The Jury (22 page)

"The ability to reason, to form judgments." Tannery is leading her shamelessly, but Harry and I don't object. We want to see what the witness has to say. It will be another thing if she gets in front of the jury.

"That's correct."

"And I take it this was controversial?"

"Dynamite," says the witness.

"It was not something they wanted out in the public, at least not until they were finished, until he had his studies done.

Then it would take time to refute the findings. While that was being done, Dr.

Crone would have been all over the airwaves promoting his study, giving it wide publicity."

"Which takes us back to the question of why you took the course from the defendant in the first place."

"Because I was asked to."

"By whom?"

She takes a deep breath.

"We were activists. We called ourselves Students for Racial Justice. Some were grad students. Others undergraduates."

"And you were a member of this group?"

"I was."

"Why did they pick you? I mean, why not some graduate student who was doing research with Dr. Crone?"

"There weren't any minority graduate students involved in his project. He wouldn't have them. At least that was the rumor."

"Objection. Move to strike."

"Sustained."

"Were there any black graduate students working on Dr. Crone's project?"

"No."

"Were there any minorities of any color?"

"He had one Asian graduate student, and the rest were all white."

"So the only opportunity to get close to the project was as undergraduate?"

"That's correct."

"Now, with reference to the undergraduate class that you took from Dr. Crone, were there any other African-American students in that class, besides yourself?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The word was out on campus that this was not a class that African-Americans would want to take."

"Why was that?"

"It was believed that Dr. Crone had a racial bias."

"Objection. No foundation. Speculation on the part of the witness."

"Let me rephrase the question," says Tannery.

"Did you have occasion to talk to other black and minority students at the time about this class?"

"I did."

"And based on those conversations, did you form any conclusions as to why minority students might not want to take this class being taught by Dr. Crone?"

"Yes. I concluded that there was a general feeling that Dr. Crone was racially biased."

"And what was this based upon?"

"Stories regarding his work."

What the witness means is rumors, since none of the students were close enough to know the nature of his work.

"How many students were there in the class?"

"Roughly a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty."

"And you were the only African American

"That's right."

"Now you say you were selected by this group. This Students for Racial Justice.

Why were you selected to do this?"

"I majored in education, minored in science. I had good grades. Also, I worked at the university part-time, which gave me access to certain information and to some offices."

Harry looks at me as if the shoe has just dropped.

"This access, did it involve faculty offices?"

"It did."

"Including the office of Dr. Crone, the defendant?"

"Yes." She looks at me and smiles as she says it.

"Except for your daughter, have you ever told anyone else about this?"

"Only the people involved in our group."

"You're talking about this organization you belonged to, Students for Racial Justice?"

"That's right."

"And during this period, did you actually enter Dr. Crone's office?"

"I did."

"When?"

"I can't remember the exact date, but it was in the spring, near the end of the academic term."

"And did you take anything from that office?"

She looks directly at me, Crone's alter ego, before she answers.

"I did." She says it with purpose, as if this was the culmination of some mission.

"And what was it that you took?"

"I copied some research papers. Handwritten notes in a binder. There were also printed forms with raw data and some conclusions, written by him in his own hand, based on that data. I copied all of it."

"By 'him," I assume you mean the defendant, David Crone."

She nods.

"For the record," says Tannery.

"That's correct."

"Why did you copy these papers?"

She hesitates an instant before responding.

"They were evidence."

"Evidence of what?"

"Of what he was working on."

"And what was that?"

"Racist studies," she says.

"Objection." I'm on my feet.

"Your Honor, this is irrelevant, prejudicial. It is hearsay. It's beyond the scope of any evidence before this court. The worst kind of speculation by this witness."

"We're not offering it to prove the truth of the matter," says Tannery, "that these documents or that Dr. Crone's work was racist, but only to show the state of mind of this witness. As a motivating factor."

"Motivation for what?" I ask.

"We're getting to that," says Tannery.

"I assume there is some relevance?" says the judge.

"Absolutely," says Tannery.

"If you'll just allow me a few more questions ..."

With the jury out of the box, on an offer of proof, there is little harm to be done, so Coats permits Tannery to go on an evidential safari. It is little wonder the prosecution gave up so easily on the theory of a love tryst.

Intimation of racial bias would be far more damaging. From a tactical point, it is also better because it doesn't sully the reputation of the victim.

"These documents, these copies, what did you do with them?"

"I turned them over to some people."

"The people from your organization?"

She nods, then remembers about the court reporter and gives an audible "Yes."

"And what did they do with them?"

"They turned them over to the newspapers. The campus newspaper was the first, but then there were demonstrations, and the major press got involved. I believe the Trib picked it up, and then it went national. The wires got the story. The Associated Press." She says this with a smile.

"And what happened?"

"There was a mighty furor," she says. Her voice rises an octave in indignation.

"All hell came down. On the university. On Crone. He was called in by the administration. There were meetings of the academic senate. There was an investigation, a lot of questions. In the end, the research stopped."

Harry looks at me, trepidation in his eyes, an expression of I told you so from the lips up. Harry is thinking what I am: mother and daughter, history repeating itself, only Mom had the good grace and foresight to copy the papers from Crone's office instead of taking them.

"Did Doctor Crone ever find out that you were responsible for obtaining these documents and releasing them to the press?"

"Not that I know of. I don't think he did."

"So it was never made public? At least not until today?"

"That's right."

"And you were never arrested?"

"How do you mean?"

"For taking Dr. Crone's papers?"

