Текст книги "Defending Jacob"

Автор книги: William Landay

Соавторы: William Landay
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“But you did not arrest the defendant immediately?”

“No. We still wanted to find the knife and any other evidence that the defendant might have hidden in the house.”

“So what did you do?”

“We got the warrant and hit the house.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you take the defendant’s computer?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of computer was it?”

“It was an Apple laptop, white in color.”

“And did you have the computer searched by specialists trained in uncovering material from hard drives of this kind?”

“Yes. They were not able to find anything directly incriminating.”

“Did they find anything at all that was relevant to the case?”

“They found a software program called Disk Scraper. The program erases from the hard drive traces of old or deleted documents or programs. Jacob is very good with computers. So it’s still possible the story was deleted from the computer even though we couldn’t find it.”

“Objection. Speculation.”

“Sustained. The jury is instructed to disregard the last sentence.”

Logiudice: “Were they able to find pornography?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled.”

“Were they able to find pornography?”

“Yes.”

“Any other violent stories or anything connected to the murder?”

“No.”

“Were you able to corroborate Derek Yoo’s claim that Jacob had a knife in any way? Was there any paperwork from the purchase of the knife, for example?”

“No.”

“Was the actual murder weapon ever found?”

“No.”

“But a knife was found in Cold Spring Park at some point?”

“Yes. We continued to search the park for some time after the murder. We felt that the perpetrator must have ditched the knife somewhere in the park to avoid detection. We did finally find a knife in a shallow pond. The knife was about the right size, but subsequent forensic analysis showed it was not the knife used in the murder.”

“How was that determined?”

“The blade of this knife was larger than the wounds would indicate, and it did not have a serrated blade consistent with the torn edges of the victim’s wounds.”

“So what did you conclude from the fact that the knife had been thrown in the pond there?”

“I thought it was put there to throw us off, to send us down the wrong path. Probably by someone who did not have access to the forensic reports describing the wounds and the likely characteristics of the weapon.”

“Any guesses about who might have planted that knife?”

“Objection. Calls for speculation.”

“Sustained.”

Logiudice considered a moment. He took a deep, satisfied breath, relieved finally to have a professional witness to work with. That Duffy knew and liked me-that he was somewhat biased in Jacob’s favor and visibly conflicted about being on the stand-only made his testimony the more damning. Finally, Logiudice evidently felt, finally.

“No further questions,” he said.

Jonathan bounced up and went to a spot at the far end of the jury box, where he leaned against the rail. If he could have climbed into the jury box itself to ask his questions, he would have.

“Or the knife might have just been dropped there for no reason at all?” he said.

“It’s possible.”

“Because things are tossed away in parks all the time?”

“True.”

“So when you say the knife may have been planted there to deceive you, that’s a guess, isn’t it?”

“An educated guess, yes.”

“A wild guess, I’d say.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“Let’s go back a little, Lieutenant. You testified that there was a lot of blood found at the scene, cast-off blood, spatters, contact smears, and of course the victim’s shirt was soaked in blood.”

“Yes.”

“There was so much blood, in fact, you testified that when you went off to search the park for suspects, you were looking for someone with blood on him. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Looking for someone who might have blood on him, yes.”

“A lot of blood on him?”

“I was not certain of that.”

“Oh, come on now. You testified that, based on the pattern of the wounds, Ben Rifkin’s attacker was probably standing right in front of him, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you testified there was cast-off blood.”

“Yes.”

“ ‘Cast-off’ meaning it was thrown, projected, it shot out?”

“Yes, but-”

“In fact, in a case with so much blood, with wounds this grievous, you would have to think the attacker would have quite a bit of blood on him because the wounds would spurt?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Not necessarily but very likely, isn’t it, Detective?”

“It’s likely.”

“And of course in a stabbing, the attacker has to stand quite close to the victim, within arm’s length, obviously?”

“Yes.”

“Where it would be impossible to avoid the spray?”

“I didn’t use the word spray.”

“Where it would be impossible to avoid the cast-off blood?”

“I can’t say that for sure.”

“And the description of Jacob with blood on him as he arrived at school that morning-you heard this from his friend Derek Yoo, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“And what Derek Yoo described was that Jacob had some small amounts of blood on his right hand, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“None on his clothes?”

“No.”

“None on his face or anywhere else on his body?”

“No.”

“On his shoes?”

“No.”

“All of which is perfectly consistent with the explanation Jacob gave his friend Derek Yoo, isn’t it, that he discovered the body after the attack and then he touched it with his right hand?”

