Good girl.
“Come. Come now,” he says. “Are you telling us that Mr. Madriani didn’t instruct you on what to say here this morning, that he didn’t dictate it to you line by line so that you would get it straight?”
To Jennifer these are fighting words. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She looks at the jury now and ignores him. “What I am telling you is what I saw, everyth-”
“You’re telling us you never saw those items-”
“Your Honor, he’s cutting the witness off. If he wants to ask a question, he should allow the witness to answer.”
Tuchio turns to look at me. “I thought she was finished.”
“She wasn’t,” I tell him.
“Gentlemen, direct your comments here, to me, not to one another,” says Quinn. “The witness will be allowed to complete her answers.” The judge gives Jennifer a courtly smile and tells her to go ahead and finish.
She looks directly at the jury once more. “What I’m telling you is what I saw, all of it, everything, nothing added and nothing taken away. It is the truth.” She says this with an earnestness and a fire in her eyes.
When she turns back to him, Tuchio just stands there. For at least six or seven seconds, there is nothing but silence. Then he asks, “Are you finished?”
“Yes.” She looks at him, one of those drop-dead expressions that only a woman can give you.
“I wasn’t sure,” he says. “Let me ask you another question,” he says. “Did Mr. Madriani prepare you for your testimony here today? Did you spend any time talking with him about it, discussing it?”
“We did.”
“How much time?” he says.
“An hour, maybe a little more.”
“And Mr. Hinds, let’s not leave out Mr. Hinds. Did you spend any time with him preparing for your appearance here in court?”
“Some,” she says.
“How much?”
“About two hours.”
“Was that together with Mr. Madriani or separate?” he says.
“Part of it was together with both of them. Part of it was separate.”
“And where and when did this take place, this preparation?” Tuchio makes it sound like a four-letter word.
“In the office, last night and the night before.”
“So it was all very recent?” he says.
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” he says. “After all, there wasn’t much time to prepare this whole thing, the mystery missive, and the little hairs being dropped on everyone so late and so suddenly,” he says.
“Is there a question in any of that?” says Quinn.
“I was about to frame one, Your Honor.”
“Then get on with it.”
“When this envelope was opened by Mr. Madriani in his office that day, Monday, I believe you testified that there were four people present in the room, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Madriani, Mr. Hinds, yourself, and Mr. Diggs, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Now, I can understand why Mr. Madriani can’t take the stand to testify. He is counsel in the case, as well as is Mr. Hinds. But did they tell you why you were selected to come here and tell us this story?” Tuchio would use the word “fable,” but the judge would jump on him.
“First of all, they didn’t tell me to do it. They asked me, and I said yes.”
“So you were anxious to come here today and testify?”
“No. I can’t say I’m enjoying the experience,” she says.
Some of the members of the jury laugh.
“But if that’s the case, why are you here instead of Mr. Diggs? He saw the same things you did, didn’t he?”
“Not exactly,” she says. “Mr. Diggs didn’t find the envelope on the floor. I’m not a lawyer,” she says, “but I didn’t think he could testify to that. Could he?”
Quinn’s chuckling up on the bench, and then he whispers, “You may not be a lawyer, but you’re doing fine.” He looks at the court reporter and wags a finger. He doesn’t want the comment on the record.
“Well, other than the economy of witnesses,” says Tuchio, “was there any other reason Mr. Diggs couldn’t testify here today? I mean, you certainly could have taken the stand and told the jury how you found the envelope, but the rest of it, why not use Mr. Diggs?”
“Why bother, since I’m here already?” she says.
“Mr. Diggs is the African American investigator in your office, isn’t he?”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, wouldn’t it be more natural for an investigator-who sees things, investigates matters, and I assume who testifies regularly in court-to appear here today to tell us what he saw rather than a paralegal? And believe me,” he adds, “I’m not trying to denigrate what you do for a living. We have paralegals in our office, and without them we couldn’t survive. But why you and not the investigator, that’s what I want to know.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe he was busy.”
“Ah,” he says. “Too busy to testify in the biggest case in their office?” He looks over at our table, then back to the jury box.
“I don’t know,” she says. “All I know is that they asked me if I was willing to do it, and I said yes.”
“Is it possible that they-by ‘they’ I mean Mr. Madriani and Mr. Hinds-may have asked Mr. Diggs to testify here today and that Mr. Diggs declined?”
“What would make you think that?” she says.
“I get to ask the questions. You get to answer them,” says Tuchio. “Is it possible that Mr. Diggs declined to testify?”
“No,” she says.
“Do you know that to be a fact?” he asks.
“Well, no, I don’t know it, but I know Herman-”
“So you haven’t discussed this with Mr. Diggs, whether they asked him to testify here today and what he may have said?”
“No. We’ve been busy,” she says.
Tuchio can be sure that this was a tactical decision made by Harry and me. He could also be certain that we wouldn’t share the rationale for this decision with Jennifer, for the very reason that if he asked her on the stand as he has, she would be able to say truthfully that she didn’t know why she was here instead of Herman. Why force your witness to tell jurors to their face that you’re trying to manipulate them?
Besides the fact that she discovered the envelope on the floor, something Herman couldn’t testify to, is the simple fact that with a majority of women on the jury, she is the sympathetic witness, a woman on the stand testifying before women on the jury. Tuchio would have to use more restraint in the manner in which he attacked her on cross.
So now he feels free to damage us in other ways, planting the false seed, the innuendo, that perhaps Herman knew something, maybe about the way in which the letter and the hairs arrived at our office, and that therefore he either declined or was not permitted by Harry and me to testify.
When I look over, Harry is already working his cell phone under the table, sending a text message to Herman, telling him to come on over and join the party.
“Since you’re not sure about the answer to that one, let me ask another question,” says Tuchio. “When Mr. Madriani opened the envelope on his desk that morning-Monday, I believe-I think you testified that he pulled the bloody letter out of the envelope with a large pair of tweezers, not his hand, is that correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Why did he do this?”
Jennifer gives him a quizzical look. “I don’t understand the question.”
“What I mean is, when you open an envelope, don’t you usually just reach in and take out whatever’s inside? I mean, unless you think there’s a bomb, or a snake, or a bloody letter in there, why would you go and get a pair of forceps before you even reached inside with your hand?”
“I think I testified that he did reach inside,” she says.
“But he didn’t take it out, not with his hand, did he?”
Jennifer hesitates.