The Gods of Guilt(124)

She gave Forsythe a moment to come back at her. When he didn’t, she ended the session.

“I think we’re finished here.”

On the way back to the courtroom, the defense team kept a steady separation of fifteen feet behind the state team. I bent over to whisper to Jennifer.

“You hit it out of the park,” I said. “We’re going to win this thing.”

She smiled proudly.

“Legal helped me with the talking points when I was driving him back last night. He’s still sharp as a razor.”

“You’re telling me. He’s still better than ninety percent of the lawyers in this courthouse.”

Up ahead in the hallway I saw Lankford holding the door to the courtroom open and waiting for us after Forsythe had gone through. We held each other’s eyes as I approached, and I took the door gesture as a signal. As an invitation. I touched Jennifer on the elbow and nodded for her to go ahead into the courtroom. I stopped when I got to Lankford. He was a smart guy. He knew the effort to stop the trial and stop me had failed. I gave him an opening because I still needed one side of the conspiracy to cave. And as often as I had crossed swords with Lankford, I wanted Marco to go down even more.

“I’ve got something you should take a look at,” I said.

“Not interested,” he said. “Keep moving, asshole.”

But there was no conviction in it. It was just his starting point in a negotiation.

“I think this is something you’ll be very interested in.”

He shrugged. He needed more in order to make the decision.

“And if you’re not interested, your pal Marco will be.”

Lankford nodded.

I went through the door and entered the courtroom. I saw Forsythe at the prosecution table. He had pulled out his phone and was making a call. I assumed it was to a supervisor or to somebody in the appellate unit. I didn’t much care which.

Lankford passed me and went to his seat at the rail. I went to the defense table and picked up the iPad I had borrowed from Lorna. I engaged the screen and cued up the video from the Sterghos house, then stepped over to the railing and put the device down on the empty seat next to Lankford as I brought my right foot up to tie my shoe. I whispered without looking at Lankford.

“Watch it to the end.”

As I stood up, I scanned the crowded courtroom. Word that Department 120 was where the action was had already spread through the courthouse. In addition to Moya’s men, who were in their usual spot, there were at least six members of the media in the first two rows, a variety of suited men I identified as fellow lawyers, and the highest concentration I’d seen in a long time of professional trial watchers—the retired, unemployed, and lonely who wander courthouses every day in search of human drama, pathos, and anguish. I wasn’t sure whether the draw was Marco’s appearance or the fact that the defendant had been nearly stabbed to death the evening before in the CCB’s basement, but the message had been transmitted and the people had come.

I spotted Marco four rows back. He sat next to a man in a suit who I assumed was his lawyer. Marco hadn’t bothered to dress for the occasion. He was wearing a black golf shirt and jeans again, the shirt tucked in so the gun holstered on his right hip was fully on display. The gunslinger look.

I decided that I needed to try to do something about that.

I looked down and saw that Lankford had already viewed the silent video and returned it to the empty seat. He sat there in what appeared to be a daze, perhaps understanding that his life was unalterably going to change before the end of this day. I brought my other shoe up onto the chair to tie. I bent down again, my eyes on Marco in the gallery as I whispered to Lankford.

“I want Marco, not you.”





41





The judge took the bench as promised and briefly eyed the number of people in the gallery.

“Are we ready for the jury?” she asked.

I stood to address the court.

“Your Honor, before we call the jury, I would like to address a couple of matters that have just now come up.”

“What is it, Mr. Haller?”

She said it with exasperation clearly in her voice.

“Well, Agent Marco is here presumably to testify as a witness called by the defense. I would like to request that I be allowed to treat him as a hostile witness and I would also ask that the court direct Agent Marco to remove the firearm he is wearing openly on his belt.”

“Let’s take these one at a time, Mr. Haller. First, you have called Agent Marco as a defense witness and he has so far not answered a single question. On what basis should you be allowed to treat your own witness as a hostile witness?”

Classifying a witness as hostile would allow me more freedom in questioning Marco. I could ask leading questions needing only a yes or no response.