Stone Cold (2 page)

“Mr. Henderson, you ever testify in court before?”

“No, sir. My mama always say stay out of courtrooms and doctor offices ’cause the news more likely to be bad than good.”

Everyone laughed, including Judge West. Bradshaw waited until it was quiet again.

“I take it, then, that you aren’t here voluntarily.”

Henderson shook his head. “No, sir, I ain’t. Ms. Kalena Greene from your office, she served me with a subpoena. Said I didn’t have no choice.”

“Did you know Ms. Greene before she served you with the subpoena?”

“Yes, sir. Known her a long time. We belong to the same church. Her and my wife, they sing in the choir.”

“Ms. Greene didn’t subpoena your wife and children. Why are they here?”

Henderson sucked in a breath, staring past Bradshaw, settling on his family. Alex followed his gaze and saw his wife’s trembling lips and how she clutched her children to her sides, casting a worried glance at the young man who’d followed her into the courtroom. Mary Henderson was terrified, and that was enough to bring Alex out of her chair.

“Objection. May we approach?”

Judge West waved the lawyers forward. “What’s your objection, Counsel?”

“Your Honor,” Alex said. “I don’t care what her answer is, but it can’t possibly be relevant. I can see and the jury can obviously see that Mrs. Henderson is afraid. And that makes me very afraid that her husband is about to say that she’s afraid of what might happen to him because of his testimony.”

“Don’t make me guess what you’re getting at, Counsel.”

“Fine. I assume that Mr. Henderson is going to give damaging testimony against the defendant. If he weren’t, Mr. Bradshaw wouldn’t have subpoenaed him. In the part of Kansas City where my client and Mr. Henderson live, being a snitch is bad for your health. The witness shouldn’t be allowed to testify that his wife is scared that whatever he’s about to say could get him killed. That calls for speculation, and whatever concerns she may have are irrelevant and prejudicial.”

The judge turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Bradshaw, what is the witness going to say if I let him answer?”

Bradshaw spoke softly, careful that the jury didn’t hear him. “Ms. Stone is right about what he’s going to say and wrong that it’s inadmissible. It goes to his credibility. The jury could conclude that anyone willing to take that kind of risk is telling the truth.”

Alex gripped the top edge of the judge’s bench, forcing her voice to a whisper. “That’s crazy! The prosecution is alleging that my client will kill Mr. Henderson for testifying against him, and the proof of that baseless allegation is that Henderson’s wife is afraid that will happen because her husband is a snitch. That’s so inadmissible I don’t know where to start.”

Judge West nodded. “I have to agree with you, Ms. Stone. Of course, if Mr. Henderson is the one who is afraid, that would go to his credibility.”

Bradshaw’s eyes lit up. Wild West had come through again.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Bradshaw said.

The judge announced his ruling to the jury. “Objection sustained. Ask your next, Mr. Bradshaw.”

Bradshaw winked at Alex as they resumed their places. She ignored him, letting him think he’d turned her victory lap into a beat-down.

“Mr. Henderson, are you happy to be here today?”

Henderson shrugged. “Rather be cuttin’ hair.”

“Why is that? Are you concerned about the money you’ll lose?”

“No, sir. Well . . . yes, sir. Money’s always tight.”

“Are you worried about anything else related to your testimony?”

Henderson chewed his lower lip, drawing it inside his mouth, working it like a chaw of tobacco. He glanced at Dwayne Reed, looking away when he saw Reed staring at him.

“Don’t pay to mess wit’ some people.”

“Is the defendant one of those people it doesn’t pay to mess with?”

Alex stood. “Objection. Calls for speculation and assumes facts not in evidence.”

“Overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

Henderson heaved an anxious sigh. “Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

Another long pause. “Don’t pay, that’s all. Man got enough troubles without addin’ to it. And I got a wife and kids to think about.”

“Are you afraid your testimony in this case will endanger you and your family?”

Henderson nodded.

“You have to answer out loud,” Judge West instructed.

“Yeah,” Henderson said.

“Knowing all that,” Bradshaw began, “are you prepared to tell the truth to this jury?”

Henderson lifted his head, slid back in his chair, and looked straight at Bradshaw and then at the jury.

