“How many witnesses have been interviewed in the last three years?”
“None.”
“Are there any suspects whom you are currently pursuing?”
“Not at this time.”
“Not in the last three years, isn’t that right, sir?”
“That’s correct.”
“When will a grand jury be convened?”
“I don’t know.”
“And yet, you maintain that this is an active file, and that I have no right to see it.”
“The case is still open.”
“As open as it ever was?”
“Yes. As open as it ever was.”
“No wonder you never caught the killer.”
“Objection.”
“Withdrawn. Mr. Rudsky, do you know a woman named Deirdre Meadows?”
He hesitated, as if the name alone made him nervous. “Yes. She’s a reporter for the Miami Tribune.”
“Did you ever have any discussions with Deirdre Meadows about the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter?”
“Yes. I’ve had general discussions with a number of reporters about the case.”
“To your knowledge, how many of those reporters have written a book about the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter?”
He squirmed nervously. “Just one.”
“That would be Ms. Meadows, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Did you provide any assistance to her in the writing of her book?”
“That depends on what you mean by assistance.”
“Ms. Meadows claims that she had your full cooperation. Would you call that assistance?”
“Objection.”
“On what grounds?” asked the judge.
Compton was silent, stalling, as if the testimony of her own client was news to her. “Relevance,” she stammered.
“Overruled.”
Jack said, “Did Ms. Meadows have your full cooperation, Mr. Rudsky?”
“That depends on what you mean by full cooperation.”
“Did she interview you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she let you read her manuscript?”
“Yes.”
“Did you share any investigative materials with her?”
He paused. Jack waited. The government’s lawyer waited. Finally, Rudsky answered, “I might have.”
Compton went white. She sprang to her feet and asked, “Could we have a short recess, Your Honor?”
“Not now,” said the judge. “This is just getting interesting. Mr. Swyteck, continue.”
Jack walked to the lectern and checked his notes, not because he had to, but only to make the witness stew in the uncomfortable silence. “Sir, are you aware that Sally Fenning threatened to bring a libel suit against Deirdre Meadows if her book were ever published?”
“I’d heard that, yes.”
“Are you also aware that a libel suit cannot be maintained on behalf of a dead person?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“It’s a straightforward question. Are you aware that once a person is dead, you can say whatever you want about them? There is no liability for libel.”
“Yes. I learned that in law school.”
“So the death of Sally Fenning leaves Deirdre Meadows free to publish her book without any fear of a libel suit. Agreed?”
“I suppose that’s correct.”
“And anyone who gave Ms. Meadows his full cooperation in the writing of that book would have the same protection, would he not?”
Rudsky narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying?”
Jack took a half step closer, tightening his figurative grasp. “Sir, do you have a financial interest of any kind in Ms. Meadows’s book?”
Compton shot from her seat. “Judge, please.”
“You’d better not be asking again for a recess.”
“No,” she said. “But I do have a proposal.”
“There’s a question pending,” said Jack.
“Then I object,” said Compton. “There’s no foundation for any of these questions, and the inquiry is totally irrelevant. Before we waste an entire day on this fishing expedition, I would at least ask the court to entertain my suggestion.”
“What is it?” asked the judge.
“In a good faith effort to streamline this process, the government agrees to provide to Mr. Swyteck all of the materials and information that Mr. Rudsky shared with this reporter, Deirdre Meadows. Perhaps that will satisfy Mr. Swyteck’s needs.”
“Perhaps it won’t,” said Jack.
Compton continued, “If it doesn’t, then Mr. Swyteck is free to renew his claim under the Sunshine Act for the production of the entire investigative file.”
“Why not let Mr. Swyteck finish with this witness and see if we can’t resolve the entire matter here and now?” asked the judge.
“Because there is some overlap between the murder of Sally Fenning, which I’m handling, and the murder of her daughter, which Mr. Rudsky handled. I’ll concede that Mr. Swyteck has the right to see anything that Mr. Rudsky shared with a reporter. But ordering us to produce the entire file would not strike the proper balance between the public’s right to know and the need to preserve the integrity of criminal investigations.”
The judge looked at Jack and asked, “Is that acceptable to you?”
“I’d really like Mr. Rudsky to answer my question.”
“Mr. Swyteck,” the judge said, “I asked if that was acceptable to you.”
Jack wanted to push, but the judge seemed to be leaning in his favor, and he didn’t want to lose that advantage by overreaching. “For now,” said Jack. “But if I don’t get everything I need, I will be back.”
“Very well,” said the judge. “The government has two days to produce the investigative materials to Mr. Swyteck. And I’m warning you: no game playing. I’m not going to be happy if this matter comes back to me.”
With the crack of the gavel, the hearing was over. Rudsky stepped down from the witness stand, not so much as looking at Jack. As Jack packed his briefcase, Patricia Compton walked over to his table and said, “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a sad thing that no one was ever indicted for the murder of Sally’s daughter.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I don’t intend to have the same problem for the murder of Sally Fenning. I thought you might want to pass that along to your client.”
Jack didn’t blink. “Sure thing. Just as soon as I see your file. Call me when it’s ready,” he said, then turned and headed for the exit.
Twenty-four
