“How is it that you are able to remember the events of that one night back in the summer of nineteen sixty-five in such extraordinary detail?”
“Well sir, that was a desperate time for us. Not a time that’s easy to forget. And that night was the worst of it. When Ron told us we had to leave . . . well, I’ve never felt so bad, not before nor since. Kathy would tell you, we hardly ever argue.”
“I see.”
Hirsch left a short pause and then went on, “And how is it that you’ve come forward now, just in the nick of time?”
“Well, we drove straight up to her folks’ place that night and I guess the . . . uh . . . the case wasn’t in the newspapers up there. And we didn’t have a lot of time for reading news stories anyhow—Kathy had the kids, and I was going after every job I could. Leaving before dawn some days to wait in the employment lines. And when I wasn’t looking for work, I was helping Kathy’s dad around the house to pay for our keep. Then about five weeks later, I had a call from a buddy—his brother had work in a factory in Cleveland, he told me they were expanding, taking men on. I got on the next Greyhound, got myself fixed up with a job, and found us an apartment, and then my wife followed on with the kids. And since then . . . well, I guess there’s not been too much in the newspapers all the way out in Ohio ’bout a murder case in Queens.”
“So how did you come to hear about it, Mr. Harrison?”
“We came back for a few days to visit my wife’s parents, and I read about the trial in the paper on Friday. About the lady’s testimony, what she saw from the window that night. Soon as I saw the dates, I realized what must’ve happened.”
“What a happy coincidence.”
Hirsch’s tone was sour but he nodded toward the judge and said, “No more questions.”
As Harrison left the witness stand, Pete felt light-headed with relief. He studied the jury. They looked thoughtful; one or two were making notes.
Ruth leaned over in her seat, talking to Scott in a low voice. She pointed at something on the legal pad in front of her, underlined it twice, then turned to Scott’s assistant, talking animatedly, her eyes bright. Pete glanced over at Frank, who was watching Ruth. He looked anxious.
Hirsch was frowning, conferring with his team, thumbing through his papers and stabbing passages with his fingers.
And on the other side of the courtroom, Devlin looked furious.
Scott’s closing statement lasted a little under two hours. As always, he was reasonable. Measured.
He dismissed Johnny Salcito as a man bent on revenge; Lena Gobek as a fantasist who wanted to draw attention to herself.
“Her astonishing claims about her superhuman hearing tell us that she prefers to create drama, to entertain, rather than to tell the truth.”
He focused on attacking the prosecution’s case and on the testimony of Clyde Harrison, but talked very little about Ruth herself. Looking over at the jury, Pete wondered if this might be a mistake. And by the time Hirsch had finished the prosecution’s summation, he was sure of it.
Hirsch stood, walked over to the jury box, and waited a moment to let the tension build.
“Gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution has established the following facts beyond any reasonable doubt: firstly that on the evening of July thirteenth, nineteen sixty-five, the defendant did strangle her son, Frank Jr., and her daughter, Cindy Marie; secondly that the defendant then attempted to cover up her actions by dumping the bodies of her children some distance from her apartment; and thirdly that the defendant may have had an accomplice who helped her move the bodies, but she is solely and entirely responsible for their deaths.
“You have heard from Mrs. Lena Gobek that she saw Mrs. Malone with the two children on the night in question. This evidence directly contradicts Mrs. Malone’s own statement. But Lena Gobek has nothing to gain from lying. She came forward when her natural reticence meant that she would have preferred to remain anonymous, just another ordinary Queens housewife. She came forward because she believed she had a duty to stand up and tell the truth to this courtroom.
“You have heard testimony from Mr. Salcito about Mrs. Malone’s character, about her attitude toward her children and toward motherhood. You have heard his sworn statement that she confessed to him that she murdered her children because she would rather see them dead than lose custody to their father.”
Hirsch’s voice rose.
“Mr. Salcito does not claim to be a hero. He has never pretended to be something he’s not. But what he did was get up on that stand and tell the truth. He had nothing to gain from it and everything to lose—but he told the truth about his relationship with Mrs. Malone: not only to you gentlemen and to everyone in this court, but he told his wife and the rest of the world what happened between them. Telling the truth in this way, openly and sincerely, may have damaged his marriage. But we in this courtroom cannot fail to admire his honesty and his regard for the truth.”