Try Fear - By James Scott Bell Page 0,63
may grow arrogant.”
“Who’s that, Clarence Darrow?”
“Sun Tzu. The Art of War. And give your enemy no rest. Attack where he’s unprepared, and appear where you are not expected.”
“Sounds like super-hero talk.”
“I am T Man. When you have to go to trial, call me.”
“As long as you don’t wear tights,” she said.
“I’ll wear a cape over them, so don’t worry.”
“I think you need some ice cream,” Sister Mary said.
“That’s your answer for everything,” I said. There was an ice cream place on Broadway, walking distance, a block past the Times Building. We were crossing First when I said, “Maybe you need a little Sun Tzu for Sister Hildegarde.”
Sister Mary didn’t respond.
“It’s all politics,” I said. “The Catholic Church has always been political, ever since Constantine made it official.”
“Can we just have ice cream?” she said.
“If your opponent is persistent, offer him ice cream. Is that it?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you going to stay a nun?”
She stopped and turned on me. “Why are you asking me that? Why do you have to meddle in things? Why do you have to be so you?”
“I’m all I’ve got,” I said.
She spun around like she was mad and kept walking. People on the sidewalk got out of her way, like the Red Sea parting for Moses.
Fortunately, ice cream solves everything and we were able to discuss the case. I determined not to make a big deal out of Sister Hildegarde.
For a while, at least.
94
BACK IN COURT, Judge Hughes denied my motion for a mistrial and then had the jury brought back in.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he told them, “before the break Detective Zebker made reference to an opinion, a reference to evidence being planted. You are to disregard this statement. It may play no role in your deliberations on this matter.”
Whenever a judge does this, it’s like telling the jury not to think of a pink elephant. Try that sometime.
“You may continue your direct examination, Mr. Radavich.”
“Just one more question,” Radavich said. “Detective Zebker, did you find a suicide note?”
“No,” he said.
“Thank you.” Radavich returned to his chair.
“Cross-examine, Mr. Buchanan,” Judge Hughes said.
I asked my question as I was standing up. “Detective Zebker, you had me arrested, didn’t you?”
Radavich was, of course, on his feet, shouting an objection. Hughes looked like he wanted to be in Philadelphia.
“This goes to bias and credibility,” I said.
“Continue,” Hughes said.
“Isn’t that right?” I said. “You had me arrested?”
“No.”
“I was arrested and booked into your jail, wasn’t I?”
“Not by me.”
“Don’t you recall threatening me with arrest?”
“I recall you were interfering with an investigation.”
“Did you arrest me for it?”
“No.”
“Then I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t arrest me, right?”
“No.”
“But you told me you would.”
“If you continued interfering.”
“Did I get in your way physically?”
“No.”
“Did I tell any witness not to talk to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ah, you don’t know. How much don’t you know?”
Zebker blinked. “I don’t know what that question means.”
“Let me help you out,” I said. “You claim I interfered with your investigation, yet you can point to nothing I did. The best you can come up with is I don’t know.”
“Objection,” Radavich said.
“Sustained,” said Hughes. “Just ask questions, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Detective Zebker, have you ever been disciplined by the department for misconduct?”
Radavich exploded, mostly in show for the jury, I’m sure. We trundled up to the bench again. Radavich argued that the question was improper. Which led me to believe there was something in Zebker’s past, but that it wasn’t necessarily admissible.
Because if there was nothing Zebker could have just said no.
Hughes ruled for Radavich on this one, but I was pleased.
To the jury, he said, “The last question from Mr. Buchanan was objected to, and that objecting has been sustained. You are not to give it any credence whatsoever.”
Yes, dear jury, do not think of that pink elephant anymore, I thank you.
95
“JUST A COUPLE more questions, Detective. You recall searching the victim’s apartment?”
“Yes.”
“And did you conduct an inventory of items you removed?”
“Of course.”
I got it from my briefcase and looked at it for a moment. Then I put on my surprise face and said, “There does not appear to be a computer listed here.”
Zebker frowned and flipped to the list in his notebook. “Correct.”
“That’s because there was no computer in the apartment, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right.”
“In your experience, Detective, would it be difficult to send e-mail without a computer?”
“You could do it from a PDA.”
“Is there a PDA listed here?”
“No.”
“And none was recovered, correct?”
“Correct.”
I went back to the counsel table and handed the report to Sister Mary.
“Detective,” I said. “You