Detective Wilcox shot a glance at Ferguson, who was scowling, shaking his head, and scribbling on his legal pad. His eyes caught Cowart's for an instant, and he smiled.
Roy Black let fury ride the edges of his questions. 'Now, after you slapped him, Detective, what do you think he thought? Do you think he thought he wasn't under arrest? That he was free to go? Or do you think he thought you were going to beat on him some more?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, how did he act after you slapped him?'
'He grew more respectful. It didn't seem like Ferguson thought it was any big deal.'
'And?'
'And I apologized at the request of my superior officer.'
'Well, I'm sure that looking back from Death Row, that apology made all the difference in the world,' the lawyer said sarcastically.
'Objection!' Boylan stood slowly.
'I'll withdraw the remark,' Black replied.
'Right,' said the judge. 'Precisely.' He glared at the defense attorney.
'No more questions.'
'The state?'
'Yes, your honor. Just one or two. Detective Wilcox, have you had occasion to take other statements from people confessing to crimes?'
'Yes. Many times.'
'How many have been suppressed?'
'None.'
'Objection! Irrelevant!'
'Objection sustained and stricken. Continue, please.'
'Now, just so I can be certain, you say Mr. Ferguson finally confessed some twenty-four hours after being asked to give a statement?'
'Correct.'
'And the alleged slapping, that took place in…'
'Maybe the first five minutes.'
'And were there any other physical threats directed toward Mr. Ferguson?'
'None.'
'Verbal threats?'
'None.'
'Any type of threats?'
'No.'
'Thank you.' The prosecutor sat down. Wilcox rose and walked across the courtroom, adopting a fierce look until he maneuvered past the camera, when he broke into a grin.
Tanny Brown was next to the stand. He sat in the seat quietly, relaxed, with the calm exterior of someone who'd been in the position he occupied many times. Cowart listened carefully as the lieutenant explained the difficulty surrounding the case, and told the judge that the car was the first, and really the only, piece of evidence they had to go on. He described Ferguson as nervous, anxious, evasive when they arrived at his grandmother's shack. He said that Ferguson's movements had been abrupt, furtive, and that he had refused to explain why he was so busy washing out his car, or to explain satisfactorily where the missing section of car rug was. He said that this physical nervousness led him to suspect that Ferguson was concealing information. He then conceded that Ferguson was slapped twice. Nothing more.
His words echoed his partner's. 'Detective Wilcox struck the subject twice, with an open hand. Not hard. He was more respectful afterwards. But I personally apologized to the suspect, and I insisted that Detective Wilcox do the same.'
'And what was the effect of those apologies?'
'He seemed to relax. It did not seem that Mr. Ferguson thought being slapped was much of a big deal.'
'I'm sure. It's a bigger deal now, right, Lieutenant?'
Tanny Brown paused before answering the exasperated question. 'That is correct, Counselor. It is a much bigger deal now.'
'And of course, you never pulled a handgun during that interrogation and pointed it at my client?'
'No, sir.'
'You never pulled the trigger on an empty cylinder and told him to confess?'
'No, sir.'
'You never threatened him with his life?'
'No, sir.'
'As far as you're concerned, the statement he gave was entirely voluntary?'
'Correct.'
'Stand up, please, Lieutenant.'
'Sir?'
'Stand up and step down.'
Tanny Brown did what was requested. The defense attorney walked over and seized a chair from behind his table.
The prosecutor rose. 'Your honor, I fail to see the point of this demonstration.'
The judge leaned over. 'Mr. Black?'
'If your honor will indulge me just this once…'
The judge glanced toward the television camera, which had pivoted, following the detective. 'All right. But get on with it.'
'Stand there, Lieutenant.'
Tanny Brown stood easily in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind him, waiting.
Black turned toward Ferguson and nodded.
The prisoner then stood up and swiftly walked out from behind the defense table. For an instant, he stood next to the lieutenant, just long enough to allow the difference in the sizes between the two men to be seen. Then he sat in the chair. The effect was immediate; it seemed that Tanny Brown dwarfed the smaller man.
'Now, when he sat there like that, handcuffed and alone, you don't think he feared for his life?'
'No.'
'No? Thank you. Please return to your seat.'
Cowart smiled. A bit of theater just for the press, he thought. That was the footage that would make all the evening newscasts, the hulking detective perched over the slight, smaller man. It wouldn't have any impact on the judge's decision, but he recognized that Roy Black was playing to more audiences than the one.
'Let's move on to something else, Lieutenant.'
'Fine.'
'Do you recall an occasion where you were presented with a knife that was discovered beneath a rain culvert some three or four miles from the scene of the crime?'
'Yes.'
'How did you get that knife?'
'Mr. Cowart of the Miami Journal found it.'
'And what did an examination of that knife reveal?'
'The blade length matched some of the deep cuts in the deceased.'
