I hand her the gun, which is still wrapped in clear plastic.
“Dr. Hudson,” I say, “would you mind showing us exactly how youbelieve Mr.
Friedman gripped this weapon in order to generate the fingerprintsthat you’ve described?”
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Overruled.”
Hudson holds the handle with her thumb, middle, ring and pinky,carefully avoiding contact with her index finger. She holds it up forthe jury to see.
“There,” she says.
“That’s as close as I can get.”
“What about your index finger?”
She carefully places her right index finger on the cylinder of the gunand holds it up again.
“The index finger was on the cylinder.”
“Could you explain why Mr. Friedman’s index finger may have been onthe cylinder?”
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll rephrase. Dr. Hudson, how do you open this revolver to unloadit?”
“You press against the cylinder with your finger.”
“And Mr. Friedman’s right index fingerprint was found on the cylinder,was it not?”
“Yes.”
“And if he was unloading the weapon, it would have been very likelythat he would have gotten his fingerprint on the cylinder, right?”
“Objection. He’s leading the witness.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes, Mr. Daley. Mr. Friedman’s fingerprint was in a place that isconsistent with the act of loading or unloading this weapon.”
Good.
“One final question, Dr. Hudson. Were any identifiable fingerprintsfound on the trigger of the gun?”
“No. There were unidentifiable smudged fingerprints on the trigger.”
“So, in your opinion, is there any conclusive evidence that Mr.Friedman fired this weapon?”
“No.”
“No further questions.”
Skipper tries in vain for the next hour to trip her up. He’s in atough spot.
He can’t simply ask her if she thinks it’s possible that Joel fired thegun.
For one thing, she’ll say there’s no evidence that he did. Foranother, she can say anything’s possible. Neither will help him. Hetries to get her to admit that Joel could have left smudgedEngerprints on the trigger when he shot the gun. She says there’s noevidence to prove it. She holds her ground.
Finally, he takes the same approach he took with Dr. Goldstein andasks her how much she’s being paid for her testimony. This time, thebill is only fifteen thousand. Skipper sits down in frustration.
CHAPTER 46
YOUR’RE THE HEAD COMPUTER GUY, RIGHT?
“Daley’s presentation has been a little wooden so far.”
—news center 4 LEGAL ANALYST morton goldberg. noon. tuesday, april7.
“How many more witnesses, Mr. Daley?” Judge Chen asks when we returnfrom lunch.
Jesus, we’ve just started.
“Two for sure, maybe three or four.”
Skipper perks up.
“The defense calls Eric Ross,” I say.
Whispering in the gallery.
“Who’s he?” Skipper looks at McNulty. They pore over our witnesslist. Ross has been head of information systems at S&G for five years.He’s the head computer dweeb. Skipper never spoke to him. He probablynever figured out how to turn on his computer.
Ross is sworn in. He’s early thirties and uncommunicative. His eyesdart through thick wire-rimmed glasses. He’s wearing his only suit forthe first time in years. Somebody should inform him that wide lapelsare out. His mustache twitches. He doesn’t make eye contact.
“Mr. Ross, we’ve known each other for a while, right?”
“Objection. Relevance.” Skipper is buying time.
“Overruled.”
“We knew each other when you were at our firm,” Ross says.
“Right. And could you please tell everyone what your job is at thefirm?”
“Yes. I’m the head of information systems.” His delivery is stiff.
“Right. The head of information systems. In layman’s terms, what doesthat mean?”
“I’m in charge of firm-wide information and technology systems.”
I nod melodramatically.
“Firm-wide information and technology systems.” I stroke my chin.
“For those of us who are technologically challenged, that means you’rethe head computer guy, right?”
He’s annoyed. How dare I not respect his two years of computer classesat Diablo Valley Junior College. I’m treating him like he’s a TVrepairman.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he replies.
“As the head computer guy, are you in charge of keeping track of allthe firm’s computer stuff?”
He looks at the judge.
“Computer stuff?”
“Yeah, you know—the hardware, the software—the computer stuff.”
“Yeah.” His irritation is showing. Just the reaction I want.
“Actually, I’m most concerned about the hardware. You know—themachines.”
He hasn’t the foggiest idea where I’m going.
“Mr. Ross,” I continue, “as the head computer guy, you’re in charge ofkeeping track of all the equipment, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“And Simpson and Gates is a big firm, so you’ve got a big job,right?”
Skipper rises slowly.
“Your Honor,” he says sarcastically, “we’re happy to stipulate that Sand G is a large firm and Mr. Ross has a lot of computers to keeptrack of. What’s the point?”
