he got the first call from the killer.
I get her to recount the events, then ask her about Daniel’s reaction. “What did he say when he got off the phone?”
“That somebody just confessed to a murder,” she says. “Told him how it was done and where the body was.”
“Did he seem surprised?”
Tucker objects, but I counter that I am merely asking for the witness’s impressions. Calvin lets her answer. “Yes. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. He said it was probably a crank.”
“Did you at any time think Mr. Cummings was putting on an act, that the call wasn’t real?” I ask.
She shakes her head firmly. “Absolutely not.”
I turn her over to Tucker. “Did you hear a voice on the other end of the phone?” he asks.
“No.”
“Are you and Mr. Cummings very close friends?”
“No, not really. We just work together.”
“Has he ever lied to you?” Tucker asks.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so,” she says. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“So he could be lying and you might not be aware of it?”
Backed into a corner, Cheryl has to admit that she might not be able to tell if Daniel is lying. It’s a nice move by Tucker and partially negates a witness of already modest significance.
The rest of the day is taken up by similar witnesses who spent time with Daniel during the period when he was in contact with the killer. All of them completely believed, and still believe, Daniel’s story.
Tucker takes the same approach with each, which is to demonstrate that they have no certain knowledge that Daniel was telling the truth. He does not spend much time on each, signifying to the jury that he doesn’t consider their testimony very important.
He’s right about that.
Our nightly meeting is devoted to how we will handle Eddie on the witness stand tomorrow. Laurie has checked him out as best she can, though she warns that she had little to go on and little time to dig.
Kevin’s view is that we just let him tell his story, quickly and concisely. I agree, but I’m more concerned with the argument that Tucker will present to Calvin afterward. Our defense view is that Eddie’s testimony opens the door to other testimony about Lassiter, possibly from law enforcement officials. Tucker will say that those witnesses have no specific knowledge of Lassiter’s involvement in this case and therefore should not be permitted to testify. It will be a struggle; Calvin could come down either way. But it’s a fight we have to win.
Eddie seems a little nervous and tentative when he arrives at court in the morning. It’s understandable: He’s about to enter the glare of the national spotlight and talk about the night he went to pick up a hooker. It’s a sign of how little I know about my own witness that I don’t even know if he’s married.
He proves to be a decent witness on direct examination. My questions are straightforward, as are his answers, and he lays out what he saw that night, much as he did in my office. He speaks softly and without much emotion, but his words cause obvious excitement in the jury and gallery.
The defense has thrown its best punch. The battle has been joined.
I turn Eddie over to Tucker, who is trying to look confident despite what he has to consider a major blow to his case.
“Mr. Gardner, you testified that you are a truck driver and that you often drive cross-country. Is that correct?”
Eddie nods. “Yes.”
“How is it you know you were in this area on that particular night?”
“I keep a log for my employer of where I am at all times. It’s how I get paid.”
Tucker nods; this seems reasonable. “And your previous trip ended two days before the night of the murder?”
Eddie nods again. “Right. I got home on the twelfth; the murder was on the fourteenth.”
“At about one A.M.?”
“Right,” agrees Eddie.
Tucker makes some notes, then turns a page on his legal pad. “Are you familiar with the number 201-453- 6745?”
“Yes. It’s my cell phone.”
Uh-oh. I don’t like where this is going.
Tucker takes a sheet of paper and gets permission from Calvin to approach the witness. He hands it to Eddie, who looks intently at it, still seeming unworried.
Tucker directs him to two calls made that night, at 12:45 and 12:51. Based on the area codes of the numbers called, they were both in this area.
“Did you make those calls?” Tucker asks.
“I don’t remember,” Eddie says. “I guess so.”
“Does anyone else use your cell phone?”
“No.”
“And it wasn’t stolen?” Tucker asks. “You still have it?”
“Yes.”
Tucker introduces another document into evidence, which he asks Eddie to read. It is an affidavit, signed by a vice president at Eddie’s cell phone company.
Eddie’s voice grows softer as he reads one particular sentence. “The two calls in question were made from within four miles of Camden, New Jersey, more than ninety miles from the city of Passaic.”
A bomb has been dropped in the courtroom, yet when I look around, I don’t see any charred wreckage. All I see are jurors and press and citizens and a judge staring right back at me. Kevin looks like he may throw up on the defense table, and Daniel is somehow able to obey my edict to look impassive. He may just be in a state of shock.
If it weren’t so sad, it would be laughable: Dominic Petrone had promised to help me if I kept his name out of the trial. I did keep his name out, but only because Lassiter’s name was a ready and preferable substitute. Now it seems obvious that Petrone has delivered on his promise by providing me with a witness to support my case. The problem is that the witness is lying, and my case has blown up in my face.
Thanks, Dominic.
Eddie finally gets off the stand, but not before Calvin publicly directs Tucker to pursue perjury charges against him. Calvin then tells Tucker and me to come back for a meeting in his chambers.
Tucker is surprisingly subdued in chambers, though I wouldn’t blame him if he were turning cartwheels. Calvin asks me how this disaster happened, and I tell him the truth, minus my previous conversation with Petrone. Both Calvin and Tucker seem to accept my denial that I knew Eddie was lying when I put him on the stand, and Calvin doesn’t seem inclined to sanction me further.
“I think you’ve probably suffered enough,” he says.
There’s no doubt that I have suffered, but not as much as my client, who I happen to be sure is innocent. There is virtually no chance that the jury will agree with that assessment, not now that his defense has been shown to be lying in front of them.
I make it through the afternoon court session in a semifog. I can only liken it to a team in the last game of the World Series, when the other team scores ten runs in the seventh inning to take a fifteen to nothing lead. The trailing team goes through the motions in the eighth and ninth, but they know the boat has sailed.
Ironically and pathetically, my next witness is a cell phone technology expert, whom I’ve brought in to show that the science is inexact as it relates to the night Linda Padilla died. I make some decent points, but Tucker blows me out of the water with his cross-examination.
“If your technology shows a call was made from Camden, could it actually have been made in North Jersey?”
“No,” says my expert.
Game, set, and match.
Our team meeting tonight is more like a wake, with my body the one on display. It is incredibly frustrating:
