Jack wasn’t one to take “Up yours” for an answer. If the reporter wouldn’t tell him what was in her book, and if the prosecutor couldn’t talk about the investigative file, then Jack was going to see the file for himself. He filed a lawsuit under the Sunshine Act, which is Florida’s very broad version of the Freedom of Information Act. The law was written to make sure that government was conducted “in the sunshine,” so that private citizens had access to government records. The law applied to criminal matters, except for active investigations. One thing Jack had learned as a prosecutor was that judges took a dim view of prosecutors who tried to circumvent the law by claiming that stale files were “active.”
Jack stepped toward the witness. The cavernous old courtroom was exceptionally quiet, not so much as a cough or the shuffling of feet from the gallery. The hearing was closed to the public, at least until the court could determine whether the file should be made public.
“Good morning, Mr. Rudsky.”
“Good morning.”
Rudsky was a career prosecutor who took his job and himself too seriously. He had an unusually large head, and when he got angry his face flushed red, as if his bow tie were tied too tightly. He was beet red already, and Jack hadn’t even started.
“Mr. Rudsky, you were the assistant state attorney assigned to the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter five years ago, were you not?”
“That’s correct.”
“Are you handling the murder of Sally Fenning as well?”
“No. Patricia Compton is heading that team.” He pointed with a nod to the lawyer seated on the other side of the courtroom. Compton was his attorney for purposes of this hearing.
“Are you part of her team?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Objection,” said Compton. “Judge, what does the composition of a completely different prosecutorial team have to do with the question of whether the investigation into the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter is active or inactive?”
“Sustained.”
“Let me put it another way,” said Jack. “Mr. Rudsky, does the fact that you are not assigned to the Sally Fenning murder have anything to do with the fact that you are a named beneficiary under her will?”
“Same objection.”
“I’ll overrule this one. The witness shall answer.”
“I don’t know,” said Rudsky. “I don’t make the assignments.”
“Other than your role as prosecutor in connection with the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter, Katherine, did you have any kind of relationship with Ms. Fenning?”
“No.”
“Were you surprised to learn that you were a beneficiary under Sally Fenning’s will?”
“Totally.”
“Can you think of any reason that she would have named you as a beneficiary, other than your role as prosecutor?”
“I couldn’t even hazard a guess.”
“Was Sally Fenning happy with the way you handled the case?”
Compton was back on her feet. “Objection. This is getting very far afield.”
“Sustained. I’ve given you a little latitude, Mr. Swyteck, but please don’t take advantage.”
“Yes, Judge. Let me put this in more concrete terms. Mr. Rudsky, no one was ever convicted for the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“No one was even indicted.”
“True.”
“You never even asked a grand jury to return an indictment.”
“I never did, no.”
“You never even empaneled a grand jury, did you?”
He shifted in his seat. “You’re really getting into the matter of grand jury secrecy.”
“Answer the question,” said the judge.
“Can I have the question again, please?”
“Sure,” said Jack. “You never empaneled a grand jury, did you?”
“You mean in the Katherine Fenning murder?”
“No, I was actually talking about the Lincoln assassination.”
“Objection.”
The judge cracked a faint smile. “Sustained, but Mr. Swyteck does have a point. Please answer the question.”
“No. We did not empanel a grand jury.”
“Why not?”
Compton popped to her feet, grumbling. “Judge, this line of questioning does not go to the sole relevant issue at this hearing, which is quite simply whether or not the investigation into the murder of Katherine Fenning is active. This is a blatant attempt to invade the secrecy and sanctity of the grand jury process.”
The judge looked at Jack and said, “Can you narrow your question, Mr. Swyteck?”
Jack stepped closer to the witness and asked, “Is it fair to say that you didn’t empanel a grand jury because you didn’t have sufficient evidence to do so?”
“I suppose that’s one reason.”
“Let’s talk about your evidence-gathering efforts, shall we? How many subpoenas have been issued in the last three years?”
“None.”
“How many depositions taken in the last three years?”
“None.”
“How many witnesses have been interviewed in the last three years?”
“None.”
“Are there any suspects whom you are currently pursuing?”
“Not at this time.”
“Not in the last three years, isn’t that right, sir?”
“That’s correct.”
“When will a grand jury be convened?”
“I don’t know.”
“And yet, you maintain that this is an active file, and that I have no right to see it.”
“The case is still open.”
“As open as it ever was?”
“Yes. As open as it ever was.”
“No wonder you never caught the killer.”
“Objection.”
“Withdrawn. Mr. Rudsky, do you know a woman named Deirdre Meadows?”
He hesitated, as if the name alone made him nervous. “Yes. She’s a reporter for the Miami Tribune.”
“Did you ever have any discussions with Deirdre Meadows about the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter?”
“Yes. I’ve had general discussions with a number of reporters about the case.”
“To your knowledge, how many of those reporters have written a book about the murder of Sally Fenning’s daughter?”
He squirmed nervously. “Just one.”
“That would be Ms. Meadows, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Did you provide any assistance to her in the writing of her book?”
“That depends on what you mean by assistance.”
“Ms. Meadows claims that she had your full cooperation. Would you call that assistance?”
“Objection.”
“On what grounds?” asked the judge.
Compton was silent, stalling, as if the testimony of her own client was news to her. “Relevance,” she stammered.
“Overruled.”
Jack said, “Did Ms. Meadows have your full cooperation, Mr. Rudsky?”
“That depends on what you mean by full cooperation.”
“Did she interview you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she let you read her manuscript?”
“Yes.”
“Did you share any investigative materials with her?”
He paused. Jack waited. The government’s lawyer waited. Finally, Rudsky answered, “I might have.”
Compton went white. She sprang to her feet and asked, “Could we have a short recess, Your Honor?”
“Not now,” said the judge. “This is just getting interesting. Mr. Swyteck, continue.”
Jack walked to the lectern and checked his notes, not because he had to, but only to make the witness stew in the uncomfortable silence. “Sir, are you aware that Sally Fenning threatened to bring a libel suit against Deirdre Meadows if her book were ever published?”