The Vendetta Defense

That is truth!”

Frank started to explain to him, but Judy held up a hand. This was between lawyer and client, since the decision to testify in his own defense was strictly the client’s.

“Pigeon Tony, listen to me. All they can show is that you meant to kill Coluzzi, or even that you wanted to kill Coluzzi. But what they have to prove is that you did it. You don’t go to jail in this country because you want to kill somebody.”

“But I kill Coluzzi! I do it!”

Judy winced. It was still hard to hear. Plus it might not help the defense if he screamed it throughout the courthouse. “But they have to prove that you did, and that’s a lot harder. If they can’t prove it, you win. If you get up there, they can prove it easy, and you lose. Understand?”

Pigeon Tony’s features went rigid, his mouth an unfamiliarly unhappy line, and Frank put a reassuring hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “Pop, Judy knows what she’s doing. She’s the lawyer, and she cares about us. She knows what’s best for you. Let her do her job, okay?”

Pigeon Tony blinked in response. His mouth stayed set, giving a new meaning to Italian marble.

Judy locked eyes with Frank and she didn’t have to tell him what she was thinking. They had become lovers the night she’d gone to him, but since then the relationship hadn’t had a chance to blossom into a warm, rich, full- blown love affair. The law was a jealous mister.

Frank squeezed Pigeon Tony’s shoulder. “Pop, she’s right. She’s trying to save your life here. Tell her you agree.”

Pigeon Tony sighed shallowly, his concave chest rising and sinking with resignation. “Si,” he said quickly.

“Thank you.” Judy patted Pigeon Tony’s other shoulder, skinny even in shoulder pads. “Now let’s go back in. And remember, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better. Nobody feels good during the other side’s case.”

“Amen,” Bennie said, but Pigeon Tony was losing his religion.

Detective Sam Wilkins made a professional counterpoint to the down-home ragtagginess of Pigeon Tony’s neighbors. His dark eyes were alert and grave, and he was dressed in a neat blue suit with a cop-issue patterned tie. Wilkins didn’t so much sit behind the microphone as address the courtroom, and his demeanor was natural and professional. Judy knew the jury would respect him. He reeked of integrity, which she valued in everyone but the opposition.

“Now that we have your background, Detective Wilkins,” Santoro continued, “please tell us what you did the morning of April seventeenth.” Santoro stood taller than he had before. Like most D.A.s, he sucked up to real live cops but wouldn’t ever be one himself. Guns were involved, and somebody could get hurt.

“I was on the day tour and was called to seven-twelve Cotner Street, at eight-thirteen in the morning. About.” Wilkins smiled, and so did the jury. The only person who didn’t was Pigeon Tony. Judy remembered he no like police, and he was baring his dentures.

“Is that the address of a pigeon-racing club?”

“Yes, it is. The South Philly Pigeon Racing Club.”

“What did you do and see there?”

“I was directed to the back room, where I found the body of the deceased, Angelo Coluzzi.”

“Could you describe exactly what you saw, for the jury?”

“Mr. Coluzzi was partly underneath a bookshelf that held various veterinary supplies. I knelt beside him and determined that he had no pulse. It was clear to me his neck had been broken, and—”

“Objection,” Judy said. “Detective Wilkins is not a medical expert, Your Honor.”

“Sustained,” Judge Vaughn said, and Judy felt vaguely satisfied. She didn’t know if she had accomplished anything, but it didn’t hurt to remind the jury that Detective Wilkins wasn’t Superman. Again, Pigeon Tony was the only one who didn’t need the reminder. He glared at the detective so fiercely that Judy clamped her hand on his arm. Oddly, he seemed angrier than he had during Santoro’s opening and resisted her soothing.

Santoro nodded. “Perhaps you could explain what you saw, Detective.”

“Mr. Coluzzi’s neck was lying to the left, loosely, at a skewed, unnatural angle. He lay on the floor near a bookshelf, which was partly on top of him, and many of the items on the shelves had spilled out. The room showed signs of a struggle, but I concluded it was a brief one. From my investigation it appeared that the defendant had entered the room and attacked the deceased.”

