The Lawyer's Lawyer (31 page)

“I want to revisit your testimony on direct examination about your representation of this young man named Rudy. You said that
after Rudy was executed, you became a prosecutor and prosecuted the police officer who arrested Rudy and whose testimony convicted
Rudy, is that correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Is it also correct that you became a prosecutor for the sole purpose of prosecuting that police officer and after that prosecution
was over, you resigned your position?”

“That’s correct.”

“You weren’t trying to get even then, were you?”

“No, I was trying to prosecute a man who deserved to be prosecuted and who, in fact, was convicted.”

“The police officer wasn’t the only person you prosecuted over the death of this young man Rudy, was he?”

“No.”

“You also prosecuted the former state attorney who successfully sought Rudy’s execution, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And at the time that you prosecuted that former state attorney, he was a sitting federal judge, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t trying to get even with him?”

“No, I wasn’t. I was seeking justice for Rudy.”

“You were not successful against the judge, were you?”

“No.”

“Is it correct that the judge you unsuccessfully prosecuted was assassinated by a sniper’s bullet six months later?”

Tom was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.” He didn’t ask to approach sidebar. He just walked toward the bench.

The crowd started murmuring right after Merton finished asking the question. The jurors looked shocked as well. Judge Holbrook
raised his gavel and lowered it again and again.

“Silence in the courtroom!” he shouted. “If you can’t be silent, you will be removed.”

Nobody stopped talking.

“Remove the gallery,” the judge told the bailiffs who dealt with the gallery.

“Take the jury out,” the judge told the bailiff who was assigned to the jurors.

In a matter of minutes, the courtroom was empty. The press was gone as well. Only then did Holbrook speak to the lawyers.

“Mr. Merton, just what do you think you are doing?”

“Asking a question, Your Honor.”

“A question that carries the implication that Mr. Tobin was involved with the murder of a federal judge.”

“I never meant to imply that, Your Honor.”

“Your Honor, I’d like to move for a mistrial,” Tom said. “And I’m requesting that this court rule that my client cannot be
retried since double jeopardy has attached.”

“Relax, Mr. Wylie. There’s not going to be a mistrial. The witness is not going to answer the question, and I am going to
instruct the jury not only that it was an improper question and that they should disregard it but also that the only inference
to be drawn from that question is that the prosecuting attorney committed an egregious error in asking it. Now are there any
more questions?”

Nobody said a word.

“Bring in the jury.”

The courtroom was still empty as the jurors filed in and sat in their respective seats.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, sometimes things occur in trial that we don’t expect. Sometimes lawyers ask questions without
thinking. The last question Mr. Merton asked should never have been asked. It is not enough for me to tell Mr. Tobin he does
not have to answer the question. I need to tell you that it should not be a part of this case and you should wipe it from
your memory. And the only inference you should draw from that question being asked is that the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Merton,
overstepped his bounds and committed an egregious or gross error when he asked it. Now, can you all do that?”

The judge asked each juror individually and had each juror say “yes” on the record.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it has been a long day. We’re going to recess for the weekend. Remember the admonitions that
I have given you. This trial is almost over but it’s not over yet.”

After the jury left, Judge Holbrook addressed the lawyers.

“Mr. Wylie, do you have any other witnesses in your defense?”

“Not at the moment, Your Honor, but I’d like to have the weekend to assess everything before I rest.”

“That’s fine.” The judge’s attitude toward Tom and Jack had suddenly changed.

“And what about you, Mr. Merton?” the judge growled. “Are you going to have any rebuttal?”

“I don’t plan on it at this time, Your Honor, but it will depend on what Mr. Wylie does on Monday.”

“Fine. I’ll see you both here Monday morning at nine. And Mr. Merton, I don’t want to be seeing your face on television talking
about the events that occurred here this afternoon. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Tom stood up. “Your Honor, the press needs to at least be told that the question was determined to be improper by this court.
It can’t just hang there.”

“I have placed no restriction on you, Mr. Wylie. I assume you will make the point in a professional manner.”

“I will, Your Honor.”

Jack and Tom stayed in the courtroom after everyone left. Jack’s guards stood by the door leading out to the jail and waited
for him while he spoke with his lawyer.

“So what do you think?” he asked Tom.

“I think your direct went as well as it could possibly go, but this Merton is damn good, and just a little crazy.”

“A question like that last one can lose the jury for you, especially when the judge comes back and says what he said,” Jack
said.

“Under normal circumstances I would agree with you, Jack. But if these people are predisposed to have it in for you, Merton
gave them all the rope they needed.”

“He knew exactly what he was doing,” Jack said.

“No doubt in my mind.”

“Well, Tom, you’re doing as good a job as can be done within the restrictions I placed on you. I wouldn’t change or add anything.
I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

“We’ve still got Monday, Jack. We’re not done yet.”

“No, we’re not. Listen, do me a favor. Go grab Henry, and both of you have a beer tonight for me.”

“I think we can do that.”

“Good.”

Tom watched Jack get up and walk over to the guards and say something that made them both laugh. Then all three walked through
the door heading for the jail.

Such a good man
, Tom thought.
We’ve got to find a way.

T
om and Henry went to The Swamp that night to have their beer and a little dinner. Tom did not want to go out at all. He wasn’t
in the mood to put himself out there where the citizens of Oakville could say anything they wanted to him. Henry reminded
him, however, that if they were going to have a beer for Jack, Ron should be a part of that occasion. Tom agreed. Besides,
when he thought about it, what rational human being would even attempt to say something nasty to him with Henry sitting at
the table?

It was Friday night, but The Swamp was almost deserted.

“What’s going on around here?” Tom asked before he actually thought about what was going on around there. They sat at a table
by the window looking out over the street. Ron sat with them. He brought a pitcher of beer and three glasses.

