The reaction could not have been greater had another bomb gone off in the jury box. The jurors’ eyes widened like balloons; they looked at one another with astonishment and horror.
Oh my God, Ben thought quietly, trying not to display any visible reaction. Oh my God. What now?
Granny adopted a quieter tone. “Did Mr. Zakin tell you anything else about this … fatal incident?”
“Yeah. Told me he watched from a safe distance. Told me he watched Gardiner catch on fire and burn. And he laughed. That’s what he said. He said he laughed the whole time. And then he thought, You logging bastard. Your wife’s ass is mine.”
Zak pressed himself against Ben’s shoulder. “This is complete fiction, Ben. You’ve gotta believe me. I never said these things.” He pressed even closer. “You gotta believe me!”
Ben didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Mr. Geppi,” Granny asked quietly, trying not to break the aura of horror and disgust that had enveloped the jury box, “why did you come forward with this testimony?”
“Well, I thought someone ought to know. I mean, I’ve done some bad things in my time. Things I’m ashamed of. But this dude was … cold, you know? To burn someone alive just so he could keep on screwin’ his wife? To sit there laughin’ while the poor schmuck burned to death? That just gave me the creeps all over. This dude needs to be put away permanently. That’s why I came forward.”
“Thank you, Mr. Geppi. No more questions.”
No more questions indeed, Ben thought. No more questions needed. The stake had been driven through Zak’s heart but good. He didn’t know how Granny had gotten this man to testify, but he knew what the effect would be if Ben didn’t destroy him on cross.
The effect would be to eliminate any doubt in the jurors’ minds whatsoever that Zak was guilty of murder-murder so premeditated and horrible that it begged for the death penalty.
Chapter 57
The man was lying, Ben told himself, as he marched up to the podium. Whatever else you may think about Zak right now, this witness is lying. Problem was, there is nothing more difficult than getting a self-aware, unrepentant liar to confess. He would have to come on strong, like he held all the cards and there was no way Geppi could possibly escape his grasp.
“What did the prosecutor promise you, Mr. Geppi?”
Geppi blinked rapidly, his face the picture of innocence. “Promise me? I don’t get you.”
“You made a deal. Your testimony for a quid pro quo. I want to know what it is.”
Geppi shook his head earnestly. “There was no deal.”
“Are you trying to tell this jury you were not offered anything in exchange for your testimony?”
“It’s true.”
“No promise of immunity? No suspended sentence?”
“Absolutely not.”
“The man’s telling the truth,” Judge Pickens said, interjecting. “Any plea bargain or request for immunity would have to go through me, and I haven’t seen it. There’s no deal.”
Ben clenched his teeth together. There had to be some arrangement. Geppi had nothing to gain by this personally; Ben couldn’t believe he would come forward with this pack of lies on his own initiative. But how could he prove it?
“If you don’t have anything yet, maybe a promise was made. A promise of some reward in the future.”
“There is no deal,” Geppi repeated.
“Maybe Granny told you that after this trial was over, the charges against you would be dropped.”
“I have already instructed my attorney to plead guilty,” Geppi answered. “I’m just waiting for sentencing.”
Damn! Ben knew there had to be something. But whatever it was, Granny had built a wall around it so tall and strong he couldn’t break through. “So you’re telling me the only reason you’re testifying today is because you have such a highly developed sense of civic duty?”
Geppi looked down at his hands. “That’s not … the only reason.”
At last! Ben thought. “And what’s the other reason?”
Geppi spoke haltingly. “I … I have a sister. Had a sister. Angela. Just a scrawny thing-but pretty, in her way. She was killed at a gas station. No fault of her own-she was caught in the middle of a robbery. It didn’t make any sense.” His hand covered his face. “But when I heard this man talk-brag-about what he had done to this logger, I thought of my sister. She died for no reason, through no fault of her own, just as he did. I understand he had a family too, a wife and a little boy. A boy about the same age as Angela.” His voice broke, then trailed off.
Ben stared at the witness stand. What was going on here? Was that man actually crying up there? Ben had marched in determined to bring out the truth, and now this slimy convict had taken total control of the examination.
He glanced over at the jury. As far as he could tell, they were entirely sympathetic. Two of them looked as if they were about to cry themselves. He had no way to impeach this melodramatic story about Angela, and he knew that battering the witness would not win Zak any points with the jury. But he couldn’t sit down now, not on this note. There had to be something else he could try. Perhaps if he showed how unlikely it was that this conversation ever took place …
“Mr. Kincaid,” Pickens said. “Are you done?”
“Not quite,” Ben said. He looked squarely at Geppi’s tear-streaked face. “My client denies your story. Every word of it.”
Geppi looked away, dabbing his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”
“Why would he tell you about this? He doesn’t even know you. He’s smart enough to realize you might testify.”
Geppi shook his head, his face the mask of tragedy. “Don’t you see? He was bragging. He’s proud of it-he’s proud of what he done. All the hurting and killing, all the fighting and turmoil-he thrives on it. He thinks he’s some kind of hero. A freedom fighter for the revolution. But he’s not.” Geppi’s voice became low and almost guttural. “He’s not. He’s just a murderer. A coldblooded goddamned murderer.”
Judge Pickens rapped his gavel, but Ben noticed his heart wasn’t really in it.
Ben proceeded to bring out Geppi’s priors, based on the criminal history the prosecution was required to provide. A conviction for petty theft, another for possession. Geppi didn’t try to deny them. And none of it made the jury forget what he had said before.
“I’m done,” Ben said bitterly. He grabbed his notebook and stepped down.
Pickens gazed across the courtroom. “Anything more, Madame Prosecutor?”
“Nothing, your honor. The State rests.”
“We’ll resume the trial Monday morning at nine with the defense.” He gave his closing instructions to the jury, then rapped his gavel. “Court is in recess.”
It seemed as if half the gallery rushed forward to defendant’s table-reporters asking questions, locals hurling epithets. Ben nodded to Christina, implicitly asking her to become a human shield while he and Sheriff Allen got Zak out of the courtroom. They had much to do.
As he left, though, Ben couldn’t help scanning the jurors, still transfixed in their fourteen chairs. Their faces were transparent; he felt as if he could see right through to their brains. He knew what they were thinking.
If they were voting today, here, now, they would find Zak guilty. Guilty of murder in the first degree. And they would recommend the ultimate sanction.
Four
Chapter 58
“First of all,” Ben said, keeping his eyes on the road, “we have to keep our heads together. Things always look bleak when the prosecution closes its case. The jurors’ minds will begin to change when we start putting on our witnesses. At the very least, they’ll begin to doubt.”
“I don’t know,” Christina replied. “I looked at those faces. And I didn’t see much doubt.”