Just Cause

'No, sir.'

'As far as you're concerned, the statement he gave was entirely voluntary?'

'Correct.'

'Stand up, please, Lieutenant.'

'Sir?'

'Stand up and step down.'

Tanny Brown did what was requested. The defense attorney walked over and seized a chair from behind his table.

The prosecutor rose. 'Your honor, I fail to see the point of this demonstration.'

The judge leaned over. 'Mr. Black?'

'If your honor will indulge me just this once…'

The judge glanced toward the television camera, which had pivoted, following the detective. 'All right. But get on with it.'

'Stand there, Lieutenant.'

Tanny Brown stood easily in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind him, waiting.

Black turned toward Ferguson and nodded.

The prisoner then stood up and swiftly walked out from behind the defense table. For an instant, he stood next to the lieutenant, just long enough to allow the difference in the sizes between the two men to be seen. Then he sat in the chair. The effect was immediate; it seemed that Tanny Brown dwarfed the smaller man.

'Now, when he sat there like that, handcuffed and alone, you don't think he feared for his life?'

'No.'

'No? Thank you. Please return to your seat.'

Cowart smiled. A bit of theater just for the press, he thought. That was the footage that would make all the evening newscasts, the hulking detective perched over the slight, smaller man. It wouldn't have any impact on the judge's decision, but he recognized that Roy Black was playing to more audiences than the one.

'Let's move on to something else, Lieutenant.'

'Fine.'

'Do you recall an occasion where you were presented with a knife that was discovered beneath a rain culvert some three or four miles from the scene of the crime?'

'Yes.'

'How did you get that knife?'

'Mr. Cowart of the Miami Journal found it.'

'And what did an examination of that knife reveal?'

'The blade length matched some of the deep cuts in the deceased.'

'Anything else?'

'Yes. A microscopic analysis of the blade and handle showed small particles of blood residue.'

Cowart sat up straight. This was something new.

'And what were the results of those examinations?'

'The blood grouping matched that of the deceased.'

'Who performed these tests?'

'The FBI labs.'

'And what conclusion did you reach?'

'That the knife may have been the murder weapon.'

Cowart scribbled frantically. The other reporters did the same.

'Whose knife was it, Lieutenant?'

'We cannot tell. There were no fingerprints on it, nor were there any identifying marks.'

'Well, how did the reporter know where to locate it?'

'I have no idea.'

'Do you know a man named Blair Sullivan?'

'Yes. He's a mass murderer.'

'Was he ever a suspect in this case?'

'No.'

'Is he now?'

'No.'

'But was he in Escambia County at the time of Joanie Shriver's murder?'

Tanny Brown hesitated, then replied, 'Yes.'

'Do you know that Mr. Sullivan told Mr. Cowart where to find that knife?'

'I read that in a newspaper article. But I don't know that. I have no control over what appears in the press.'

'Absolutely. Have you attempted to interview Mr. Sullivan, in connection with this case?'

'Yes. He refuses to cooperate.'

'Just exactly how did he refuse to cooperate?'

'He laughed at us and wouldn't give a statement.'

'Well, precisely what did he say when he wouldn't give you a statement? And how did it happen?'

Tanny Brown gritted his teeth and glared at the attorney.

'I believe there's a question pending, Lieutenant.'

'We confronted him in his cell at the state prison in Starke. We, that's Detective Wilcox and myself, told him why we were there and we informed him of his rights. He exposed his backside to us, and then he said, "I refuse to answer your questions on the grounds that my replies might tend to incriminate me." '

The Fifth Amendment to the Constitution.'

'Yes, sir.'

'How many times did he repeat it?'

I don't know. At least a dozen.'

'And did he say these words in a normal tone of voice?'

Tanny Brown shifted in the witness seat, displaying discomfort for the first time. Matthew Cowart watched him closely. He could see the detective struggling inwardly.

'No, sir. Not in a normal tone of voice.'

Then how, please, Lieutenant?'

Tanny Brown scowled. 'He was singing. First in a singsong, nursery rhyme kind of tone. Then blasting it out at the top of his lungs as we left the prison.'

'Singing?'

'That's right,' Brown replied slowly, angrily. 'And laughing.'

"Thank you, Lieutenant.'

When the large man stepped down from the stand, his hands were clenched and all in the courtroom could see the ridges in his neck muscles made by anger. But the image that remained in the tight air of the hearing was of the killer in his cell, singing his refusal like a caged mockingbird.

The assistant medical examiner testified swiftly, buttressing the details about the knife that Brown had already outlined. Then it was Ferguson's turn. Cowart noted the confident way the convicted man walked across the courtroom, taking his seat, hunching over slightly, as if leaning toward the questions from his attorney. Ferguson used a small voice, answering briskly but quietly, as if trying to diminish his presence on the stand. He was unhurried and articulate.

Well coached, Cowart thought.

He remembered the description of Ferguson at his trial, eyes shifting about as if searching for a place to hide from the facts that tumbled from the witnesses' mouths.