coming from the room, apparently the sound of a bookshelf falling over. He ran into the room. Too late, unfortunately. Defendant Lucia had gone into that room, attacked Angelo Coluzzi, and broken the poor man’s neck with his bare hands.”
Judy set down her pen. The opening worried her, if she wasn’t already worried enough. She had prepared for something more conventional and had outlined a complete defense, described witness by witness in black notebooks. But Bennie had warned her to try the case that went in, from word one. She struggled not to panic.
“By the end of this case,” Santoro said, “the Commonwealth will have proven beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant murdered Angelo Coluzzi and that he is guilty of murder in the first degree. That is how the story of this murder case will end. It can by no means be considered a happy ending, for it will never bring Angelo Coluzzi back to his loving wife and family. Nor will it be an unhappy ending. What it will be is an ending that serves justice. Thank you.” Santoro left the podium, crossed to the prosecutor’s table, and sat down.
Judge Vaughn looked at Judy. “Your turn, Ms. Carrier,” he said, and nodded.
Judy stood up and took the podium, after a thoughtful moment. “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Judy Carrier, and I stand before you to defend Anthony Lucia. I will keep it short as well, because I want you to be clear on the one and only question in this case, which is this: Has the Commonwealth proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Anthony Lucia is guilty of murdering Angelo Coluzzi? The Commonwealth must prove that answer beyond a reasonable doubt, and that is the one question before you. I heard nothing about such proof in Mr. Santoro’s opening. And proof is the only thing that matters.”
Judy came out from behind the podium and, when Judge Vaughn didn’t rebuke her, leaned on it. “As you listen to the evidence that follows, please keep your focus on the question at hand. Has the Commonwealth proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Anthony Lucia is guilty of murdering Angelo Coluzzi? And I submit to you, the answer to that question will be no. My client, Anthony Lucia, is not guilty of murder. And finding him not guilty is the only just ending to this case.” Judy looked at the jurors for a moment, but they seemed attentive, which was the best she could hope for. She left the podium and sat down.
“Call your first witness, Mr. Santoro,” Judge Vaughn called out, and Santoro gestured to the court officer through the bulletproof glass to the gallery. Judy half turned, expecting to see Detective Wilkins or Jimmy Bello getting to his feet, but entering the courtroom through the double doors at the back was an elderly, frail woman she didn’t recognize. Her face was wrinkled and her cheeks gaunt behind plastic glasses with upside-down frames. Her hair was as poofy as Mrs. DiNunzio’s.
“The prosecution calls Millie D’Antonio to the stand, Your Honor.”
Judy didn’t recognize her name, but the witness list had been endless, covering most of South Philly. Judy had interviewed as many as she could and only vaguely recollected a Millie D’Antonio. She leaned over to Pigeon Tony. “Who is that?”
“She live next door,” he whispered, and gave the woman a happy wave as she walked by. Judy forced herself not to grab his hand away, but Pigeon Tony kept smiling at his neighbor even as she was sworn in and took the stand. She wore a flowered dress with a worn red cardigan over the top, and Judy remembered speaking with her. But why would Santoro call her? Their conversation had been innocuous.
“Mrs. D’Antonio,” Santoro began, “please tell the jury where you live.”
“I live next to Pigeon Tony.” Mrs. D’Antonio’s hand trembled as she adjusted the microphone. “I mean, Anthony Lucia.” She smiled apologetically.
“And how long have you lived there?”
“All my life. It was my mother’s house. When she passed, she left it to me, may she rest.” The woman crossed herself, and Judy caught the jury’s approving reaction.
Santoro nodded. “How long has Mr. Lucia lived next door to you, if you know?”
“I lived next to him since he came to this country, I guess. A long time ago. Seventy years ago, maybe sixty.”
Judy half rose. “Objection, Your Honor. This is completely irrelevant to this case.”
Santoro looked up at Judge Vaughn. “Your Honor, the relevance of her testimony will become clear in just a few questions.”
“Overruled,” Judge Vaughn said. “Better make good on that, Mr. Santoro.”
Santoro held up a finger. “Mrs. D’Antonio, have you ever had conversations with Mr. Lucia about his late wife?”
Judy half rose again. “Objection, relevance, Your Honor,” she said, but Santoro barely waited for her to finish.
“It’s relevant to the defendant’s motive, Your Honor.”
“Overruled.” Vaughn eyed the lawyers. “But this fighting stops now, counsel. There are no cameras in this courtroom. This is too slow a start on testimony for me. Let’s get on with it.”
“Yes, sir,” Santoro said, then addressed Mrs. D’Antonio. “Now, as you were saying, what was the substance of these conversations?”
Judy wished she could object. What conversations? When? But Vaughn wouldn’t like it, and a hostile judge could be lethal to a defense. It was always a choice between not pissing off a judge and not sending a client to the death chamber. To Judy’s mind the Constitution guaranteed rights to the defendant, not the judge. But she had to be practical.
“The substance?” Mrs. D’Antonio asked, confused.
“What were the conversations about? Take the most recent one, for example. The last conversation you had with the defendant, which was six months before Angelo Coluzzi was murdered, I believe.”
Objection, leading, Judy wished she could say. But she was picking her battles.
Mrs. D’Antonio nodded. “They were about Angelo Coluzzi.”
“And what did Mr. Lucia say about Angelo Coluzzi?”
“That he hated him, and that Angelo Coluzzi killed his wife and his son.”
Judy sat stoically. Pigeon Tony looked unsurprised. It was undoubtedly the truth, but it didn’t look good at all for the defense. And Santoro kept casting the hatred as one-way. Should she do anything about it? It was risky.
“Mrs. D’Antonio, was that the only time Mr. Lucia said those words to you, or words to that effect?”
“No, he said it all the time. Everybody knew it. He made no bones about it.”
“So it is your sworn testimony that Mr. Lucia said that Angelo Coluzzi killed his wife, son, and daughter-in- law?”
“Well, yeah.”
Santoro paused. “Mrs. D’Antonio, to the best of your knowledge, have any of these alleged murders ever been prosecuted by police, either in Italy or in the United States?”
Pigeon Tony started to speak, but Judy shot up instantly. If Santoro wanted to prove it wasn’t murder, he’d have to do it another way. “Objection, no foundation.”
“Sustained,” Judge Vaughn ruled, and Judy sat back down.
Santoro nodded quickly. “I have no further questions. Your witness, Ms. Carrier.”
Judy was on her feet, fueled by an anger she couldn’t hide from the jury. She couldn’t let this testimony go unanswered, even for a minute. “Mrs. D’Antonio, do you know anything about the events of Friday, April seventeenth, the morning on which this alleged murder occurred?”
Mrs. D’Antonio wet her lips. “No.”
“You didn’t see Mr. Lucia that morning, did you?”
“No.”
“You weren’t at the pigeon-racing club that morning, were you, Mrs. D’Antonio?”
“No.”
“So, in truth, you don’t know anything about the murder for which Mr. Lucia is now standing trial, do you?”
“Uh, no.”
Judy considered stopping there. No lawyer was supposed to ask a question she didn’t know the answer to. But these were friendly witnesses, asked only for half the story. She decided to take the risk. “Mrs. D’Antonio, you testified that Mr. Lucia hated Angelo Coluzzi, is that right?”
“Yes.”
