New Tricks (22 page)

Hatchet makes it clear that he is not at all happy to have to be going through this, and he tells both sides to be economical
with their time. This is going to be done before lunch, or he’s going to have the attorneys for lunch.

I am very concerned about this hearing, and it has nothing to do with the number or quality of lawyers that Robinson has enlisted
to represent him. The fact is that I have very few legal bullets to fire; if I were Markinson I would view this as a slam
dunk.

More important are the stakes involved. I don’t trust Robinson and view him as a possible suspect in the Timmerman killings,
which automatically makes him a suspect in the attempted Waggy killing. Even if he were innocent of all that, I certainly
don’t trust him to protect Waggy in the way that I have been doing.

Complicating matters is my inability to share with the court the danger that Waggy is facing. Clearly I can’t reference what
Childs confessed to Marcus, and without that I have no evidence at all of any threat to Waggy.

I am also in the uncomfortable position of not really having a positive goal that I can verbalize. Robinson’s is clear: He
wants to be named custodian of this dog. My preferred outcome is more vague. I want to maintain my role as the court-appointed
decider when it comes to Waggy’s future, even though I have done nothing but avoid making a decision for months.

What I want is for Steven to take custody, but I certainly can’t guarantee with any certainty at all that Steven will ever
again be in a position to do so. Hatchet knows that as well as anyone. I have to try to play a continuing delaying game until
I can win Steven his freedom.

Markinson calls as his first witness a trainer named Pam Potter. She has been the primary trainer of Robinson’s show dogs
for four years, and she describes the conditions that Robinson provides as humane and perfectly acceptable.

“You would be aware if that were not the case?” Markinson asks.

“Oh, yes. I’m around the dogs all the time. I wouldn’t stay there if they were being mistreated. I love dogs far too much
for that.”

“And Mr. Robinson provides whatever veterinary care is necessary?”

“Certainly. Money is never an object.”

Markinson turns the witness over to me for cross-examination, but before I can start, Hatchet calls both of us to the bench
for a whispered conference. He directs his comments to Markinson.

“What was that witness all about?” he asks.

Markinson is taken aback by the question; he’s not used to Hatchet’s eccentricities. “Well, Your Honor, we were using her
to show that the dog will be well cared for by Mr. Robinson.”

“Why?”

“So that you would feel comfortable awarding the dog to him.”

Hatchet gives him the icy stare. “This dog is not going to the person who will provide the cushiest life. He is going to the
person with the strongest legal claim to him. So stick to the ownership issues.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I would still like to cross-examine this witness, Your Honor,” I say.

“To what end?”

“To challenge what she said.”

Hatchet is not very adept at concealing his annoyance. “I just told you that what she said does not matter.”

“I understand, but it’s still in the record, and I would not like the record to show that it went unchallenged.”

“For possible appeal?” Hatchet asks.

“If we don’t prevail here,” I say. I’ve got to be careful with this, since Hatchet is not only the judge, he is also the jury.
It doesn’t make much sense to piss him off.

“If you take more than fifteen seconds to cross-examine this woman, then it’s a good bet you won’t be prevailing,” he says.

I nod, and Markinson and I go back to our respective tables. He has been “Hatcheted” for the first time, and seems a little
shocked by the experience.

“I have no questions for this witness,” I announce, and I see Markinson smile when I say it.

Markinson calls Charles Robinson to the stand, and studiously avoids asking any questions about how well the dog will be treated.
He focuses on his friendship with Timmerman, and their partnership in owning three dogs, none of whom is in competition anymore.

“This dog was special to Walter,” Robinson says. “He told me many times that he thought he could be a champion. I know he
would want me to help realize that dream.” The words would be enough to make me gag no matter who said them, but coming out
of the mouth of this slimy worm make them even harder to take.

There is no way I can let this guy have Waggy.

My first question on cross-examination is, “How long has it been since you were in partnership with Walter Timmerman on a
dog?”

“A little over four years,” he says.

“How many dogs have you owned since then?”

“I’m not sure. I would have to check the records.”

“I’ve checked the records,” I say. “Does eleven sound about right?”

“Sounds right,” he concedes.

“The records also say that Walter Timmerman has had fourteen dogs since then. Does that sound about right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says.

“You and your close friend and partner didn’t discuss these things?”

“We did. I just wouldn’t know the exact number.”

“So between you, you’ve had twenty-five dogs since your partnership ended?” I ask.

“Our partnership never ended.”

I nod. “I see. You no longer owned dogs together, but you were partners on some metaphysical level. How come your partner
didn’t leave the dog to you in his will?”

“He left it to his wife. I’m quite sure that if he had any idea she would be killed, he would have included me as well.”

“So you believe he made a mistake in leaving you out?”

“Yes. Definitely. It surprised me.”

“I can imagine your shock, especially after you left him your dogs in your will.”

Robinson doesn’t respond, so I ask, “You did leave your dogs to your friend and partner, Mr. Timmerman, didn’t you?”

He suddenly becomes more subdued, and it doesn’t take Freud to sense an intense anger beneath the surface. “No.”

“So you made the same mistake that surprised you so much when Mr. Timmerman made it?”

“I’m afraid that I did.”

There’s little more I can do with Robinson except get some things on the record in case the worst should happen and he gains
custody.

“If you had possession of the dog, what would you do with him? Would he be a household pet?”

“The first thing I would do is have my trainer, Ms. Potter, evaluate him and determine what his potential is as a show dog.”

“Because that’s what you think Mr. Timmerman would have wanted?”