The judge says, “Overruled. I presume this is leading somewhere, Mr.Daley?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Ross, how many computers do you keep track ofat S and
G?”
“Firm-wide?”
“Yes. Firm-wide.”
“You want an exact number?” he asks incredulously.
“Ballpark’s fine.”
He sits up a little taller.
“I’d say’ bout eighteen hundred.”
“Eighteen hundred. Wow. That’s a Ipt of computers, isn’t it?”
Skipper stands.
“Your Honor, please?”
She glares at me.
“Mr. Daley.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” I just want to play with him for another questionor two.
“Now, of the eighteen hundred computers, how many of them havekeyboards?”
“Keyboards?” He looks at me like I’m out of my mind.
“Yes, Mr. Ross. Those nifty detachable keyboards.”
“All of them, of course.” He may as well have added the words “youmoron.”
“You can’t use them without keyboards,” he adds.
“That’s what I figured. You’re in charge of keeping’ track of thekeyboards?”
I get the “you moron” look again.
“Of course,” he says.
“Okay. Now, do you keep a list of all the keyboards?”
“Basically, they’re all the same. Some are a little newer thanothers.”
“I understand. But do you make a list of all the people who havekeyboards?”
He looks indignant.
“As a matter of fact, I do. When a new person comes to the firm,they’re issued a computer and a keyboard.”
“And do you keep a list of those computers and keyboards?”
“Yes.” Then he pauses.
“But…” He stops.
“Yes, Mr. Ross? Did you want to add something?”
He winces and takes a deep breath.
“Well, sometimes people switch keyboards without telling me. Some ofour keyboards are pretty old. The action is better on the newkeyboards. They’re faster.”
Imagine. People taking each other’s keyboards. What’s the worldcoming to?
“Is it a problem when people switch keyboards?” It’s probably a felonyin some jurisdictions.
“Not really. It just makes it more difficult to keep track ofeverything.”
“I see. How often do you update the list?”
“Whenever a new keyboard is issued.”
“And do you take an inventory of all the keyboards from time totime?”
“Once a year. We don’t always get around to it. Sometimes we’re toobusy.”
Too busy to count keyboards? Hard to believe.
“When did you take the last inventory?”
“We just finished right before the end of the last year.”
“That’s great, Mr. Ross.” I signal to Rosie, who hands me athirty-page computer printout. I give copies to Skipper and JudgeChen.
“Your Honor, the defense would like to have this keyboard inventoryentered into evidence. This list was provided to Mr. Gates beforethe beginning of the trial.” Along with eighteen boxes of Simpson andGates records that we subpoenaed, but never had any intention ofusing.
Skipper and McNulty look at it. It’s nothing more than a list of namesand serial numbers.
Judge Chen turns to Skipper.
“Any objection?”
Skipper looks at McNulty and shrugs.
“I don’t think so.”
“Good,” I say, as I hand the list to Ross.
“Can you please tell us what this printout is?”
He tenses.
“It’s the inventory we took in December. How did you get a copy?”
Laughter in the courtroom. Judge Chen admonishes him not to askquestions.
“We have our ways,” I say. It’s nice to know all the time Wendy spentporing over mountains of S&G records was not in vain.
“Can you tell us what’s described in this list?”
“The first column has the serial number for each of our keyboards. Thesecond column shows the first initial and last name of the employee towhom each keyboard is issued.” It’s in alphabetical order.
“Including attorneys?”
“Including attorneys.”
“Can you please look at the serial number of the keyboard opposite thename
JFRIEDMAN?”
“Sure.”
“And would you please confirm that JFRIEDMAN refers to the defendant,Joel Friedman?”
“Yes. He’s the only Friedman in the firm.”
I’m sure he is.
“Would you please read the serial number opposite his name?”
He studies it.
“It’s 7145811263.”
I walk over to a large flip chart that I’ve set up just for this littleexercise.
“Would you mind reading that number again?”
“Sure.” He repeats it, and I write it in big block numbers on the flipchart.
I pause for a moment. I walk over to the evidence cart and pick up thekeyboard found in Bob’s office. It’s wrapped in clear plastic. I walkback to Ross and hand it to him.
“Mr. Ross,” I say, “can you see through the plastic?”
Yes.
“Good.” I walk back to my flip chart.
“Can you read the serial number on the back?”
“7 1 4 5 8 1 1 2 6 3.”
I write each of the numbers on the flip chart directly below theidentical numbers that are already there. The grandstand play seems tobe working. I pause to look at the two rows of identical numbers’, onthe flip chart.
“Mr.
