“You’re an incorrigible idiot,” she says.
“I’m aware of that,” I say, and then turn serious for what I hope will be a brief moment. I tell her that she needs to know that she is the beneficiary of my will, and that Kevin drew it up and has the document itself. “You get everything, including and especially Tara.”
“Andy, nothing is going to happen. I only brought it up because I want you to be careful.”
“I know. I’ve been meaning to tell you about the will since I did it.”
“When did you do it?”
“About three years ago,” I say.
“Before I went to Wisconsin?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“Did you take me out of the will when we were apart and not seeing each other?”
“Nope.”
“We weren’t even talking, and I was the beneficiary of your will?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a lunatic, you know that?”
“Yup.”
TODAY IS CHARACTER DAY AT THE TRIAL. It is standard procedure; the prosecutor calls a series of witnesses for basically no other reason than to testify as to what a terrific person the victim was. In this case it will take twice as long, because there are two victims.
I barely cross-examine most of these witnesses, for two reasons. First of all, I have basically nothing to get from them, and by not questioning them I hope to decrease their importance. Second, I don’t want to look as if I’m attacking the victims and their memory; juries don’t look very fondly on that.
The only witness I spend any time at all with is Robert Jacoby, the head of the DNA lab. Richard has called him as a friend of Walter’s, and he mouths every platitude there is on behalf of his dear friend’s memory.
When I get to examine him, I ask, “Mr. Jacoby, did you receive an unusual request from Walter Timmerman a couple of months ago?”
“Yes. He sent me a DNA sample to test, and it turned out to be his own DNA.”
“Did you ask him why he did that?”
“Yes, but he never responded.”
I then get Jacoby to admit that Walter had been secretive about his research in recent months, and I let him off the stand. Maybe his answers will come in handy later, or maybe not.
I’m glad that today is such an insignificant court day, because my mind is very much focused on my meeting with Robinson tonight. It sure as hell is much more important than any of these witnesses.
All of this takes the entire morning, and after lunch Richard embarks on phase two, which involves calling witnesses to testify that Steven and the victims did not get along. The first witness he calls is an uncomfortable-looking Martha Wyndham.
“Ms. Wyndham, you worked for the Timmermans, did you not?” Richard asks.
“I did.”
“In what capacity?”
“I was Walter Timmerman’s executive assistant for six months until he died, at which point I began working for Diana Timmerman.”
Since two bosses died on her within six months, Martha Timmerman is not exactly a good-luck charm, but Richard neglects to point that out. Instead he asks, “You worked out of their home?”
She nods. “I did.”
“Do you know the defendant, Steven Timmerman?”
Martha looks over at Steven and says, “I do.”
“Did you have occasion to see Steven when he was in the company of Walter Timmerman, or Diana Timmerman, or both?”
“Many times.”
His questions force her to focus on those times when Steven argued with Walter, and she concedes that it happened fairly frequently. She glances occasionally at Steven, as if distressed that she has to be doing this to him.
She tries to repair the damage by saying, “Sometimes they got along very well. Walter could be difficult, especially with Steven. He had very specific expectations for him.”
“And if they were not met?” Richard asks.
“He expressed his displeasure in very strong terms.”
“And how did Steven respond?”
“He would get angry.”
“Would he ever storm out?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see him throw things in anger?”
She glances at Steven again. “Yes, he broke a lamp against a wall once.”
Richard now gets Martha to turn to Steven’s relationship with Diana, and even though she tries to couch it, it is obvious their interactions were a disaster.
“Did Steven ever tell you that he hated his stepmother?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say about her effect on his father?”
“That she was destroying him, and that as smart as he was, he still couldn’t see through it.”
When it’s my turn, I ask Martha, “Do you have any knowledge as to whether these problems between Steven and his father, as well as his stepmother, started before your arrival?”
“Oh, yes, they all said that. It had been going on much longer than that.”
“Did Steven ever attack his father?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe so.”
“Did he ever attack his stepmother?”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Have you ever seen him commit or attempt to commit a violent act?”
“No.”
“Thank you, no further questions.”
The last witness for the day is Thomas Sykes, Timco’s CEO by day, and Diana Timmerman’s Hamilton Hotel lover by night. He doesn’t have much to say, simply confirming the stormy relationships that Steven had with his father and mother.
I could question Sykes about his affair with Diana Timmerman, but I’m not sure what it gets me at this point. Instead, I basically ask Sykes the same questions I asked Martha Wyndham, and get the same responses, most notably the one about never having seen Steven commit a violent act.
“I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor, but I do reserve the right to call him back to the stand as part of the defense case.”
Hatchet is fine with that, and I let Sykes off the stand. I haven’t embarrassed him with a revelation of the affair, but I’m not above doing so later.
In court, there’s actually very little that I’m above.
WHY DO I GET MYSELF into these situations? I’m about to go into a meeting alone with a man whom the FBI and Laurie both think might try to kill me.
There’s something wrong with this picture. I’m a lawyer, the person who is supposed to get involved after the violence, not during. There were no self-defense classes in law school, and we were never taught how to deal with a dangerous criminal while wearing a wire. The only time the word “wire” came up was when we were told that international corporate clients might pay our fees by “wire” transfer.
But here I am, in an FBI van at a rest stop off the Palisades Interstate Parkway, having a wire taped to my chest. I’m sweating so much that I’m afraid it will electrocute me. Laurie is watching all of this with an impassive stare, which I am sure masks very significant worry, if not outright dread. The only confrontations I can handle are verbal. If you wanted to buy a foxhole, I could handle the closing for you, but you wouldn’t want me in there with you if things got dangerous.
My plan is not exactly well thought out. I want to get Robinson on record admitting that my theory about the synthetic DNA is correct. I don’t expect him to admit to any murders; I still don’t know if he committed or planned any. But I, and certainly Corvallis, would like to get him to implicate others.
Whether I accomplish this by threats or an inference that Robinson and I can turn this into a mutually profitable situation, I can’t yet say. I’m going to play it by ear and take the conversation in the direction I deem most fertile in the moment. That is an area in which I feel comfortable.