“Yes, sir. I’m doin’ that right now. I been subpoenaed. I don’t got no choice.”

Reed leaned toward Alex, whispering. “That fat fuck is the money.”

“He’s not just the money. He’s the jackpot,” Alex said.

Chapter Three

“DID YOU KNOW THE murder victim, Wilfred Donaire?” Bradshaw asked.

“I used to cut his hair.”

“How about the defendant, Dwayne Reed? Was he one of your customers?”

“Not for a long time.”

“Well, the defendant has been in jail for six months waiting to be tried for murdering Mr. Donaire. How about before he was arrested?”

“Nah, not before.”

“How would you describe your shop?”

Henderson squinted at Bradshaw. “What do you mean?”

“Well, do men come there just to get their hair cut?”

Henderson smiled. “Nah, some of my regulars, they come there and hang, you know what I’m sayin’? Sit around talkin’ and like that.”

“Was Wilfred Donaire one of your regulars?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“How about the defendant?”

“Nah, he don’t run wit’ dem.”

“How did you learn that Mr. Donaire had been murdered?”

“Saw it on the news.”

“Was it something your regulars talked about while they were sitting around your shop?”

Bradshaw had done a good job settling Henderson down. They were in a rhythm, trading questions and answers. It was the perfect time for Alex to make an objection just to try to throw them off.

“Objection. Hearsay,” she said from her chair, knowing it wasn’t and knowing that wasn’t the point.

“Overruled.”

Bradshaw didn’t miss a beat. “You may answer.”

“Everybody was talkin’ ’bout it.”

“Sometime after that, did the defendant come into your shop?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Were any of your regulars there when he came in?”

“No. Was jus’ me.”

“Did the defendant say why he was there?”

“Said he wanted a haircut, so I give him one.”

“Did you notice anything about the defendant while you were giving him a haircut?”

“He was wearing a gold chain round his neck.”

“Can you describe it in more detail?”

“It had the word
magic
spelled out in the middle of it.”

“How is it that you remember the chain?”

Henderson took a deep breath. “On account of Wilfred had a chain like that. People called him Magic.”

Bradshaw picked up a clear plastic evidence bag and handed it to Henderson. “I’m handing you state’s exhibit twenty-one. Detective Rossi has testified that the defendant had this gold chain in his possession when he was arrested. Do you recognize it?”

“Yeah, that’s the chain I been tellin’ you about, the one Wilfred like to wear.”

“Did you ask the defendant where he got the chain?”

“No, sir. Wasn’t none of my business.”

“Did the defendant say anything to you about the chain?”

“He ax me did I like it.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that he got it off a dead nigger shoulda known better than to mess wit’ him.”

Bradshaw let the answer hang for a moment, giving it time to soak in with the jury.

“Thank you, Mr. Henderson. No further questions.”

The last thing Alex wanted to do when her client had just taken a brutal shot was act like he’d taken a brutal shot. She was out of her chair before Bradshaw got back to his.

“Mr. Henderson, you said you heard about Mr. Donaire’s death on the news.”

“That’s right.”

“And how long after that did Dwayne Reed come into your shop?”

“He come in the next day.”

“And how long after that was it before you told the police what you claim Dwayne said?”

“A week.”

Alex held up his statement. “According to the statement you gave the police, it was ten days later. Is your sworn statement wrong?”

“No, it ain’t wrong.”

“Then your testimony today is wrong.”

Henderson folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.”

Alex turned to the jury, her eyebrows raised. “You don’t know?”

“Well, I guess I’m off a little bit.”

“We can agree on that much, Mr. Henderson. Now, the police didn’t come to you to find out if you knew anything about this crime, did they?”

“No.”

“In fact, you just walked into the East Patrol station and said you had information about Mr. Donaire’s murder. True?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s right.”

“You weren’t subpoenaed?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You knew that Wilfred Donaire was a drug dealer, didn’t you?”

“I knew he could fix you up, if that’s what you mean.”

“I mean you knew he was a drug dealer. You knew that. True?”

Henderson pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You guess so? Did it bother you that one of your regulars was a drug dealer?”

