Special Circumstances (48 page)

“I’ll allow it this time, Mr. Daley. Then I want you to move on.”
“He promised to support me,” Joel responds.
“Mr. Friedman,” I say, “could you please tell us what happened thefollowing morning?”
Joel describes how he and Chuckles got the keys to Bob’s office fromDoris’s desk. He says he got sick and went to the bathroom and threwup. When he returned, he opened the gun and took the three remainingbullets out.
“I had shot the gun at the range,” he says.
“It was sensitive and unreliable. I disarmed it so that nobody wouldbe injured. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“Could you describe your relationship with Diana Kennedy?”
“Yes. We were colleagues. And we were friends.” He pauses. This isgoing to get tough.
“And, for a very brief period of time, we were lovers. It’s notsomething I’m proud of.”
“How long did your affair with Ms. Kennedy last?”
“One night during October of last year.” He looks at Naomi.
“I’m embarrassed. I’ve let my family down. I’ve let myself down.” Helooks appropriately contrite. You could put a scarlet A on his chestright about now.
“I’m sorry, Naomi,” he says.
“Joel,” I say quietly, “did you know she was pregnant?”
“Yes, I did,” he whispers.
“She told me in early December.”
“And were you aware that you were the father of her baby?”
“No. She told me that I wasn’t the father. I guess she was wrong.”
“Were you aware that Diana had decided to move to San Diego?”
“Not until the night of the thirtieth.”
“When did she tell you?”
“When we were having dinner at Harrington’s.” Careful now.
“You know, Joel,” I say, “some people might think that your argumentwith Diana at Harrington’s may have had something to do with the factthat you were the father of her baby and she was leaving town. Somemight suggest that she dumped you and demanded support for the baby. Isthat what really happened that night at Harrington’s, Joel?”
He looks serious. He says, in a perfectly level tone, “No, Mr. Daley,that’s not right. Diana and I were arguing about work. Ourrelationship was over long before the evening of December thirtieth.”
“One final question. Let’s put all of our cards right on the table.Did you kill Robert Holmes and Diana Kennedy?”
His words are perfectly measured.
“No, Mr. Daley. I did not.”
I glance at the phone company supervisor. No discernible reaction.
“No further questions.”
Skipper can’t wait.
“Mr. Friedman,” he begins, “do you remember having a conversation withInspector Roosevelt Johnson on January eighth?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Gates is attempting to introduce intoevidence matters that were not addressed in direct exam.”
“I’ll tie it together,” Skipper pleads.
Judge Chen grimaces.
“Overruled. But I want to see some direct relevance right away.”
“Thank you,” Skipper says. He turns back to Joel.
“Do you remember the conversation with Inspector Johnson?”
“I had lots of conversations with Inspector Johnson.”
Easy, Joel. Don’t get cute. Just answer the questions.
“Well, Mr. Friedman, let me refresh your memory. According toInspector Johnson’s police report, you had an interview with him at theHall of Justice.
Do you recall the meeting?”
“Yes I do.”
“And do you recall at that meeting Inspector Johnson asked you whetheryou had ever had a sexual relationship with Ms. Kennedy?”
“Yes, I recall that he asked.”
“And how did you respond?”
Joel looks at me.
“I told him we had never had a sexual relationship.”
Skipper is pleased.
“We later found out that you were the father other unborn child, didn’twe?”
“Yes.”
“So, Mr. Friedman, when Inspector Johnson asked you about yourrelationship with Ms. Kennedy, you lied, right?”
It’s pointless to object.
Joel casts his eyes downward.
“Yes, I did,” he says quietly.
“What other things have you lied about, Mr. Friedman?”
“Objection. Argumentative.”
“Sustained.”
I twist in the wind for the next forty-five minutes as Skipper crossexamines Joel. He gets Joel to admit the fight at Harrington’s was abig one. He gets Joel to acknowledge his voicemail message to Bobsounded ominous. He gets Joel to admit that he didn’t tell the copsabout his phone call to Diana until he was confronted with the tape. Iobject every three or four questions, just to break up Skipper’srhythm. The jury is riveted. Naomi stares at the floor.
Rabbi Friedman sits with his hands folded. I second-and third-andfourth-guess my decision to put him on the stand.
Joel acknowledges his affair with Diana. His explanation is credible.When you’re the father of two kids and the rabbi’s son, you don’tnecessarily want to admit adultery. He explains his love-haterelationship with Bob.
After a seemingly endless string of questions, Skipper gets right inJoel’s face.
“Mr. Friedman,” he says, “as Mr. Daley so eloquently said, let’s putour cards on the table. Let’s admit what really happened that night.We’ll all feel better about it.”
