Monica signaled toward the back of the room, and Cyrus Johnson swaggered in, dressed in a white shirt, crewneck sweater, and brown slacks. David watched Johnson walk to the witness stand, trying to place the face. It was only when the witness stated his name that David began to feel uneasy.
“Do you know that man?” David demanded. Stafford paled and said nothing, unable to take his eyes off the witness.
“Are you also known as T.V., Mr. Johnson?” Monica asked.
“You’d better tell me what this is all about,” David said, his voice low and threatening. Stafford did not reply, but his face had the look of a person who knows that his death is imminent.
“And would you tell the jury what your occupation was on June sixteenth of this year?” Monica asked, swiveling her chair to watch David and Stafford react.
“Uh, well, uh,” Johnson started uneasily, “I guess you could say I managed some women.”
“You mean you were a pimp?” Monica asked.
There was a commotion in the courtroom and the judge pounded his gavel for quiet.
“Ms. Powers, you are asking this man to admit to criminal activity. Has he been warned of his rights?”
“Mr. Johnson is testifying under a grant of full immunity, Your Honor,” Monica replied, handing a notarized document to the Court and a copy to David. The judge studied it.
“Very well,” he said when he was finished. “You may proceed.”
“Mr. Johnson, have you ever seen Larry Stafford, the defendant in this case, before?”
Johnson stared at Stafford for a moment, then turned back to Monica.
“Yes, I have.”
“Would you tell the jury the circumstances of that meeting?” Monica asked.
Johnson shifted in the witness box and Monica tensed, waiting for David’s objection. When it did not come, she glanced tentatively at her former husband. She was startled by what she saw. David, who was usually so intense, was slumped down in his chair. He looked sad and uncaring. Monica had sprung surprises on David before and had seen him handle other lawyers’ challenges. Thinking on his feet was where David excelled. The David she saw now looked defeated.
“It was a couple of years ago. I would say in September. This dude, uh, the defendant, come up to one of my women in the Regency Bar, and they split a few minutes later. Now, I don’t make it a practice to bother my girls when they’re workin’, but somethin’ about this dude bothered me, so I followed them.”
Judge Rosenthal looked over at David. He, too, was waiting for an objection. When David said nothing, the judge toyed with the idea of calling the lawyers to the bench to discuss the direction the testimony was taking, but Nash was an experienced attorney, and he had conducted an excellent trial so far. The judge decided to let David try his case his way.
“We was usin’ a motel on the strip then, so I knew right where they was goin’. I parked in the lot near the room and waited. About ten minutes later I heard a scream, so I went up to the room.
“Mordessa is naked and scramblin’ across the bed, and this dude,” Johnson said, pointing at Stafford, “is right on top of her, beatin’ her good. She got blood comin’ out of her mouth and her eye looked real bad.
“I was carryin’ a piece which I pulled and told him to freeze. He does. Then I asked what happened. Mordessa says Stafford wanted her to do some real kinky stuff, like tyin’ her up and whipping her. She tells him it’s extra and he says that’s cool. Then somethin’ about him scared her and she changed her mind. And that’s when he starts beatin’ on her.”
“What happened then?”
“The cops, uh, police arrived. I guess someone heard Mordessa screamin’ and called ’em. Anyway, this white cop asks Stafford what happened and he don’t even speak to me. Stafford says we tried to roll him and the next thing I know, we’re down the station house charged with prostitution and attempted robbery.”
“Did you tell the police your story?”
“Sure, but they wasn’t too interested in our version.”
“What finally happened to the charges against you?”
“Nothin’. They was dropped.”
“And why was that?”
T.V. smiled and pointed at Stafford. “He wouldn’t prosecute. Said he never said no such thing to the police.”
“Is there any question in your mind that the man who beat up Mordessa is the defendant, Lawrence Dean Stafford?”
Johnson stared at Stafford and shook his head.
“No, ma’am.”
Monica paused for effect, then said, “Your witness, counselor.”
The courtroom was hushed and all eyes turned toward David. Stafford’s head was bent and he stared at the blank legal pad that lay before him. He had not moved during Johnson’s testimony.
David also sat motionless. As Johnson had testified, the lawyer in him had seen the numerous objections and legal motions he could have made to keep Johnson’s testimony out, but he had made none of them, because there was another, more human, part that would not let him.
Each time he thought about objecting, he thought about Tony Seals and Ashmore. He was tired of letting the animals out of their cages and tired of justifying his actions by the use of philosophical arguments he no longer believed in. Stafford was guilty. He had murdered Darlene Hersch. There was no longer any doubt in David’s mind. David had to protect future victims from a man like Stafford, not use his skills to endanger others. Stafford had taken a life and he would pay for it.
The judge was calling his name for a second time. The jurors were staring at him. A low rumble of voices was beginning to build among the spectators. David shook his head slowly from side to side.
“No questions,” he said.
And Stafford never said a word in protest.
PART IV
1
The visitor’s room at the state penitentiary was a large, open space filled with couches and chairs upholstered in red vinyl and outfitted with chrome armrests. Three vending machines stood against one wall. There was an occasional low wooden table with an ashtray on it.
Jenny had never been in a place like this before, and the visits depressed her. The other prisoners seemed strange and threatening and not like anyone she had ever met. Whenever she entered the prison, she felt like a visitor to a foreign country.
Larry did not understand her reluctance to touch him. All around them wives, lovers, and relatives embraced the other prisoners. She tried to explain how she felt to Larry, but he saw her reticence as another betrayal.
“I talked to Mr. Bloch,” Jenny said. “He says he’ll have your brief filed at the court of appeals this week. He sounded hopeful, Larry.”
Stafford shook his head. He had fired David as soon as Judge Rosenthal had imposed the mandatory life sentence on him. Jerry Bloch, an experienced appellate attorney, was representing him now. They had talked about the appeal last week.
“I’m not going to get out. That bastard Nash saw to that when he railroaded me at the trial.”
“But Mr. Bloch-”
“I talked to Bloch. Don’t forget, I’m a lawyer. There aren’t any errors Bloch can work with, because Nash never objected when they put that pimp on the stand. That son of a bitch socked me in here but good.”
