“I will know. Whichever one breaks out the next exclusive from the DA’s office will be the one who helped you out. They’ll never get so much as a ‘no comment’ from me.”
She chuckled. My threat had nothing to do with her. She had gotten the posts out before the jury and nothing else mattered. I finally looked up at her and squinted.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what? That the jury now knows your client was previously at the scene of the crime-proving that she had knowledge of where to find the victim? No, I completely get that.”
I looked away and shook my head.
“You’ll see. Excuse me.”
I stood up and headed toward the witness stand. Lisa Trammel had just returned from the restroom. She had redrawn the makeup on her eyes. When she started to speak, I cupped the microphone again.
“What were you doing talking to that bitch? She’s a horrible person,” she said.
A bit stunned by the unbridled anger, I looked back at Freeman, now sitting at the prosecution table.
“She’s not horrible and she’s not a bitch, okay? She’s just doing-”
“Yes, she is. You don’t know.”
I leaned close to her and whispered.
“And what, you do? Look, Lisa, don’t go bipolar on me. You’ve got less than a half hour of testimony still to go. Let’s just get through it without cluing the jury in to your issues. Okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about but it’s very hurtful.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to defend you and it doesn’t help me to have to find out about things like Facebook when you’re being cross-examined by the prosecution.”
“I told you, I’m sorry. But your associate knew.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t.”
“Look, you said before that you might be able to make this work in our favor. How?”
“Simple. If someone was going to set you up, this Facebook page would have been a damn good place to start.”
Talk about manna from heaven. Her eyes looked upward and pure relief colored her face as she came to understand the tactic I was about to employ. The anger that had darkened her expression only a minute before was now completely gone. It was just then that the judge entered the courtroom, ready to go. I nodded to my client and went back to the defense table as the judge instructed the deputy to bring in the jury.
Once everyone was situated the judge asked if I wished to question my client on redirect examination. I jumped up from my seat like I had been waiting ten years for the opportunity. It cost me. A jolt of pain moved like lightning across my torso. The ribs may have mended but the wrong move still lit me up.
Just as I walked to the lectern the rear door of the courtroom opened and Lorna came in. Perfect timing. Carrying a file and a motorcycle helmet, she walked swiftly down the center aisle to the gate.
“Your Honor, could I have a moment with my associate?”
“Make it fast, please.”
I met Lorna at the gate and she handed over the file.
“That’s the list of all her Facebook friends, but as of when I left, Dennis and Jennifer hadn’t found any connection to you know who.”
It was strange hearing Cisco and Bullocks referred to by their real names. I looked down at the helmet she carried. I whispered.
“You rode Cisco’s motorcycle over here?”
“You wanted it quick and I knew I could park up close.”
“Where’s Rojas?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t answer his cell.”
“Great. Listen, I want you to leave Cisco’s bike where it is and walk back to the office. I don’t want you riding that suicide machine.”
“I’m not your wife anymore. I’m his.”
Just as she whispered this I looked over her shoulder and saw Maggie McPherson sitting in the gallery. I wondered if she was there for me or for Freeman.
“Look,” I said. “That’s got nothing to do with-”
“Mr. Haller?” the judge intoned from behind me. “We’re waiting.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said loudly without turning around. Then in a whisper to Lorna, I said, “Walk back.”
I returned to the lectern, opening the file. It contained nothing more than raw data-a thousand-plus names, listed in two columns per page-but I looked at it as if I had just been given the Holy Grail.
“Okay, Lisa, let’s talk about your Facebook page. You testified earlier that you have more than a thousand friends. Are all of these people personally known to you?”
“No, not at all. Because so many people know about me through FLAG, I just assume that when someone wants to friend me, they are supportive of that cause. I just accept them.”
“So then the posts on your wall are open to a significant number of people who are Facebook friends but in reality complete strangers to you. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
“So any one of these strangers who was interested in your movements, past or present, could just go to your Facebook page and see the posts on your wall, am I right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“For example, someone could go to that page right now and scroll through your updates and see that back in September of last year you hung out in the garage at WestLand, waiting for Mitchell Bondurant, correct?”
“Yes, they could.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and, using the lectern as a blind, brought it up and put it down on the work surface. While leafing through the printout of names with one hand, I used the other to open the text I had just received. The message was from Bullocks.
3rd page, right column, 5th from bottom-Don Driscoll. We have a Donald Driscoll as former ALOFT in IT. We’re working it.
Bingo. Now I had something I could hit out of the park.
“Your Honor, I would like to show the witness this document. It is a printout of the names of people who have friended Lisa Trammel on Facebook.”
Freeman, seeing her victorious morning in jeopardy, objected but the judge overruled without argument from me, saying Freeman had opened this door herself. I gave my client the list and returned to the lectern.
“Can you please go to the third page of the printout and read the name that is fifth up from the bottom in the right-side column?”
Freeman objected again, stating that the list was unverified. The judge advised her to challenge it on re-cross if she thought I was introducing a bogus exhibit. I told Lisa she could read the name.
“Don Driscoll.”
“Thank you. Now is that name familiar to you?”
“Not really, no.”
“But he is one of your Facebook friends.”
“I know but like I said, I don’t know everybody who friends me. There are too many.”
“Well, do you recall if Don Driscoll ever contacted you directly and identified himself as working for a company called ALOFT?”
Freeman objected and asked for a sidebar. We were called to the bench.
“Judge, what’s going on here? Counsel can’t just throw names around. I want an offer of proof that he isn’t just throwing darts at the list and picking out a name.”
Perry nodded thoughtfully.
“I agree, Mr. Haller.”
My phone was still on the lectern. If I had gotten any updates from Bullocks they weren’t going to help me now.
“Judge, we could go into chambers and get my investigator on the phone, if you wish. But I would ask the court for some leeway here. The prosecution opened up this Facebook issue just this morning and I am trying to respond. We can hold things up for an offer of proof or we can wait until the defense calls Don Driscoll to the stand and Ms. Freeman can have at him and see if I am mischaracterizing who he is.”
“You are going to call him?”
“I don’t think I have any choice in light of the state’s decision to pursue my client’s old Facebook posts.”
“Very well, we’ll wait for Mr. Driscoll to testify. Don’t disappoint me, Mr. Haller, and come into court and say you changed your mind. I won’t be happy if that happens.”