I stood and objected, saying her questions were going way outside the scope of Driscoll’s direct testimony. But the judge said I opened the door when I asked the witness about his credentials and experience in IT. He told Driscoll to answer the question.
“I didn’t graduate because I was expelled.”
“For what?”
“Cheating. I hacked into a teacher’s computer and downloaded an exam the night before it was given.”
Driscoll said it with an almost bored tone to his voice. Like he knew this was going to come out. I knew this was in his background. I told him that if it came out he had only one choice, to be absolutely honest. Otherwise, he would be inviting disaster.
“So you are a cheater and a thief, correct?”
“I was, and that was more than ten years ago. I don’t cheat anymore. There’s nothing to cheat for.”
“Really? And what about stealing?”
“Same thing. I don’t steal.”
“Isn’t it true that your employment at ALOFT was severed abruptly when it was discovered that you were systematically stealing from the company?”
“That is a lie. I told them I was quitting and then they canned me.”
“Aren’t you the one who is lying here?”
“No, I’m telling the truth. You think I could just make this stuff up?”
Driscoll made a desperate glance toward me and I wished he hadn’t. It could be interpreted as collusion between us. Driscoll was on his own up there. I couldn’t help him.
“As a matter of fact I do, Mr. Driscoll,” Freeman said. “Isn’t it true that you had quite a little business for yourself running out of ALOFT?”
“No.”
Driscoll demonstrably shook his head in support of his denial. I read him as lying right there and I realized I was in deep trouble. The severance package, I thought. The year’s pay. They don’t fire people and give them a year’s pay if they’ve been stealing. Bring up the severance package!
“Were you not using ALOFT as a front to order expensive software, then break the security codes and sell bootleg copies over the Internet?”
“That’s not true. I knew this would happen if I told anyone what I know.”
This time he did more than look at me. He pointed at me.
“I told you this would happen. I told you these people don’t-”
“Mr. Driscoll!” the judge boomed. “You answer the question posed to you by counsel. You do not talk to defense counsel or anyone else.”
Trying to keep her momentum, Freeman swooped in for the kill.
“Your Honor, may I approach the witness with a document?”
“You may. Are you going to mark it?”
“People’s Exhibit Nine, Your Honor.”
She had copies for everybody. I leaned close to Aronson so we could read it together. It was a copy of an internal investigation report from ALOFT.
“Did you know about any of this?” Aronson whispered.
“Of course not,” I whispered back.
I leaned forward to focus on the examination. I didn’t want a first-year lawyer tsk-tsking me over a gigantic vetting failure.
“What is that document, Mr. Driscoll?” Freeman asked.
“I don’t know,” the witness responded. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“It is an internal investigation summary from ALOFT, isn’t it?”
“If you say so.”
“When is it dated?”
“February first.”
“That was your last day of work at ALOFT, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. That morning I gave my supervisor two weeks’ notice and then they erased my login and fired me.”
“For cause.”
“For no cause. Why do you think they gave me the big check at the door? I knew things and they were trying to shut me up.”
Freeman looked up at the judge.
“Your Honor, could you instruct the witness to refrain from answering my questions with his own questions.”
Perry nodded.
“The witness will answer questions, not pose them.”
It didn’t matter, I thought. He had gotten it out there.
“Mr. Driscoll, could you please read the paragraph of the report I have highlighted in yellow?”
I objected, stating that the report was not in evidence. The judge overruled, allowing the reading to proceed subject to a later evidentiary ruling.
Driscoll read the paragraph to himself and then shook his head.
“Out loud, Mr. Driscoll,” the judge prompted.
“But this is all complete lies. This is what they do to-”
“Mr. Driscoll,” the judge intoned grumpily. “Read the paragraph aloud, please.”
Driscoll hesitated one last time and then finally read.
“ ‘The employee admitted that he had purchased the software packages with a company requisition and then returned them after copying the copyrighted materials. The employee admitted he has been selling counterfeit copies of the software over the Internet, using company computers to facilitate this business. The employee admitted earning more than one hundred thousand-’ ”
Driscoll suddenly crushed the document with both hands into a ball and threw it across the courtroom.
Right at me.
“You did this!” he yelled at me, following his pitch with a pointed finger. “I was fine in the world till you showed up!”
Once again Judge Perry could’ve used a gavel. He called for order and for the jury to return to the deliberations room. They quickly filed out of the courtroom as if being chased by Driscoll himself. Once the door was closed the judge took further action, signaling the courtroom deputy forward.
“Jimmy, take the witness to the holding cell while counsel and I discuss this in chambers.”
He got up and stepped off the bench and quickly slipped through the door to his chambers before I could mount a protest over how my witness was being treated.
Freeman followed and I detoured to the witness stand.
“Just go and I’ll get this over. You’ll be right back out.”
“You fucking liar,” he said, anger jumping in his eyes. “You said it would be easy and safe and now look at this. The whole world thinks I’m a fucking software thief! You think I’ll ever find work again?”
“Well, if I had known you were hijacking software I probably wouldn’t have put you on the stand.”
“Fuck you, Haller. You better hope this is over because if I have to come back here, I’m going to make up some shit about you.”
The deputy was leading him toward the door that led to the holding cell next to the courtroom. As he went I noticed Aronson standing at the defense table. Her face told the story. All her good work of the morning possibly undone.
“Mr. Haller?” the court clerk said from her corral. “The judge is waiting.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m coming.”
I headed toward the door.
Forty-seven
Four Green Fields was always dead on Monday nights. It was a bar that catered to the legal crowd and it usually wasn’t until a few days into the week that lawyers started to need alcohol to dampen the burdens of conscience. We could’ve had our pick of the place but we took to the bar, Aronson sitting between me and Cisco.
We ordered a beer, a cosmo and a vodka tonic with lime and without the vodka. Still smarting from the Donald Driscoll fiasco, I had called the after-hours meeting to talk about Tuesday. And because I thought my two associates could use a drink.
There was a basketball game on the TV but I didn’t even bother to check who was playing or what the score was. I didn’t care and couldn’t see much further than the Driscoll disaster. His testimony had ended after the blowup and finger pointing. In chambers the judge had worked out a curative address to the jurors, telling them that both the prosecution and defense had agreed that he would be dismissed from giving further testimony. Driscoll at best had been a wash. His direct testimony certainly set up the defense contention that Louis Opparizio had brought about the demise of Mitchell Bondurant. But his credibility had been undermined during cross-examination and his volatile behavior and enmity toward me didn’t help. Plus, the judge was obviously holding me responsible for the spectacle and that would probably end up hurting the defense.