Silent Son (41 page)

Brownie picked up his phone and dialed the state police aviation section. “Joe Brown here,” he said. “How’re you-all doin’
today? Listen, I need a favor real bad. I need to go to New York…”

At the courthouse, King and Jacobs had sequestered their clients in a witness room and requested a private conference with
Judge Hanks. Granville had been whisked back to the State’s Attorney’s office under sheriff’s guard. And now the two sides
eyed each other in silence as they waited to be called in by the judge.

“She will see you now,” the judge’s secretary announced. Gardner and Jennifer let King and Jacobs go first.

“We have a problem,” King announced as soon as the door closed. “Our clients would like to absent themselves from the remainder
of this hearing.”

Judge Hanks leaned back in her chair. “This is a critical stage of trial, they’re required to be there.”

“They can waive it,” King said. “Any right is subject to waiver.” Jacobs nodded agreement. Until now he’d been content to
let King do all the talking.

“Why the change of heart?” Hanks asked.

King looked at Jacobs. They dared not show weakness here, not in front of the prosecutors. “Convenience,” King said. “Their
time can better be utilized outside the courtroom.”

“Are they both willing to waive their right to be present?” the judge asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the defense lawyers said in unison.

Hanks turned to Gardner. “What’s your position?”

“I fear we’re being set up for an appellate attack on the right to be present at trial,” Gardner said. He was shooting from
the hip, but intentionally aiming off center. He knew exactly why they didn’t want Miller and Starke in the courtroom. “Unless
the waiver is perfect, we’re going to hear about it on appeal…”

“Nonsense,” King said.

Gardner smiled. It was nonsense, but King was squirming.

“Appeal only follows
conviction,
” King continued, “and there’s not going to be a conviction in this case!”

Gardner maintained his smile. “Don’t be so sure,” he said to King. The tide was about to turn. He could feel it. The defense
had just been snookered by their own hand. They had insisted on a psychiatric report, and they’d gotten a humdinger from Dr.
Glenmore Grady. The boy had no memory, it said. No memory of the event at all. And King and Jacobs had believed it.

“So we go in and have the defendants waive their rights,” Hanks said, standing up.

“Correct,” King replied.

“Then we bring the witness back, and get on with the qualification hearing,” the judge continued.

“Fine by me,” Gardner answered.

At 4:15
P.M
. the helicopter lifted off from the state police helipad and turned east. They had a stop to make in Baltimore, and then
they could head north.

“What’s the big deal, Brownie?” the pilot asked over the headset. “Big date in the Big Apple?”

Brownie tightened his seatbelt and fought the dizzying sensation of the rapid ascent. “Checkin’ on some medical records,”
he said.

“And for that, you gotta fly?” The pilot sounded surprised.

“No time for anything else,” Brownie replied. “Can’t get them sent down. Got to pull them myself.”

“The Bowers case?” The pilot had flown Gardner to shock-trauma on the first day.

“Yeah,” Brownie said.

“How’s the little boy?”

Brownie closed his eyes and saw Granville’s face. “Doing okay,” he said.

“And the case? Heard it started today. What’s the word?”

Brownie felt embarrassed. He was so caught up in his own investigation, he hadn’t checked on the prosecutors. “Don’t know,”
he mumbled.

The pilot stopped talking, so Brownie settled in for the flight. Three hours to New York. After the stops, that’s how long
it was going to take. Three hours in a shaky tin can. But if Brownie’s suspicions were correct, what lay deep in the files
of Manhattan’s Sacred Heart Hospital would make it all worthwhile.

The recess was over, and Granville was back on the witness stand. The defendants had been told by their lawyers to leave the
courthouse. They didn’t want the two men sitting in front of Granville Lawson any longer. The boy seemed to be getting restless,
and that was a bad sign.

Starke walked out first. Down the steps of the granite building. At the bottom, he lingered. Roscoe Miller was about a minute
behind. IV crossed his arms and waited. Soon, Roscoe was beside him. They both acted nonchalant, intentionally avoiding a
face-to-face look.

IV nervously fingered the new wrist monitor that the sheriffs had bolted on. “Gonna try again?” he whispered.

Roscoe looked across the street and kicked his boot on the pavement. “Already did. Damn thing still works.”

IV gripped his bracelet. “Know any other way?”

