step, cane, step, step—to the stand.
Abby wore dark jeans along with a dark jacket and a muted shirt that was neat and strong. Her reddish-brown hair was loose and was gently curled forward a little around the side of her face. She winced as she sat and set her cane against the rail. It immediately slipped sideways and clattered to the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” she said and then looked up at Judge Wesley. “I'm so sorry, Your Honor. It slipped.”
Judge Wesley's mouth stayed stern but it seemed to me that her eyes danced a little. “Yes. Both of them. Let's try to express our displeasure in a more appropriate manner, Ms. Ackerman.”
Abby grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stritch hurried forward, picked up Abby’s cane, and handed it back to her. She took it and leaned it carefully against the chair.
I looked over. Every eye in the jury was on her.
T. Marvin Stritch looked at the jury, then said in his most solicitous voice, “Could you state your name, please?”
“Abigail Ackerman.”
&nb
sp; “Ms. Ackerman, let me first ask the question we all have: Are you okay to testify today?”
Abby sat with an elbow on each arm rest, her hands folded in her lap. She lifted her chin and said, “I'm just fine.”
“Well, that's very brave, Ms. Ackerman, but we can see that you’re moving with great difficulty.”
“I have a little hitch in my giddy-up is all.”
That got a few smiles.
“Ms. Ackerman, weren’t you in fact in the hospital yesterday due to your injuries?”
I stood. “Objection. Leading.”
“This is a preliminary matter, Your Honor,” said Stritch.
“It seems to me that this is the primary matter for which she has been called to testify and that Mr. Stritch is attempting to speak for Ms. Ackerman.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Wesley. “This is your witness, Mr. Stritch, so you will not lead her. Mr. Shepherd, I remind you of our rules regarding speaking objections.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” we both said.
Stritch thought for a moment, then said, “Ms. Ackerman, were you attacked on the night of the Big Luke concert this past August?”
“I was.”
“Could you tell us what happened?”
“When?”
“Well, let’s start at the beginning.”
So Abby told the jury how she had planned a girl’s night out at the concert, how she’d parked in the back lot, and how she’d picked up the tickets from Kirby before meeting up with Bonnie, Kayla, and Heather in the courtyard. She talked about their great seats, Big Luke’s great sound, and about having a great time.
When she was done, Stritch said, “Now when the concert was over, I understand you and your friends went back up to the courtyard.”
“We did.”
“What happened next?”
“We got in line to get a water while the parking lot was clearing out and talked.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then I saw Hamish.”
“Did you know he was going to be there?”
“No. But I hadn’t spoken to him that day.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw him speaking to a man named Will Wellington and then I saw Hamish leave toward the back.”
“What did you do?”
“I told the girls that I was going to see Hamish and that I’d just meet them at HopHeads after.”
Blind Conviction (Nate Shepherd Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Page 24
