Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (23 page)

CHAPTER 43

Bernice sat in the first row and cried. She had never seen or heard Wally like this before. She may not have still been in love with him, put her respect for him grew sky high.

Several of the jurors had a difficult time making eye contact with Judge Sugarman. Few if any knew he was the attorney for Anthony Ricardo and it was he who made the motion for the directed verdict. If he had not, none of this would have happened. Anthony would be in prison, but he still would be alive. Walter A. Kolkolski would still be in his own courtroom, but he would be wearing black robes and not sitting at the defense table. Bernice would still be back in Miami Beach, probably at Buzzy’s, rather than hearing her ex sit on the witness chair and explain how and why politicians became judges and judges acted politically.

Marta sat quietly knowing she was a mere messenger. It was the DA, not her who made the call to prosecute. She would have been just as comfortable trying another case. Any other case.

The court, in its infinite wisdom, decided to break early for lunch, not that anyone had much of an appetite. He needed to defuse the situation.

***

“Are you ready to continue, Judge Kolkolski?”

Sugarman heard the salutation “Judge” and decided it was in his own best interest not to add fuel to the fire.

“Yes, Mr. Gibson.”

“Now that we have established why you acted the way you did when Judge Sugarman, then defense counsel for the late Mr. Ricardo, made his motion, let’s move on to when you first were aware of where Mr. Ricardo lived and why you were at his home.”

Wally cleared his throat. He was also trying to clear his mind.

“When I first saw Mr. Ricardo hiding behind the bedroom door at my ex-wife’s home in Miami, I had no idea who he was. I just saw a bald, horny twenty-something-year-old kid. When he saw me and called out my name, I was in shock. It was not until I received the anonymous envelope with the two photos did I realize who he was. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how or why.”

“Go on.”

“I needed to know and Bernice was telling me nothing. The only one with answers was Anthony Ricardo. So I found out his address and went over. Once I got there I chickened out so I stood across the street and just watched. I was hoping he would come out. That’s when I saw Donny. He seemed like a nice kid and I acknowledged him. I went back twice more. On the third day my cell phone rang. The voice said it was Anthony. I did not realize until later the voice didn’t sound like him. There was a foreign accent. The voice said he was watching me from an upstairs window and perhaps we should talk. He told me the front door was open and he would meet me in the living room. I hesitated for a minute but realized a face to face meeting was the only way I would get any answers.”

“Let me interrupt you for a minute. Were you carrying a weapon, a gun, say a .38 Smith and Wesson Police Special, with you at the time?”

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t own a gun. I have never owned a gun. I wouldn’t know how to shoot one if my life depended on it. I detest violence.”

“Go on.”

“The front door was indeed unlocked; I entered the hallway and called out his name. I wasn’t sure where the living room was. All of a sudden I was hit on the side of the head by what seemed like a baseball bat. The next thing I know, there’s a police officer standing over me. I was never read my Miranda rights; I was never told if I was under arrest. All I knew at the time was someone was dead and I was the only suspect.”

“Do you know if there was anyone else in the house or if in fact, a search was done immediately of the premises?”

“I would have no way of knowing who else was there, obviously it was someone and the officer looked like a deer in the headlights. He was too stunned to know what to do.”

“Objection, Your Honor. The witness stated he had just been hit in the head with something like a baseball bat. How could he possibly what was going through the mind of a highly trained police officer?”

“Granted. Please continue, Mr. Kolkolski.”

“Your Honor, we withdraw the last statement, but ninety days on the force, his first homicide, hardly qualifies him as a ‘highly trained police officer.”

Billy did not wait for a rebuttal. It was strictly argumentative. He quickly moved ahead.

“Judge Kolkolski, now that you have had time to reflect, have you reached any conclusions as to what happed that day?”

“Of course. It’s obvious. I was set up. Someone, and I have a pretty good idea who was behind it, saw me standing in front of the now deceased’s house for three days. That person, or someone who he controls, called me on my cell and invited me in. He or his accomplice, rendered me unconscious, shot and killed poor Mr. Ricardo, and then called in a 911 domestic violence. That person left by the rear door. Why else would the officer arrive just minutes after I was hit on the head?”

“I assume you have no proof, but can you speculate as to who that person or persons might be?”

“Yes. It is as obvious as the nose on my face. The only person with motive. The only person who wanted to kill, and I mean that literally, two people with one incident.”

“And who might that be?”

The entire courtroom became silent. A few of the jurors were leaning forward. Juror Seven, Neil O’Brien, sat silently wondering what would come next. He was fascinated. Bob Johnson, the foreman of the first trial, was straining to hear the response. He was sure he knew who that person was. He was positive.

There was one heavy set gentleman who appeared to have no neck, who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room illegally recording the entire trial with a button hole spy cam and mike. He turned up the volume control of the directional mike carefully hidden in his newly purchased tie.

“Alexey Cummings. Also known as Alexey Demetrius Kummovitch. The father of Victoria Cummings, who had been raped by the deceased. There is no question in my mind he wanted revenge. Total revenge. Revenge against the man who raped his one and only daughter, and against me, the fool who set the rapist free.”

The courtroom exploded.

“Order. Order. Quiet. I am calling for a fifteen minute recess. Everyone will be back in their seats, in complete silence, or I will empty the courtroom of all spectators. Is that clear?”

With that, Judge Sugarman banged the gavel so hard it hurt his right wrist, and rapidly retreated to the sanctuary of his chambers.