Just then, several people bounded down the steps toward them.

Roscoe glanced around, then turned back toward the street. “Naaa!” he said. Then he raced away, crossing in front of an oncoming
car that had to slam on its brakes to avoid running him down.

IV held his ground for a moment as the people passed and Roscoe disappeared on the other side of the street. He twisted the
monitor again, feeling it chafe roughly against his skin. The first one had been a breeze. Ten seconds on high in a microwave
was all it took. He’d busted out the glass so he could close the door, put on a pair of asbestos gloves, and wham! the beeper
went down.

But this one was going to be tougher to beat. Starke looked both ways before crossing, then walked away from the courthouse.
He’d just have to try something else.

In the courtroom, Joel Jacobs rose and walked toward the witness stand.

Gardner leaped to his feet. “Your Honor…”

“I defer my questions to Mr. Jacobs,” Kent King told the court.

“Procedurally improper,” Gardner argued. “Direct examination cannot be bifurcated.”

“My client is part of this case too,” Jacobs said. “And since there’s only one qualification for this witness, who is going
to presumably testify against
my
client as well as Mr. King’s, I’m entitled to participate.”

The answer scored a hit. “That sounds reasonable, Counsel,” Hanks said.

“But, Judge…” Gardner insisted.

“Sorry Mr. Lawson,” Hanks replied. “You charged both men, and joined the trials. They each get a say. Objection overruled.”

Gardner sat down. No sense belaboring the point. One way or the other, Jacobs was going to get his shot.

“Hello, young man,” Jacobs said to Granville.

“Hi,” Granville replied. His eyes were alert.

“How are you today?”

“Fine.” Granville was relaxing, as the grandfatherly voice flowed.

“That’s good. You look like a smart young man. Are you smart?”

“Uh,” Granville replied. It wasn’t a yes or a no.

“Remember what I told you before,” Judge Hanks said with a smile. “You have to say yes, or no.”

Granville nodded.

“I have a grandson about your age,” Jacobs said. “He’s smart, but sometimes he tells fibs. Do you know what a fib is?”

“Yes,” Granville whispered.

“What is it?”

Granville looked the lawyer in the eye. “When somethin’ didn’t happen.”

“Right,” Jacobs replied. “Something didn’t happen, but you said that it
did.
Have you ever done that?”

Gardner froze. Every eight-year-old in the world told fibs. It was part of life. Part of growing up. “The dog ate my homework.”
“There’s a monster in my closet.” The list went on and on. But Jacobs had set a trap. If Granville said no he’d lose credibility.
And if he said yes, he’d brand himself a liar. There was no way to win this one. “Objection!” Gardner said. “The question
is too general. He has to lay a foundation by asking about a specific instance. Then he can proceed.”

Hanks turned to Gardner. “Overruled. This proceeding involves the witness’s credibility, and the inquiry goes straight to
the point.”

“But the question… the question is…” Gardner was flailing. He wanted to say “a trap” but there was no such ground.

“Overruled, Mr. Lawson,” Hanks said.

“Son,” Jacobs continued, “do you ever tell fibs?”

Gardner’s stomach twisted.

“Sometimes,” Granville answered.

“So you
do
tell fibs,” Jacobs repeated.

“Uh-huh, uh, yes,” Granville replied. He’d finally learned the drill.

“What was one of your fibs?” Jacobs asked, folding his arms. This was heading right where he wanted it to go.

Gardner lowered his eyes.

“Sometimes me and Dad play ball…” Granville said.

“Right…” Jacobs acknowledged.

“And maybe I fall down, or get hit, or something…”

“Right…” Jacobs was still waiting for the punch line.

“And Dad asks me how am I, and I say fine.”

Jacobs frowned. This time he didn’t say “right.”

Granville stopped talking.

“So what’s the fib?” Jacobs asked.

Gardner held his breath.

“Dad asks if it hurt, and I say
no,”
Granville said softly, “but it does…”

Jacobs dropped his arms. That was not what he’d expected. “Okay,” he said disgustedly.

“But it does hurt,” Granville repeated.

Jacobs excused himself and walked over to conference with King. This little nut was going to be harder to crack than they’d
thought.

