Q: Why couldn’t you remember?
A: Did I do something wrong? I didn’t know she was going to get in trouble.
Q: I am sure you didn’t.
A: I knew there was a fight, but I didn’t think it was possible there would be a murder and…and the other thing.
Q: What would you have done if you had known that they were going to rape and murder her?
A: I would have stopped them.
Q: How?
A: Any way. They wouldn’t have done nothing…(Crying).
Q: Go ahead and cry.
A: I don’t think…I don’t think they intended to. I don’t think they did it.
Q: You can’t picture them doing it? Not Bobby?
A: He was a tough little shit, but…
Q: Not Billy?
(PAUSE)
A: Maybe. I don’t know. Billy loved to fight. Maybe he went too far without realizing it. I remember him beating people more than once.
Q: What was the last thing you remember seeing on the hill?
A: I think they were holding the boy by the car. Like they were frisking him.
Q: Like they were frisking him?
A: I think they were going to rob him. Maybe they figured this boy would be wealthy if he dated this girl.
Q: Did they talk about the girl being wealthy?
A: I don’t think so. I’m just guessing now.
Q: Okay. Well, we don’t want you to guess. Just say what you know. Now, who got out of the car first on the hill?
A: Billy and the boy was out, too.
Q: When they were fighting, where was the girl?
A: I don’t know. In the car I guess.
Q: Did she scream?
A: I don’t remember.
Q: Did Billy or Bobby have anything in their hand when they got out of the car?
A: I don’t remember.
Q: Did you see either of them hit the boy over the head?
A: No.
Q: Did they get Richie down on the ground?
A: I didn’t see that.
ROY SHINDLER: Esther, when you got back into the car, when they picked you up, the girl was in the back seat with Billy?
A: Yes.
Q: And he was holding her around the arms and shoulders?
A: Uh-huh.
Q: Did he have anything around her neck?
A: No.
Q: No rope or something like that.
A: It was real dark in the car and I didn’t see too good. I only looked at her for a minute and I was drunk and not feeling so good from the running and being scared by the dogs.
Q: Where did you drive to then?
A: They drove me home.
Q: Did she try to get out of the car or struggle?
A: No.
Q: She didn’t try to get out?
A: Wait a minute. How many times have I lied to you about this? I don’t want to…
Q: You aren’t lying now. Did they have a hand over her mouth?
A: They could have.
DR. HOLLANDER: Do you remember how the girl was reacting to this?
A: She was quiet, dazed.
Q: Did she cry?
A: I didn’t look at her that long, you know. She could have been crying, but that may not be true.
Q: Tell us what you remember and don’t worry about what’s true. What you remember will be true.
8
“Mr. Boggs, are you a homosexual?”
“Objection, Your Honor.”
Harry Jamison was on his feet shouting before the last words of the question had carried across the courtroom to the frightened little man in the witness box. Judge Jacob Samuels tried to hide his displeasure with Philip Heider, but the jury could not help but notice the scathing look he flashed at the prosecutor as soon as the question was asked.
Heider, although he did not show it, was delighted with Jamison’s reaction. He had planned on it. Now, no matter how the judge ruled on the propriety of his question, the seeds of doubt were sown.
“I will see you gentlemen in chambers,” Samuels said as he gathered his black robes around him and disappeared through the door behind his dais.
Harry Jamison waddled after him, his enormous belly shifting with each step. He was a tragicomic figure made more for vaudeville than the courtroom and he heightened this impression by tenting his body in clashing checks and stripes.
Philip Heider, in contrast, was streamlined. He looked every bit the bright young man. Those who knew him well, knew that he was cold, ruthless and pragmatic. Those who saw him in court were usually fooled by the red hair and freckles that gave him a Tom Sawyerish look.
Judge Samuels was seated behind his desk when Heider and Jamison entered his wood-paneled office. He had been expecting Heider’s question for the past half hour: ever since Jamison had asked his own incredibly stupid questions on direct examination of the defendant, Lowell Boggs. Even so, he found the whole line of questioning distasteful and he knew that he had to decide if it was sufficiently prejudicial to compel his declaring the four-day murder case a mistrial or sufficiently relevant to permit inquiry.
Samuels looked at the two attorneys with disgust. Jamison was an incompetent joke. He had not done one thing right since the case started. It was a sorry system that even permitted someone like Jamison to practice.
And Heider…That was a different matter. He was every inch Stewart Heider’s son. Vicious, unprincipled. He could go on, but did not. Stewart Heider had made his money the hard way. He tried to buy respectability by sending his son to the best schools. But there was always heredity. The same criminal streak that was rumored to be behind the money Heider had made in lumber manifested itself in the way Philip Heider prosecuted his cases.
The problem was that, like the father, the son never quite crossed the border of unethical behavior. And, like the father, Samuels had to admit grudgingly, the son was good-very good. Samuels had seen a great many lawyers during his seventeen years on the bench and, despite the fact that Heider was relatively inexperienced, having practiced law with the district attorney’s office for only two years, he was one of the best the judge had ever seen.
“I want a mistrial. I warned the Court that Mr. Heider would try to go into this. I see no way that Mr. Boggs can get a fair trial, now that Mr. Heider has engaged in this disgusting piece of theatrics.”
“Mr. Heider?” the judge asked.
“Your Honor, this goes directly to motive. It is the State’s position that Boggs is a homosexual and that he killed Bobby Washington during a lover’s quarrel. The ferocity with which Mr. Washington was stabbed indicates great passion on the part of the killer.”
“But there is no evidence that Mr. Boggs is a homosexual. It’s all speculation,” Jamison whined. “He has to produce evidence if he is going to drag in this dirt and he didn’t during the State’s case.”
“Yes, Mr. Heider, I made a ruling on that before we started this trial. I ruled that we were not going into this area without proof.”
“I know that, Your Honor, and I did stay away from it, but Mr. Jamison opened the door during his examination of Mr. Boggs when he tried to raise as a defense that Washington was a homosexual who had accosted Mr. Boggs and that Boggs stabbed him in self-defense after wresting the knife from Washington.
“Mr. Jamison went into the sex angle first and I think I have a right to cross-exam on his defense.”
As Heider spoke, he watched the expression on Jamison’s face as the older attorney realized what he had done. A quick grin flashed across his face as he savored his moment. Judge Samuels caught the look of triumph and stifled a feeling of anger. Heider was a prick. He had no concept of professional responsibility.
Jamison was babbling now. Grasping at straws, as he tried to explain what he had and had not intended by his question. Samuels let him have his say, because he knew how he would have to rule and he wanted to make sure that Jamison had every chance to make his record.
“I am afraid Mr. Heider is right, Harry. I was astonished when you asked those questions, especially after our discussion in chambers. But you did and I am going to have to allow Mr. Heider to continue along this line for a while.”