Here we go. Stay the course, Joel.
“Mr. Friedman,” Skipper continues, “what really happened that night isthat Diana Kennedy dumped you at Harrington’s. She told you she didn’twant to see you again. And she told you she was going to resume herrelationship with Bob Holmes. Isn’t that the truth, Mr. Friedman?”
“That’s not true,” Joel says evenly. He looks Skipper right in theeye.
“And,” Skipper says, “you went back to the office that night and gotinto a big fight with Bob Holmes. Oh, it may have started out as afight about business, but eventually it turned to a fight about Ms.Kennedy. Turns out she was two-timing you. She was sleeping with Mr.Holmes.”
“That’s not true, either,” Joel says. He glances at Diana’s mother.
“Come on, Mr. Friedman. We’ve seen you lie when things get tough. Youlured her back to the office and you killed both of them with Mr.Holmes’s gun. And you tried to make it look like a suicide. Exceptyou got a little sloppy. You left your fingerprints on the keyboard.And you didn’t realize your message to Ms.
Kennedy had been recorded. Isn’t that the truth, Mr. Friedman?”
“No, Mr. Gates, that is not the truth.”
“You did it, Mr. Friedman, didn’t you? You’ll feel better if you getit off your chest.”
Joel takes a deep breath.
“It is not true. I did not kill Bob Holmes and Diana Kennedy.”
“You’re lying again, aren’t you, Mr. Friedman?”
I leap up.
“Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.”
My redirect is brief. I want to leave the jury with a final impressionof a calm, collected Joel. I ask him to reiterate once more that hedid not kill Bob and Diana. Then I sit the hell down.
At eleven-thirty Judge Chen looks at me.
“Do you have any more witnesses, Mr.
Daley?”
“No, Your Honor. The defense rests.”
“We’ll hear motions right after lunch and we’ll begin closingarguments first thing in the morning. We’re adjourned.” She poundsher gavel.
Late that night, Rosie and I are watching CNBC in her living room.
“I can’t understand why Daley put him on the stand,” intones Marciadark.
“It was a terrible mistake,” says Morgan Henderson, who has left thecomfort of the News Center 4 studio for an appearance on CNBC.
“I should have left well enough alone,” I say to Rosie.
“I never should have put him on the stand. It was too risky.”
“He did okay. At least he got it all off his chest. That’s good.”
“I don’t think the jury bought it.”
“They’re a tough group to read. I just can’t tell.”
“Want to hear my closing one more time?”
“Sure.”
The following day, Skipper and I spend the morning engaging in thelegal profession’s version of hand-to-hand combat. We line uptoe-to-toe and deliver our closing arguments. The commentators willdescribe it as a classic matchup:
the charismatic DA against the eloquent defense attorney. Skipperrants for the better part of two hours. He pounds the lectern. Heprances like a gazelle. He points at Joel as he describes each pieceof evidence. The theatrics are effective. The jury follows his everymove.
I speak for less than an hour. I try to keep my tone measured. Ican’t compete with histrionics, so I have to try for empathy. Thecourtroom is a blur of jurors’ faces. I attack each piece of evidence.I plead with them to believe Bob killed Diana and then committedsuicide. I remind them that somebody could have entered and exited theS&G suite by the stairs or the freight elevator without being seen onthe security tape. Finally, I tell them that if they insist onconcluding that somebody killed Bob, they have far better choices thanJoel. With glib self-assurance, I try to deflect the blame towardVince Russo, Chuckles Stern and, above all, Art Patton. I remind themArt had at least thirty million reasons to kill Bob.
At a quarter to twelve, I thank them and tell them that Joel’s life isin their hands.
When all is said and done, I’m not a big believer that you win casesin closing arguments. If the jury isn’t already predisposed to voteyour way, your goose is probably cooked. We take a brief lunch breakand Judge Chen charges the jury. At two o’clock, she pounds her gaveland sends them to the jury room.
After four long weeks of trial, it’s out of my hands.
CHAPTER 56
I OVERREACHED. I JUST KNOW IT
“We are very pleased with our closing arguments. We have great faithin this jury and we are confident Mr. Friedman will be acquitted.”
—live INTERVIEW ON channel 4 WITH DEFENSE ATTORNEY michael daley.thursday, april 16.
“I bombed, Rosie. I blew it. I overreached. I just know it.” Rosieis driving us back to the office after closing arguments.
“Calm down,” she replies, as she pulls onto Bryant and heads easttoward our office.
“You’re overreacting. You did fine.”