“It is consistent, yes, but not the only possible explanation.”

“And of course Jacob did go to school that morning?”

“Yes.”

“He was in school just minutes after the murder, we know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“When does school start at the McCormick?”

“Eight thirty-five.”

“And when was the time of the murder, according to the M.E., if you know?”

“Sometime between eight and eight-thirty.”

“But Jacob was in his seat in school at eight thirty-five with no blood on him at all?”

“Yes.”

“And if I were to suggest to you, hypothetically, that the story Jacob wrote that impressed you so much-that you described as virtually a written confession-if I were to show you evidence that Jacob did not make up the facts in that story, that all the details in the story were already well known among the students at the McCormick School, would that affect your thinking about how important it was as evidence?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, of course!”

Duffy looked at him poker-faced. His job here was to say as little as possible, to pare away every extra word. Volunteering details could only help the defense.

“Now, on this question of Andy Barber’s role in the investigation, are you suggesting that your friend Andy did anything wrong or inappropriate here?”

“No.”

“Can you point to any errors or suspicious decisions he made?”

“No.”

“Anything you questioned then or now?”

“No.”

“There was some mention of this man Leonard Patz. Even knowing what we know now, does it seem inappropriate to you that Patz was once considered a legitimate suspect?”

“No.”

“No, because in the early stages of an investigation, you pursue every reasonable lead, you cast your net as wide as possible, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, if I told you that Andy Barber still believes that Patz was the real killer in this case, would that surprise you, Lieutenant?”

Duffy made a little frown. “No. That’s what he always believed.”

“Isn’t it also true that you were the detective who brought Leonard Patz to Mr. Barber’s attention in the first place?”

“Yes, but-”

“And was Andy Barber’s judgment about homicide investigations generally reliable?”

“Yes.”

“Did it seem odd to you in any way that Andy Barber wanted to pursue an investigation of Leonard Patz for Ben Rifkin’s murder?”

“Odd? No. It made sense, based on the limited information we had at the time.”

“And yet the investigation of Patz was never seriously pursued, was it?”

“It was stopped once the decision was made to indict Jacob Barber, yes.”

“And who made that decision, to stop focusing on Patz?”

“The district attorney, Lynn Canavan.”

“Did she make that decision alone?”

“No, I believe she was advised by Mr. Logiudice.”

“Was there any evidence at the time that excluded Leonard Patz as a suspect?”

“No.”

“Has any evidence ever come up that clears him directly?”

“No.”

“No. Because that angle was simply dropped, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“It was dropped because Mr. Logiudice wanted it dropped, no?”

“There was a discussion among all the investigators, including the district attorney and Mr. Logiudice-”

“It was dropped because in that discussion Mr. Logiudice pushed to have it dropped, isn’t that right?”

“Well, we’re here now, so obviously yes.” There was a trace of exasperation in Duffy’s voice.

“So, even knowing what we know now, do you have any doubts about your friend Andrew Barber’s integrity?”

“No.” Duffy thought about it, or pretended to. “No, I don’t think Andy ever had any suspicions about Jacob.”

“You don’t think Andy suspected anything?”

“No.”

“The boy’s own father, who lived with him his whole life? He did not know anything?”

Duffy shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. But I don’t think so.”

“How is it possible to live with a child for fourteen years and know so little about him?”

“I can’t say for sure.”

“No. In fact, you’ve known Jacob all his life too, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And initially you had no suspicions about Jacob either, did you?”

“No.”

“In all those years, it never seemed to you there was anything dangerous about Jacob? You had no reason to suspect him, did you?”

“No.”

“No, of course not.”

“Objection. Request that Mr. Klein not add his own commentary to the witness’s answers.”

“Sustained.”

“My apologies,” Jonathan said with a great show of insincerity. “Nothing further.”

The judge: “Mr. Logiudice. Redirect?”

Logiudice considered. He might have left it there. Certainly he had enough to argue to the jury that I was crooked and had hijacked the investigation to cover for my crazy kid. Hell, he did not even have to argue it; the jury had heard it intimated several times in testimony. In any event, I was not the one on trial here. He could have just taken his winnings and moved on. But he was puffed up from his newfound momentum. You could see in his face that he felt himself in the grip of a grand inspiration. He seemed to believe the kill shot was right there within reach. Another little boy in a grown-up’s body, unable to resist the cookie jar in front of him.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said, and went to a spot directly in front of the witness stand.

A little rustle in the courtroom.

“Detective Duffy, you say you have no reservations at all about the way Andrew Barber conducted this case?”

