'Yes.'
'I'll allow it.'
Garcia held up the recorder.
'Tape A for identification. Authentication by Lt. Jacqueline Daniels of the Chicago Police Department. Lt. Daniels, was that indeed your voice on that tape recording, made during your visit to the Cook County jail on October twentieth of this year, while interviewing the defendant, Barry Fuller?'
I felt ready to throw up myself.
'Yes. But that was taken out of context. There's more.'
'I'd be happy to play the tape in its entirety. Let the record show that Tape A was identified and has been entered into evidence. Proceed.'
After a brief moment of rewinding, the courtroom filled with my recorded voice.
In context, I came off even worse. Fuller's sobbing denial, and my escalating anger and accusations, destroyed my credibility.
The tape ended with Fuller asking me if I was wearing a wire.
'What happened after the tape was turned off, Lieutenant?'
'That's when Fuller said he really remembered everything, and would kill me when he was released.'
'Why is it I expected you to say that? Even in view of your unmitigated, and very personal, hatred of my client, a wretched victim of a personality-altering brain tumor. I'm sure when he takes the stand he'll have a different account of what happened after the recorder was turned off. No further questions.'
'Redirect?' Judge Taylor asked.
Libby stood.
'Lt. Daniels, why were you so hostile to the defendant in that tape?'
'It's standard police technique. I was trying to get him angry at me, so he would talk.'
'And he did talk, after the tape was turned off?'
'Yes. Why else would he have asked me to turn off the tape?'
Libby turned to the jury. 'Indeed. Why would he have wanted that tape shut off, if only to say something he didn't want recorded? No more questions.'
'You may step down, Lieutenant.'
Good recovery, Libby. But as I left the stand I noticed disgust on more than a few faces in the jury box. I was no longer the hero.
When I sat down, I glanced over at Fuller for the first time all day.
He was staring at me, and our eyes locked. His face was a study in sadness. He let out a big dramatic sigh, for the jury's benefit. Playing it to the hilt.
The judge broke for lunch, and I kept my composure long enough to get to the bathroom and splash some water on my face.
Libby walked in, and stood next to me by the sink. The bathroom was full, so I kept my voice down.
'How'd they get the tape? You've got the only copy.'
'And it's in my office safe. They didn't get my copy.'
She gave me an accusatory stare.
I sighed, too tired to get angry. 'Give me a break. They crucified me up there. I want Fuller put away more than anyone.'
'All I know is, no one has touched that tape since you gave it to me. That means it must have been copied prior to my receiving it.'
I digested this.
'Unless we weren't the only ones taping the conversation. What if someone put a wire on Fuller?'
Libby's eyes got Betty Boop big.
'If there's another tape, that means there might be a record of Fuller admitting to the lies.'
'Right. But who did the taping? His legal team? The prison? And even if we do find out who did it, how do we get a copy of the uncut version?'
'I know an audio guy. I'll get a copy of Garcia's tape, and compare it to yours. He should be able to tell if they're from different sources. That'll give me enough to be able to force Garcia into telling how he got the evidence.'
A woman came over to use the sink, and Libby buttoned her lip. We left the washroom.
'How about Fuller's past?' Libby asked. 'Any luck?'
'None. Maybe we could try Rushlo again.'
'I've tried four times. The guy won't budge. His attorney keeps asking for extensions.'
'Why?'
