A Cure for Night (19 page)

Read A Cure for Night Online

Authors: Justin Peacock

Tags: #Thrillers, #General, #Legal, #Fiction

30

D
ID YOUR
brother have a cell phone or pager?" Myra asked Latrice Wallace to begin her cross-examination the next morning, the question having its intended effect of catching the witness off guard. Myra was standing behind our table, barely having moved out of her chair before asking the question.

"He got a cell," Latrice said.

"So after Mr. Tate allegedly said this supposed threat about Mr.
Wallace to you, you must have called your brother right away to warn him,
right?"

"No," Latrice said. "I didn't call him."

"You didn't?" Myra said, feigning surprise as she walked slowly over to the podium.
"That was because you weren't actually worried that Lorenzo Tate posed a threat
to your brother, were you?"

"Not just then I wasn't, no. Now—"

"Thank you," Myra interrupted. "Did you call the police after Mr.
Tate's visit that night?"

"No."

"I see. Ms. Wallace, do you recall testifying before a grand jury
regarding the same events you've just testified about here?"

"I got up at that thing before this."

"And at the grand jury, you testified about when Mr. Tate came to your door looking for your brother that night, didn't you?" Myra asked.

"That's right."

"And what you then claimed Mr. Tate said that night was: 'Oh,
shit, he think I'm fucking with him'?"

"If that's what it say."

"That's what it says because that's what
you
said, right?"

"I went to that other jury and told the truth, same as I'm telling
it now."

"But that statement is pretty different from what you just told
this jury, isn't it?"

"No."

"No?" Myra said, appearing genuinely surprised by the answer. I doubted the jury could tell the difference between when she was pretending to be surprised and when she actually was, but I was pretty sure I could. Even I wasn't entirely sure: Myra was a pretty good actress.
"You don't think 'Oh, shit, he think I'm fucking with him' is pretty different
from 'He don't know who he's fucking with, but he's going to get his'?"

"No."

"Isn't it true that the second one sounds like a threat but the
first one doesn't?"

"Don't know about that."

"To you, those two comments, they mean the exact same thing?" Myra pressed, wanting to make sure this got through to the jury.

"Asked and answered," O'Bannon said by way of objection.

"Sustained," Judge Ferano said. "You've made your point, Counsel," he said to Myra.

"I suppose I have, Your Honor," Myra said. "Now, you gave a
physical description of Lorenzo Tate to the police, correct?"

"Yes."

"And in the description you described what Mr. Tate was wearing
that night, right?"

"I can't remember everything I say."

"According to the police report, you said that Mr. Tate was
wearing a bright-colored T-shirt, blue jeans, and a Yankees baseball cap; do you
remember that?"

"If that's what it say."

"Ms. Wallace, do you know Yolanda Miller?"

"We know each other some."

"How do you know her?"

"We both come up in the Gardens. And she used to come 'round to
see my brother."

"Ms. Miller used to come to your apartment to see Devin Wallace?"

"Sure."

"Are you aware of the fact that Ms. Miller used illegal drugs?"

"Objection," O'Bannon said.

"I'll allow it," Judge Ferano said. "The witness can answer if she
has actual knowledge."

"I know she get high," Latrice said.

"You've seen her get high?"

"I see her when she be high."

"How many times have you seen Ms. Miller under the influence of
drugs?"

"Objection," O'Bannon said. "The witness is not an expert in
recognizing drug impairment."

"The witness grew up in our city's projects," Myra shot back. In addition to being comfortable as a performer, Myra also had the most important tool for any trial lawyer: she was quick on her feet.

"Objection overruled," Ferano said.

Latrice shrugged. "Few times maybe. Ain't like she high every time
I seen her."

"When was the first time you ever saw Ms. Miller under the
influence of drugs?"

"Didn't write down no date."

"Was it before the night your brother was shot?"

"Before then, uh-huh. I remember her coming over to our place all
messed up."

"Thank you, Ms. Wallace," Myra said, turning quickly and taking her seat.

ADA O'Bannon did a brief redirect, focusing on the fact that Latrice was absolutely certain that it was Lorenzo Tate who'd come looking for her brother that night, and that he'd said words she now took to be threatening to her brother. After that the prosecution was ready to bring out its next witness.