“That’s right.”

“Because he didn’t know anything, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Objection. Leading. This is a prosecution witness.”

“He can have it.”

“And how long would you say you’ve known Andy Barber, how many years?”

“Objection. Relevance.”

“Overruled.”

“I guess I’ve known Andy over twenty years.”

“So you know him pretty well?”

“Yes.”

“Inside and out?”

“Sure.”

“When did you learn that his father is a murderer?” Boom.

Jonathan and I both shot out of our seats, jostling the table. “Objection!”

“Sustained! The witness is instructed not to answer that question and the jury is to disregard it! Give it no weight. Treat the question as if it was never asked.” Judge French turned to the lawyers. “I’ll see counsel at sidebar right now.”

I did not go with Jonathan to the sidebar conference so, again, I am quoting the judge’s whispered comments from the trial transcript. But I did watch the judge as he spoke, and I can tell you he was obviously furious. Red-faced, he put his hands on the edge of the judge’s bench and leaned over to hiss at Logiudice.

“I am shocked, I’m stunned you did that. I explicitly told you in no uncertain terms not to go there or I would declare a mistrial. What do you have to say, Mr. Logiudice?”

“It was defense counsel who chose to cross on this question of the character of the defendant’s father and the integrity of the investigation. If he chooses to make that an issue, the prosecution is perfectly entitled to argue its side of the case. I was just following up on Mr. Klein’s line of questioning. He specifically raised the issue of whether the defendant’s father had any reason to suspect his son.”

“Mr. Klein, I presume you are going to move for a mistrial.”

“Yup.”

“Step back.”

The lawyers went back to their respective tables.

Judge French remained standing to address the jury, as was his habit. He even unzipped his robe a bit and gripped the edge of its collar as if he were posing for a statue. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am instructing you to ignore that last question. Strike it from your minds entirely. There is a saying in the law that ‘you cannot unring the bell,’ but I’m going to ask you to do just that. The question was improper and the prosecutor should not have asked it, and I want you to be aware of that. Now, I am going to dismiss you for the day while the court attends to other business. The sequestration order remains in place. I remind you not to talk about this case with anybody at all. Do not listen to media reports about it or read about it in the newspapers. Turn off your radios and TVs. Block yourself off from it entirely. All right, the jury is dismissed. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp.”

The jury filed out, exchanging looks with each other. A few of them stole glances at Logiudice.

When they were gone, the judge said, “Mr. Klein.”

Jonathan stood. “Your Honor, the defendant moves for a mistrial. This issue was the subject of extensive pretrial discussion, the upshot of which was that the issue is so volatile and so prejudicial that mentioning it would result in a mistrial. This was the third rail that the prosecution was explicitly told not to touch. Now he has.”

The judge massaged his forehead.

Jonathan continued, “If the court is not inclined to declare a mistrial, the defendant will move to expand its witness list by two: Leonard Patz and William Barber.”

“William Barber is the defendant’s grandfather?”

“Correct. I may need a governor’s warrant to get him transported here. But if the prosecution insists on this bizarre insinuation that the defendant somehow is guilty by inheritance, that he is a member of a criminal family, born a murderer, then we have a right to rebut that.”

The judge stood there a moment, grinding his molars. “I’ll take it under advisement. I’ll give you my decision in the morning. Court is adjourned till nine o’clock tomorrow.” Mr. Logiudice: Before we move on, Mr. Barber, about that knife, the one that was thrown in the lake to throw off the investigators. Do you have any idea who might have planted that knife? Witness: Of course. I knew from the start. Mr. Logiudice: Did you? And how’s that? Witness: The knife was missing from our kitchen. Mr. Logiudice: An identical knife? Witness: A knife that matched the description I’d been given. I’ve since seen the knife that was recovered from the pond, when we were shown the state’s evidence. It’s our knife. It was old, pretty distinctive. It did not match the set. I recognized it. Mr. Logiudice: Then it was thrown in the pond by someone in your family? Witness: Of course. Mr. Logiudice: Jacob? To deflect any inference of guilt from the actual knife he owned? Witness: No. Jake was too smart for that. And I was too. I knew what the wounds looked like; I’d talked to the forensics people. I knew that knife couldn’t have made Ben Rifkin’s wounds. Mr. Logiudice: Laurie, then? Why? Witness: Because we believed in our son. He told us he didn’t do it. We didn’t want to see his life ruined just because he’d been foolish enough to buy a knife. We knew people would see that knife and jump to the wrong conclusion. We talked about the danger of it. So Laurie decided to give the cops another knife. The only problem was, she was the least sophisticated among the three of us about these things and she was also the most upset. She was not careful enough. She chose the wrong sort of knife. She left a loose end. Mr. Logiudice: Did she talk to you before she did this? Witness: Before, no. Mr. Logiudice: After, then? Witness: I confronted her. She did not deny it. Mr. Logiudice: And what did you say to this person who’d just interfered with a homicide investigation? Witness: What did I say? I said I wished she’d talked to me first. I would have given her the right knife to throw. Mr. Logiudice: Is that really how you feel now, Andy? That this is all a joke? Do you really have so little respect for what we do here? Witness: When I said that to my wife, I assure you I wasn’t joking. Let’s leave it at that. Mr. Logiudice: All right. Continue with your story.

