Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (54 page)

“Yes, she was.”

“There
were
other members of that Committee as well, weren’t there?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“I believe about eight to ten.”

“Some of those were also Professors at the law school, weren’t they?”

“Yes, I believe there were four other Professors besides Professor Greenfield.”

 
“Would you find it unusual for one member of a Reunion Committee to contact another?”
 

“Perhaps not, but your client and Professor Greenfield knew each other more than just as members of the Reunion Committee.”
 

Ben nodded and moved even closer.
 
“So you say.
 
But you really don’t have any evidence whatsoever as to what was said in any of those telephone conversations, do you?”
 

The witness looked at Ben for a long moment then said, “No, I suppose we don’t.”
 

“The parties in those telephone conversations could very well have been talking about the Reunion Committee.”
 

“Yes, I suppose they could have.”
 

Ben stood before Detective Nelson as though he were calculating something in his head.
 
Then he continued.
 
“So, really, all you’ve got for sure is three calls from my client’s home to Professor Greenfield’s office, only one of which took longer than two minutes, isn’t that right?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t.
 
Regarding that Reunion Committee, didn’t Professor
Dorlund
tell you that he gave Professor Greenfield a packet of materials regarding the Reunion Committee?”
 

“Yes, he did.”
 

“Now you don’t think the Reunion Committee was a motive for murder, do you?”

“No, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Didn’t he also tell you that a list of all the Reunion Committee members with their telephone numbers was included in that packet?”
 

“Yes, he did.”
 

“You never found that list in Professor Greenfield’s personal effects, did you?”
 

“No.”
 

“Not in his office, or in his briefcase, or in his apartment either?”
 

“No, we never found it.”
 

“Do you think maybe the killer took it?”

Nelson paused as though considering the question.
 
“It’s possible,” he finally said.

“Any reason why the killer would take it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never discovered that my client had it, did you?”

“No.”

“You never found any notes on that research you say Professor Greenfield was doing either, did you?”
 

“No, we didn’t.”
 

Ben walked over to the side of the courtroom where various pieces of evidence already introduced in the State’s case sat on a table.
 
He picked up a baseball bat wrapped in plastic and grabbed it by the handle, moving it back and forth as though testing it for his next at bat.
 
“You say this is the murder weapon, don’t you?” he asked holding it up.
 

“Yes, that’s the murder weapon.”
 

“You know this because the medical examiner was able to match this bat to the wounds on Professor Greenfield’s skull, isn’t that right?”
 

“Yes, that’s true.”
 

Now Detective Nelson looked a little curious as Ben waved the bat slightly as though standing before home plate.
 
“This is one of Sammy Sosa’s actual baseball bats, isn’t it?”
 

“Yes.
 
I understand that it was one of the Professor’s prized possessions.”
 

“In fact, this is Sammy Sosa’s autograph right here on the barrel, isn’t it?” Ben asked indicating with his forefinger.
 

“It’s supposed to be his autograph, yes.”
 

“This is a big bat,” Ben said, swinging it slightly, “kind of heavy.”
 

“Objection,” Bridget Fahey said, “there doesn’t appear to be any question here.
 
Mr.
Lohmeier
appears to be living out some childhood baseball fantasy.”
 

“Get on with it Mr.
Lohmeier
,” Judge Wilson said.
 
“Objection sustained.”
 

Ben waved the bat back and forth again.
 
“This is no fantasy.
 
This is a bat used by a professional baseball player, one of the best in the world, isn’t that right?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“And it’s a pretty good-sized bat too, isn’t it?”
 

“Yes, I suppose so.”
 

“And what you want all of us to believe is that that woman over there,”
 
he turned and pointed at Megan, “picked up this large baseball bat and used it to kill a grown man, isn’t that right?”
 

“Yes, that’s right.”
 

Ben said, “Huh,” shook his head and made a face of disbelief, then walked toward Detective Nelson and handed him the bat.
 
“Here,” he said, “take this for a minute.”
 
Nelson took the bat.
 
“There was also testimony earlier in this trial about finding my client’s fingerprints on this bat.”
 

“I’m aware of that, yes.”
 

“Why don’t you show us where those fingerprints were, if you know.
 
You can stand up if that makes it easier.”
 

Detective Nelson held the bat awkwardly, then looked around as if for assistance.
 
He looked up at the Judge, who nodded and said, “Go ahead.
 
Stand if you like.”
 

He rose slowly to his feet and stood before Ben holding the bat.
 
Ben looked at him, his arms crossed.
 
Then he pointed at the bat and said, “Now, I believe you folks testified that there were two fingerprints belonging to my client on that bat, isn’t that right?”
 

He shrugged.
 
“Yes, two of your client’s fingerprints.”
 

“Anyone else’s fingerprints?”
 

“There were several of the victim’s fingerprints on the bat as well, but no one else other than those two people.”
 

“Those fingerprints allegedly from my client, they were from her right hand, isn’t that right?”
 

“Yes, I believe so.”
 

