Neon Dragon (31 page)

AT TWO, THE JUDGE'S GAVEL
brought silence to the arena, and the combat began.

Angela led off with an opening statement to the jury that was a masterpiece. She laid the blame for the bereavement of a persecuted people at the loss of Chinatown's grandfather squarely at the feet of the defendant. She did it so convincingly that I wanted to smack him myself.

The key at this point was to keep the cards close to the chest. I waived the right to make an opening statement.

The prosecution's first witness was the medical examiner who testified to the time and cause of death of Mr. Chen. There were no surprises. The time of death was midafternoon of the Sunday of Chinese New Year's. The cause of death was a thirty-eight-caliber bullet to the brain of the deceased. The gun itself had not been recovered.

The evidence went in smoothly and without objection from my side of the room. Judge Posner nodded to me for cross-examination after Angela finished.

I was brief. “No questions.”

The judge looked at me a bit quizzically, but pressed on.

Angela's second witness was from the police lab. He discussed the trajectory of the bullet. He concluded that the assailant was standing
in front of Mr. Chen when the bullet was fired. He was either in the area of the street or the sidewalk across from Mr. Chen's window.

I had no objections to the questions and no cross-examination. That brought another look from Judge Posner, and a smile to the lips of Ms. Lamb.

Then she got down to the heart of the business. The next witness was Mrs. Lee, the “owner” of the Ming Tree Restaurant.

She looked terribly worn as she crossed to the witness stand. She never looked at the prosecutor, the defendant, or me.

Walt Dougherty, the court clerk, swore her in. She appeared to understand his words, and she answered with a quiet “I do.”

I found that interesting. She did speak English. Mr. Liu was no fool. The night I went to interview her, he said she spoke no English, which meant he had to interpret. Which meant he had total control over the interview.

Angela walked her through the opening questions—name, address, occupation—which last she gave as “restaurant owner.”

“Mrs. Lee, do you see the defendant?”

I nudged Anthony to stand up. He did, and Mrs. Lee nodded.

Angela coached, “You have to say it out loud, Mrs. Lee, for the court stenographer.”

She said a muffled “yes.”

She had been merely tense up to this point. But now I noticed that her hands began kneading a small handkerchief.

“And did you see the defendant, Anthony Bradley, come into your restaurant at about three in the afternoon a week ago Sunday?”

“Yes.” Quieter than before.

“Could you speak more loudly, Mrs. Lee?”

She moved closer to the microphone. “I said, ‘Yes.'”

“And did he ask for a particular table?”

“Yes.”

“And was it the table at the front of the restaurant toward the street?”

“Yes.”

“And did the table look directly across the street to where Mr. Chen was watching the activity below?”

Judge Posner held up a hand to stop the answer. He was getting visibly concerned. He gave me the look of a law professor when a student seems out to lunch. He was worried about the defendant's getting a fair trial at the hands of substitute counsel who didn't have brains enough to recognize a series of leading questions.

I rose. “I have no problem with the question, Your Honor.”

I hadn't set his mind at rest, but he motioned Mrs. Lee to answer the question.

“Yes.”

Angela was on a roll. She strode to the far end of the jury box to draw Mrs. Lee's eyes to the jury and force her to speak up to be heard.

“And at the conclusion of his dinner, did you see a gun on the defendant's person?”

I was on my feet, partly to keep Judge Posner from having a stroke.

“Objection now, Your Honor. I'd like to hear the story in Mrs. Lee's words, not Ms. Lamb's. Leading question.”

“Sustained.”

Angela came at it again the right way, realizing that the mannequin at defense table had come to life.

“When the defendant finished eating, did you notice anything unusual?”

Mrs. Lee leaned into the microphone. She seemed rigid as a pole.

“I saw a gun tucked inside of his belt.”

“And what kind of a gun was it?”

Mrs. Lee was out of her area of expertise.

“Was it a gun that could be held in the hand?”

“Yes. A gun for the hand. About this big.”

“Thank you. And when you saw the gun, what did you do?”