"Oh. No."

Tannery shifts gears, shuffles papers at the podium.

"Now, can you tell the court, did you subsequently, years later, have occasion to tell your daughter about this episode in your life, the fact that you had taken documents from one of your professors while in college?"

"I did."

"And when did that conversation take place?"

"About two years ago." There is a certain intent look in her eyes now as she stares at me from the stand. Message to Crone.

"And how did this conversation come about?"

"Kalista had just completed her doctoral thesis. She was looking forward to employment opportunities, some field of research. That's where her strength lay.

She had an excellent academic record. There were a number of offers, and one in particular that caught my eye. It was from the Genetics Center."

"That's the research institute directed by the defendant, David Crone?"

"That's correct."

"And how did you come to realize that the center had made an offer of employment to your daughter?"

"She showed me the letter. His name was very prominent on the letterhead. He had signed the letter soliciting Kali to apply. She told me that she'd actually met him at the university, when he was recruiting. I thought it couldn't possibly be the same man. But his curriculum vdtae was included in the literature that came to the house. It mentioned his time on the faculty at Michigan. It was him. I couldn't believe it. Of course, it didn't say anything about his earlier research into racial genetics. He needed money, and he wasn't going to get it.. "

"Objection."

"Sustained. Just answer the question," says Coats.

"But you told your daughter about the defendant's history in this area? The fact that he'd been involved in controversial research regarding racial genetics in the past?"

"I did."

"When you talk about controversy," says Tannery, "let's get into some of the specifics. What exactly was Dr. Crone working on back then?"

"Objection, Your Honor. This is irrelevant."

"Overruled. You can answer the question."

"He was working on racial graying."

"And what is that?"

"He was researching racial markers, enzymes that distinguish one racial group from another, with the goal of finding ways to neutralize them, to blur them. He wanted to create a kind of genetic melting pot in which there would ultimately be no racial distinctions, no unique characteristics of race."

"And you considered this to be unethical?"

"Absolutely. He was playing God, or getting ready to. It was clear that he was leaning toward the elimination of minority characteristics."

"And you stopped him?"

"Yes, I did. Fortunately for us," she says, "the science of genetics was not as advanced back then. We were able to find out what he was working on and expose it."

"And you told this to your daughter?"

"I did."

"What else did you tell her?"

"I told her about the demonstrations back in the seventies. About Crone's published studies, and how they were discredited."

"Did you tell her that you were in large part responsible for uncovering the information that led to this?"

"I did."

"And what was her reaction?"

"Objection."

The witness sits upright in the chair and looks at me. There is a long sigh, as if she didn't hear the objection.

"She was proud of me. She said I did the right thing."

"Objection. Move to strike."

"Sustained." The judge admonishes her that she is not to answer the question when there is an objection.

The witness looks at him but doesn't indicate one way or the other whether or not she accepts his instruction. Coats presses the issue, and finally Tanya Jordan acknowledges that she understands.

Hearsay is the law's final insult in a murder trial. The victim's voice is silenced forever. Now the rules of evidence, with narrow exception, erase every comment she made before death. This is sufficiently broad to include Kalista Jordan's feelings regarding the incidents related to her by her mother.

Tannery asks the judge for a moment. He confers with the cop back at the counsel table. The problem here is that they have run into a wall. The witness cannot relate to the jury things told to her by her now-dead daughter. Tanya Jordan can only testify as to her part of any conversation, and the jury, without more, cannot fill in the gaps with guesses. If it comes down to that, it is likely that the judge will not allow her to testify at all.

The prosecutor comes back to the podium.

"Let me ask you, did you discuss with your daughter this employment opportunity? The job with the Genetics Center?"

"I did."

"And can you tell the court what you told your daughter in this regard?"

"I told her I didn't think it was a good idea for her to take the job."

"And why not?"

"Because of Dr. Crone's history."

"You mean his perceived racial attitudes?"

"Objection. There has been no testimony as to his attitudes, only his work."

"Sustained. Rephrase the question."

"Is it fair to say that you didn't want your daughter to take the job with Dr.

Crone because of your knowledge regarding the history of his work in racial genetics?"

"Yes."

Tannery smiles at my having made the point, one that he is likely to expand upon for the jury.

"But she took the job anyway?" he asks.

"Yes."

Why? The unasked question lingers in the air like the acrid smell of smoke from a spent fire. Tannery can't pose it because it would call for hearsay, but the jury will no doubt conjure it in their silent thoughts.

"But so that we're clear, you didn't want her to take this job?"

"No."

"And the reason?"

"Dr. Crone's history. What I considered, my view, my opinion that he had been involved in what I considered racist genetic studies."

The witness is a quick study. I object, but this time the judge overrules me.

I can object to a statement of fact, but not to her considered opinions, especially when they relate to the witness's motives.

"I didn't think Kalista should get involved with someone who had that land of a history." The witness drives the point home.

There are a dozen avenues of attack on cross: What makes Tanya Jordan an expert on racial genetics? How can she be so sure Crone's research wasn't legitimate?

How is it possible to pursue science if certain topics are taboo? All these are poison. Tannery would watch with glee as I got tangled in each of them. The witness has already characterized Crone's earlier work as "racist." There was enough of a sting

to these charges at the time to draw controversy, to bring an abrupt end to his research back then. To parse words with the dead victim's mother, an African-American, over what constitutes racism is not a dispute I am likely to win. One thing is sure: If the issue becomes racism, the verdict will no longer be in doubt.