Corrupted Read online

  “Yes,” Stokowski answered, after a moment.

  “How many in five years?”

  “I don’t know.” Stokowski shrugged, uncomfortably.

  “Between one and five, or between five and ten?”

  Stokowski hesitated. “Between one and five.”

  “Thank you.” Bennie didn’t want to let it go, but it was too risky. She noticed the jury taking notes. “Now, Mr. Stokowski, you testified that Mr. Grusini ‘could hold his own.’ What did you mean by that?”

  “I meant he could handle himself. He knew how to fight.”

  “And didn’t you know that because of the fights you saw him get into?”

  “Not really, I just knew it. I mean, he’s a guy’s guy. He worked construction. He was in decent shape, he could handle himself. It comes with the territory, you know?” Stokowski was saying too much, probably because he felt nervous during cross-examination, but it was helping Bennie’s case, so she let him go.

  “Mr. Stokowski, I would like to direct your attention for a moment to Defense Exhibit 10.” Bennie crossed the room and picked up the enlarged mugshot of Jason, but she didn’t turn it around yet. Instead, she kept the white side facing Stokowski while she spoke, leaning on the mounted exhibit. “I would like to show you a photograph taken of my client Jason at the time of his arrest and ask you a few questions.”

  Stokowski shifted around to face her, and Bennie walked over to the witness box and held up the exhibit, then turned it around, like a reveal. Stokowski recoiled, which was probably the most she could’ve asked for, and more than one juror noticed his reaction.

  “Mr. Stokowski, Jason’s face didn’t look like this when he left the bar, did it?”

  “No.”

  “There was no swelling around his forehead or his eye, was there?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you. Excuse me a moment.” Bennie walked the exhibit back and left it turned away as she spoke. “Mr. Stokowski, do you know if Mr. Grusini carried a weapon of any kind, such as a knife?”

  “Objection.” Martinez stood up. “That’s outside the scope of direct examination.”

  “Your Honor, really?” Bennie crossed to Martinez’s counsel table and picked up the bagged hunting knife. “This is Commonwealth Exhibit 2, the murder weapon. To whom it belongs has obvious relevance to this case, as well as my defense.”

  “Ms. Rosato, please narrow your question.” Judge Patterson turned to Martinez. “Mr. Martinez, if you keep objecting at this pace, we’re going to be here all week.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Martinez wilted into his seat.

  “Mr. Stokowski.” Bennie held up the knife in the bag, on her right side, which was away from the jury. “Did you ever see this knife before?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who it belongs to?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what type of knife this is?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Stokowski, are you a hunter?”

  “Not anymore.” Stokowski caught his wife’s eye with a smile, but Bennie didn’t want to break the mood with comic relief.

  “So you never went hunting with Mr. Grusini, is that correct?”

  “No, I never did.”

  “Do you know if Mr. Grusini went hunting?”

  “Yes. He used to take off during deer season. A lot of the guys do.”

  Bennie put two and two together, on the fly. “The murder in question took place during deer season, did it not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know if Mr. Grusini carried a knife?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Mr. Stokowski, Mr. Grusini was your best friend and your best man, but you don’t know if he carried a knife?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Bennie wanted to ask him, would it be out of character for Richie to carry a knife, but again, she had to stop herself. Martinez would object, and Stokowski wouldn’t give her the answer she wanted. “Do you know if Mr. Grusini carried a gun?”

  “Objection, relevance!” Martinez rose, albeit sheepishly, but Bennie let it go.

  “Your Honor, I withdraw the question. Mr. Stokowski, did you ever see Mr. Grusini pull a knife on anyone during the fights we discussed?”

  Stokowski hesitated, and Bennie sensed she had struck gold, so she started digging.

  “Mr. Stokowski? Yes or no? Did you ever see Mr. Grusini pull a knife on anybody during a fight?”

  “Look, I never saw Richie pull his knife, I mean, I don’t know if he had a knife.” Stokowski pursed his lips. “I never saw him pull a knife off of himself, like from his pocket or anything. But once, I mean, I have to admit, he took a knife off the bar and he kind of held it out.”

  “He brandished a knife at someone?”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Stokowski looked puzzled, but the jury didn’t.

  “It means to wave or point it at someone. Did you see Mr. Grusini brandish or wave a knife at someone during a fight?”

