o’clock on the night of March sixth?”
“Completely satisfied.”
There was a loud blast of laughter in the courtroom and Talbot beamed proudly. I checked the Bible man and it looked like his jaw was tightly clenched.
“Mr. Talbot,” Minton said. “I mean her physical state. Was she hurt or bleeding when you left her?”
“No, she was fine. She was okay. When I left her she was fit as a fiddle and I know because I had just played her.”
He smiled, proud of his use of language. This time there was no laughter and the judge had finally had enough of his use of the double entendre. She admonished him to keep his more off-color remarks to himself.
“Sorry, Judge,” he said.
“Mr. Talbot,” Minton said. “Ms. Campo was not injured in any way when you left her?”
“Nope. No way.”
“She wasn’t bleeding?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t strike her or physically abuse her in any way?”
“No again. What we did was consensual and pleasurable. No pain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”
I looked at my notes for a few moments before standing up. I wanted a break of time to clearly mark the line between direct and cross-examination.
“Mr. Haller?” the judge prompted. “Do you wish to cross-examine the witness?”
I stood up and moved to the lectern.
“Yes, Your Honor, I do.”
I put my pad down and looked directly at Talbot. He was smiling pleasantly at me but I knew he wouldn’t like me for very long.
“Mr. Talbot, are you right- or left-handed?”
“I’m left-handed.”
“Left-handed,” I echoed. “And isn’t it true that on the night of the sixth, before leaving Regina Campo’s apartment, she asked you to strike her with your fist repeatedly in the face?”
Minton stood up.
“Your Honor, there is no basis for this sort of questioning. Mr. Haller is simply trying to muddy the waters by taking outrageous statements and turning them into questions.”
The judge looked at me and waited for a response.
“Judge, it is part of the defense theory as outlined in my opening statement.”
“I am going to allow it. Just be quick about it, Mr. Haller.”
The question was read to Talbot and he smirked and shook his head.
“That is not true. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life.”
“You struck her with your fist three times, didn’t you, Mr. Talbot?”
“No, I did not. That is a lie.”
“You said you have never hurt a woman in your life.”
“That’s right. Never.”
“Do you know a prostitute named Shaquilla Barton?”
Talbot had to think before answering.
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“On the website where she advertises her services she uses the name Shaquilla Shackles. Does that ring a bell now, Mr. Talbot?”
“Okay, yeah, I think so.”
“Have you ever engaged in acts of prostitution with her?”
“One time, yes.”
“When was that?”
“Would’ve been at least a year ago. Maybe longer.”
“And did you hurt her on that occasion?”
“No.”
“And if she were to come to this courtroom and say that you did hurt her by punching her with your left hand, would she be lying?”
“She damn sure would be. I tried her out and didn’t like that rough stuff. I’m strictly a missionary man. I didn’t touch her.”
“You didn’t touch her?”
“I mean I didn’t punch her or hurt her in any way.”
“Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”
I sat down. Minton did not bother with a redirect. Talbot was excused and Minton told the judge that he had only two witnesses remaining to present in the case but that their testimony would be lengthy. Judge Fullbright checked the time and recessed court for the day.
Two witnesses left. I knew that had to be Detective Booker and Reggie Campo. It looked like Minton was going to go without the testimony of the jailhouse snitch he had stashed in the PTI program at County-USC. Dwayne Corliss’s name had never appeared on any witness list or any other discovery document associated with the prosecution of the case. I thought maybe Minton had found out what Raul Levin had found out about Corliss before Raul was murdered. Either way, it seemed apparent that Corliss had been dropped by the prosecution. And that was what I needed to change.
As I gathered my papers and documents in my briefcase, I also gathered the resolve to talk to Roulet. I glanced over at him. He was sitting there waiting to be dismissed by me.
“So what do you think?” I asked.
“I think you did very well. More than a few moments of reasonable doubt.”
I snapped the latches on the briefcase closed.
“Today I was just planting seeds. Tomorrow they’ll sprout and on Wednesday they’ll bloom. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I stood up and lifted the briefcase off the table. It was heavy with all the case documents and my computer.
“See you tomorrow.”
I walked out through the gate. Cecil Dobbs and Mary Windsor were waiting for Roulet in the hallway near the courtroom door. As I came out they turned to speak to me but I walked on by.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Dobbs called to my back.
I turned around.
“We’re stuck out here,” he said as he and Windsor walked to me. “How is it going in there?”
I shrugged.
“Right now it’s the prosecution’s case,” I answered. “All I’m doing is bobbing and weaving, trying to protect. I think tomorrow will be our round. And Wednesday we go for the knockout. I’ve got to go prepare.”
As I headed to the elevator, I saw that a number of the jurors from the case had beaten me to it and were waiting to go down. The scorekeeper was among them. I went into the restroom next to the bank of elevators so I didn’t have to ride down with them. I put my briefcase on the counter between the sinks and washed my face and hands. As I stared at myself in the mirror I looked for signs of stress from the case and everything associated with it. I looked reasonably sane and calm for a defense pro who was playing both his client and the prosecution at the same time.
The cold water felt good and I felt refreshed as I came out of the restroom, hoping the jurors had cleared out.
The jurors were gone. But standing in the hallway by the elevator were Lankford and Sobel. Lankford was holding a folded sheaf of documents in one hand.
“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you.”