“It’s just a slow night,” Ron said as he poured. “It happens sometimes.”

Henry knew better. “Your fellow citizens are paying you back for sticking by your friend, aren’t they, Ronnie?”

“I’m not sure, but it has never been this deserted on a Friday night since I opened the place. Even the college kids aren’t
here and they’re not usually paying attention to what happens in the local courtroom.”

There were a few college kids at the bar but it was a far cry from a normal weekend night, even in the summer.

“That really stinks,” Tom said.

“It won’t last long,” Ron assured him. “People have short memories about where to eat and drink.”

“Did you hear what happened in court today?” Henry asked Ron.

“Oh, I heard about it and a lot more. Tom, do Merton’s actions today give you a basis for appeal?”

“Possibly, but not as strong as I would have liked. Judge Holbrook gave a curative instruction to the jurors and then polled
them. He was making his own record. A denial of a motion for mistrial is within a judge’s discretion. Why are you asking?
Are you already onto the appeal stage?”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you know something we don’t?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, I know somebody who works for the paper. They’ve been doing exit interviews. I’m sure they’re doing them for Merton
since I haven’t seen a word about them in the paper.”

Tom became a little impatient hearing the news. “Did he tell you the results?”

“Yeah. They did it for two days—the day Sam and Danni testified and today.”

“And?”

“There was no difference. Eighty-five percent think Jack’s guilty, ten percent don’t know, and only five percent think he’s
innocent.”

“That’s the gallery—it’s not necessarily the jury,” Henry said.

“If the gallery is that strong, the jury is the same way,” Tom said.

“Where does that leave us, hoping for a lone juror or two to hold out?” Henry asked.

“That’s not even a reasonable hope,” Tom said. “This is a small town. A juror who even thinks about holding out in this town
knows that he or she will have to move. People may have short memories about where they eat, but personal vendettas can last
a lifetime.”

“So we’ve got nothing?” Henry asked.

“Never say never,” Tom said. “We’ll go back in Monday and continue to slug it out. Who knows what may happen.”

Ron raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast,” he said. “To miracles.”

They all raised their glasses.

H
enry rang the bell, barely touching it. He was reluctant to do it at first since it was not yet eight o’clock on Saturday
morning. But Danni was an active woman. He figured she’d be up and about and he wanted to catch her before she left for the
day. He had no idea what he was going to say.

He waited a few seconds. Nothing. He decided not to ring again. He’d try later. Just as he turned to walk away, the door opened.
Danni appeared there wearing a pair of gym shorts and a pajama top. Her hair was everywhere and her eyes were squinting, telling
Henry that he’d woken her up.

Danni spoke first, turning away from him and walking toward the living room.

“Come on in, Henry.”

Henry followed her in, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be up.”

“Well, I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Did you come here to thank me for doing my civic duty, or to crucify me? Let me see—
I saved your life. I saved your daughter’s life. How could you do this to Jack?
”

“Stop it, Danni. I’d never say that to you.”

“Why not? I say it to myself every hour or so.” She slumped into a big chair in the living room, curling her legs under her.

Henry sat on the couch across from her.

She looked him in the eye for just a minute. “Sam came over one day. He asked if Jack had visited that night after he was
released from custody. He told me about the claims bill and the contingency fee agreement. I didn’t know who to believe so
I told him what I knew. Then they subpoenaed me. End of story.”

“Not yet.”

“How’s it going?”

“Bad. Very bad.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Ronnie found out that Merton did exit polls for two days—the day you testified and yesterday when Jack testified.”

“Can they do that?”

“They disguised it as a news organization poll.”

“Bastards. And?”

“And Jack’s going down. It was eighty-five percent for conviction both days.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Henry. I really am. For what it’s worth, I think Sam’s off his rocker and he’s just out to get Jack. I
wish I had never had that conversation with him. But there’s nothing I can do. I told the truth.”

Henry didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat there on the couch apparently looking at the stitching.

“You know, Jack didn’t just get me out of prison,” he said finally. “He taught me something. It was something I was starting
to learn on my own from reading and working by myself, but Jack made it real by doing it. He taught me that if you put your
life on the line for somebody, then you are truly living. That in itself is truth. He does it all the time. When he believes
in people, he never backs off. He believed in me.”

“Where are you going with this, Henry? I don’t need you to make me feel any worse. I’ve already had a headache for two days.”

“What was it that Thoreau said? ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ Most men and women have acquaintances they call
friends and lovers they say they would die for, but they don’t mean it. It’s all surface bullshit. Most times they walk away
at the drop of a hat. Every once in a while, you might see an old woman in a hospital watching her husband die and you can
tell by the look on her face she would gladly change places because she truly loves him like a mother loves her baby child—”

“Henry, if this is going where I think it is, stop right now. Jack and I were never in love. We had a fling, for Christ’s
sake.”

She could tell that she had angered him with that remark but he didn’t move.

“You’re not getting it, Danni. I’m not talking about romance—maybe the couple was a bad example. I’m talking about real truth—not
bullshit. When we were in that apartment in Miami, it was life and death—all the horseshit was gone. That’s why you entrusted
your daughter to me, because you knew I would protect her with my life. We’d already been there.”

“What the hell do you want from me? I’ve already testified to everything I know.”

“No, you haven’t. I want you to put your life on the line.

“You know, I sat in Jack’s cell the other night and listened to Tom Wylie tell him that if Jack didn’t allow him to cross-examine
you and attack your credibility, it could mean his life. Jack told him no. It wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about feelings.
It was about you. He believes in you. Life and death. Truth.

“Think about it.”

Henry got up and let himself out.