Выбрать главу

"Yes, Miss Welt," Allen said mildly. "What exactly is your objection?"

"I, um, I don't know, but I'm sure we have one," the young woman said, nudging Zusskin.

The poke in the shoulder seemed to bring Zusskin to his senses. "What is this nonsense?" he sputtered, rising shakily to his feet and poking the bigger transcript with his finger. "This is a fake."

Karp enjoyed the moment, then turned to the judge. "Your Honor, if the defense will not stipulate to the admission in evidence of the tape and the corresponding certified transcript, then we'll ask that Mr. Larkin step down temporarily so that we can make an offer of proof by calling Coach J. C. Anderson to the stand to vouch for its authenticity and provenance."

Zusskin and the ACAA reps all swiveled in their seats to look at Coach Anderson, who glared right back. "Your Honor, Coach Anderson, as you know was a member of the ACAA panel that voted to sanction my client. He has since had a change of heart and obtained a copy of the supposedly 'destroyed' tape, which he gave to me. If the defense would prefer, we could just play the tape in its entirety. I'm sure the jury will be able to distinguish the voices of the two young men and Mr. Larkin and will be able to determine if it is all part of the same interview. Then they can make a decision if anything substantive, or relevant, was left out."

"I really must object," Zusskin complained. "This is…" He groped for a word.

"Unfair?" Karp said helpfully. "Unfair, as in how you stacked the deck against Mikey O'Toole?"

"Mr. Karp," Judge Allen said dryly. "If you don't mind, can we proceed, please? I believe you asked if the defense would prefer you call Mr. Anderson to the stand, or play the tape, or simply stipulate that they are accepting your exhibits without a fight."

"Pretty much, Your Honor," Karp replied.

Zusskin turned to look at the ACAA reps, the leader of whom made a signal with his hands. The lawyer plopped down in his seat and waved a hand at Karp. "Go ahead. We withdraw our objection."

Nice, Karp thought, they just threw Larkin under the bus.

"Well, then, Mr. Karp, please proceed."

"With the court's permission." Karp handed copies of the transcript to the court clerk. Feeling that he now had everybody's attention, he turned back to the witness, who was looking pale as he leafed through his copy of the new transcript.

"Mr. Larkin, have you had a chance to glance at the papers in your hand?"

Larkin looked up like a condemned man at a firing squad. "Uh, yes."

"Good. Now, can you tell us what is on those pages?"

"It's a transcript," Larkin said weakly. He looked over at the defense table, but Zusskin was now almost prone and watching a pencil he was twirling in his fingers.

"A transcript of what, Mr. Larkin?" Karp said, circling in the water.

"Of my conversation with Steele Dalton and Michael Mason."

"And contains the nine pages of transcript that the jury has already seen. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Which means there's about another one hundred and twenty-six pages they haven't seen? Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Very good, Mr. Larkin. Now, I'm going to ask you to read from the transcript, but first I want to make sure I'm recalling correctly. You previously testified that there was nothing else substantive or relevant in the interviews with Mr. Dalton and Mr. Mason, except what was included in the nine pages you provided the ACAA panel, am I correct?"

"Well, I meant that in my opinion…uh, I," Larkin stammered.

"I asked you a simple question and that requires a simple answer," Karp said. "Nothing substantive or relevant, that's what you said, right?"

Larkin gave up. "That's right. Yes, it's true."

"Okay, Mr. Larkin, let's read together, like a little play. Only I'll read your parts and you read the rest. Let's start with the interview of Mr. Dalton, on page forty-three. You in the right place?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's see, you said, 'I'm going to ask you again, was Coach O'Toole aware of the party?'"

"'Uh-huh.'"

"Go on with that sentence, Mr. Larkin. And please remember that the jurors are reading along with us and will notice any deviation from the truth."

"Um, sure… 'Uh-huh…well, at least that's what Rufus Porter told us on the way to the party. We asked if Coach O'Toole knew we were going, and Porter told us that the coach knew all about it.'"

Karp nodded. "Very good, Mr. Larkin. Now, again directly from the transcript, you asked the following question and received the following answer. Question, quote: 'Did Coach O'Toole tell you himself about the party or paying for alcohol or strippers?' And Dalton's answer was?"

"Let's see, uh, he said, 'No. We didn't see Coach O'Toole again after the last meeting. We were in our rooms getting ready for bed when Porter showed up and said we could go to a special party only for certain guys.'"

Like shooting fish in a barrel, Karp thought. "All right, let's skip forward about thirty pages, nothing very substantial in there, I'm sure. Now, page seventy-eight, starting about the fourth line down. You there? Good. Okay, question by you: 'Did Coach O'Toole tell you not to cooperate with this investigation?' And his answer was?"

"His answer was: 'No. He told us to cooperate. He said he wasn't worried because he didn't do anything wrong.'"

Karp glanced back at the plaintiff's table as Larkin read. Mikey O'Toole sat with his head bowed, wiping at his eyes. Karp thought of his friend Fred O'Toole and how he'd died.

Jumping over into the interview with Mason, Karp got Larkin to read through the lines that showed that Mason had confirmed Dalton's story. Porter had showed up after bed check and offered to take them to a party. But other than Porter's word, there was no indication that Coach O'Toole knew what was going on.

"This is on page one hundred and twenty," Karp said. "You asked, 'Did Coach O'Toole tell you to lie to ACAA investigators if they asked you questions about the party?' Now, read the next lines."

"'That's not what he said,'" Larkin read. "'He told me to tell the truth. He said there's never such a thing as one lie because one lie creates another lie until nobody knows what the truth is.'"

Karp closed his copy of the transcript. "Until nobody knows what the truth is," he repeated. "Mr. Larkin, after what we just heard, do you still feel that the only substantive, relevant information was on the nine pages of the transcript you created?"

Larkin shrugged. "It was my opinion that the boys were lying to protect the coach."

"Nine pages of truth, to a hundred and twenty-six pages of lies," Karp said. "That's a whole lot of lying, Mr. Larkin. So many lies that nobody knows what the truth is, right, Mr. Larkin?"

"Objection," Zusskin said wearily. "Counsel is making a speech."

Karp looked at Larkin, then Zusskin, then the representatives of the ACAA, and snorted in disgust. "I withdraw the 'speech,' Your Honor. And I'm done with this witness."

Zusskin rose tiredly to his feet for redirect, but he seemed lost as he blinked at Larkin without speaking. One of the ACAA reps reached over the bar and tugged on his coat; the attorney leaned back and listened. When he looked up, it was with relief written all over his face.

"Your Honor, we have no further questions for Mr. Larkin," he said. "But may I approach the bench?"

"Be my guests," the judge said, and nodded to Karp and Meyers to join them.

Zusskin smiled at Karp as he walked up, as if ready to offer the deal of a lifetime. "My clients-the ACAA and the university, which, considering the current circumstances of Mr. Huttington and Mr. Barnhill, is now represented by the Board of Regents-have decided that there is no reason to continue this trial. They are prepared to offer a very generous sum to settle the case, as well as reinstate Coach O'Toole to his former position at the University of Northwest Idaho."

"May I inquire as to the change of heart?" the judge asked.