Why me? I didn’t ask for this God damn circus.

CHAPTER 44

Alexey was not surprised. He was livid, but certainly not surprised.

The defense needed to point the finger somewhere else. Anywhere else. He was the only logical choice. Fortunately no one saw Viktor call the judge on the throwaway phone, no one saw him enter the rear door with a concealed crow bar, no one saw him whack the judge on the side of the head, and no one saw Viktor shoot that rapist in the gut with an untraceable weapon, call 911 about a domestic fight, and no one saw him slide out the back door less than two minutes later. The plan worked exactly like it was rehearsed.

The judge was right. I got my revenge. That little prick is now dead and I’m about to have that bleeding heart judge sent to jail. For how long he lives depends on how generous I feel.

Alexey threw away the phone he had just received the call on. He poured himself a double vodka from his private reserve and smiled.

***

“One last question, Judge Kolkolski.”

“Mr. Gibson, the defendant is no longer a judge. At least, not a sitting judge. I would ask you refer to him as Mr. Kolkolski,” Sugarman interrupted from the bench.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Judge Sugarman. I certainly hope you have not prejudged this case. I was always under the impression that due to both respect and tradition, once a judge is conferred the title, it stays with him for life. Am I mistaken, Your Honor? I was also under the impression one is presumed innocent until proven guilty. If I am wrong on both counts, I sincerely apologize.”

Bob Sugarman was now seething. He had let his emotions get away from him. Now he was trapped. He could not admit Billy Jo was correct and he did not want to back track and lose even more face.

“Watch your mouth, Counselor. Continue with your examination Mr. Gibson. We can discuss your interpretation and unsolicited comments in chambers—later.”

Sugarman was trying desperately to deflect the comment made by defense counsel. No one was buying it. A few of the jurors were giggling under their breath.

It did not go unnoticed. By anyone.

“One last question,
Mr. Kolkolski
. Did you shoot and kill Anthony Ricardo?”

It was the one question that must always be asked.

“No, of course not. I may have been upset the deceased had been sleeping with my wife, but I have been divorced for more than thirteen years. We are all adults. I went to see Mr. Ricardo for one reason only. To find out how he met Bernice. I would never kill another person. Period.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kolkolski. You may exam, Ms. Clarke.”

“I will need a few minutes to prepare for cross, Your Honor.”

***

“Your Honor, it is seldom I agree with opposing counsel, but in this case, and with permission of the court, I feel more comfortable addressing the witness as Judge Kolkolski. As Mr. Gibson rightly pointed out, the defendant, as of right now, has not been found guilty of anything and he has certainly earned the respect for his years of service to this very court.”

All the jurors were looking at each other. What was the prosecution doing? Undermining her own case? Or maybe just keeping the playing field level as a common courtesy.

Sugarman was beside himself with rage. He had been attacked by both sides and there was not a damn thing he could do. At least not right then and there.

Don’t you think I will forget this, you smart ass black bitch. The court has a long memory and no one; I mean no one gets away with embarrassing me in front of everyone.

“You may proceed, Ms. Clarke.”

“Good afternoon, Judge Kolkolski. I have a few questions for clarification.”

For the next two and a half hours Marta looked for inconsistencies in the witness’s testimony. There were none. She tried to ask the same question at least three different times. Each time Billy Jo was on his feet before the question was out of her mouth.

“Objection. Already asked and answered.”

Sugarman, as much as it killed him, sustained the objection.

By 4:35 Marta had run out of questions. She had tried but produced little results. The fact the defense was pointing the finger at Alexey Cummings still hung in the air. Alexey was not on trial and the defense could point as much as they wanted. It was not evidence and there was nothing Marta could do.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Judge. I am finished with my cross. You are excused.”

Wally smiled at Ms. Clarke and threw a look at Judge Sugarman that was hard to miss.

Sugarman stared at both counsel. Everyone assumed he would adjourn for the day. It was now 4:50. Normally the jury was excused by then. This was still his courtroom and he would run it any damn way he chose. If counsel didn’t like it, too damn bad.

“Call your next witness, Mr. Gibson.”

“Your honor, its ten to five. I did not expect any more testimony would be given today.”

“I said call your next witness. Do you not understand me?”

The courtroom became tense again.

Juror Six, La’Tasha Williams did not like the way the judge was treating everyone. He was being pompous and grossly unfair. Besides, she had a date and needed to get home and dressed. She raised her hand. When the judge did not acknowledge her, she stood up and glared at the judge.

“Yes, Juror Six. Is there a problem?”

“Yes, Judge. I made a doctor’s appointment weeks ago. It is with a specialist. I told him I am out of court by five every day, at the latest. He agreed to see me as 6:00 p.m. sharp. I cannot afford to be late. I have to leave in the next few minutes.”

La’Tasha did not move a muscle. She too was now challenging the court. Sugarman stared back at her. She did not blink. She took off her glasses and put them in her purse. She picked up a sweater that was resting on the back of her chair and slipped it on. She was about to walk out, whether the judge liked it or not.

Screw him; I’m not getting paid overtime. Doesn’t that honky know I got a life outside of these four walls?

For any juror not to be present during any part of testimony would be grounds for a mistrial, the last thing he needed.

Sugarman slammed down the gavel for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“We’re adjourned.”

Bob Sugarman was in no mood to talk to anyone.

Another black bitch. I am surrounded by them.