charged.'
As I took my place at counsel table, I noticed that two more of the Latin Princes had entered the room. There were no words emblazoned on their chests today, just the image of a dagger, half covered in blood, on the black background of the T-shirts. A court officer stood behind my chair, facing them.
I tried to concentrate on Grassley's opening.
His remarks were short and he spoke in generalities, urging each of the jurors to keep an open mind. He knew that my evidence was overwhelming, and he was up against the dazzling science of genetic fingerprinting
You may call your first witness, Ms. Cooper.'
'The people call Kerry Hastings, Your Honor.'
One of the court officers went to the side door that led to the witness waiting room. When he came back in, every head but mine turned to Hastings, to inspect her, as she walked into the well of the courtroom, approached the stand, and was sworn in.
I rose to bring my notes to the lectern. I could see now that there were eight gang members in the room, along with a handful of my colleagues. It worried me that the group would try to stage any kind of outburst while Kerry Hastings was testifying.
For almost fifteen minutes, I took her through the basic information of her background-her education, her training, her impressive resume of publications and academic awards. Her poise and dignity belied the anger that she had described to me, the anger she had carried internally for three decades. This jury was meeting a mature adult, robbed of a life she had planned for herself when her youthful dreams were shattered by Floyd Warren's brutality.
I had her describe how she went to sleep the night she was raped and what had awakened her.
'I heard a noise on the fire escape. My bed was right next to the window, and because it was such a warm night, I had left it open.'
As she answered my questions, the young man in the front row began to cough.
'What kind of noise was it?' I asked her.
'It sounded like something rattling against the metal grating. That's when I opened my eyes.'
'And what did you see?'
'I saw light-like flames-just outside my window. I sat up in bed because I was afraid that something was on fire.'
'What happened next?'
'There was a man sitting on the window sill. He already had one leg in my room. The flames came from a cigarette lighter that he was using to see his way in the dark.'
'What did-?'
'He dropped the lighter and grabbed my hair with his left hand. He pulled me toward him and held the point of a knife against my neck. 'Don't scream,' is what he said to me. 'Don't make me use this.' '
Kerry Hastings was almost mechanical in her recitation of the story. She was determined, this time, that she wouldn't give Floyd Warren the satisfaction of seeing her cry. I needed to slow her down and make her wait for me to finish my questions.
Several of the young gang members appeared to be having coughing fits.
'Were you able to see the face of the man who held the knife to your neck?'
The judge banged his gavel three times. Hastings jumped, surprised by the pounding noise directly behind her head.
'Let's have some order here.'
'I saw him for less than a minute. He put-'
'Hold on, Ms. Hastings, will you?' Judge Lamont said. 'I can't hear your answers.'
Floyd Warren was smirking, pleased to see that the witness was rattled by the disruptive spectators.
Louie Larsen approached the kid in the first row and exchanged whispered remarks. Then Larsen walked to the bench and said something to Lamont.
'Carry on, Ms. Cooper.'
'Had you ever seen the intruder, the man who came through your window, before?'
'No. I didn't know him.'
'Let's go back, Ms. Cooper. I didn't get what she said about seeing the man.'
Hastings turned toward the judge. 'I only saw him for a few seconds. He put a pillow over my face before he turned me on my stomach. He didn't want me to see him.'
'Wait for Ms. Cooper's questions, please.'
So much for my smooth direct. Kerry Hastings's calm was dissolving rapidly.
The lead Latin Prince had another coughing spell, doubling over and clapping his chest.
Alton Lamont stood up and pointed at the door with his gavel. 'Take it out of here, young man. Captain Larsen, let's clear the courtroom.'
One of the officers directed the jurors to rise and file through the door behind the witness stand. Several of them stooped to pick up bags and backpacks, fixated on the confrontation between the judge and the Latino loudmouth.
'It's a public trial, Your Honor. I know my rights.'
Another officer took his place beside Kerry Hastings, who looked shell-shocked by all the activity going on around her.
Larsen had the leader by the arm and was trying to drag him out of the room. Half the jury members were still watching, still listening, even as they were being herded along.
'Ms. Cooper's trying to railroad another brother, Judge. She's a liar! Liar!'
The other gang members were on their feet, pushing one another to get to the door ahead of Larsen and his charge.
'Arrest him, Captain. He's over the line. Arrest him.' Lamont banged his gavel again.
'Arrest my ass, Judge. She's a liar!'
One of the others slammed the door open and the rest followed into the hallway. The heavy wooden panels swung back and forth several times, echoing with the sound of the eight-foot-tall metal detector as it crashed to the floor, flipped over by the fleeing Latin Princes.
Kerry Hastings looked at me, blinking back tears. I had promised her the trial would be easy. I assured her nothing would traumatize her like the first time. Today I'd been wrong.
TEN
No, Judge, I don't want to move for a mistrial. Let's just go forward,' I said.
It was an hour later. Lamont had granted a recess while we regrouped. The Latin Prince who'd been arrested, Ernesto Abreu, had been charged with harassment and taken away in handcuffs. The broken metal detector meant that any spectators would be patted down before entering the courtroom, and I knew that Louie Larsen would slow that process sufficiently so that we could carry on without incident or unwelcome visitors.
The jurors were given a curative instruction. They were told to ig nore the outburst that had occurred and not to discuss it among themselves. Most of them were no longer smiling at me as they had during voir dire, some undoubtedly wondering whether what Abreu had shouted was true.
Kerry Hastings had been rattled by the interruption. Despite her resolve, she was more nervous now, and more emotional.
The jury was riveted by her testimony, moved by her valiant effort to get away from her assailant despite his repeated threats to kill her.
'I'm going to ask you to look around the courtroom today and tell us whether you see the man who attacked you in 1973.'
Hastings shifted her lean body and looked at Floyd Warren. 'I can't tell you that I do. I couldn't identify his face then, and I can't do it now.'
Several of the jurors looked at me to see if this was a setback for the prosecution. They didn't understand,
