"You intend to introduce the videotape?" the Judge asked Ortiz.
"Yes, sir, I do," Ortiz answered.
"For what purpose?"
Mason caught the annoyance in Judge Pistone's question, knowing the answer. Ortiz wanted to show the videotape not just because it was evidence of the crime, but because-for a trial lawyer-it was cool. It was cooler than any piece of evidence the prosecutor could have, short of footage showing Jordan pitching Dr. Gina through the glass.
"It's evidence of the crime," Ortiz answered.
"Does it show who did it?" the judge asked.
"No."
"You're not worried that I won't believe that Dr. Davenport is dead, are you, Mr. Ortiz?"
Mason bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Displaying gruesome photographs of the victim was the first tactic every prosecutor learned. Every defense lawyer objected to that evidence because its only purpose was to inflame the jury. Everyone knew the victim was dead. That's why they were in the courtroom. Mason had never seen a judge refuse to allow this kind of evidence, especially on the judge's own initiative without an objection from the defense lawyer. Judge Pistone was known for his roughshod treatment of criminal defendants, making his questions all the more surprising. Mason sat back, knowing better than to open his mouth.
"Even so, Your Honor, this sort of evidence is routinely admitted-"
"For a jury. I'm not the jury. I know she's dead. You want to put on some evidence that the defendant did it, I'm all ears. Save the show for the jury. Now get on with it."
Ortiz got the judge's message and swallowed his irritation. Earl Luke Fisher was the first witness. Earl Luke kept his story straight, testifying that Jordan had let herself in the front door of the Cable Depot just before ten o'clock the night of the murder. He rejected Mason's suggestion on cross-examination that Gina Davenport had let Jordan in as Jordan claimed in her confession. Mason highlighted the inconsistency in the hope of raising doubt in the judge's mind when Ortiz offered the confession into evidence.
Arthur Hackett's entrance into the courtroom elicited a swoon of sympathy from the gallery. His face was ashen, his eyes bleak. He walked with the tired gait of someone as exhausted by the prospect of sleep as of waking, unable to find peace in either state. The destruction of his family had leveled him. He stopped at the end of the first row of spectators, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder for a moment-to rest, to reassure, to gather the strength to damn his daughter.
"Do you love your daughter?" Patrick Ortiz began.
Arthur, hunched forward in the witness chair after taking his oath, straightened with surprise at the question. "Yes, of course," he said, looking at his wife. Jordan had been sketching abstract images on a legal pad, but stopped at her father's answer.
"Did you love your son?"
"I do," Arthur said, his voice heavy, unable to accept the prosecutor's past tense.
"Mr. Hackett," Ortiz continued, "I cannot imagine what you and your wife are experiencing in this courtroom today. You both have my profound sympathy. I wish there were some other way to do this, but there isn't. I have to ask you some very difficult questions and your answers may result in Judge Pistone ordering your daughter to stand trial for the murder of Gina Davenport. Understanding all you have been through, are you able to answer my questions?"
Arthur examined his hands, rolled his shoulders forward as if bracing for a blow. "Yes," he said with such dread certainty that Mason knew his testimony would be heard as gospel.
Ortiz led Arthur through his contract negotiations with Gina Davenport, her threat to cut off Jordan's treatment, her threat to report Trent Hackett's alleged rape of Jordan to the police, and Jordan's incendiary reaction when Arthur told her of Gina's threats. He gently probed Jordan's history of emotional problems and violent behavior that had led the Hacketts to bar Jordan from living at home.
Ortiz's direct examination lasted barely an hour, and cast the Hacketts as parents overwhelmed by a tortured child who was victimized by an unscrupulous therapist. Mason knew he had to strip Arthur Hackett of the credibility he carried as another victim of the crime.
"You loved your daughter and you love your son, is that right, Mr. Hackett?" Mason began, intentionally reversing the tenses from the prosecutor's questions.
"That's right," Hackett answered, not quick enough to catch the difference.
"You loved your daughter when you first adopted her?"
"Of course."
"But that changed when she started having emotional problems, didn't it? It changed when you began telling your wife that you had bought damaged goods when you adopted Jordan. Isn't that true?"
Hackett reddened, stunned at Mason's attack. "No, it isn't."
"When Jordan was thirteen and told you that her brother had raped her, did you believe her?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Trent would never have done such a thing."
"Did you take your daughter to a doctor to be examined for evidence of rape?"
Hackett shook his head. "There was no reason. It wasn't true."
"Why do you think Jordan made such an accusation against her brother?"
"I don't know. They didn't get along. She was always very dramatic. She's been… difficult," he added, searching for the word.
"So your daughter is a disturbed liar who makes up dramatic stories about crimes. Is that what you are telling the court?"
Ortiz interrupted, "Objection. Mr. Mason is badgering the witness. Why, I don't know, but it's still badgering."
"I get the point, Mr. Mason. Move on," Judge Pistone said.
"You didn't think Gina Davenport would make good on her threat to stop treating Jordan, did you?"
"No, I didn't. Her own daughter had killed herself. She was a therapist, for God's sake. I couldn't imagine she would do that."
"But you took the chance with your daughter's mental health to save a few bucks for your radio station and you were wrong," Mason said. "Did you tell your son that Dr. Davenport also threatened to turn him in to the police for raping your daughter?" Arthur hesitated, looking to the judge, the prosecutor, and his wife for a way out. "Answer the question, Mr. Hackett," Mason said.
Arthur took a breath and said, "Yes."
"Was that before or after Gina Davenport reported that one of the windows in her office was cracked and needed to be replaced?"
"After," Hackett said in a whisper.
"And your son, who managed the Cable Depot for you, didn't bother to fix the window, did he?"
"That's not true. He said it could wait."
"You took out a life insurance policy on Gina Davenport a few months ago. Have you submitted a claim?"
Arthur slumped back in the witness chair like a fighter on the ropes. "Yes," he answered in a voice so low Judge Pistone ordered him to speak up and repeat his answer. "Yes, I turned in a claim," Arthur said.
"You understand that you can't collect on that policy if you killed Gina Davenport, don't you?"
"I didn't kill her, Mr. Mason," Hackett answered.
"How much will you collect if your daughter is convicted of killing Gina Davenport?" Arthur Hackett didn't answer, and Mason let his silence hang like the accusation it was. "Tell us how much, Mr. Hackett. It's my last question," Mason said.
"Five million dollars," Arthur said.
As Arthur Hackett stepped down from the witness stand, he met his daughter's trembling gaze. His testimony was a spear thrown at her heart. He had confirmed what she had always believed-that he had chosen his natural-born son and his hard-earned money over his adopted daughter. Carol Hackett rose as he passed through the gate separating the lawyers and judge from the spectators. They made their way down the aisle, weaving slightly as they leaned on one another before disappearing into the hall.