Flair wanted to stay liked. So he had Mort do the hatchet work. It was the attorney version of good cop, bad cop.
I turned back to Chamique. 'You weren't stripping the night you were raped, were you?'
'Objection!'
'Alleged rape,' I corrected.
'No,' Chamique said. 'I was invited.'
'You were invited to a party at the frat house where Mr. Marantz and Mr. Jenrette live?'
'That's right.'
'Did either Mr. Marantz or Mr. Jenrette invite you?'
'No.'
'Who did?'
'Another boy who lived there.'
'Whats his name?'
'Jerry Flynn.'
'I see. How did you meet Mr. Flynn?'
'I worked the frat the week before.'
'When you say you worked the frat-'
'I stripped for them,' Chamique finished for me. I liked that. We were getting a rhythm.
'And Mr. Flynn was there?'
'They all were.'
'When you say 'they all'-'
She pointed at the two defendants. 'They were there too. A bunch of other guys.'
'How many would you say?'
'Twenty, twenty-five maybe.'
'Okay, but it was Mr. Flynn who invited you to the party a week later?'
'Yes.'
'And you accepted the invitation?' Her eyes were wet now, but she held her head high.
'Yes.'
'Why did you choose to go?' Chamique thought about that.
'It would be like a billionaire inviting you on his yacht.'
'You were impressed with them?'
'Yeah. 'Course.'
'And their money?'
'That too,' she said.
I loved her for that answer.
'And,' she went on, 'Jerry was sweet to me when I was stripping.'
'Mr. Flynn treated you nicely?'
'Yeah.'
I nodded. I was entering trickier territory now, but I went for it. 'By the way, Chamique, going back on the night you were hired to strip…' I felt my breath go a little shallow. 'Did you perform other services on any of the men in attendance?'
I met her eye. She swallowed, but she held it together. Her voice was soft. The edges were gone now. 'Yeah.'
'Were these favors of a sexual nature?'
'Yeah.'
She lowered her head.
'Don't be ashamed,' I said. 'You needed the money.' I gestured toward the defense table. 'What's their excuse?'
'Objection!'
'Sustained.'
But Mort Pubin wasn't done. 'Your Honor, that statement was an outrage!' 'It is an outrage,' I agreed. 'You should castigate your clients immediately.'
Mort Pubin turned red. His voice was a whine. 'Your Honor!'
'Mr. Copeland.'
I held my palm up to the judge, signaling he was right and I would cease. I am a firm believer in getting out all the bad news during direct, albeit in my own way. You take the wind out of their cross.
'Were you interested in Mr. Flynn as a potential boyfriend?'
Mort Pubin again: 'Objection! Relevance?'
'Mr. Copeland?'
'Of course it's relevant. They are going to say that Miss Johnson is making up these charges to shake down their clients financially. I'm trying to establish her frame of mind on that night.'
'I'll allow it,' Judge Pierce said.
I repeated the question.
Chamique squirmed a little and it made her look her age. 'Jerry was out of my league.'
'But?'
'But, I mean, yeah, I don't know. I never met anyone like him. He held a door for me. He was so nice. I'm not used to that.'
'And he's rich. I mean, compared with you.'
'Yeah.'
'Did that mean something to you?'
'Sure.'
I loved the honesty.
Chamique's eyes darted toward the jury box. The defiant expression was back. 'I got dreams too.' I let that echo a few moments before following up. 'And what was your dream that night, Chamique?' Mort was about to object again but Flair Hickory put his hand on Morts forearm. Chamique shrugged.
'It's stupid.'
'Tell me anyway'.
'I thought maybe… it was stupid… I thought maybe he'd like me, you know?'
'I do,' I said. 'How did you get to the party?'
'Took a bus from Irvington and then I walked.'
'And when you arrived at the frat house, Mr. Flynn was there?'
'Yes.'
'Was he still sweet?'
'At first, yeah.' Now a tear escaped. 'He was real sweet. It was-'
She stopped.
'It was what, Chamique?'
'In the beginning', another tear ran down her cheek, 'it was the best night of my life.' I let the words hang and echo. A third tear escaped. 'Are you okay?' I asked Chamique wiped the tear. 'I'm fine.' 'You sure?' Her voice was hard again. 'Ask your question, Mr. Copeland,' she said. She was wonderful. The jury all had their heads up, listening to, and believing, I thought, every word.
'Was there a time when Mr. Flynn’s behavior toward you changed?'
'Yeah.'
'When?'
'I saw him whispering with that one over there.' She pointed toward Edward Jenrette.
'Mr. Jenrette?'
'Yeah. Him.' Jenrette tried not to shrink from Chamique's gaze. He was half successful.
'You saw Mr. Jenrette whisper something to Mr. Flynn?'
'Yeah.'
'And then what happened?'
'Jerry asked me if I wanted to take a walk.'
'By Jerry, you mean Jerry Flynn?'
'Yeah.'
'Okay, tell us what happened.'
'We walked outside. They had a keg. He asked me if I wanted a beer. I said no. He was acting all jumpy and stuff.'
Mort Pubin was up. 'Objection.'
I spread my arm and looked exasperated. 'Your Honor.'
'I'll allow it,' the judge said.