When we got back to our car in the garage a block from the courthouse, there was a white piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper. It was quarter-folded. Opening it, I read, JUDGMENT DAY IS COMING MURDERER, YOU DIE

Jonathan was still with us, making it a group of four. He frowned at the note and slipped it into his briefcase. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll file a report with the Cambridge police. You all go home.”

Laurie said, “That’s all we can do?”

“We should let the Newton police know too, just in case,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s time we had a cruiser camped out by our house. The world’s full of lunatics.”

I was distracted by a figure standing in the corner of the garage, quite a distance away but obviously watching us. He was an older man, near seventy probably. He wore a jacket, golf shirt, and scally cap. Looked like a million guys around Boston. Some old mick tough. He was lighting a cigarette-it was the flare of his lighter that caught my eye-and the glowing tip of the cigarette linked him with the car that had been parked outside our house a few nights before, the interior blacked out except for the little glowing firefly of a cigarette tip in the car window. And wasn’t he just the sort of dinosaur to drive a Lincoln frickin’ Town Car?

Our eyes met for a moment. He thrust his lighter into his pants pocket and continued walking, out through a doorway to a staircase, and he was gone. Had he been walking before I saw him? He seemed to have been standing and staring, but I had only just glanced over. Maybe he had just stopped a moment before to light the cigarette.

“Did you see that guy?”

Jonathan: “What guy?”

“That guy who was just over there looking at us.”

“Didn’t see him. Who was he?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him before.”

“You think he had something to do with the note?”

“Don’t know. I don’t even know if he was looking at us. But he seemed to be, you know?”

“Come on,” Jonathan encouraged us toward the car, “there are a lot of people looking at us lately. It’ll be over soon.”

31

Hanging Up

Around six that night, as the three of us finished our dinner-Jacob and I indulging ourselves in a little cautious optimism, spitting on Logiudice and his desperate tactics; Laurie trying to keep up the appearance of confidence and normalcy, even as she had become vaguely suspicious of the both of us-the phone rang.

I answered. An operator informed me that she had a collect call. Would I accept the charges? It came as a surprise that people still made collect calls. Was this a prank? Were there any phone booths left to make a collect call from? Only in prisons.

“Collect call from who?”

“Bill Barber.”

“Jesus. No, I won’t accept. Wait a minute, hang on.” I held the phone against my chest, as if my heart would speak to him directly. Then: “All right, I’ll accept the charges.”

“Thank you. Please hold while I connect you. Have a nice day.”

A click.

“Hallo?”

“What is it?”

“What is it? I thought you was gonna come down and visit me again.”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

He mimicked me, “ Oh, I been a little busy. Relax, would ya? I’m just shittin’ ya, you dope. Wha’d ya think? Hey, come on down, junior, I’ll take ya out fishin’! I’ll take you fishin’-you know for what? For fishes!” I had no idea what this meant. Some prison slang, presumably. Whatever it meant, the joke was funny to him. He roared into the phone.

“Jesus Christ, you talk a lot.”

“No shit, ’cause I got no one to talk to in this fuckin’ place. My kid never visits me.”

“Was there something you wanted? Or did you just call to chat?”

“I want to know how the kid’s trial is going.”

“What do you care?”

“He’s my grandson. I want to know.”

“His whole life you never even knew his name.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you think that.” A pause.

“I heard my name came up in court today. We’re following the whole thing here. It’s like the World Series for cons.”

“Yeah, your name came up. See, even sitting in prison, you’re still screwing your family over.”

“Oh, junior, don’t be such a pisser. The kid’s gonna get off.”

“You think so? You figure you’re a pretty good lawyer, Mister Life-Without-Parole?”

“I know a few things.”

“You know a few things. Pff. Do me a favor, Clarence Darrow: don’t call here and tell me my business. I’ve already got a lawyer.”

