“Is Alisha Mason going to be here tonight?” Scott asked in a low voice to Kay.
“I haven't heard from her, but I think she'll be here. Why?”
“I need to talk to her.”
Scott didn't notice the look of concern that passed across Kay's face.
It was Scott's night to work with the students playing the witness roles. After his run-in with the mutated Billy Bob Beerbelly created by Frank Jesup, he wanted to make sure the witnesses didn't change the characters too much from the information contained in the official materials. It might be fun to let the creative juices run wild, but it could result in serious deductions from the judges if the students went too far.
Toward the end of the session, the door of the classroom opened and Alisha walked in. She was wearing a nice dress and slid into a seat across from Scott.
“Sorry, I'm late. I was with my family at the funeral home.”
“Thanks for coming,” Scott said. “Do you want to go through the direct testimony of your witness part?”
“Okay.”
Scott asked the questions and Alisha answered without a hitch. When she finished, it was time to end for the night.
Scott spoke to the group. “Before next week, I have a couple of suggestions. Witnessesâtake time to read over the materials again. Don't assume that because you studied everything several weeks ago that it's still fresh in your mind. Now that you've learned how to express some of the material, you may see something else that you didn't notice the first time. Lawyersâpractice in front of a mirror or someone in your family.”
“Like my little brother?” Dustin asked.
“How old is he?” Scott replied.
“Uh, I think he's ten.”
“Perfect. If he can understand what you're saying, it will be clear to anyone. Try to develop a smooth delivery. Don't be too fast. Slow is better, because you can't assume that your listeners have any idea what you're going to say.”
Kay added, “Three more weeks until the regional competition. I've received information about the teams in the competition.”
She handed two sheets of paper to Scott who skimmed them while Kay continued. He saw a familiar name as the advisor for one of the teams.
“That's all,” Kay said. “From what I heard tonight, we're getting better and better.”
As the students got up to leave, Scott spoke to Alisha. “Can you stay for a couple of minutes?”
“I really need to get home.”
Scott held up two fingers. “A couple of minutes.”
Alisha looked at Kay.
“It's up to you, Alisha,” Kay replied.
She hesitated. “Okay.”
When the other students were gone, Scott asked Alisha, “Do you want to sit down?”
“No thanks, I need to go soon.”
“I'll get to the point. The district attorney's office notified me this morning that you might be a witness in Lester Garrison's case. I'm his lawyer. Do you know why your name has been added?”
Alisha looked again at Kay. Scott noticed the eye contact between them.
“What's going on?”
“Alisha confided in me.”
“Can I join the club?” Scott asked sharply.
“That's part of the problem, Mr. Ellis,” Alisha said, her voice quivering slightly. “I didn't want to make you mad, and I was scared.”
Startled, Scott asked, “Of me? I'm just trying to find out why your name turned up on the state's supplemental witness list. I'm not going to get angry no matter what you say.”
Alisha shook her head and looked at the floor of the classroom. “I'm not scared of you. It's Lester.”
Scott could have kicked himself. It wasn't about him. Alisha Mason had beautiful dark skin, but in Lester Garrison her color provoked an unreasoning hatred. If she linked him to the shooting, she would become a specific enemy.
“All right,” he said. “Before you say anything else, let me tell you a few things. First, you don't have to talk to me.”
Scott waited until she looked up and her eyes met his.
“Yes, sir,” she said softly.
“Second, whatever you've told the district attorney or the police will come out in court, and Lester will be there.”
Alisha's lip quivered again. “I know. But I have to tell the truth.”
“So, one way or the other your testimony is not a secret.”
“But if I tell you what I know, will Lester find out before the trial?”
Scott nodded. “Yes. I'll have to discuss it with him as part of our trial preparation.”
“And you'll try to make me look like a liar when I'm on the witness stand, won't you?”
Looking at Alisha's anxious face, Scott wavered in his constitutional convictions. He glanced at Kay, hoping he wouldn't see contempt for him in her eyes. No contemptâonly compassion. For both him and the student.
He spoke slowly. “I don't know what you're going to say under oath. My job is to make sure that the jury considers the evidence in the light most favorable to my client. If I have to challenge your testimony, that's what I will do. It's not unlike what you've been learning in the mock trial program. Only it's real.”
Alisha nodded.
“I won't yell at you,” Scott continued. “But if there is something you say that doesn't fit with other information, I will point it out.”
“But I know what I saw.”
Scott waited. Alisha said nothing.
Finally, he asked, “What did you see?”
Alisha sighed. “Okay. I wasn't on the bank with the others during the baptism. I'd wandered off by myself and saw two people on the other side of the stream crawling through the bushes like they were in the army or something. They disappeared for a few seconds, then I heard a loud popping sound. I thought someone had set off some firecrackers. One of the shots went through the bottom of my dress. I didn't see the hole until a few days later.”
“Where is the dress?” Scott asked.
“The police have it.”
“Could the hole have come from something else?”
“Maybe, but I never wear that dress anywhere but church, and when you lay it down, you can see where the bullet went through the front and out the back. When I saw the hole, I almost passed out. I could have been killed. Anyway, I hid behind a tree and looked across the creek. I saw a baldheaded man wearing a camouflage shirt running through the bushes. I didn't realize it was Lester until I saw him wearing the same shirt the other day at school. He turned sideways, and I suddenly realized he was the person I saw on the creekbank that day.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No, sir. But it was Lester. I could tell by the outline of his head.”
“There are a lot of people who shave their heads.”
Alisha shook her head. “I'm sure it was Lester.”
“Even without seeing his face?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you recognize the other person?” Scott asked.