  “Uh, yes,” Stokowski answered, his reluctance plain.

  “Mr. Stokowski, what kind of knife did he brandish?”

  “It was just one of those little knives bartenders use, to cut up lemons and limes. It was on the white cutting board they always have. He reached over for it.”

  “So, a paring knife?”

  “I guess so.”

  “In any event, not a butter knife?” Bennie noticed Marathon Mom taking notes in her booklet.

  “No, not a butter knife.”

  “Mr. Stokowski, did Mr. Grusini aim the point of the knife at another person?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t stab him or anything. He just held it out.”

  “Who did he aim the knife at, on this occasion?”

  “A drunk guy who came up to him, I forget.”

  Bennie let it go, because she was on a roll. “Was this fight in a bar, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “At Eddie’s?”

  “No, Mayfair Bar & Grill.”

  Bennie made a mental note and she knew Lou would too, in the gallery. “How long ago did this occur?”

  “Two years.”

  “Were the other fights we discussed in bars?”

  “Uh, yes, I guess so.”

  Bennie didn’t press it. She needed only the one. “So during this fight at the Mayfair Bar & Grill, after Mr. Grusini held out the knife, then what happened?”

  “They threw us out.”

  “I see.” Bennie glanced over at the jury, who had pricked up their ears. She had a hunch that Richie and Stokowski had been banned from the Mayfair Bar & Grill, but she couldn’t take the chance, ask, and be wrong. Instead she asked, “Did you and Mr. Grusini ever return to the Mayfair Bar & Grill after that altercation?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  Bennie let it go. The inference was there, and the jury wasn’t stupid. “Mr. Stokowski, have you ever seen Mr. Grusini punch anyone so hard that they were knocked unconscious?”

  Stokowski pursed his lips. “Only once, but yes.”

  “Where did that take place?”

  “At an Eagles game, last year.”

  “Whom did Mr. Grusini knock unconscious?”

  “I don’t think he meant the guy to go unconscious or anything, but there was this jerk in the parking lot after the game, a Dallas fan, and he was annoying everybody, hooting and hollering, talking trash. They got into it, I don’t really know how it started, but Richie ended it. The guy deserved it.”

  “I see.” Bennie didn’t react, because she had learned through experience that her reactions would cause the jury to mute their own reaction, when what she really wanted was the jury to react strongly. “Mr. Stokowski, did stadium security come, after that altercation?”

  “No, we left.” Stokowski’s mood changed. He frowned, seeming to grow close-mouthed, and Bennie could tell that he felt that he’d said too much. She was guessing that Martinez felt the same way, but she couldn’t take any credit. It had taken only
a few simple questions to elicit Richie’s true nature, and Stokowski was honest enough to tell the truth.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stokowski.” Bennie had almost forgotten something. “I have one last question. You testified that my client said to Mr. Grusini, ‘Do you know what day this is?’ Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever find out what my client meant?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stokowski, I have no further questions.” Bennie turned and walked away, leaving the question hanging in the air. There was nothing wrong with leaving the jurors a mystery, after all.

  “No redirect, Your Honor!” Martinez said, already on his feet. “The Commonwealth would like to call its third witness.”

  Judge Patterson, thinking about a midmorning break, asked Martinez for a proffer, and Martinez said that the next three witnesses were bar patrons who would corroborate Stokowski’s version of the bar fight. Bennie had seen this coming, objected as their being cumulative, and offered to stipulate to the facts of the bar fight as established by Stokowski. Martinez agreed, and Bennie sat down, satisfied.

  Martinez also put up an IT expert who had examined Jason’s laptop and testified about the number of times that he Googled Richie, Ackermann, and Richie’s home address, as well as searched Richie’s Facebook page (five times daily), his Instagram account (three times), and Twitter account (three times daily). Bennie didn’t cross-examine, because sometimes, a lawyer had to know when to shut up.

  Judge Patterson faced the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, this has been a lot of testimony to absorb in a short time. You are dismissed for a midmorning break.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Bennie and Lou headed down the long hallway of white cinderblock, which led to the secured conference room for defendants and defense counsel. Bennie looked over at Lou, hoisting her purse to her shoulder. “How are we doing, Coach?”

  “Not bad.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Bennie said, tense, as they walked along. “Do you think I needed to recross Stokowski?”