“There were no fingerprints from her left hand?”
 

“No.”
 

“Can you show us where those two fingerprints were?”
 

Detective Nelson studied the bat for a few moments and then pointed at it with his right hand, holding it about twelve inches from the end of the handle with his left.
 
“I believe the thumb was here and the forefinger was over here,” he said indicating.
 

Ben pointed at the bat again.
 
“Why don’t you go ahead and put your fingers on the bat in approximately the position you say that my client’s fingerprints were left.”
 

Nelson now looked very, very uncomfortable.
 
He looked around for help, but none was forthcoming.
 
He placed his thumb on the top of the barrel of the bat near the trademark, and the forefinger underneath on the bottom.
 

“Now take your left hand off the bat.”
 
Nelson did so.
 
It was obvious that the bat was much more difficult to handle with just one hand.
 
“I see that the Sammy Sosa autograph is now facing up toward you, isn’t that right?”
 

Nelson looked down and shrugged.
 
“Yes, I guess it is.”
 

“So that may be about where one would hold the bat with his or her right hand if looking at Sammy Sosa’s autograph, isn’t that true?”
 

“Objection,” Fahey said, “calls for speculation.”
 

Ben laughed.
 
“Your Honor, I think the witness has enough experience with looking at things that he can tell how someone would hold an object and look at it.”
 

There was laughter in the courtroom.
 
“I think Counsel makes a good point, Ms. Fahey.
 
Objection overruled.
 
You can answer.”
 

Nelson looked like a man who didn’t want to hold the bat any longer.
 
“I suppose if you were to look at the autograph, you could hold the bat this way.”
 

Ben nodded several times, perfectly at ease.
 
“Now, you’re not suggesting that my client held the bat with just those two fingers in her right hand and that’s how she repeatedly struck the Professor in the head, caved in his skull and ultimately killed him, are you?”
 

“No,” Nelson said somewhat awkwardly, “not necessarily.
 
It’s just that these two fingerprints were left on the bat, that’s all.
 
She could very well have wiped off her remaining fingerprints.”
 

“Such as, say the fingerprints from her left hand?”
 

“Yes.”
 
Now Nelson felt better.
 

“Okay then.
 
Go ahead and put your left hand on the end of the bat, down near the handle.”
 
Nelson did so.
 
“It’s easier to hold now, isn’t it?”
 

“Yes, it is.”
 

“Now it almost looks like how you’d hold the bat if you were going to bunt the baseball, doesn’t it?” Ben said with a grin.
 

“Yes, I guess it does.”
 

“Yet you still have your right forefinger and right thumb in the areas where you found my client’s fingerprints?”
 

“Yes.”
 

Ben paused for a long moment as though studying the Detective, his eyes squinted, head tilted to the side, arms folded across his chest.
 
Then he cocked his left eye and pointed an inquisitive forefinger at the Detective.
 
“Now, if you were going to kill a man with this bat, kill him by hitting him so hard and so many times that you crushed the back of his skull, do you think you’d be bunting, or would you swing away?”
 
There was laughter in the courtroom, and Ben gave the Detective a sarcastic grin, met with narrowed eyes.
 

Bridget Fahey rose and shouted, “Objection, Your Honor.”
 
Ben turned and raised his hand in mock apology.
 
“I’ll withdraw the question,” he said, returning to his seat.
 
But the point had been made.

50

Sylvia Greenfield looked like a cross between a business executive and movie star when she strode purposefully down the aisle and toward the witness stand.
 
Her posture perfect, her head erect, she displayed cool confidence and just a hint of blue-blood arrogance.
 
She wore a dark gray suit and white blouse, her frosted blond hair swept back behind her ears displaying gold oval earrings.
 
Everything was put together and accessorized perfectly.
 
She took her seat on the witness stand and smoothed out her skirt, leaving her hands folded on her lap.
 
She gave Bridget Fahey the slightest of cool smiles indicating that it was now appropriate to begin, and Fahey questioned her briefly regarding her marriage and children before turning her attention to the reason for their breakup.
 
She told the Court essentially the same thing she told Ben months earlier at her home - the marriage fell apart when she couldn’t put up with her husband’s infidelity any longer.

Ben watched carefully from his spot at the defense table.
 
He found Sylvia Greenfield’s demeanor very curious, much like it had been the day he had spoken to her at her home.
 
She spoke in a detached way, almost as though she were describing events that had occurred to someone else, rather than herself.
 
He wondered if she could really be this unemotional, or whether this was simply a strange façade.
 
In any event, it was clear to Ben that the appearance of being treated badly hurt Sylvia Greenfield as much as the actual mistreatment itself.
 

Bridget Fahey didn’t elicit any real specifics.
 
It was as though the marriage had simply ended after a time, almost like the expiration of a driver’s license or credit card.
 
The questioning went on in this strange detached manner for fifteen minutes or so, without any particularly relevant testimony coming out.
 
Then Fahey asked her about her last communications with her former husband.