“She’s right. There is no blame.” Paula never actually said there was no blame, but it was close enough to what she had said that the jurors now believed she had. “How can you blame a mentally handicapped man who has no awareness of his own actions?”
Now he stood and faced the jury. “You can’t. But the prosecution wants to blame someone. Who? Mr. Adam Lee, whose only crime was to bring home his son to visit his mother. His son’s mother, who was so depressed and sick that she couldn’t even leave her own house to visit her only son. So Mr. Lee brought his son home from the hospital to see his mother. A tragic accident occurred, yes. And Mr. Lee will probably blame himself forever. As we all blame ourselves for mistakes we couldn’t have foreseen.”
From the spectators’ gallery, Leo’s glum moon face caught Monty’s eye, but he quickly looked away from him. He let his eyes meet each of the jurors’.
“Is Adam Lee a perfect husband? No. Is Adam Lee a perfect father? No. Does that make Adam Lee guilty of murder? Again, no.”
Now, just as important as Paula’s finger-pointing, Monty walked over to Adam. He stood behind his brother. He knew that you had to get the jury to look at your client. Let them begin to be comfortable with him. Let them become familiar with him. Later on, they would find it more difficult to convict if it came to that. He had already coached Adam on eye contact. You’ve got to look them in the eye. You don’t stare, don’t make them uncomfortable. Just let them know that you have nothing to hide.
“You may have heard that Adam is my brother. It’s true. I’m here today not because Adam is my brother, but because I know Adam is innocent. Don’t let the prosecution make you think otherwise, because they will try. Have you ever heard of mudslinging? That’s what’s going to happen during the course of this trial. The prosecution is going to sling some mud.”
Monty placed his hands on Adam’s shoulders. You touch your client. Always. Let them know you genuinely like him, genuinely feel he’s innocent.
“They’re going to try to make Adam Lee look like a bad person. Well, guess what? Adam had an affair during the course of his marriage. He’s not proud of it; in fact, he’s ashamed of it. You can be a bad person. You can be a good person. It doesn’t matter. If you’re innocent, you’re innocent. And Adam Lee is innocent.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
“YOU CAN BE A BAD PERSON”
Attorneys Set Strategies in Lee Trial by Anne Hunter staff writer
During today’s opening statements of the Lee trial, attorney Monty Lee, defending his brother, Adam Lee, characterized his brother’s extramarital affairs by stating that “you can be a bad person” and still be innocent. Adam Lee stands accused of murdering his wife, Rachel Lee, last October.
For the prosecution, Assistant District Attorney Paula Manning accused Adam Lee of trying to frame his developmentally disabled son, Albert, for his wife’s murder. Ms. Manning also stated that the prosecution will show that Adam Lee bragged about murdering his wife “before the body was even cold.”
The district attorney’s office continues to deny rumors of former assistant district attorney Leo Hewitt’s involvement in this trial. One insider claimed that District Attorney Bob Fox “wouldn’t let Leo Hewitt investigate a cat up a tree,” in reference to Mr. Hewitt’s mishandling of key evidence during the trial of child killer Frank Guaraldi.
The prosecution is expected to begin calling witnesses Monday.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“Yes, we were waiting in line together. Herbert, that’s my husband, he offered the girl his coat.”
“By ‘the girl’ you’re referring to Mr. Lee’s companion, Constance Perkins?”
“That’s right.”
“And did you talk with Mr. Lee?”
“Oh yes. Yes we did.”
“Does anything from that conversation stick out in your memory?”
“It certainly does. That man said-”
“You mean Adam Lee?”
“Yes. That man. He said he was a widower.”
Leo felt sick to his stomach. It was making him sick to see Paula getting all the credit for his hard work. This was turning into the kind of trial that makes careers. All the leg-work and tenacity that went behind a slick-as-shit set-’em-up and mow-’em-down murder trial was paying off beautifully. Paula would be remembered for this one, and he would be forgotten. All the hard work and sheer bloody luck that had gone into finding just this one witness would be credited to Paula. No one would ever know how he’d kept pushing to find Violet Perkins when Paula was ready to write the whole thing off. No one would ever know how he kept pushing Violet to tell her story over and over and over again, making sure he had every last detail of that weekend. How he had pushed her until she remembered the nice old man who’d lent her his jacket. Pushed until she remembered that Adam had told the man’s wife that Rachel was dead. Which was great, except there was no way to trace a couple of retirees from a chance encounter at a roadside tourist trap. And no one would ever know how Leo had been ready to accept the fact that he would never be able to find this old couple, that even if he had the resources, it would most likely prove impossible. Except for one thing. Except for the fact that he had, for no real reason, asked Violet whatever happened to the jacket. “It’s hanging up in my closet,” she said. And so it was. A Georgia Bulldogs team jacket. A nice one. The old man was going to be sorry he’d lost it, but he had a smart wife, so getting it back to him wouldn’t be a problem. The wife had sewn the old man’s name and address inside the collar.
“And this was in?”
“October. October second. I remember because it was two days after mine and Herbert’s anniversary.”
“What time?”
“About noon. Right around lunchtime.”
“At noon on October second, six and a half hours before Rachel Lee’s body was discovered, Adam Lee informed you his wife was dead?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else you remember from that conversation?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll never forget it. He said he was glad she was dead. That she was a… a… a bitch.”
Leo couldn’t help but smile. It was sheer perfection. Paula was even using his prepared, numbered questions. The questions themselves weren’t the important thing, it was the order in which they were asked. So that the last thing the jury would hear was Adam Lee calling his dead wife a bitch.
He watched Monty push back from his chair and approach Mrs. Herbert Watkins, and smiled again. Leo knew exactly what he would ask the woman if he were Monty, and he had coached her accordingly. Mrs. Watkins was a tough old bird; he doubted Monty would be able to ruffle her feathers.
“Mrs. Watkins, I just want to ask you few questions. Now, you say that my client, Adam Lee, said to you that he was a widower. Did you get the feeling that he might be putting you on, having a little fun at your expense?”
“He was serious. Dead serious.”
“October second, that was five months ago. Is there any chance your memory of the incident has faded in those five months?”
“All memories fade with time, Mr. Lee, but this particular memory remains fresh in my mind, because, as I said, it was so close to our anniversary and that man was so rude to me.”