"The People call Lester Bailey," ADA O'Bannon said.

This was our first look at the jailhouse snitch who claimed that Lorenzo had confessed to him. Unsurprisingly, Lester Bailey had refused to speak with me when I'd tried to visit him at Rikers. He was a wiry black man, with cornrows and a dead-eyed glare. You could take the gangster out of jail, I thought as I watched him approach the stand, but you couldn't take jail out of the gangster. Although they'd dressed him in a jacket and tie, to my eyes a prison jumpsuit hung over Lester's spindly frame like an aura. I hoped a jury would take one look at Lester Bailey and decide there was no reason to believe a word he said.

"Mr. Bailey, where do you currently reside?" O'Bannon asked.

"You mean, like, where I live at?"

"Yes."

"I don't know that I'd say I live there, truth to tell, but at the
moment I'm at Rikers Island."

"Why are you at Rikers?" O'Bannon asked.

"They got me up on a B and E," Lester said. "They be sayin' I was
someplace I got no right to be."

"You got arrested for breaking and entering?" O'Bannon acting as much translator as questioner.

"That's right."

"And those charges are still pending?"

"I got that over me," Lester agreed.

"Mr. Bailey, do you know Lorenzo Tate, the defendant in this
case?"

"Sure I do," Lester said.

"Do you see Lorenzo Tate in this courtroom?"

"Can't help but see him," Bailey said. "He's sittin' right over
there in the hot seat."

"Where do you know Lorenzo Tate from?"

"I know him from Rikers," Lester said. "We was in the same cell
back in the day."

"Did you have occasion to talk to Lorenzo Tate?" O'Bannon asked.

"We used to talk all the time," Lester said. "We was friendly."

"Mr. Bailey, did there come a time when the defendant talked to you about the crimes he was accused of committing?" O'Bannon asked.

"What happened was this," Lester said, leaning forward slightly, appearing eager to tell his story.
"I could always tell something was weighing on him. He was always talkin' about
how he wasn't a bad person. And one time I was like, 'All right, then, you so
good, how come you're stuck up in here?'"

"Did the defendant answer when you asked him that?"

"He got real quiet. And he wouldn't look at me or nothing. I was
checking him, just to see what was up, and I see he be crying. Wasn't like he
sobbing or nothing, wasn't making no noise, just that he got these tears on his
face, you know. And he said that he was there 'cause he shot a man dead."

"Did he say who he shot?"

"He told me how he was trying to cap this dude he be beefing with,
but that he ended up hitting this other dude too. He say the guy who got hisself
killed wasn't nobody he even knew, how he just hit him by mistake. That's what
he was bugging out about."

"How is it you came to testify here today?"

"Well, see, I started thinking about how I knew about a killing
now. I didn't want to end up no accessory after the event or nothing like that.
So what I did was, I thought I should say something to my lawyer, see what he
thought I should do. I mean, that's what you all are there for, right?"

"And what happened after you consulted with your attorney?"

Lester shrugged. "He made
arrangements
, you know, whatever
it is you lawyers do when you do what you do, and that's how come I'm here
today."

"Why are you willing to testify against the defendant?"

"It's nothing I got any joy for, you know?" Lester said, looking over at Lorenzo, doing his best to look apologetic.
"But it ain't like I'm up here speaking on this 'cause of some little thing he
done. I'm not no saint, but you can't just be killing people—"

"Objection," Myra said loudly, not having to stage her anger. I knew how she felt: I felt ready to hit Lester Bailey over the head with a two-by-four.
"Approach, Your Honor?"

"There's no need for that," Judge Ferano said. "I'll sustain your
objection."

"There is too a need," Myra barked back as I rose beside her, placing a cautionary hand on Myra's arm.

"I'll instruct the jury to disregard."

"That doesn't unring the bell, Your Honor," Myra said. "Only a
mistrial would."

Now it was Ferano's turn to be angry. He waved the lawyers up to a sidebar, glaring daggers at Myra as we approached.