Granville searched over the rail for his dad, but Gardner’s head was lowered. He’d spotted Jacobs coming and didn’t want the
lawyer to see the tear in the corner of his eye.

Joel Jacobs and Kent King discussed their strategy at the defense table while the courtroom waited.

“Gentlemen, can we resume?” Judge Hanks called impatiently from the bench.

“Ready,” King said.

Gardner stood up. “Another switch?” King was taking back the reins.

“I relinquish my questions to Mr. King,” Jacobs said.

“They can’t do this,” Gardner argued. “Back and forth another time!”

Judge Hanks closed her eyes for a second. “I’m going to allow it,” she said. “Proceed, Mr. King!”

King flashed Gardner a “gotcha” smile and returned to the witness stand. “Who are you living with?” he asked Granville. King’s
voice was formal and cold.

“Objection!” Gardner yelled. “What possible relevance does that have to witness qualification?”

“Overruled,” Hanks said.

“Who are you living with right now’?” King repeated.

“My dad,” Granville replied.

“And when did you go to stay with your dad?” King asked.

“While ago.”

“This is outrageous!” Gardner was losing it. “Truth or falsity and knowledge of consequences is the only issue, not who he
lives with!”

“Overruled, Mr. Lawson,” Judge Hanks repeated. “Counsel has a wide latitude, and I’m going to let him take it.”

Gardner bit his tongue. How the hell did she know what latitude was? He clasped his hands in front of him and fixed his jaw.

“Your dad has been mean to you, hasn’t he?” King went on.

Granville cocked his head.

“He’s been making you very unhappy.”

Gardner started to rise, but Jennifer held him down.

“Your dad has been trying to get you to tell him something,” King continued. “Isn’t that right.”

Granville nodded. “Yes,” he said in a barely audible voice.

“Day and night he’s been after you,” King continued. “Pushing you. Trying to make you tell him something. Isn’t that right?”

Gardner was boiling. His hands were sweating, and he wanted to leap at King. Jennifer kept her fingers securely clamped on
his arm.

Granville lowered his eyes. “Yes.”

“But it hurts when you try to remember, and you
can’t
tell him. Isn’t that right?”

Gardner clutched and unclutched his hands.

“Uh-huh,” Granville said.

“That is a yes for the record,” King announced triumphantly. “Yes, he does not remember.” He turned back to the boy. “And
it hurts when you try, doesn’t it?”

Granville’s eyes were welling with tears.

“Doesn’t it?” King said loudly.

“That’s enough!” Gardner pulled out of Jennifer’s grasp and stood up. He was trembling with rage.

Judge Hanks slammed her gavel. “Mr. Lawson!”

Gardner stared her down. “Judge, stop this now, or I’m going to!”

King crossed his arms defiantly.

Granville blubbered quietly on the stand.

Gardner took a step toward King.

“Okay, okay,” Hanks said. Things had gone too far. “Let’s take a break. Everyone take fifteen minutes and try to relax! Court’s
in recess!”

During the recess Gardner approached the witness stand.

“Can’t talk to him now,” King said, stepping across his path.

“Out of the way,” Gardner ordered.

The attorney stayed put. “You’re not supposed to ex-parte a witness.”

“I’m going to see my son!” Gardner said, pushing past King with a thrust of his elbow.

King stepped aside. “Don’t discuss testimony,” he warned.

Gardner bent down and raised Granville’s chin. “You okay?”

The boy tried to smile. “Uh-huh. Uh, yes, Dad.”

“I told you to be strong,” Gardner said, “and you were. I’m real proud.”

“He said you’re mean.” Granville whispered. “but you’re not. He’s mean…”

Gardner smiled. “Just stay strong. Real, real strong.”

“I
will,
Dad,” Granville pledged.

And Gardner knew that he would.

When court resumed, King tried to pick up where he left off. “So you don’t remember anything. Isn’t that right?”

“We’ve been over that, Counsel,” Judge Hanks said. “Let’s move to something else.”

King collected his thoughts and went back to work. “You admitted that you tell fibs, right?”

“Sometimes,” Granville replied.

“And you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the tooth fairy, and all that.”

“Yes.”

“But you know they don’t exist.”

Granville’s face went blank.

“You know that they’re not real. They’re just make-believe.”

Granville remained silent.

“What’s the question, Counsel?” Judge Hanks asked.