He nods at finally hearing something he can agree with. “Exactly.”

“So he would spend the first month or so at Ms. Potter’s training facility, so as to see if he is capable of fulfilling Mr.
Timmerman’s dream. Is that what you are representing to this court?”

“Yes.” He’s not happy at the direction this is going.

“And if he were judged incapable of mastering the training necessary to be a successful show dog, you would then have no interest
in keeping him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So what do you say?’

“I’d deal with that situation if it came up, but I doubt that it will.”

“No further questions.” I at least got him on record as promising to keep Waggy at the trainer’s facility for a month. I’m
not sure how that will help, but I’d feel better if he were there than at Robinson’s.

I have no witnesses to call, since my position is that Steven remains the rightful heir. The only place I can make that point
is in my closing argument, and I’ll get to have the final word, as Markinson will be speaking first.

He’s a smart guy and has caught on to Hatchet quickly, so he leaves out anything referring to the health and well-being of
the dog. Instead he focuses on Robinson being the court’s only real option. Mrs. Timmerman is dead, Steven is obviously not
in a position to take the dog, and there are no other candidates.

He adds the importance of a timely decision being reached, since show dogs must start their training at an early age. Obviously
Walter Timmerman would have trained Waggy as a show dog, and the court has an obligation to try to follow through on his wishes
when they are as obvious as this. If Charles Robinson is named custodian, he will see that Timmerman’s wishes come true.

It is a professional, persuasive closing, and the truth is that no matter what I say, it is likely to carry the day.

“Your Honor, as you know, Steven Timmerman is currently on trial for murder. You also know that I believe him to be wrongly
accused, but that is now for the justice system to decide. And that decision will be reached in a relatively short period
of time.

“Mr. Robinson’s alleged close friendship with Mr. Timmerman has not been demonstrated by a shred of evidence before this court,
only by Mr. Robinson’s own testimony. And their partnership in the showing of dogs, such as it was, has not existed for a
number of years. If Mr. Timmerman had wanted to place Mr. Robinson in the line of succession for custody of this dog, he could
have. But he did not, and no evidence has been presented to show that his failure to do so was an oversight.

“If a verdict of not guilty had already been reached in Steven Timmerman’s trial, we would not be having this hearing. He
would have been granted rightful custody of the dog, and justice would be done, and that would be that.

“I would submit that for Steven to lose custody before the verdict is reached would be to deny him his rights. And make no
mistake: If Charles Robinson is made the custodian, Steven will never get this dog. The only proper reason for granting Mr.
Robinson’s petition would be a demonstration that irreparable harm would be done by waiting for that verdict.

“The only such harm even claimed by the plaintiff, though also not supported by the evidence, would be that this animal’s
future as a show dog would be damaged by a delay in training. Therefore, I will guarantee the court that if a decision is
delayed, I will employ a leading trainer to work with the dog until a verdict in the Timmerman trial is reached.

“Thank you for your consideration, Your Honor.”

Hatchet does not exactly seem swept up in the emotional power of the arguments. He quickly says that he will consider his
decision and announce it when he’s ready to do so.

I have absolutely no idea whether I’ve won or lost, and really don’t have the time to worry about it either way. If we lose,
I’ll try to file an appeal, hopefully delaying a decision until Steven Timmerman is a free man. Or not.

Right now winning that freedom is what I have to be focused on.

R
ICHARD HAS A BASKETFUL
of effective witnesses to call on, and to belatedly start the day he chooses Sergeant Michele Hundley, the forensics technician
who was originally called to the Walter Timmerman murder scene in downtown Paterson. The police were smart enough to bring
Hundley to the Timmerman house when it blew up, since they knew that the two cases would be connected. Therefore Hundley,
whom I know to be good at her job and a terrific witness, would be able to testify to the entire case.

Hundley dresses conservatively in a suit with her hair up and wearing glasses. She reminds me of those women you sometimes
see in TV commercials who miraculously transform themselves into knockouts simply by letting down their hair and removing
their glasses. I can’t be sure about this, of course, since every time I’ve seen Sergeant Hundley she has rigidly clung to
the librarian look.

Richard starts with the Walter Timmerman murder in downtown Paterson, getting Hundley to describe the conditions that existed
when she arrived on the scene. Walter died from one bullet to the forehead, and Hundley testifies that the gun had been pressed
to his flesh as it was fired.

“So would you describe that as execution-style?” Richard asks.

“Usually we consider it execution-style when the bullet enters the back of the head, not the front.”

“So this was perhaps more personal?” Richard asks.

I object that the witness could not possibly know this, and Hatchet sustains.

Hundley then talks about the murder weapon, which was a .38-caliber revolver, but has never been found. Childs used a different
gun to shoot Timmerman and Laurie; I assume the Luger he used in the latter case was better for distance.

Hundley goes on to describe the splatter of blood, brain matter, and skull fragments against a wall just behind Walter. I
glance over and can see Steven cringing at the testimony, even though I had instructed him to be impassive. I know that Steven
is upset at hearing how gruesomely his father died, but the jury might think that he is racked with guilt.

Hundley then talks about the specks of blood that were found in Steven’s car.

“Did you test that blood?” Richard asks.

“We did.”

“Whose blood was it?”

“Walter Timmerman’s.”

Richard spends some more time on this, and then shifts to the house in the aftermath of the explosion. Hundley testifies that
the explosion came from the upstairs guest bedroom toward the center of the house, the bedroom that Steven used before he
moved out.