FIRESTONE: Objection.
THE COURT: Overruled. You may answer.
O'KEEFE: No, I did not.
JAYWALKER: Did you think you were acting with a de praved indifference FIRESTONE: Objection!
JAYWALKER: — to human life?
FIRESTONE: Objection! Objection! Objection!
THE COURT: I'll allow it. And then we'll move on, Mr. Jaywalker.
O'KEEFE: Could you repeat the question?
JAYWALKER: Let me rephrase it. Did you think at the time, Miss O'Keefe, that you drove those forty minutes with a depraved indifference to human life?
FIRESTONE: Objection!
THE COURT: Sit down. I've ruled.
O'KEEFE: No, I did not.
JAYWALKER: And as you reflect upon it now, would your answer be any different?
O'KEEFE: No, not at all.
And there it was, Jaywalker's summation.
Amy Jo O'Keefe was a woman, meaning a given amount of alcohol would affect her nearly fifty percent more than it would a man of equal body weight. She weighed maybe half what Carter Drake did. Over a slightly shorter period of time, she'd consumed roughly the same amount of alcohol as he had. Yet she'd been able to get into her car, start it up, and drive forty minutes without incident to another state.
And Carter Drake? In getting into his car and driving himself home, had he acted one bit more recklessly than Amy Jo? One bit more depravedly indifferent to human life?
Of course he hadn't. He'd just been unlucky, that was all. T erribly unlucky.
Under our system, jurors, a good argument can be made that both Amy Jo O'Keefe and Carter Drake broke the law that night. She drove while intoxicated. So did he. She got away with it, as do thousands, if not millions, of motorists, year in and year out. He didn't. But ask yourselves this. Should dumb luck mean that one of them should be able to walk away free, to joke about her Irish heritage and say 'No problem,' while the other one should spend the rest of his days locked up in a cage? Even if he does happen to be a no-good, cheating sonof-a-bitch sleazebag?
Okay, so it needed a little polishing. But there it was, the utter hypocrisy of the law, laid bare. All because Firestone and his team had initially decided against calling a witness whose testimony, they'd explained, would be merely cumulative. Jaywalker would have been willing to bet his entire fee-okay, a pocketful of Samoan pennies- that they'd known full well that O'Keefe had driven home safely, that they'd chosen not to call her precisely because they'd been afraid that fact might come out, and that they'd shredded any police reports mentioning her, in violation of both Brady and Rosario.
On redirect, to his credit, Abe Firestone brought out a few differences in the way Amy Jo had driven home and the way Carter Drake had.
FIRESTONE: Did you speed on the way home?
O'KEEFE: No, I drove under the speed limit.
FIRESTONE: Did you drive on the wrong side of the road?
O'KEEFE: No.
FIRESTONE: Did you run any vans off the road?
O'KEEFE: No.
FIRESTONE: Did you kill eight little kids and JAYWALKER: Objection.
THE COURT: Sustained.
On second thought, maybe he had to rethink that part of his summation just a bit.
They broke for lunch.
That afternoon Firestone called Riley the Bartender. Riley, who actually turned out to have a first name, Daniel, showed up in a faded blue suit, a white shirt two sizes too big at the collar and a one-inch-wide black tie. It was an outfit straight out of the 1950s, and it made him look as though he was auditioning for a bit part in a retro movie. Had he been Jaywalker's witness, he would have worn his bartender vest, with a white towel thrown over one shoulder. Jaywalker would never understand what possessed other lawyers to try to dress up their witnesses.
Firestone established that Riley had thirty-six years of bartending experience, the last nine of them at the End Zone. He'd come on duty around five-thirty the afternoon of May 27, just in time for the evening rush. Yes, he remembered the defendant, who'd been seated at a table with Frank Gilson, a 'sort of regular' customer. And yes, they'd been joined a few minutes later by three attractive young ladies, all of whom Riley recognized.
FIRESTONE: What were they drinking?
RILEY: Martinis, at first. Once the young ladies joined them, they switched over to tequila.
FIRESTONE: Any particular type of tequila?
RILEY: Yeah. They asked for what we in the business call a designer brand. This particular one was a dark amber, 120 proof instead of the usual 90 or 100, and said to be very smooth going down.
FIRESTONE: What do you mean by 'said to be smooth'?
RILEY: Well, I wouldn't really know. I don't drink.
(Laughter)
RILEY: It also happens to be very expensive.
FIRESTONE: How expensive?
RILEY: They were doing shots. It was costing them fifteen dollars a shot.
FIRESTONE: How much tequila was there in each shot?
RILEY: About an ounce and a half.
FIRESTONE: At this time, are you able to tell us how many martinis and how many shots of 120-proof designer tequila the defendant consumed that evening?
RILEY: I'd have to look at the tab.
At that point Firestone produced a check and showed it to his witness, who identified it as the one that had been turned over to state troopers back in June. With no objection from Jaywalker, it was received in evidence.
FIRESTONE: Does looking at that exhibit refresh your recollection?
RILEY: Yeah. All told, they had six martinis and, let me see, twenty-four shots of tequila. Of those, I'd say the defendant personally had three martinis and maybe six or seven tequilas.
FIRESTONE: Did there come a time when you had a conversation with the defendant?
RILEY: Yes.
FIRESTONE: What did you say, and what did he say?
RILEY: I asked him if he had a ride home. He pointed at himself, like he was his own ride. I said, 'No good.' I handed him a phone, a cordless one we keep behind the bar, and I asked him to call somebody to come pick him up. He protested for a moment or two, but then he agreed and made a call.
FIRESTONE: Why did you say 'No good' and make him call somebody?
RILEY: Because I didn't think he was in any condition to drive.
FIRESTONE: Over your thirty-six years of experience as a bartender, have you seen a number of people who were intoxicated?
RILEY: More than you can imagine.
FIRESTONE: In your opinion, was the defendant intoxicated?
RILEY: Yes.
FIRESTONE: Do you happen to know who he called?
RILEY: Not for sure. But about forty-five minutes later, a kid showed up, maybe nineteen or twenty years old. And after the defendant settled up with Mr. Gilson, he and the kid left the place together.
Firestone thanked the witness, collected his notes, and started walking away from the podium. 'Oh, yeah,' he said as if he'd suddenly remembered, in his best Peter Falk impersonation. 'One more thing. What did the check come to?'
Riley said he had to look at it to remember. 'Let's see. Four hundred and ninety-two dollars and seventyfive