I’m looking for any wisp of comfort that I haven’t just blown our caseinto kingdom come. Some lawyers walk out after closing argumentsfirmly convinced they were so good they could have persuaded the popeto convert to Judaism. I remember all the things I should have saiddifferently, or didn’t say at all.
“You’ve got to admit I overreached a little.” It’s starting todrizzle.
“You did fine,” she repeats.
“They were listening and they were with you. I could see it.”
“I hope you’re right. You never can tell with juries.”
“You got that right.”
We park in the pay lot across the street from the office. A row ofminivans line up on Mission Street. It looks like a taxi stand. Iknow most of the reporters by name. Rosie and I push through them. Imouth appropriate platitudes about the strength of our case.
Inside the door, Rolanda hands me a stack of phone messages. I siftthrough them quickly. One catches my eye.
“Rosie,” I say, “I’ve got to make a couple of calls.”
I dial 1, 809, and the seven-digit number. You don’t need to dial Oil,the international access code, to call the Bahamas. The person answersin an elegant British accent. I recognize the voice of Duncan Burton,the concierge at the Graycliff.
“Ms. Hogan has left for the airport,” he says.
“You can reach her at the following number.” It’s Wendy’s cellular.
I can barely hear her when she answers.
“It’s Mike. Where are you?”
“O’Hare. We just got in from the Bahamas. Our plane for San Franciscoleaves in a few minutes. How are things?”
“It’s up to the jury.”
“You ought to go back to the Bahamas when you can spend more time.”
“Maybe when I have a lot of money to hide. Did you find anything?”
There’s a pause.
“The good news is we finally got Trevor Smith to talk. We found outwho gets the money from the International Charitable Trust. The badnews, I’m afraid, is the information won’t help you much. If you werelooking for a magic bullet, I don’t think it’s here.”
“Try me. Who gets the money?”
“Bob’s kids.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. And one other person. Jenny Fontaine.”
“Really?” I stop for a second. Why would Bob leave money to Doris’sdaughter?
But it makes sense, I guess.
“Bob always had a soft spot for Jenny,” I say.
“Kind of a thank-you to Doris.”
“I suppose. Is it divided up evenly?”
“Not exactly. Jenny gets a third of the money. The other kids sharethe rest equally.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, I guess. Any of this going to help you, Mike?”
“I doubt it. It’s too late to introduce any of it into evidence. Ican’t imagine Bob’s kids or Jenny were involved.”
“Yeah.” Silent disappointment at the other end of the line.
“Look, Wendy, I didn’t expect you to break the case. You really helpeda lot, okay?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“When will you be home?”
“Tonight.”
I look through the bars on my window. I hang up the phone as Rosiewalks in.
“Find out anything good from Wendy?” she asks.
“How did you know it was Wendy?”
“You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The T wish Wendy would realize how big a crush I have on her’ look.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Nope.” She’s lying. At least I think so.
“You’ll see. Nothing will come of it.”
She smiles.
“I may not give up my boy toy without a fight.”
A few minutes later, Rosie and I sit in my office. My TV is tuned toNews Center 4. Morgan Henderson and Mort Goldberg are arguing aboutwhether I should have put Joel on the stand. They’ve already declaredSkipper the hands-down winner of closing arguments. Henderson isexplaining to the world how I’ve botched Joel’s defense and what ahorse’s bottom I am.
“He never should have let his client get up on the stand,” he says.
“Friedman should have hired a real lawyer.”
“Don’t worry,” Rosie says.
“The only people whose vote counts right now are locked up in a closedroom. And they’re not talking to anybody but themselves.”
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“I hope you’re right.”
At four o’clock Rolanda walks into my office.
“They just called. The jury’s in.
CHAPTER 57
WHAT SAY YOU?
“It’s a complicated case. The jury will be out for several days, ormaybe even a week.”
—news center 4 LEGAL ANALYST morgan henderson. thursday, april 16.
“That’s quick,” Rosie says. The jury was out for less than twohours.
“I don’t like it,” I say, more out of superstition than conviction. Iknow attorneys who never change their shoes while a jury is out. Mysuperstition is simple. I never predict a positive outcome. Thenagain, I never predict a negative one, either.
“You never can tell with juries, Rosie,” I say yet again. I turn toRolanda.
“What time?”
“Five o’clock. The clerk said they wanted to give everybody a littletime to get back.”
“I’ll call Joel,” I say.
“What do you think, Rosita?” I can’t leave it. We’re in Rosie’s car,driving toward the Hall. The radio newsman solemnly intones that theverdict will be read at five.
“Too hard to predict. I’m too close to it.” We turn onto Bryant.