"What kind of asinine stunt are you trying to pull, asking for a mistrial in open court?" Judge Ferano fairly hissed at Myra.

"The record will reflect that I sought a sidebar and was denied. I
need to make my record, whether you plan on giving me the opportunity or not."

"You're one irritation away from contempt, Counsel," Ferano said.
"I don't like stunts in my courtroom."

"And I don't like it when the prosecution puts on a witness who's
trying to do the jury's job for them. I move that all of his testimony be
stricken."

O'Bannon started to speak, but Judge Ferano waved him silent.
"I've had enough of this. I'll strike the inappropriate testimony, but we're not
even close to a legitimate grounds for a mistrial. You can continue your
examination, Mr. O'Bannon."

We retreated from the bench, O'Bannon positioning himself again behind the podium.

"So was it the nature of the defendant's crime that prompted you
to be willing to testify against him here today?"

"You mean I'm here on account of he capped somebody?" Lester said.
"True that."

"You're also hoping your cooperation here will help you in your
own case, aren't you?"

"My lawyer say it ain't gonna hurt," Lester said.

"You realize any favorable treatment you might receive would be
conditioned on your telling the truth in this courtroom?"

"Nobody's ever told me to say nothing except the truth up in this chair," Lester said.
"That's what I've done."

"Thank you, Mr. Bailey," O'Bannon said, and then the floor belonged to Myra.

Myra stayed in her seat even after O'Bannon had returned to his. After a long moment she began clapping. She managed to get four claps in (certainly enough, I thought, to make her point) before O'Bannon stood to object.
"Your Honor—" O'Bannon began, before Ferano interrupted.

"That's quite enough with the theatrics, Counsel," Judge Ferano admonished Myra.
"Or should I take that to mean you have no questions for this witness?"

"On the contrary, Your Honor," Myra replied, standing quickly and striding to the podium. She had the added energy and focus that anger gave her.
"I'm now very confused, and am hoping this witness can straighten me out."

"Your Honor—" O'Bannon interjected, but the judge waved him off.

"I don't want to hear anything from you but questions," Judge Ferano said to Myra.
"Starting now."

"Mr. Bailey, why don't we start with the first thing that confuses
me. You said before that you became friends with my client out at Rikers, is
that correct?"

"It was like that, yeah."

"And yet here you are, ratting him out."

"Objection," O'Bannon said, getting quickly back to his feet.

"I'll be happy to rephrase," Myra said quickly. "And yet here you are, offering testimony that may put him in jail for the rest of his life. Tell me, Mr. Bailey, how do you treat your
enemies
?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Would it be fair to say that you are no longer acting as Mr.
Tate's friend?"

"I ain't doing nothing but telling the truth."

"We'll get to that," Myra said, her arms crossed in front of her, everything in her trying to convey her skepticism.
"This isn't your first visit to Rikers, is it?"

"I ain't never denied that."

"You've been there, what, two previous times?"

"Something like that."

"Actually, you've been there three different times, haven't you?"

"You say so, I won't say you're wrong."

"So when you said 'Something like that' when I asked you if it was two times, what you meant was
'No, more'?" Myra said, her sarcasm so strong I worried that for once she wasn't fully in control of it. I realized I was clenching my fists under the table; while I usually enjoyed watching Myra perform, now I was too invested in the case and, perhaps, in her, to have the necessary distance to enjoy it.

"I ain't sitting up here counting."

"You've got two pleas and one guilty verdict on your jacket, isn't
that right?"

"Only one of those was for anything approaching serious."

"In the world according to Lester Bailey, breaking and entering
and robbery are trivial, and armed robbery is only approaching serious?"

"Wasn't even a real biscuit on that," Lester protested.

"You've done six months at Rikers one time, a year another, then
four years at Green Haven, isn't that right?"

"What you need me for if you know everything?"

"Is that right, Mr. Bailey?"

"That's the time I've done, yeah," Lester said.

"So you're what we could call a repeat customer at this, right?"

"Ain't like I'm no customer," Lester said. "But I been there."

"You know how the game is played, don't you?"

"Ain't none of this a game to me," Lester said. "You go sit out on
Rikers, see if you still be talking about a game."

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