“I watched. I saw him go down the stairs from the restaurant toward the street. I went to the window to see.”

“And could you see him go out of the restaurant to the street?”

“Yes.”

“Was there someone else with him?”

“Yes. Another boy had dinner with him. When they got to the street, the other boy left. He walked away up the street.”

“Please describe what happened then.”

“I saw that boy, Mr. Bradley, standing in the street. The drummers and the lion were coming up the street. He watched.”

“Could you see the gun in his hand as he watched?”

Judge Posner looked at me. I shook my head.

“Yes.”

“Please go on.”

Mrs. Lee never took her eyes off of Angela.

“The lion approached the door of the grocery shop below Mr. Chen. Everyone was watching the dragon.”

“Except you.”

“Yes.”

“And what were you watching?”

“Mr. Bradley.”

“And what did you see him do?”

“He raised the gun.”

“Please show us how.”

Mrs. Lee brought her right hand up in front of her face as if sighting a pistol. Angela described it for the record.

“And then?”

She dropped her eyes. “He shot Mr. Chen.”

“Did he aim deliberately at Mr. Chen?”

Judge Posner was not amused by my failure to object to the fact that the question called for a conclusion by the witness regarding the state of mind of the defendant. It was not my desire to annoy His Honor, but His Honor had no idea of what I was up to. I prayed that I did.

“Yes.”

“Did Mr. Chen fall backwards?”

“Yes.”

“And what did the defendant do then?”

“He walked up Tyler Street.”

“Toward Beach Street?”

“Yes. He turned to the left.”

“And what did you do, Mrs. Lee?”

“I ran down to where three policemen were standing in the street. I described Mr. Bradley and told the officers what happened. Two officers went after Mr. Bradley. The other officer went up the stairs to Mr. Chen.”

“And once more, can you clearly identify the man you saw shoot Mr. Chen?”

She took a breath and brought her head up, “Yes.” She pointed to Anthony Bradley.

Angela added the final nail. “May the record reflect that the witness is indicating Mr. Bradley, the defendant?”

Angela favored the jury with a knowing look, and the judge with a humble-servant-of-the-court smile.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded and signaled me to begin a rigorous cross-examination.

I rose respectfully.

“No questions, Your Honor.”

He was on his feet and striding like Simba to the side of the bench away from the jury.

“I'll see counsel!”

I crossed paths with Angela halfway to the bench. She packed as much condescension as she could cram into one little smile and whispered, “A bit out of our league, are we, Mr. Knight?”

I smiled back. “I'm honored to learn at your feet, Ms. Lamb.”

Smoke was rising around the collar of the judge's robe when we assembled at the side of the bench. He called the court reporter over to capture each word that hissed from between his teeth.

“I'm ready to call a mistrial, Knight. This is the most inept performance I've ever witnessed. Are you aware that a man's life in prison is at stake here?”

I leaned closer to be able to whisper.

“I know this is a bit unorthodox, Your Honor. I ask the court's indulgence. I didn't have a chance to finish before you called this sidebar. I'd like to request that Mrs. Lee be held for recall as a defense witness.”

That snapped Angela's head around. The judge looked somewhat relieved that defense counsel had anything in mind.

“Yes. Granted.”

“One more thing, Your Honor. I'd like to request that during the presentation of the defense, Mrs. Lee be permitted to remain in the courtroom. I'd like to have a seat reserved for her in the front row of the spectators.”

Angela came out fighting.

“Your Honor, the prosecution objects. All of the witnesses are sequestered so that they won't hear each others' testimony and adapt their stories. There's no reason for an exception here. This is a key prosecution witness.”

I stepped in.

“Your Honor, this witness has already testified. If the witness hears anything that could induce her to commit perjury in the future, the prosecution can renew the objection. It's an important request for the defense, Your Honor.”

“For reasons that you're not at liberty to disclose at this time, Mr. Knight?”

“That's correct, Your Honor.”

