“I beg your pardon?”
“About the verdict, for instance. Did she tell you how it made her feel?”
“It made her feel great, of course. She was found innocent.”
“Yes, but is that all?” Dirkson said.
Cunningham frowned. “All?”
“Didn’t she say anything else? About how the verdict wasn’t enough?”
“Wasn’t enough? What more could it be? There’s innocent and there’s guilty. She was found innocent.”
“Yes, I know,” Dirkson said. “What I mean is, did she say anything along the lines of how being found innocent wasn’t enough? That Frank Fletcher should pay for what he’d done?”
“As a matter of fact,” Cunningham said, “I believe she did mention her attorney had suggested the possibility of a lawsuit.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Dirkson said, “and you know it. I’m talking about threats of physical violence directed toward the person of the decedent, Frank Fletcher. Did the defendant make any such threats?”
“Absolutely not,” Cunningham said. “Amy would never do anything of the sort.”
“Is that so?” Dirkson said. “Do you mean to tell me she never once said anything like, I could just kill him, or, he should get what’s coming to him, or, a man like that doesn’t deserve to live?”
“Absolutely not.”
Dirkson glared at the witness a moment, then turned to the judge. “Sidebar, Your Honor.”
When the judge and attorneys had gathered at the sidebar and the court reporter had set up his machine, Dirkson said, “Your Honor, this witness is lying. I have it on good authority that the answers he has just given constitute perjury. He is the boyfriend of the defendant, and he will clearly do anything to save her. I did not realize that went so far as to include committing a crime.”
Judge Wylie frowned at the district attorney. “Just exactly what do you expect me to do about it?”
“You can give me some latitude in my questioning. I called this man as my witness, and I’m bound by his testimony. He’s committed perjury, and now I’m in the position of having to impeach him. I can probably do it, but you must understand, it’s a rather exasperating position to find oneself in.”
Steve Winslow shrugged. “You chose it.”
Dirkson’s face purpled. His eyes blazed. “And there’s a fine statement coming from defense counsel, when he knows perfectly well he engineered the whole thing.”
“One moment,” Steve Winslow said. “Are you accusing me of suborning perjury? Is that the serious charge, you were referring to before?”
“No, it’s not,” Dirkson said. “And I’m not accusing you of that now.”
“What
Judge Wylie held up his hands. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. We’ve gotten far afield. Mr. Dirkson, it would appear you called this sidebar merely to pick a fight with the defense attorney.”
“Not at all, Your Honor.”
“What is your purpose, Mr. Dirkson?”
“I told you. The witness is lying.”
“I need something other than your bald assurance such is the case,” Judge Wylie said. “Surely you must realize that.”
“Yes, of course, Your Honor. I’m just pointing out this is a hostile witness and I have to use leading questions. Moreover, he’s committed perjury, so I have to impeach him. Which I cannot do if you sustain the defense attorney’s objection that I am cross-examining my own witness.”
“So far I’ve heard no such objection.”
“Well, I haven’t started cross-examining him yet,” Dirkson said.
“Then what are we arguing about?” When Dirkson had no comeback, Judge Wylie said, “Let’s proceed,” and resumed his position on the bench.
Dirkson returned to the prosecution table, took a drink of water, composed himself, and once again approached the witness stand. “Now then, Mr. Cunningham,” Dirkson said. “You claim in the entire time you were having dinner with the defendant, she never once evidenced any animosity toward the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”
“She said she was glad she won the suit.”
“Aside from that?”
“I don’t believe she did.”
“You don’t
“No, I don’t.”
“You mean she might have, and you just don’t remember?”
“No, I remember that she didn’t.”
“Then why do you say that you
Cunningham smiled. “Because that’s what I believe.”
There was a ripple of amusement from the spectators.
Dirkson frowned, took it. “You say she never evinced any animosity toward Frank Fletcher during that particular conversation?”
“That’s right.”
“What about any other conversation?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m referring to conversations you may have had with the defendant after she was arrested. Tell me, did you visit her in jail?”
“Yes, I did.”
“On more than one occasion?”
“That’s right.”
“How many occasions?”
“I’ve seen her every day.”
“Every day since she was arrested?”
“That’s right.”
“And on any of those occasions did she discuss the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”
“Of course.”
“You mean she did?”
“Of course she did. She was arrested on the charge of murdering him. How could we possibly have a conversation without referring to that fact?”
“Aside from that. Did the defendant ever mention Frank Fletcher, how she felt about him, how she was glad he was dead, anything of that sort?”
“No, she did not.”
“Did she ever admit to you that she killed him?”
Cunningham smiled. “She
“I’m asking you if she ever
“No, of course not?”
“Did she tell you what she did that night?”
Cunningham frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After dinner. After you left the restaurant. Did she tell you what she did?”
“She went home.”
“Right. That was because you had to work. You were going to go to a movie, but then you had to work so you left her and she went home. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Cunningham said. “We left the restaurant a little after eight o’clock.”
“Move to strike as unresponsive to the question,” Dirkson said, angrily.
“Granted. It will go out,” Judge Wylie said. He turned to the witness. “Mr. Cunningham, let me make sure you understand the situation. You are a witness friendly to the defense. I understand your desire to help the defendant, but please obey the rules of evidence by answering only those questions that you are asked.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