Ross,” I say, “are you aware that the keyboard you are holding wastaken from the office of Robert Holmes on December thirty-first?”
Skipper’s up.
“Objection. The witness has no basis to answer that question.”
“Mr. Daley,” Judge Chen says, “perhaps you could rephrase?”
“Sure.” I turn back to Ross.
“Mr. Ross,” I say, “would it surprise you to find out that thekeyboard you’re holding was found in the office of Mr. Holmes onDecember thirty-first?”
He looks helplessly at Skipper.
“Uh, no, I didn’t know that. I mean, yes, it would surprise me.”
“Yet the keyboard you’re holding is inventoried as the one belonging toJoel Friedman.”
“Uh. Yes it is.” His mustache twitches furiously.
“Well, how can you account for the fact that Mr. Friedman’s keyboardwas sitting in Mr. Holmes’s office on the morning of December thirty-first?”
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll rephrase. Do you have any idea how Mr. Friedman’s keyboard gotinto Mr.
Holmes’s office, Mr. Ross?” I realize I’m smiling.
“No, I don’t.”
“You didn’t move it, did you?”
“No, sir. I didn’t.”
“Well it probably didn’t get up and walk next door, now did it, Mr.Ross?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.”
Skipper confers with McNulty and approaches Ross. He hands Ross theinventory.
“Mr. Ross,” he says, “what is the date in the upper righthand cornerof the printout?”
“December first of last year.”
“I see. Does that mean the inventory was conducted on December firstof last year?”
“Not exactly. It means the inventory was completed on December first.It usually takes us a few days to check the serial numbers. And wehave people in our other offices who do it there.”
“I see. And was this inventory updated after December first?”
“No, sir. We have too many other important things to keep us busy.”
I’ll bet you do.
I see where Skipper’s going.
“So, Mr. Ross, this inventory means that on December first, thekeyboard in your hands was sitting on Mr. Friedman’s desk, right?”
“Right.”
“And it could have been moved from Mr. Friedman’s desk to Mr. Holmes’sdesk at any time after December first, right?”
I decide to slow down the train a little.
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll rephrase. Do you have any way to account for the whereabouts ofthis keyboard after December first?”
“No, sir.”
“No further questions.”
I ask for a brief recess.
Joel, Rosie and I caucus in the consultation room. I look at Joel.
“We may have a problem. There’s a thirty-day window when the keyboardcould have been moved from your office to Bob’s.”
Rosie says, “I say we go with what we’ve got, Mike. The jury probablyalready figures there’s been some monkey business because Joel’skeyboard ended up in Bob’s office.”
She’s right.
“I say we leave it where it is. The jury knows it was moved.”
Joel looks troubled.
“I think we stop now,” I say.
We return to the courtroom. I tell Judge Chen we will have no morequestions for Ross.
“I’m inclined to adjourn for the day,” she says.
“How many more witnesses do you have?”
“Two or three. We should have the case in the hands of the jury by theend of the week.”
I look over to Skipper. I’m hoping he’ll spend’ all night preparing tocrossexamine Joel.
Pete calls from the Bahamas that night.
“They’re expecting a storm in the morning,” he says.
“Great. You and Wendy have any luck tracking down Trevor Smith?”
“He’s back the day after tomorrow. See if you can stall until then.”Swell.
“Time’s getting short.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 47
NICK THE DICK
“A good dick can’t be afraid to wear out a little shoe leather.”
—private INVESTIGATOR nicholas hanson. san francisco chronicle.wednesday, april 8.
The next morning, at precisely nine-fifteen, I stand up and say in aclear voice, “Your Honor, the defense calls Nicholas Hanson.”
The doors in the back of the courtroom open. Nick the Dick—all fourfeet ten of him—comes strutting down the center aisle. He’s wearing adark gray double-breasted Wilkes Bashford pinstripe with a burgundytie. A matching kerchief sits in his breast pocket. A small red roseadorns his lapel. His three-thousand-dollar toupee has been carefullygroomed. He nods to the press.
He looks like the president walking down the center aisle in the Houseof Representatives just before the State of the Union speech.
The secret weapon just arrived.
The courtroom breaks out in a combination of laughter and chaos. JudgeChen bangs her gavel. I hear McNulty mutter, “For the love of God.”
Joel leans over and whispers, “Is this for real?”
“The fun’s about to start,” I tell him.
“I wish we were on Court TV.”
Nick stops in front of the bench and acknowledges Judge Chen, likethey’re old friends.
“Hello there, Your Honor,” he says.
“It’s been a long time.”
A very long time, indeed. They’ve never met. She can’t help herselfand she smiles.