“I'm going to grant your request, Mr. Knight. But if I have to retry this case because of incompetence of defense counsel, it won't rest here. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Ms. Lamb and I crossed paths again on the way back to counsel table. I winked and whispered, “Your play, Angela.”

The prosecution had one more witness. Angela called Mr. Qian An-Yong, the Chinese herbal medicine man.

He took the stand and testified in corroboration of Mrs. Lee's testimony. He said that he saw Anthony Bradley come out of the Ming Tree restaurant and take a gun out of his belt. He said that while everyone was watching the lion in front of the grocery shop below Mr. Chen's window, the defendant was in the street. He raised the gun to aiming level and fired at Mr. Chen. Mr. Chen fell backwards into the room. The defendant walked up Tyler Street and turned left.

He said that Mrs. Lee came running out of the restaurant and went to speak to three officers. He went over to join them. He confirmed what she told them.

Angela took him through a description of the gun, which appeared to be a thirty-eight caliber, and the testimony that Mr. Qian was standing in the street close to the defendant at the time of the shooting. He was so stunned that there was nothing he could do at the time. She capped it off by having him formally identify Anthony Bradley.

This time the judge took it more in stride when I announced that I had no questions of the witness at this time. I made the same request in regard to Mr. Qian as I had made in regard to Mrs. Lee.

Angela made her objection for the record, and the judge granted my request.

With that, Angela declared that the prosecution rested.

IT WAS NEARLY FOUR.
The judge adjourned until ten o'clock the following morning, with the usual instructions to the jurors not to discuss the case with anyone.

I went out to the corridor and called the cardiac unit of Mass. General Hospital. I got through to a nurse on the ward. She told me that Mr. Devlin had suffered a mild heart attack. They had worked on him that afternoon with tests and whatnot. He was sedated and sleeping
at that point. He'd probably sleep through the night. She said it would not be a good idea to visit until the following afternoon.

I agreed. I had plenty of preparation to do for the next session anyway. The home team was coming to bat.

I WAS IN THE COURTROOM
at quarter often the next morning. The press was jockeying for seats as fast as they could get through the security checkpoint. I noticed with pleasure that the bailiff was shooing away everyone who tried to take the two seats in the center of the front row of the spectator section.

At five minutes of ten, Mrs. Lee came in, escorted by Mr. Qian. The bailiff led them to the two front seats.

I was sitting beside Anthony Bradley, rechecking notes, when I could feel him turn around. When I looked up, his father had a hand on his shoulder. They both looked like they'd been drawn through a sieve.

They said a few words. Judge Bradley gave him a hug. Anthony put his head onto his father's shoulder. The judge held it there. It was a long time coming, and they seemed never to want it to end.

The bailiff came out of the judge's chambers, and Judge Bradley took his seat behind the defense section, but not before taking my arm and whispering, “Are you sure you know what you're doing, Mr. Knight?”

I looked him in the eye and said the only word that seemed right, if not completely truthful.

“Yes.”

JUST BEFORE THE BAILIFF
sounded the “All rise!” I caught a glimpse of Mr. Kip Liu slipping into the end seat of the last row. It was the same seat he had occupied the day before. I had asked the bailiff to keep that seat empty in the hope that he'd be there. The ducks were now properly in line. It was show time.

I was jotting a quick note, when Judge Posner mounted the bench and rapped for order. I waived the bailiff over and handed him the note.

Judge Posner looked at me like the proctor of a final examination.

“Are you ready, Mr. Knight?”

“I am, Your Honor.”

“Then call your first witness.”

I looked to the door of the courtroom and there, God bless her, standing just inside the door, was Julie.

“Your Honor, the defense calls as its first witness Miss Ku Mei-Li.”

My eyes were riveted on Kip Liu. His eyes swung to the back door of the courtroom. He sprang up in his seat to see who'd come through the door.

When precious, bright Mei-Li walked into that courtroom, I saw fear, panic, and rage erupting in one expression. He looked as if he didn't know whether to stay or bolt. He sat tentatively.