Royce hastily scribbled a note and gave it to Davic. Glancing at it, Davic nodded. His expression was impassive but he couldn’t mask the anger in his eyes as he withdrew his objection.
Brett then asked Earl Thomson if he had called any of his friends that night to find out who had... as he said... borrowed his car. Earl answered that he had waited until the following morning.
“Did you call your friends then?”
“No, because it seemed clear by then it wasn’t a joke.”
“So you reported the theft to the East Chester police department the next morning?”
“It was reported then, yes, ma’am.”
“That wasn’t what I asked you. Did you report the theft of your car to the police?”
“No, an associate of my father’s reported it.”
“May we have that person’s name?”
“Sure. He’s an old friend of our family, Mr. Dom Lorso.”
“Is he the only person you told that your Porsche had been stolen?”
“I also told my father.”
“But when you called Miguel Santos from Muhlenburg you testified, and I’ll quote... ‘I explained to Santos what had happened.’ What did you mean by that?”
“Well... I explained I needed to be picked up, that’s all.”
“But you told this family friend, Dom Lorso, that your car was stolen?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Dom Lorso report the matter to the police? Why didn’t you report it, Mr. Thomson?”
“What difference does it make?” Earl’s voice was hardening. “An executive can tell his secretary to report something missing to the police. The point is, the theft was reported, ma’am, and you know it was.”
“Is Mr. Lorso your secretary?”
“You know damn well he’s not.”
The gavel sounded. “Mr. Thomson, your attorney assured me that your conduct will be consistent with the standards of this court.”
Davic stood up. “Your Honor, I make no excuse for my client’s language. People’s counsel’s questions seem designed to provoke such a rejoinder. Dominic Lorso is a respected businessman, a member of numerous charitable organizations in the community. He has served on—”
Flood said, “Miss Brett, Mr. Lorso is obviously not the young man’s secretary. You know that, I presume.”
“Your Honor, I am attempting to establish the relationship between the defendant and the only person he apparently trusted enough to report the theft of his car to the police. That car, which now seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth, was an instrument in a crime the defendant has been charged with. The People need to examine the relationship between Earl Thomson and Dom Lorso.”
“Then go on, Miss Brett, but defense counsel has made a reasonable point about provocative inquiry.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Thomson, how long have you known Dom Lorso?”
“I told you, he’s like a member of the family. I called him Uncle Dom when I was a kid.”
“Would you say he was like your godfather, Mr. Thomson?”
“Objection, Your Honor!”
“On what grounds, Mr. Davic?”
“People’s counsel surely understands the pejorative implications of her last reference.”
“You mean godfather, Mr. Davic?” Judge Flood rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. Perhaps we’re becoming too sensitive. I believe the word godfather is a useful term for a respectable relationship. Overruled.”
“Yes, he was like a godfather to me,” Thomson then stated. “He’s the most decent man I’ve ever known besides my own father.”
Brett said, “I want the jury to understand your confidence in Mr. Lorso — why, in short, Mr. Thomson, you went to him about your stolen car instead of the police.”
“I can only repeat what I said earlier. Dom Lorso is an old friend. I respect his advice. In this instance he chewed me out. Told me I should have called the police right away. But since I hadn’t, Mr. Lorso said he’d get the information directly to Captain Slocum. That would save time, he said.”
“Did Mr. Dom Lorso ever give you similar good advice in the past?”
“Yes. Quite a few times.”
“When you failed to report a matter to the police which should have been reported?”
“Objection, Your Honor!”
“Sustained.”
Brett walked to the People’s table and glanced at her notes. “At Longwood Gardens, Mr. Thomson, did you take the plaintiffs accusations against you seriously?”
“Not at first, ma’am.”
“But when the physical confrontation occurred, you took the matter seriously then?”
“Yes, ma’am. I did.”
“In fact, you attempted to run away — or drive away — on a motorcycle, didn’t you?”
A line of pressure appeared around Thomson’s lips. “I’ve never run from anybody in my life.”
“But Officer Summerall testified by deposition that you did just that.”
“I left the area, I didn’t run away.”
“Perhaps I phrased the question carelessly. Would you please tell us in your own words just what you did do?”
“I’d be happy to, ma’am. But to put the matter in perspective, I should tell you I’ve had considerable military training.”
At the defense table, Royce quickly wrote another note to Davic. Davic barely glanced at the paper, but his eyes became alert and watchful.
Earl continued, “I attended Rockland Military College for four years and was graduated First Cadet in my class, with the rank of cadet colonel. I qualified as expert with rifles and machine guns. I’ve run obstacle courses with live ammo firing over my head and I’ve been in simulated combat conditions.”
Earl’s manner had become expansive. “It’s strange,” he went on, “that no one has asked about the shotgun I tried to buy. I’m a gun collector. Certain elements think those are code words for Fascism or racism or something like that. But a gun is a tool, no better or worse than the man using it. Charlie Lee’s Parker, I’d heard, had its original stock replaced by one made from wood grown in the Balkans. Charlie got the gun from an old Romanian refugee he’d worked for. A gift, I suppose. The best wood for gun stocks comes from the Balkans. They bury scrap iron around the root systems of young trees. Over the years the rust and bits of metal grow right into the tree’s circulatory system and it makes natural iron burls and fissures in the grain of the wood—”
Judge Flood cleared his throat. “Mr. Thomson, our interest in these matters is not unlimited. Please get to the point.”
“Yes, sir. The thing is, I sized up the situation at Longwood like a soldier. Her father, Mr. Selby looked dangerous to me, dangerous to everybody. Until I could analyze the situation I didn’t want to risk anybody getting hurt. So I retreated, which was the strategic thing to do under the circumstances.”
“It was a military move then?” Brett suggested.
“Yes. It was only bad luck I was thrown from the motorbike. But you can’t run a military exercise by computers. Chaos is often the rule in combat. My father explained that to me. No matter how trained and motivated troops are, there is always an X in the battlefield equation — how the individual soldier will react to gunfire, to wounds or to the appearance of the enemy at an unexpected place or time... Well, I didn’t panic when I saw her father, because I’ve been trained to anticipate the disorder that is the essence of violence. Physical combat is the last place a hero can define himself — I’m speaking of the heroic ideal, ma’am. There is nothing vain or personal in this. But that ideal has declined irreversibly since the Greeks worshipped the heroes of the Iliad and the Odyssey.”
Thomson hesitated, a trace of uncertainty in his expression. Flexing his hands, he said, “I didn’t run from her father, ma’am. I’d never run — from anybody.”