‘But we don’t get to jury trials, your honor, until there is a grand jury indictment or preliminary hearing to ensure a threshold of sufficient evidence to where a jury might convict. In this case, we don’t have that, and yet my client’s continued incarceration is based upon Mr Beaumont’s presumed guilt, and not his presumed innocence, as the law demands.’
‘That’s rather elegant, Mr Hardy, but-’
‘Your honor, if new and damning evidence about Bree Beaumont’s murder comes to light after this hearing, then my client will have the opportunity to testify again before the grand jury about Ron Beaumont. If at that time she declines to answer material questions, she will of course be subject to contempt charges again.’
Just when he might have been about to win one on the legal merits, to take the investigation back to the grand jury and hold Frannie until she decided to talk, Randall opened his mouth again. ‘Your honor, with respect, you can’t put Mr Beaumont on trial for murder right now in your courtroom.’
Braun’s visage was terrifyingly benign. The pupils of her eyes were pinpoints, skewering Scott Randall. ‘That’s not what I was contemplating, counsellor. Rather, it seems to me that the question is whether, when faced with what you yourself admit would be compelling evidence of Mr Beaumont’s innocence of the murder of his wife, you will seek to reinstate Mrs Hardy’s incarceration for contempt, which is based upon his guilt. Do I have your argument correctly, Mr Hardy?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘So, Mr Randall?’
‘Yes, your honor?’
‘What is your decision?’
‘I’m not sure I’m clear on what Mr Hardy is proposing.’
‘I presume he is proposing to call some witnesses at this hearing. Am I right, Mr Hardy?’
‘Yes, your honor.’
Sharron Pratt was struggling for whatever face she could save. ‘And I presume that Mr Hardy proposes to show that Ron Beaumont is factually innocent of one or more of these murders? Is that the case?’
Hardy agreed that it was.
Pratt was thinking fast. On the one hand, she didn’t have to reveal what was going on in the grand jury. Since the judge couldn’t know what evidence they had, Hardy could never prove here that Ron Beaumont was actually innocent, only that it might be less likely that he was guilty. She could point that out and terminate Hardy’s end run right here.
On the other hand, she knew that her office really had nothing. She wanted badly to know what Hardy knew. And the public appearance of reasonableness was increasingly important as the mayor and the media bashed her office.
She decided to let Hardy have his show. And of course, they could cross-examine whoever Hardy intended to call. ‘We don’t object, your honor, so long as it doesn’t take too long.’
‘All right,’ Braun said. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
39
But Hardy found himself in an unexpected bind, convinced the judge and coerced the DA into pushing ahead smartly with his unconventional game plan, now be looked out into the gallery and realized that he had to stall. He had been planning to start with the testimony of Jim Pierce and had assumed that, like the other witnesses he’d served who were now sitting in the gallery, Pierce would show up on time.
While he’d argued with Pratt and Randall during sidebar, he’d expected to turn around when he was finished and see Pierce seated in the gallery. But now it was time to begin and Pierce hadn’t yet arrived.
Having gotten to here, he couldn’t very well ask Judge Braun for short continuance or even so much as a recess. He was going to have to juggle while doing a tap dance, and could only hope he could keep the balls in the air until it was time for the main event.
‘My name is Abraham Glitsky. I hold the rank of Lieutenant in the San Francisco police department, and currently 1 am the head of the homicide unit.’
‘And how long have you held that position?’
‘Five years.’
‘And before that?’
‘Your honor.’ Scott Randall was on his feet. ‘We all know Lieutenant Glitsky.’
‘Is that an objection, counsellor?’ Objections, like so much else in a court of law, were part of the orchestrated ballet of justice, and had to be based on deviations from the evidence code. Telling the court that everyone knew Abe Glitsky didn’t fall anywhere near that category. But, more, Braun’s response reaffirmed Hardy’s belief that Scott Randall no longer had any kind of friend on the bench. ‘But Mr Hardy,’ she added, ‘let’s move it along.’
‘I’m trying to make the court aware of Lieutenant Glitsky’s credentials, your honor.’
‘All right, but briefly, please.’
It took less than two minutes. Five years lieutenant of homicide, twelve years a homicide inspector, steady rise through the ranks from street cop, through vice, robbery, white collar. Four departmental citations, one medal for valor.
People could always turn bad, of course, but Hardy wanted to show Braun that if someone predicted the next one to do so would be Glitsky, it would be a pretty wild – and bad – guess.
Braun had told him to keep it brief, and that was his intention with Glitsky – put him on the stand, establish him as a good and honest cop, and then see if Randall rose to the bait and tried to take him apart, discrediting himself in the process. ‘That’s all for this witness,’ he said. ‘Cross?’
The young prosecutor couldn’t wait. ‘Yes, I’d say so.’ Randall strode up to the witness box and positioned himself squarely in front of Glitsky. ‘In your position as head of homicide, lieutenant, were you originally involved with the investigation into the murder of Bree Beaumont?’
‘Not in a hands-on way. Only in an administrative capacity.’
Comfortable after years of practice in the witness seat, Glitsky quickly took the opening Randall had provided and outlined his job description – he had a staff of inspectors who reported to him and who worked in coordination with a crime scene investigations unit, forensic specialists, lab technicians, and the city and country coroner to gather and collate evidence on homicides in this jurisdiction.
None of this had anything to do with Ron or Bree Beaumont, and Hardy could never have introduced a word of it during his direct question Glitsky. But he’d counted on the fact that Randall had an ax to grind. The young prosecutor wanted to prove to Braun that his unorthodox and even extra-legal tactics had been justified all along because the head of homicide was corrupt. Hardy could have objected all day and been sustained, but he was happy to let Randall hang himself.
‘And when your staff assembles this evidence, lieutenant, and determines that there has in fact been a crime and they’ve identified a suspect, what do they do next?’
‘We go to the DA, who decides if they want to charge the individual, and what the exact charge will be. First-degree murder, manslaughter, that kind of thing.’
‘And how long does it take, roughly, from the commission of a homicide until you make this submission to the DA?’
‘It varies widely. A couple of days to a couple of years.’
‘OK.’ Randall was covering ground familiar to every professional in the courtroom, but obviously he felt he was making his case to Braun. Now he became specific. ‘In the case of Bree Beaumont, it’s been over a month. Can you tell the court why that is?’
‘The original inspector assigned to the case, Carl Griffin, was shot to death five days after Bree was killed. That slowed things down somewhat.’
A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the courtroom. Randall seemed oblivious to it and Braun let it pass.
‘And at that point, did you get personally involved in the investigation?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘Did you interrogate witnesses?’
‘No.’
‘Did you have occasion to talk to the victim’s husband, Ron Beaumont?’
‘No.’
‘But isn’t it a fact, lieutenant, that this morning you escorted Mr Beaumont and Mr Hardy to this courtroom?’