He charged up a flight of stairs that penetrated the building and emerged into the courtyard fronting the Suffolk County Superior Court. Wasting no time, Jack sprinted over to the entrance. He was slowed down by security and the need for his carry-on, envelope, and cell phone to go through the X-ray machine. At the elevators, he made sure he pushed into the very next car.
As the elevator rose, Jack managed to glance at his watch. The fact that he was to be married in four hours wasn't lost on him, and the fact that he was in the wrong city gave him considerable anxiety. When the elevator arrived on the third floor, Jack tried to be as polite as he could as he struggled to get off. If he didn't know better, he would have thought the other passengers were deliberately impeding him.
Although on previous occasions, Jack had tried to be as quiet as possible while entering the courtroom, on this day he just burst in. His feeling was the more of a scene he created, the better. As he walked deliberately down the aisle toward the gate separating the bar area from the spectator area, most of the spectators turned to look at him, including Alexis in the first row. Jack nodded to her. The court officer was in his box, reading something out of sight on his desktop, and did not look up. The jury was in the jury box, as impassive as ever, and was focusing on Randolph, who was at the podium, apparently just beginning his closing statement. The judge was at his bench, looking at papers on his desktop. Both the court reporter and the clerk were busy at their stations. At the defense table, Jack saw the back of Craig's head and that of Randolph 's assistant. At the plaintiff's table, Jack could see the backs of the heads of Tony, Jordan, and Tony's assistant. All was in order; like an old-fashioned steam locomotive, the wheels of justice were slowly, implacably picking up speed and rolling to a conclusion.
It was Jack's intention to hijack the train. He didn't want to derail it, but wanted to stop it and let it take a different track. He reached the bar and stopped. He could see the jurors' eyes swing toward him without so much as a dent in their acquired impassivity. Randolph was continuing to speak in his cultured, mellifluous voice. His words were golden like the shafts of late-spring sunlight that skirted the blinds on the high windows and knifed down through the mote-filled air.
"Excuse me!" Jack said. "Excuse me!" he said louder when Randolph had continued to speak. Jack was not in his line of sight, but Randolph turned in Jack's direction when Jack called out the second time. His arctic-blue eyes reflected a mixture of confusion and vexation. The court officer, who had also missed Jack's first utterance, definitely heard the second. He got to his feet. Security in the courtroom was his bailiwick.
"I need to talk with you this very instant," Jack said, loud enough for everyone in the otherwise-silent courtroom to hear. "I know it's rather inconvenient, but it is of vital importance if you are interested in avoiding a miscarriage of justice."
"Counselor, what the devil is going on?" Judge Davidson demanded. He was tipping his head down to see over the top of his half-glasses. He motioned for the court officer to stay in his box.
Still bewildered but calling on years of litigation experience, Randolph quickly reverted to his signature refined neutrality. He cast a glance in the judge's direction before redirecting his attention to Jack.
"I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't crucial," Jack added, lowering his voice. He could see that the occupants of both the defense and plaintiff's tables had swung around in Jack's direction. Jack was interested in only two: Craig and Jordan. Of the two, Jordan was the more surprised and seemingly disturbed at Jack's disruptive arrival.
Randolph turned to the judge. "Your Honor, may I indulge the court's patience for just a moment?"
"Two minutes!" Judge Davidson said petulantly. He would allow Randolph to speak with Jack but only to get rid of him. It was painfully clear that the judge was unhappy with an interruption in his courtroom.
Randolph moved over to the bar and gave Jack an imperious glance. He spoke sotto voce: "This is highly irregular."
"I do this all the time," Jack whispered, reverting to his old sarcastic style. "You have to put me on the stand!"
"I cannot put you on the stand. I've already explained why, and I'm giving my closing statement, for heaven's sake."
"I did the autopsy, and I can provide evidence corroborated by affidavits from a Massachusetts medical examiner and a Massachusetts toxicologist that Dr. Bowman did not commit medical negligence."
For the first time, Jack detected a tiny crack in the shell of equanimity within which Randolph operated. It was his eyes that betrayed him as they rapidly and nervously flicked back and forth between the judge and Jack. There was little time for reflection, much less debate.
"Mr. Bingham!" Judge Davidson called out impatiently. "Your two minutes are up."
"I'll see what I can do," Randolph whispered to Jack before returning to the podium. "Your Honor, may I approach the bench?"
"If you must," Judge Davidson said, none too pleased.
Tony leaped his feet and joined Randolph at the sidebar.
"What in tarnation is going on?" Judge Davidson whispered forcibly. "Who is this man?" His eyes briefly whipped over to Jack, standing at the gate like a supplicant. Although Jack had put down his carry-on, he was still holding the envelope.
"His name is Dr. Jack Stapleton," Randolph said. "He is a board-certified medical examiner from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in New York. I've been informed he is very well regarded professionally."
Judge Davidson looked at Tony. "Do you know him?"
"I've met him," Tony admitted without elaboration.
"What the hell does he want, barging in here like this? This is highly irregular, to say the least."
"I expressed the same sentiments," Randolph reported. "He wants to be put on the stand."
"He can't be put on the stand!" Tony snapped. "He's not been on a witness list, and he's not been deposed. This is an outrageous suggestion."
"Tame your indignation!" Judge Davidson said to Tony, as if he were speaking to an unruly child. "And why is he asking to be put on the stand?"
"He claims he can offer exculpatory testimony that proves Dr. Bowman did not commit medical malpractice. He further claims he has corroboration in the form of affidavits by a Massachusetts medical examiner and a Massachusetts toxicologist."
"This is insane!" Tony sputtered. "The defense cannot bring in a last-minute surprise witness. It violates every rule in the book since the signing of the Magna Carta."
"Stop your moaning and groaning, counselor!" Judge Davidson barked.
Tony controlled himself with effort, but his suppressed ire and frustration were clearly evident when his heavy-lipped mouth formed an inverted U.
"Do you have any idea of how he has come across the information he's willing to testify to?"
"He mentioned that he autopsied Patience Stanhope."
"If this autopsy is potentially exculpatory, why wasn't it done sooner so that it could have been a subject of proper discovery?"
"There was no reason to suspect that an autopsy would have any probative value. I'm certain Mr. Fasano would agree. The clinical facts in this case have never been in dispute."
"Mr. Fasano, did you know about this autopsy?"
"Only to the extent it was being considered."
"Damn!" Judge Davidson intoned. "This puts me between a rock and a hard place."
"Your Honor," Tony said, unable to keep still. "If he's allowed to testify, I will -"