Tommy has crept close to my dad and stands now only a few feet from the witness stand, attempting to stare my father down.
"I understand, Mr. Molto. Only my word."
"Only yours," says Tommy Molto, and faces my father a bit longer before he goes back to the prosecution table, where he evens his notes before taking his seat.
CHAPTER 27
Tommy, June 22, 2009
In the umber light of the prosecuting attorney's office, where there seemed to be only two times of day, dusk and darkness, several members of Tommy's staff awaited him, eager to be the first to shake the boss's hand. As the brass elevator doors parted, Jim Brand exited initially, wheeling the trial cart. The open-topped buggy of stainless-steel wire, which looked like an elongated grocery basket, was employed to haul the trial files and Rusty's home computer across the street to court each day. The two women in court with the PAs each day, the detective, Rory Gissling, and their paralegal, Ruta Wisz, trailed a step behind Jim. As soon as they were all buzzed inside the office's steel-reinforced door, a round of applause broke out from a gauntlet of employees, many of whom had been in the courtroom pews to take in the cross-examination. Accepting handshakes and fist knocks, Tommy proceeded behind the cart down the dim hall toward the PA's corner office. It was a little like a scene in one of those old movies about Rome, where the conquerors entered a walled city behind a carriage bearing the remains of the former ruler.
The deputies hooted jokes comparing Rusty to butchered meat.
"He was turning like a chicken on a spit, Boss."
"Welcome to Benihana. Chef Tommy will slice and dice."
Even Judge Yee had caught Tommy's eye for a second when they recessed and nodded in respect. Truth told, Tommy was a bit at sea with all the acclaim. He had recognized long ago that he was the kind of man who did not really feel good when he succeeded. It was another of his embarrassing little secrets, tempered in the last few years by the realization that there were a lot more people like him than you might think. But when things went really well for Tommy Molto, he often felt guilty, convinced deep down he did not fully deserve it. Even Dominga's love was something he sometimes felt he was unworthy of. It was all too typical that even while he knew he was inflicting serious wounds on Sabich, Tommy had felt some worry begin to nag at him.
Yet with all that said, there was no taking away the fact he had been really good up there. He knew better than to give himself too much credit. You could prepare and prepare, but cross-examination was a tightrope act, and sometimes you ended up sure-footed and sometimes you fell on your head, and a lot of it was simply in the stars. Until Rusty tried to score by saying he didn't see Barbara eat the foods that had obviously killed her, Tommy had never completely realized how absurd it was to think she'd died by accident. That had been a great moment for him, and there were a few others-and he'd committed some miscues, too, opened the door too wide a couple of times, which always happened. But on balance, the rationale of the prosecution had seemed like a trumpet blast in the courtroom.
Even the mob of reporters outside the courthouse finally seemed impressed. Tommy had few total fans in the press. He tended to stiffen up in front of cameras, and the relentless personality that served him well in the courtroom didn't go down well with journalists, who hated being treated as the adversaries they often were. And these days, with that crowd, Tommy was playing with one hand behind his back anyway. As soon as Yee was appointed, Stern had filed a sealed motion about the DNA results from the first trial. Ruling in chambers, outside the open public record, Yee not only sequestered the DNA results, as Tommy had long predicted, but required the prosecution to identify anybody aware of them and placed each person under court order not to discuss the test until the verdict. It amounted to the judge announcing there would be contempt proceedings if the test results leaked. In the meantime, the papers-no doubt with Stern's encouragement-spun out the revenge theory every day, going through the first trial in detail, emphasizing the way the case had fallen apart and frequently mentioning that afterward, Tommy had been investigated for a year before returning to work. Tommy, who had long since stopped expecting fairness from the American press, could venture no response, except that the record would be clear by the time the case was over. But after his performance today, especially when the DNA results became public, Tommy knew that no lawyer or journalist would say anything except that Jim Brand and he had brought a case they had to prosecute.
Several deputies continued to accost them as they proceeded down the hall. When they reached Tommy's office, though, he stood in his door like a reluctant host. He allowed only his trial team to join him. He accepted a few more handshakes, then clapped several times to encourage everyone to return to work. The people in this office knew better than to declare victory at the midpoint in a trial, and the fact that so many of them wanted to celebrate the cross actually betrayed their own doubts about the case, the fact that it all sounded better than they might have expected. Many of the most experienced lawyers knew there was still a good chance they would not be in here drinking champagne after the verdict.
"A perfect ten," said Rory Gissling when Tommy returned from a quick call to Dominga. Tommy had gotten just one second on the phone with his wife. Talking and sometimes downright sassy, Tomaso was frequently a trial to his mother these days.
"Y'know," answered Tommy, but added nothing else for quite some time.
The four of them were around Tommy's big desk. Jim and he had dumped their coats and propped their feet up on the public property.
Rory said, "I think Yee should have let you get into the girl."
"Yee isn't going to let us get to the girl," said Tommy. "And I think I've figured out why."
"Because he doesn't want to get reversed," said Brand, employing the steady refrain whenever they talked about Judge Yee.
"It's because he knows we don't need it. You'll have twelve people in the jury room. Between all of them, they'll have lived, say, at least five hundred years. And what's the first thing anybody says when you hear about a middle-aged guy dumping his college sweetheart?"
Rory laughed. She took the point. "He must have something going on the side."
"That's exactly what half the people in that room are going to say. And frankly, whatever the bunch of them make up is probably a ton better than anything we can prove."
Brand took his feet down and leaned forward. "So what are you worried about?"
Brand was the only person here who knew Tommy well enough to see it. Tommy took a second to search himself, but he still couldn't quite identify the answer.
"Sandy Stern is a counterpuncher," he said. "That's one thing." Stern had always understood that a trial is a war of expectations, where no one could always control the courtroom mood. Sandy knew he could survive the prosecutors having a good day, even a good week, as long as he could come back. In fact, it was clear now why Stern had put his client on first. Because he was going to rebuild Rusty's credibility from here. Tommy even suspected Stern had wanted Rusty to look bad at moments, so the jurors would end up somewhat shamed by their doubts when some of them were allayed. Tommy had long ago stopped trying to match chess moves with Stern in the courtroom. He would never prevail at Sandy's game. He played his own. Straight ahead every day. "You watch," Tommy said. "Stern always lives to fight another day."
"We'll handle it," said Brand.
"We will," said Tommy. "But you know, two weeks from now what the jury's going to remember about today is that they heard Rusty say he didn't do it. And that he didn't look bad. He was calm most of the time. He didn't get real evasive."