The Pardon

coffin.

“Order,” said the judge, banging her gavel.

Jack went cold. Long ago, he’d come to the conclusion that he and his father would never discuss Fernandez again, not even privately. His public confession was overwhelming-and a bit confusing, really, until Manny’s next line of questioning brought it all into focus.

“Did you come to any conclusion, Governor, about the identity of the man who was threatening you?”

“Yes,” he said with conviction. “I firmly believed it was Eddy Goss.”

The whispering throughout the courtroom became a quiet rumble. Jurors exchanged glances. No one seemed quite sure whether to feel sympathy or suspicion.

“Order!” the judge intoned, more loudly this time, and with a few more cracks of the gavel.

Manny waited for the courtroom to settle, then proceeded, still standing behind the lectern. “Governor,” he asked gently, though pointedly, “why did you think it was Eddy Goss who was blackmailing you?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I first thought it was Goss when one of the messages I received was accompanied by a bouquet of chrysanthemums. I’m sure you recall that Goss was known as the Chrysanthemum Killer. But what really convinced me was when I learned that the address the blackmailer had told me to deliver the ten thousand dollars to-four-oh-nine East Adams Street-was where Goss lived.”

“And did you in fact go to Goss’s address?”

“Yes, I did-at four o’clock in the morning, on the second of August.”

The courtroom exploded once again in a torrent of whispers-followed immediately by the rapping of Judge Tate’s gavel. “Order!”

“Judge,” the prosecutor croaked. “I move to strike all of this testimony. It’s-it’s,” he stammered, searching desperately for some way to stop this assault on his ironclad case. “It’s prejudicial!”

The judge frowned. “I don’t doubt it’s prejudicial, Mr. McCue. I hardly think Mr. Cardenal would call a witness to help your case. Overruled.”

McCue grimaced as he lowered himself into his chair.

Manny smiled briefly, then continued. “Just a few more questions,” he told his witness. “Governor, is there any way you can prove you were at Eddy Goss’s apartment on the night he was murdered?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “because on the night I went there I was wearing the same kind of shoes I’m wearing now. The same kind of shoes I’ve worn for twenty-five years. I was wearing-”

“Hold it!” McCue shouted, seemingly out of breath as he shot to his feet. “Just one second, Your Honor.”

“Is that an objection?” the judge groused.

“Uh, yes,” McCue fumbled. “I just don’t see the relevance of any of this. Governor Swyteck is not on trial. His son is.”

“Your Honor,” Manny countered, “this testimony is highly relevant, and for a very simple reason. We now have not just one, not just two-but three people with the means and motive to kill Eddy Goss. We have Detective Stafford. We have Governor Swyteck. And we have the defendant. Ironically, it’s the man with the weakest motive of all who’s been charged with the crime. We submit, Your Honor, that under the evidence presented in this case, it is impossible for any reasonable juror to decide which, if any, of these three men might have acted on his motive and killed Eddy Goss. If it could have been any one of them, then it might not have been my client. And if it might not have been my client, then there is reasonable doubt. And if there is reasonable doubt,” Manny said as he canvassed the jurors, “then my client must be found not guilty.”

The judge leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips. “Very nice closing argument, Mr. Cardenal,” she said sarcastically, though in truth she was more impressed than annoyed by Manny’s speech. “The objection is overruled.”

The prosecutor’s round face flushed red with anger. He felt manipulated, and he feared that clever lawyering was stealing his case from under him. “But, Judge!”

“Overruled,” she rebuked him. “Mr. Cardenal, repeat your question, please.”

Manny nodded, then turned toward the governor. “My question, Governor, was whether you can prove you were at Eddy Goss’s apartment on the night he was murdered.”

“Yes, because I was wearing my Wiggins wing tips.”

Manny stepped toward the bench, waving an exhibit as he walked. “At this time, Your Honor, we offer into evidence as defendant’s exhibit two a copy of the footprint that was left outside Mr. Goss’s apartment on the night of the murder. This document was prepared by the police. It is an imprint from a Wiggins wing tip.”

The judge inspected the exhibit, then looked up and asked, “Any objection, Mr. McCue?”

‘Well, no. I mean-yes. I object to this whole presentation. I-”

“Enough,” she groaned. “Overruled. Do you have any further questions, Mr. Cardenal?”

Manny considered. He was sure the governor’s testimony had planted the seed of doubt, but with Jack’s life hanging in the balance, he owed it to his client to pursue every avenue of inquiry-even if it cast further suspicion on the governor. “Just one more question, Judge.” He turned back to Harry.

“Tell me, Governor, how did your life of public service get its start-have you always been a politician?”

McCue rolled his eyes. Where was Cardenal heading now?

Harry smiled. “Well, my mother would say I’ve been a politician since birth.” A few of the spectators tittered. “But no, my first years of public service were as a police officer. I spent ten years on the force,” he said proudly.

“And do you still have your patrolman’s uniform?”

“I do,” the governor conceded.

Over a loud murmur, Manny called out to the judge, “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

Jack felt a lump in his throat. He was nearly overcome by his father’s selfless act. The governor was a destroyer on the witness stand. He was destroying the prosecution’s case against Jack-as well as his own chances for reelection.

“Mr. McCue,” the judge queried, “any cross-examination?”

McCue sprung from his chair. “Oh, most definitely,” he said. He marched to within a few feet of the witness, his stance and expression confrontational, if not hostile. “Governor Swyteck,” he jabbed, “Jack Swyteck is your only son. Your only child, is he not?”

“That’s true,” the governor replied.

“And you love your son.”

There was a pause-not because the governor didn’t know the answer, but because it had been so long since he’d said it. “Yes,” he answered, looking at Jack. “I do.”

“You love him,” McCue persisted, “and if you had to tell a lie to keep him from going to the electric chair, you would do it, wouldn’t you!”

A heavy silence lingered in the courtroom. The governor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke from the heart. “Mr. McCue,” he said in a low, steady voice that nearly toppled the prosecutor, “if there’s one thing I always taught my son, it’s that we’re all responsible for our own actions. Jack even reminded me of that once,” he added, glancing over at the defense table. “My son didn’t kill Eddy Goss,” he said, looking each of the jurors right in the eye. “Jack Swyteck is innocent. That’s the truth. And that’s why I’m here.”

“All right, then,” McCue said angrily. “If you’re here to tell the truth, then let’s hear it: Are you telling us that you killed Eddy Goss?”

The governor looked squarely at the jurors. “I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to tell you that Jack did not kill Goss. And I’m telling you that l know he did not.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear my question,” McCue’s voice boomed. “I am asking you, sir-yes or no: Did you kill Eddy Goss?”

“It’s like you said earlier, Mr. McCue. I’m not the one on trial here. My son is.”

McCue waved his arms furiously. “Your Honor! I demand that the witness be instructed to answer the question!”

The judge leaned over from the bench. “With all due respect, Governor,” she said gravely, “the question calls for a yes or no answer. I feel compelled to remind you, however, of your fifth amendment right against self- incrimination. You need not answer the question if you invoke the fifth amendment. But those are your only options, sir. Either invoke the privilege, or answer the question. Did you or did you not kill Eddy Goss?”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. It was as if everyone in the courtroom suddenly realized that