“I don’t think so …”
“Officer, my question was—is it possible?”
He sighed heavily. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“And if an officer finds an injured person and there is a possibility that the victim is still alive, the proper police procedure is to immediately summon medical aid, correct?”
“That’s correct,” Calley said resignedly.
“Your honor, I object,” Bullock said. “What’s the point of this? Officer Calley is not on trial.”
“I’m testing the credibility of his testimony,” Ben told the judge. “That’s the main point of cross-ex.”
Judge Hart nodded wearily. “I’m going to allow a little more of this. I would appreciate it, however, counsel, if you could bring the discussion a little closer to the matters at issue.”
“Very well, your honor.” He turned his attention back to the witness. “My point is, this was not a perfect, by-the-book initial investigation, was it?”
“There were many variables—”
“Sir, please answer the question.”
“No, it was not.”
“Please understand, I’m not trying to blame or incriminate you. But the jury needs to know the facts. And the facts are—you were a brand-new officer on your own and you made mistakes, right?”
“That’s true.” His shoulders sagged. “I made mistakes.”
“Did you ever see my client during your initial tour of the house?”
“No, he had already—”
“Did… you … see… him … there?”
Calley swallowed his words. “No.”
“Did you see anything that indicated who had committed these crimes?”
“Not specifically, no.”
“Not specifically or generally, right?”
Calley almost smiled. “Right.”
“There is one other matter I’d like to ask you about. You’ve admitted this initial investigation was flawed and that you made mistakes. You also said that after you found the third victim, you left the premises. Right?”
“Right.”
“At what speed did you depart?”
“Speed? I don’t follow.”
“Well, did you saunter? Stroll? Walk briskly?”
Calley seemed to struggle for the correct word. “I … believe I moved downstairs and out with all deliberate speed.”
“Meaning fast, right?”
He shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”
“Were you running?”
“I don’t know if I was running …”
“But you were moving very rapidly.”
“I suppose so.”
“And on your way out, you had to pass through the living room. Right?”
“Uh, yes. That’s right.”
“Officer, in his opening statement, the prosecutor made much of a photograph that was found on the floor in the living room. Did you see that photo?”
“As I recall, there were many photographs in the home.”
“Ah, but this one was on the floor. Surely you would have noticed. If it was there.”
“I … There was a lot going on … I had a lot on my mind …”
“Officer Calley, did you see a smashed photograph of Caroline Barrett on the floor?”
“I … don’t recall it, but as I say, I was moving quickly. It was probably there and I didn’t notice.”
“Officer Calley, in your haste to leave the Barrett home, is it possible that you knocked over the photo?”
Calley appeared momentarily stunned. “I—what?”
“You heard me. Did you?”
“Did I—no, I most certainly did not.”
“It would have been an easy thing to do. No one would blame you. But we need to know the truth. Did you knock over that photograph?”
“No!”
“You were running—or moving very rapidly—through the living room. Very upset. You would have had to run right by the coffee table where the photo normally rested. Tell us the truth, sir. You knocked it over, didn’t you?”
“No!”
“And that’s how the frame glass was broken.”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“I’m sure it was an accident. But you did it, didn’t you?”
“I—” His head began to tremble. “No! I did not knock over the picture!”
“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it.”
“I did not knock the damn thing over!”
“Your honor,” Bullock shouted, “we apologize for that outburst, but this question has been asked and answered. Several times now.”
Judge Hart did not look happy. “I will excuse the outburst—just this once. The question has been asked and answered. If you have nothing more, Mr. Kincaid, sit down.”
“Nothing more,” Ben said. There was no point in pushing any longer. If Calley was responsible for breaking that picture, he sure wasn’t going to admit it now.
“Very well. Court is recessed for the day.” Judge Hart gave the jury the usual end-of-the-day instructions, particularly complicated in this instance since the jury had been sequestered. “We’ll resume tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp.” She banged her gavel, and the courtroom exploded.
Ben could see the reporters surging up the aisle. As soon as the jury was escorted out, he pointed Barrett toward a door at the back of the courtroom.
“Wait a minute,” Barrett said. “I want to make a statement.”
“That’s an incredibly stupid idea.”
“I don’t care. People have been lying about me all day. Why should I sit there and take that silently?”
“Well, at least let’s talk—”
“There’s no time. The marshals will come for me any moment.” Barrett pushed forward to meet the reporters. In a matter of moments, a multitude of cameras and lights and microphones were working.
Ben listened as Barrett did his best to put a positive spin on the day’s testimony, which was nearly impossible, since almost all of it had gone against them. For the most part, Barrett avoided the specifics of the evidence and statements, and simply reiterated his innocence in strong and impassioned tones.
Which was well and good for the six o’clock news, Ben thought, but the jury would require something more. If he was going to turn them around, he would have to give them something concrete, something that seemed at least as plausible as the evidence the prosecution had put on, and would continue to put on tomorrow.
This was one election Wallace Barrett couldn’t win with a press conference. Barrett might win over thousands of viewers, but the only twelve votes that counted would not be watching. They were the ones who would determine his fate. And they were the ones, Ben knew, who at that point had been given no reason to doubt that Wallace Barrett was guilty.
Chapter 47
BEN AND CHRISTINA HEADED back from the courthouse to the Adam’s Mark in silence. Ben knew he was being sullen and uncompanionable, but he couldn’t help himself. It all seemed too grim and hopeless.
Finally, Christina broke the silence. “Ben, I know things look gloomy at the moment, but I think you’re doing a great job in there. Sans pareil.”
“Thanks for the kind words, but we’re losing, and you know it.”
“You’ve been losing from the second you accepted this loser case. Any little thing you can do to improve the situation—and you’ve done several already—is pure gravy. And a testament to what a fine trial attorney you’re becoming. You shouldn’t get so upset about every single unfavorable ruling. You know how trials go. Comme çi comme ça.” She poked him in the side. “Look, when this is all over, let’s go camping again, okay? You and me, backpacking in Heavener State Park. I’ll show you the runestone left by the Nordic discoverers of this continent.”