Suddenly Pigeon Tony jumped to his feet. “Scum! Coluzzi kill my wife! Coluzzi kill my son! You do nothing! You know he kill him! I spit on you! Pig! Dog!”

“Pigeon Tony, no!” Judy leaped up and grabbed Pigeon Tony as the judge’s gavel started pounding. This outburst could get him killed. The jury was with Detective Wilkins, and Pigeon Tony was going berserk on the man.

Crak! Crak! Crak! “Order!” Judge Vaughn shouted. “Order in the Court! Ms. Carrier, get your client in control.”

“Liar! Scum!” Pigeon Tony kept screaming, and then he segued into Italian. Struggling with him, Judy understood only the word Coluzzi, screamed at least five times at an only mildly surprised Detective Wilkins.

“Order! Order!” Judge Vaughn roared, banging the gavel again and again. The bailiff and courtroom security rushed over. The gallery rose to its feet. Frank looked anguished. All hell was breaking loose.

Judy wrestled Pigeon Tony into his chair and caught sight of the jury. Even though they didn’t understand Pigeon Tony’s words, they understood his meaning, and he looked every inch the angry, violent man Santoro had told them about in his opening. Judy dug her nails into Pigeon Tony’s shoulder and forced him to stay in his seat, but he was still yelling in Italian.

“Your Honor, may we conference?” she shouted, over him.

Crak! Crak! Crak! “We damn well better!” Judge Vaughn thundered. “Bailiff, dismiss the jury! Officers, subdue the defendant! Counsel, into my chambers! Right now!”

Judge Vaughn was so furious he didn’t bother to take off his robes but swept into his huge leather desk chair and let them billow around him like the silken mantle of a king. His large chambers were elegantly appointed, with a polished walnut desk, which was faced by navy leather chairs so large they made even Judy look small. Santoro’s Italian loafers barely grazed the sapphire-and-ruby-patterned carpet, and hunter green volumes of Purdon’s Pennsylvania Statutes Annotated lined the walls of the chamber, as well as tan-and-red volumes of the Pennsylvania reporters and an entire shelf of detective fiction. It didn’t bode well for the defense.

“Ms. Carrier,” Judge Vaughn said, his tone exasperated and his face ruddier than usual. “What the hell is going on out there?”

“Your Honor, I apologize—”

“My courtroom is a zoo! The gallery is the Hatfields and the McCoys! I have double the usual number of men on security. We’re already taking from the Williamson case upstairs.” The judge gestured wildly, his sleeves flying out like an eagle’s wings. “How am I going to explain this to the court administrator? What the hell is the problem with your client?”

“Your Honor, I apologize, but let me explain. My client—”

“Do. Please. Now.” Vaughn simmered while Judy hatched a plan. She could still get Pigeon Tony out of the mess he’d gotten himself into.

“First, I am really sorry.”

“Really sorry?” Judge Vaughn ripped off his glasses and held them poised beside his face. “Really sorry? Can’t we do better than really sorry?”

“Very sorry. Extremely sorry. So very sorry.” Was this a game? Judy stopped guessing. “The problem, as you can see, is that my client is very emotional about this matter and is obviously under a great deal of strain. I apologize for his outburst, especially coming as it did, in front of the jury.”

“Disrupting my trial!” Judge Vaughn said, snatching a tissue from a box on his desk and wiping his forehead with it.

“Exactly, which brings me to my point.” Judy cleared her throat. “The fact that it occurred in front of the jury makes me concerned that prejudice has occurred, and I doubt the ability of this jury to fairly evaluate the facts of the case. Because the incident occurred so early in the trial, it would not be so great an imposition of the judicial system if the Court were to grant a mistrial at this point, and the defense so moves.”

Judge Vaughn’s blue eyes widened and a thick vein expanded in his neck. “Are you crazy?”