computer that held what I was sure was a picture of the Khalils' house. So I took one of the diskettes and made the copy and brought it home.'
'Now, wait a minute. You were a policeman and you had what you considered strong evidence of a murder, and yet you didn't contact homicide?'
'Right, I didn't.'
'And why was that?'
'Because I couldn't tell them what I'd found without admitting I got it in an illegal search. None of it would have been admissible in court.'
'So what did you do?'
'I mailed the diskette to the FBI, who I heard were investigating the Khalil murders.'
'And then what happened?'
'And then Mr. Nolan came home and must have realized that somebody had been in his house.'
'In fact, he must have realized it was you, Evan. Isn't that so?'
'Well, the way it worked out. Yes, apparently. So he turned it all around to make it look like it was me who'd planted the evidence at his place and also, incidentally, killed the Khalils.'
Washburn knew this was all inadmissible speculation but was betting that Mills, still reeling from the contempt citation and the reaming she had taken in front of the jury, would be keeping a low profile, at least for a while. He pressed on. 'And did you, in fact, kill the Khalils?'
'No, I did not.'
'Were you ever charged with killing the Khalils?'
'No.'
'Did you at any time send fragmentation grenades or any other type of arms, ammunition, or ordnance from Iraq to the United States?'
'No, I did not.'
'At any time, did anyone ever present you with any evidence that you had tried to send these items from Iraq to the United States?'
'No.'
'Now, when you heard that Mr. Nolan had turned the tables on you and reported to the FBI, what was your reaction?'
'I was furious. I wanted to confront him and fight him.'
'You did not want to kill him?'
'That never entered my mind. I was mad. I wanted to hit him.'
'With brass knuckles?'
'I just happened to have them with me that night, and when I got there, I thought I might need them. Mr. Nolan had a great deal of training in hand-to-hand combat, more than me, and I wanted to level the playing field.'
'So, by fighting him, did you want to stop him from telling his story to the FBI?'
'No. It was too late for that. He'd already done it.' This was another critical point related to Evan's alleged motive. There would be no point in killing Nolan to stop him from turning over evidence to the authorities if that had already happened, which it had.
'So let me get this straight, Evan. On the evening of June third, two thousand four, Tara Wheatley told you that she had ended her relationship with Mr. Nolan and wanted to pursue one with you, is that correct?'
'Yes.'
'And on that same night, you learned that Mr. Nolan had already supplied the FBI with evidence that supposedly connected you to the Khalil murders, right?'
'Right.'
Washburn threw an open glance at the jury. Could his point be more plain? But it was, of course, necessary to nail it down in all its particulars so there could be no misunderstanding at all. 'In other words, Evan,' he said, 'did you have any motive to kill Ron Nolan on account of your relationship with Ms. Wheatley?'
'No, I did not.'
'And did you have any motive to kill Mr. Nolan to prevent him from talking to the FBI?'
'No. He'd already done that.'
'So you had no motive to kill Mr. Nolan, is that right?'
'I had no reason to kill him.'
Washburn cast one last sidelong glance at the jury box, fixed on Mrs. Ellersby for a second, and was pleased to note that she was nodding soberly, as if newly convinced of something. Evan's testimony had, he was sure, made a strong impression on her. And if on her, then maybe on one or more of the others.
Mills rose slowly from her table, her brow creased, her face set in an expression of deep concern. She came and stood in her spot and brought her right hand to the side of her face, then let it down. 'Mr. Scholler, as you've testified, on June third, two thousand four, you went up to Mr. Nolan's townhome with the intention of fighting him, and then you did in fact engage in a fight with him, am I right so far?'
'Yes.'
'What did you do after that fight ended?'
'I don't remember.'
'You don't remember? Did you black out?'
'I don't remember.'
'So it is not your testimony that you suffered a blackout, after all. Is it?'
'No. Whether I did or not, I don't remember.'
'You suffered quite a beating yourself in this altercation, did you not?'
'Yes.'
'And yet, with all the problems you've had, particularly with traumatic brain injury, you did not seek medical help?'
'Apparently not, but I don't remember.'
Washburn raised a hand at his desk. 'Your Honor, objection. Badgering. If he doesn't remember anything, it follows that he doesn't remember particulars.'
This satisfied Tollson, and he nodded. 'Sustained.'
Mills pursed her lips and paused to phrase her question so it came at things from a slightly different angle. 'Mr. Scholler,' she said finally, 'what is your first memory after you sustained your injuries on Wednesday night at the hands of Mr. Nolan?'
'I remember waking up in a hospital bed, I think it was the Saturday night.'
'So Wednesday night through Saturday night is a complete blank, is that right?'
'That's right.'
'All right.' Mills paused for another second or two, and then-just like that!-her posture changed. Her back straightened perceptibly, a wisp of a grim smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Obviously, she had reached some decision, as though she'd done everything in her power to get to this point, and now the time had come to commit irrevocably to her strategy. 'So now, Mr. Scholler, as you are sitting here in front of me and the members of this jury, maybe you killed Mr. Nolan and maybe you didn't. You just don't remember. Is that right?'
Evan sat with the question for a long moment.
'Mr. Scholler,' she prompted him. 'It's a yes or no question. Can you tell me that you did not kill Mr. Nolan?'
Evan's eyes went to Washburn, who returned his gaze impassively. Coming back to face his prosecutor, Evan leveled his gaze at Mills. 'I don't remember,' he said at last.
28