“Nobody’s telling you your business, junior. But when your lawyer talks about bringing me in to testify, that makes it my business, now, don’t it?”

“It isn’t going to happen. That’s all we need is you on the stand. Turn the whole thing into a circus.”

“You got a better strategy?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“What is it?”

“We’re not even going to put on a case. We’ll put the Commonwealth to its burden. They have– What am I even talking to you about this for?”

“Because you want to. When the chips are down, a kid needs his old man.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No! I’m still your father.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

“Then who is?”

“Me.”

“You don’t have a father? What are you, a tree?”

“That’s right, I don’t have one. And I don’t need one now.”

“Everybody needs a father, everybody needs a father. You need me now more than ever. How else are you gonna prove that ‘irresistible impulse’ thing?”

“We don’t need to prove it.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because Logiudice can’t prove his case. That’s obvious. So our defense is simple: Jacob didn’t do it.”

“What if that changes?”

“It won’t.”

“So why’d you come all the way down here and ask me about it? And test my spit? What was that all about?”

“Just covering my bases.”

“Just covering your bases. So the kid didn’t do it but just in case he did.”

“Something like that.”

“So what’s your lawyer want me to say, then?”

“He doesn’t want you to say anything. He shouldn’t have said that in court today. It was a mistake. He was probably thinking he’d run you up there to testify that you never had anything to do with your grandson. But I already told you, you’re not coming anywhere near that courtroom.”

“You better talk with your lawyer about that.”

“Listen to me, Bloody Billy. I’m going to say this for the last time: you don’t exist. You’re just a bad dream I used to have when I was a kid.”

“Hey, junior, you want to hurt my feelings? Kick me in the balls.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means don’t bother calling me names. It don’t bother me. I’m the kid’s grandfather no matter what you say. Nothing you can do about it. You can deny me all you want, pretend I don’t exist. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the truth.”

I sat down, suddenly unsteady.

“Who’s this guy Patz your cop friend testified about?”

I was pissed and confused, agitated, so I did not stop to consider. I blurted, “He’s the guy who did it.”

“That killed this kid?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve got a witness.”

“And you’re gonna let my grandson take the hit for it?”

“Let him? No.”

“Then do something, junior. Tell me about this guy Patz.”

“What do you want to know? He likes little boys.”

“He’s a child molester?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of? Either he is or he isn’t. How can you be sort of a child molester?”

“Same way you were a murderer before you actually murdered someone.”

“Oh, stop it, junior. I told you, you can’t hurt my feelings.”

“Would you stop calling me that, ‘junior’?”

“Does it bother ya?”

“Yes.”

“What should I call ya?”

“Don’t call me anything.”

“ Pssh. I got to call you something. How else am I gonna talk to ya?”

“You’re not.”

“Junior, you got a lot of anger, you know that?”

“Was there anything else you wanted?”

“Wanted? I don’t want anything outa you.”

“I figured maybe you want a cake with a file in it.”

“Funny guy. A file in it. I get it. ’Cause I’m in prison.”

“That’s right.”

“Listen to me, junior, I don’t need no cake with a file in it, all right? You know why? I’ll tell you why. ’Cause I’m not in prison.”

“No. Did they let you out?”

“They don’t have to let me out.”

“They don’t? Let me give you a tip, crazy old man. That big building with the bars? The one they never let you out of? That’s called a prison, and you are definitely in it.”

“No. See, now you’re the one that doesn’t get it, junior. All they got locked up in this hole is my body. That’s all they got, my body, not me. I’m everywhere, see? Everywhere you look, junior, everywhere you go. Okay? Now, you just keep my grandkid out of this place. You got that, junior?”

“Why don’t you do it? You’re everywhere.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll fly right up there-”

“Look, I got to go, all right? I’m hanging up.”

“No. We’re not done-”

I hung up on him. But he was right, he was right there with me, because his voice kept right on rattling in my ears. I picked the phone up and smashed it down in its cradle again-one two three times-until I could not hear him anymore.

Jacob and Laurie both were staring at me with wide eyes.

“That was your grandfather.”

“I caught that.”

“Jake, I don’t want you to ever talk to him, all right? I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

“You’re never to speak to him, even if he calls you. You just hang up the phone. You got it?”

“Okay, okay.”

Laurie glared. “That goes for you too, Andy. I don’t want that man calling my house. He’s poison. Next time he calls, you hang up the phone, got it?”

I nodded.

“Are you all right, husband?”

“I don’t know.”