Bury the Lead

31



LAURIE AND I STAY UP most of the night talking about my meeting with Petrone and whether it should or will have any impact on the trial. I ask her what she thinks he will actually do if I continue to point the finger at him.

“If he’s smart, he’ll wait a year or two and make your death look like an accident,” she says.

“And if he’s not smart?”

“He’ll have your brains blown out a few weeks after the trial.”

“He seems pretty smart,” I offer hopefully.

She nods. “Good. It gives you time to get your affairs in order.”

She’s kidding—at least I hope she is—and I move the conversation toward Petrone’s impact on the trial. I have a very real dilemma in that at the end of the day I believe Petrone. His fond feelings for Linda Padilla seem genuine and tie in directly with what her boyfriend, Alan Corbin, told me. I’ve never had any strong reasons to believe Petrone is involved in this, so I have some ethical problems with continuing to insist that he is, misleading the jury in the process.

I could switch my focus to Tommy Lassiter, but his name is not publicly known, and it will have far less psychological impact than Petrone’s. It would also have the secondary result of pissing off a crazed hit man, something my parents specifically warned me against as a youth. While the other kids were always being admonished to “be careful crossing the street” and “be home early,” my mom and dad would throw in, “and don’t go pissing off any crazed hit men.”

The real question is how much I should let my personal physical jeopardy get in the way of my client’s representation. Should I report what has gone on to Calvin? I don’t think so; I’m not sure that there’s anything he could do, and his knowledge would possibly inhibit my actions.

Our staying up so late talking leaves me a little bleary-eyed when I get to court in the morning. Tucker looks typically fresh and confident, easy to accomplish in light of his having an entire state full of lawyers to do his legwork, and a powerful case to present to the jury.

“Rough night, Andy?” he asks with a smile before Calvin enters the courtroom. For a moment I consider the possibility that Tucker knows about my session with Petrone, that perhaps he is having me followed. It’s unlikely; the more plausible explanation for his comment is that I look like shit.

I look around the courtroom and notice that Vince is in his place, as is the Cleveland contingent, minus Eliot Kendall. It’s the first day that Kendall has missed, though I doubt that it represents a crack in his support for Daniel.

Tucker’s first witness is Neal Winslow, the chief engineer for the cell phone company that Daniel uses. His appearance is to demonstrate that Daniel was lying when he said he was fifteen minutes away from Eastside Park when he received what he claimed was the phone call from the killer.

Tucker and Winslow have rehearsed this testimony well, and Winslow describes the process by which towers cover certain areas, and that a cell phone’s general location can be determined by the tower that “handled” the call. His presentation is clear and concise, and such that even a technological moron can understand it. I know this because I happen to be one.

Daniel’s apparent lie has two negative consequences, one of which has already taken place. It served as the impetus for the police to get a search warrant, which led to all the real evidence subsequently discovered.

The other consequence, almost as serious, will set in if I can’t shake Winslow’s testimony. The jury will ask themselves why Daniel would have lied about something like this, and their answer will be that it was to cover his guilt. It is something that I have grappled with since that night, and Daniel has never come up with a satisfactory explanation.

“Mr. Winslow,” I begin, “why is it that sometimes I can receive a clear cell phone call, but at other times I have no service in the same location?”

“There could be a number of factors. Weather . . . heavy usage periods . . . they would be the most likely reasons.”

“So weather and heavy usage can impact service?”

He nods. “Definitely.”

That gives me a little progress in casting doubt on the science, but it’s a small victory.

“Now, you told Mr. Zachry that the cell tower has a radius of about four miles.”

“Right,” he says in answer to a question I didn’t ask.

“So if the tower were in the middle of Times Square, it would route calls to my cell phone if I were on the corner of Madison and Eighty-fifth, three miles away?”

He shakes his head. “No, in Manhattan the towers would have a much smaller radius.”

I look surprised, though I’m not. “Really? Is it a different type of tower?”

“No, but—”

I interrupt. “Then why is the range different?”

“Because of the many tall buildings. We refer to it as the terrain.”

“So terrain can make a difference also? Just like weather and heavy usage and who knows what else?”

Tucker objects to my characterization, and Calvin sustains. I withdraw the question and move on. “Mr. Winslow, assuming perfect weather, normal usage, and average terrain, the radius is four miles. Correct?”

“Approximately.”

I smile at the increasing inexactness of this science. “Yes, approximately four miles. Right?”

“Yes.”

“So it covers a total diameter of eight miles? In such a perfect world?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Mr. Zachry read Mr. Cummings’s statement from that night into the record, where he said he drove fifteen minutes after getting the call. Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say anywhere in that statement that he drove fast, or even in a straight line?”

Tucker objects. “Your Honor, this is not within the witness’s area of expertise.”

I shake my head. “I am simply asking his recollections based on what he heard Mr. Zachry read. I can give him a copy of the statement, and then his recollections will be perfect.”

Calvin overrules Tucker, and Winslow answers. “I didn’t hear him read that he drove fast or in a straight line, no.”

“Do you ever drive in North Jersey, Mr. Winslow?”

“Yes. Every day.”

“Do you find that the speed with which you drive depends on things like weather and heavy usage and terrain?”

The jury and gallery laugh and Winslow can’t suppress a smile. “I do,” he says.

“Traffic is an inexact science, isn’t it, Mr. Winslow?”

Tucker objects and I withdraw the question. I let Winslow off the stand and sit down next to Daniel, who, despite my admonitions, looks positively euphoric.