The Anonymous Client

Dirkson angrily paced up and down in the judge’s chambers while he waited for the court reporter to set up his stand.

When everyone was ready, Judge Graves said, “Now, Mr. Dirkson.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. He glowered at Winslow and Fitzpatrick. “I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. It is a barefaced lie. Counsel may have obtained the fingerprints of the witness, but he’s never compared them to the prints in evidence in court. He doesn’t have them. It couldn’t have been done. It is a trick. A theatrical grandstand. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct.”

Judge Graves turned to Steve. “Mr. Winslow?”

Steve smiled. “I wish the prosecutor would make up his mind. A few minutes ago he was threatening to charge me with abuse of process for having no definite purpose in mind. As I understand it now, his charge is that I have a definite purpose in mind, but he doesn’t like it.”

“Mr. Winslow, the charge is that you are making a false statement in court. That you are claiming to have compared the fingerprints of the witness to those introduced in court, when you have in fact, not. What do you say to that?”

“I say it’s none of his business,” Steve said.

Judge Graves’ face darkened. “Mr. Winslow, this is not to be taken lightly.”

“If he did compare those prints,” Dirkson put in, “I charge him with tampering with a prosecution exhibit.”

“You see, Your Honor,” Steve said. “As far as Dirkson’s concerned, I’m damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t. I still maintain it’s none of his business. And whether I compared those prints or not is totally irrelevant. And I beg to correct the District Attorney-I did not make the statement in court that I had compared those prints. I merely asked the witness if she knew that I did. I am asking her for her own knowledge, which is what I have every right to do.

“And I maintain that however objectionable the prosecution may feel the form of that question to be, the answer to it is entirely relevant. This witness has testified that she was never in Bradshaw’s apartment. If her testimony is true, she will answer by saying, ‘no, you must be mistaken, those couldn’t be my fingerprints, because I was never there.’ If she can’t answer that way, it means that her testimony was false. That means she’s guilty of perjury. And if she’s guilty of perjury, she’s certainly a biased witness. And that bias is something I have a legal right to establish. The witness has given testimony on a very material point, i.e., the altercation in Bradshaw’s apartment at the time of the murder. Therefore, if there is the slightest chance that she committed perjury, I have every right to bring it out.”

“Only by legitimate means, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel’s question is entirely irregular.”

Judge Graves took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson. On the surface, it might appear to be. However, as counsel has said, he is merely asking the witness whether she knew certain things to be true. But I think you’re missing the point here. A young woman is on trial for murder. If there is a chance that one of the prosecution’s witnesses is committing perjury, I want to know it. And I think you should want to know it too.

“However,” Judge Graves went on, turning to Fitzpatrick and Winslow. “Once that charge is brought up, if she is not committing perjury, I want to know that too.

“I am now going to rule. To begin with, the objection is overruled. I want the question answered. And I want it answered without any sparring between counsel. And I am referring to that particular line of questioning, Mr. Dirkson. I don’t want you jumping up on the follow-up question, unless a new point is raised. As far as this line of questioning goes, I’m going to allow Mr. Winslow to pursue it to its conclusion. But-”

Judge Graves turned to Steve Winslow. His face was dark. “I’m allowing this on your assurance that you have a definite purpose in mind. In the event that you do not, in the event that it should turn out that you called this witness merely to harass her, to make her a red herring-in the event that it turns out you had no foundation whatever for asking the question that you did, that in fact you had no definite purpose in mind, then Mr. Winslow, you and Mr. Fitzpatrick will find that you have laid yourselves wide open for an abuse of process charge. And believe me, this is no idle threat. So, before we resume, I would like to give you one last opportunity to consider: would you care to withdraw your question?”

Fitzpatrick looked as if he were going to be ill. He looked at Steve Winslow with pleading eyes.

Steve looked at him. It could be Fitzpatrick’s career. It could be his too, what little career he had. And he had so little to go on. Such a thin thread.

For a second he hesitated.

But only for a second.

“We do not, Your Honor,” Steve said. “The question stands.”

45

Judge Graves looked down from the bench. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I am sorry for the interruption. We are ready to proceed. The objection has been overruled. The witness will answer. The court reporter will read back the question.”

There was a delay while the court reporter shuffled through the tapes. The question was way back, since he’d had to record the entire session in chambers. Finally he found it, and droned it out in an expressionless voice, ending with, “And did you know that when we compared your prints, two of them matched absolutely with the latent prints taken from the decedent’s apartment and introduced in evidence here in court.”

“Do you understand the question?” Steve said.

The witness took a breath. “Yes. I do.”

“Then answer it.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“You don’t know how your fingerprints could have got in Bradshaw’s apartment?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You were never in there on any occasion?”

“I-”

“Think. It’s important. You’re under oath. How could your fingerprints have gotten there?”

The witness’s eyes flicked around the courtroom. “I … I …”

“Yes,” Steve said. “Go on.”

“I remember now. I was in there once.”

Steve tried hard to keep his face from looking like he had just gotten a death row reprieve. A glance at the defense table told him Fitzpatrick was not doing quite that good a job. He looked positively ecstatic.

But Dirkson looked positively murderous.

“Oh, were you now?” Steve said. “And when was that?”

“Silly of me. It was a long time ago. Right after he moved in. I remember now. I met him in the hall. He called me in, asked me something about the previous tenant. I don’t remember what it was. Something about the apartment. Was some shelf in the kitchen permanent, or had the previous tenant put it in.”

“So you were in the kitchen of that apartment?”

“Yes. I guess that’s right.”

“And this was when Donald Blake, the man you knew as Bradshaw, first moved in?”

“That’s right.”

“You were in his apartment that one time?”

“Yes.”

“And you hadn’t been back in since? And you hadn’t spoken to him since, except to say hello in passing?”

“That’s right.”