Alisha shook her head. “No. I never got a clear view of him. Lester was closer to the water, so I could see him better.”
“What color hair did the other person have?”
Alisha paused. “Lester shaves his head, so he doesn't have any hair. I think the other person had dark hair, but I never saw his face, either.”
“Have you ever seen Lester's father?”
“No. Do you think it could have been his father?”
Scott shrugged. “His father hasn't been charged with any crime, but he has dark hair. He's shorter and heavier than Lester. Do you remember anything else about the clothes the two men were wearing?”
“The woman at the district attorney's office asked me that, too. I don't know. I'm just sure it was Lester in a camouflage shirt.”
“And you don't know who fired the shots?”
“No, sir. They were out of sight when that happened.”
“Did you see a gun?”
“No.”
Scott thought for a moment. “Anything else?”
“No, I've told you everything I can remember.”
“Okay. Thanks for talking with me.”
Alisha turned and walked toward the door. Scott called after her.
“Alisha!”
“Yes?”
“Don't worry about how I will treat you on the witness stand. You can handle anything I might ask.”
When the student was gone, Scott sat down in a chair beside Kay's desk.
“Will her testimony be enough to convict him?” Kay asked.
“Maybe. It's the only eyewitness evidence that Lester was in the vicinity of the church when the shots were fired. But”âScott tapped the top of the desk with his index fingerâ“it could help me more than it hurts me.”
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem.
A
LEXANDER
P
OPE
T
he following morning, Scott was sitting at his desk thinking about his trial strategy. One of the chief skills of a trial lawyer is the ability to present negative facts in a positive way. He buzzed Leland Humphrey's secretary.
“Let me know when Mr. Humphrey arrives.”
“He won't be in until late this afternoon.”
Scott would be on his own when he met with Lester at 2 P.M.
If Alisha Mason was right, Lester had lied to Scott from his first interview at the youth detention center through their simulated direct examination earlier in the week.
When the receptionist told Scott that Mr. Garrison had arrived for his appointment, Scott delayed ten minutes, hoping that Mr. Humphrey would return to the office. He wanted the benefit of his mentor's wisdom about Scott's new theory of the case, but the time deadline from Lynn Davenport on the plea bargain didn't give him much leeway. After waiting as long as he dared, he went downstairs and opened the door to the reception area. Lester was nowhere in sight. Harold Garrison, dressed in brown pants and a short-sleeve white shirt, sat in a chair by the front door. The older Garrison hadn't shaved, and when Scott approached, it was obvious he hadn't bathed either.
“Where's Lester?” Scott asked.
“He's coming. His truck just went past the front of the office.”
The door opened and Lester walked in. The bruises on his face were fading, and the cut over his eye didn't look as raw. Still, he looked more like a redneck brawler than a fun-loving teenager.
“Two things we need to discuss,” Scott said, as soon as everyone was seated in the conference room. “I'll get right to the point. The state has an eyewitness who says she saw you across the stream from the church.”
“That's a lie!” Lester blasted out.
Scott continued without responding. “She didn't see you holding a gun or firing the shots. She had walked downstream a few feet and noticed you crawling through the bushes along the creekbank. After the shots were fired, she saw you running downstream.”
Lester swore. “That's impossible! Nobody at the church even knows who I am.”
“I've interviewed the witness. She's a student at the high school.”
“Who is it?” Lester asked sharply. “Is she black?”
“Yes,” Scott answered the second question and ignored the first.
“She's lying through her teeth. It will be my word against hers, and I don't think a jury will believe a white person over a black.”
If it hadn't been a serious moment, Scott would have laughed out loud. The contrast between Lester's angry, beat-up face and the sincere honesty in Alisha Mason's countenance the night before couldn't have been more stark. There was no doubt in Scott's mind who the jury would find more credible.
“That may be a risk you choose to take,” Scott said. “But I have another idea. The witness told me something else. She says you weren't alone.”
Lester immediately glanced at his father whose jaw was set like a block of concrete. Harold gave a quick shake of his head. That was enough for Scott. As soon as he saw Harold sitting in the reception room, Scott had set up his revelation of Alisha's testimony in order to gauge the interaction between father and son. When he saw the split-second look between them, Scott made up his mind about
State v. Garrison.
Lester might have been present on the creekbank, but the more culpable Garrison hadn't been charged with a crime. Not yet.
Harold asked the next question. “What did the D.A. lady say about this other person?”
“Not much. She didn't see his face but said that he had dark hair. She didn't see anybody but Lester after the shots were fired. Lester was closer to the creekbank while the other figure was hidden by the underbrush.”
Harold nodded. “Nobody saw Lester do anything.”
“That's right,” Scott agreed. “The state's case is still based on circumstantial evidence. However, it places Lester at the scene within seconds of the gunshots. The judge will let the jury decide if that is enough to convict.”
Lester swore again. Turning to his father, he said, “You told me they couldn't find me guilty without an eyewitness.”
Harold's expression didn't change. “They won't.”
“Lester, I can't give you the same guarantee,” Scott said. “The law allows a jury to decide guilt or innocence based on circumstantial evidence. It happens in courtrooms every day.”
Harold slammed his fist down on the table. “She's lying! And your job is to prove it.”
Scott kept his calm. “That's one way to go about it. I can argue that the witness didn't have a clear view and couldn't make a positive identification. However, that will only give her a chance to reassure everyone in the courtroom that she's telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time I'm finished with my cross-examination, the jury will have had two opportunities to listen to her testimony, and they'll remember it much better when they go to the jury room to decide the case.”
“Hold on. What are you suggesting?” Harold asked.