“Wilfred never bothered me none. If I only cut hair for the people in my neighborhood what never did nuthin’ wrong, I wouldn’t have nobody’s hair to cut.”

That brought another chuckle, two black men on the jury nodding and mouthing an
amen
. Alex pressed ahead, pointing to the black man at the back of the courtroom.

“That man followed your wife and children into the courtroom. Who is he?”

Bradshaw interrupted. “Objection! Relevance.”

Before the judge could respond, the man bolted from his seat, crashed through the courtroom door, and disappeared amid a chorus of gasps from the jury. Mary Henderson cradled her children and began to cry as Jameer Henderson buried his face in his hands. Judge West banged his gavel, his face beet red.

“Counsel will approach!” Alex and Bradshaw did as they were told. “Ms. Stone. You better have a good explanation for what just happened because if I find that you deliberately tried to force a mistrial, I’ll throw you in jail for contempt.”

Alex was unfazed. “The last thing I want in this case is a mistrial. All I did was ask the witness if he knew the man in the back of the courtroom.”

“Which,” Bradshaw said, “is totally irrelevant since we agreed he’s not going to be a witness. Now I’m the one who has to ask for a mistrial. There’s no way to predict how the jury will interpret what just happened. We’ve got no choice but to start over with a new jury.”

“That’s a load of crap, Your Honor.”

Judge West pointed his gavel at Alex. “I won’t have that language in my courtroom, Counsel.”

“My apologies, but Mr. Bradshaw couldn’t be more wrong. If you’ll let me proceed, I’ll demonstrate the relevance.”

Judge West peered at her over the top of his glasses. “You better do just that, and if you don’t, I’ll reconsider Mr. Bradshaw’s request for a mistrial.” He turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen. A trial is a lot like live television. You never know what’s going to happen. As I instructed you at the beginning of this trial, you are to keep an open mind until you have heard all of the evidence and I have instructed you regarding the law in this case. The only evidence you may consider is from the testimony of the witnesses and the exhibits that are admitted into evidence. You shall not consider anything else, including that man’s sudden departure from the courtroom. The witness will answer Ms. Stone’s question.”

Jameer Henderson was slumped in the witness chair, wringing his hands. He looked up when the judge told him to answer.

“Mr. Henderson,” Alex said, “who was that man?”

Henderson answered, his voice soft and shaky. “I can’t say.”

“You’ll have to speak up so the jury can hear you.”

“I can’t say.”

“Because you don’t know or you’re afraid to say?” Henderson hesitated, shifting his attention from Alex to his wife, who was struggling to compose herself. “I can see that you’re concerned about your wife. Is that because of this man?”

Henderson shook his head again. “I can’t say.”

The courtroom, though built during the Depression, had been renovated and equipped with the latest technology, including television monitors the lawyers could use to display exhibits. There was a small monitor at each counsel table and at the judge’s bench and a larger one for the jury and the witness.

Grace Canfield connected her laptop so that its screen would appear on all the monitors, gave Alex a thumbs-up, and pushed a button on her laptop, filling the monitors with a photograph of the man who’d just run from the courtroom. Judge West came out of his seat and slammed his gavel onto his bench.

“This court is in recess. The jury is excused and I will see counsel in my chambers. Now!”

Chapter Four

JUDGE WEST’S CHAMBERS WERE a judicial man cave, all dark leather and brass-button upholstered furniture, a burnished oak desk, and matching bookcases jammed with volumes of case reporters and statutes, one wall reserved for pictures with politicians and hunting buddies, his personal hall of fame.

He planted himself in his desk chair, not realizing he’d brought his gavel with him. He tossed it onto his desk next to a wood carving of a judge grasping a pair of holstered six-guns strapped around his robe,
Overruled
etched on a brass plate at the base. He gripped his chin with one hand, tugged on his flabby jowls, and opened fire.

“Alex, what in the hell is going on? The minute that man walked into my courtroom, I called you and Tommy to the bench and asked if either one of you knew who he was. You obviously knew but you didn’t tell me. I don’t like it when lawyers lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Your Honor. You wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to be a witness. I wasn’t going to call him, and Tommy said he wasn’t going to either. I thought that covered it.”