  “No, you made the right call.” Lou flashed her an encouraging smile. “I like the way it’s going in, but we got hurt on motive statements from the uniform. The jury didn’t like it.”

  “I know.

  “And the computer stalking. The jury didn’t like that, either. It hurts us.”

  “I had to leave it alone. It is what it is.”

  “Agree. On the plus side, the mugshot really worked. Before that, they were shooting Jason the hairy eyeball. But once that picture came up, I think they felt sorry for him.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m watching two guys in the back row, a black one and a white one. They’re about my age, the accountant and a steamfitter, and they look at each other every time you talk. I can’t tell if they don’t like what you’re saying or they can’t hear you. Talk slower.”

  “I hate talking slow.”

  “They’re both from Delaware County, one from Norwood and one from Aston. Throw in some Delaware County references. Show ’em you know the terrain.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “Say Pica’s, it’s a pizza place. Everybody knows Pica’s. Even that brunette from 30 Rock, she’s talking about Pica’s all the time. She’s from Upper Darby, you know?”

  “Really? Tina Fey?”

  “Yes, everybody knows that. You need to get out.” Lou chuckled, then it faded. “I’ll tell you another thing, the press is trying to figure out why you’re on this case. I told them no comment, but all they have to do is Google your name and Jason’s to connect the dots.”

  “Actually, it’s not that easy. Jason’s records were sealed because he was a juvenile and they were eventually expunged. Anyway I don’t have a problem with that. Let them do their homework.” They reached a locked gray door, where a uniformed sheriff standing guard broke into a dentured smile when he saw Lou.

  “Lou Jacobs, as I live and breathe!”

  “Dan, that you?” Lou clapped him on the arm. “I thought you were retired.”

  “I’m tired, not retired.” The sheriff unlocked the door. “How the hell have you been?”

  “Can’t complain,” Lou answered, standing aside to let Bennie into the conference room, a small windowless box with scuffed white walls and four black chairs, one of which held Jason, his hands cuffed.

  “Hey, Jason,” Bennie said, sitting down with her purse and pad on her lap, while Lou closed the door behind them and sat down.

  Jason looked up, nervous. “Bennie, I’m confused. You told the jury it was self-defense, but like I said, I was framed. Somebody put the knife in my hand.”

  “Jason, you keep saying that, but as I keep telling you, we tried everything to investigate who might have framed you and we couldn’t come up with anything.” Bennie stayed patient, even though she had explained this many times before. “Nobody on Richie’s side would talk to us, and now it’s time for trial. I can’t just say ‘he was framed’ because I have nothing to support that theory, so I came up with a theory I can support. Self-defense. You knew I was going to do that, remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you said it was okay, which it is. It’s my job.”

  “Yes.

  “I don’t understand one other thing.” Jason bit the cuticle on his thumb, despite his handcuffs. “You said to the jury that it’s never the defendant’s burden to prove anything. So why do we need a theory and support and all that?”

  “Good question.” Bennie could see how she had confused him. “Support and proof aren’t the same thing. We don’t have to prove anything, that’s harder, but we have to come up with something to say, anything. That’s not proving a theory, it’s supporting one. I’m trying to do that without you because I can’t put you up and I have nothing else, no other choice.”

  “But you can say it was self-defense, like you told the jury. Why isn’t that good enough?”

  “Because I’m not a witness. I’m not sworn in and I have no personal knowledge. What a lawyer like me says in court is not evidence. It’s argument. That’s why in an opening, lawyers always have to say ‘the evidence will show that,’ or ‘the testimony will be that.’” Bennie tried to explain. “I’m doing exactly what you called me for. I’m giving you a perfect defense, with nothing to go on. You need to get on board with this. I won’t put you on the stand, but you have to let me do my job. Do you know what the penalty is for first-degree murder? It’s life without parole.”

  “I know that, I know that.”

  “You didn’t want to enter a plea because you don’t want more time in prison. If we lose, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

  “I know that, too.” Jason bit his nail again, and Bennie could see that his fingers were trembling.

  “Do you want to change your mind and make a deal? I think I could get it back. Martinez doesn’t know that you don’t want to get on the stand. He thinks you’re going to get up and say that you killed Richie in self-defense.”

  “But if you make a deal, I have to go to prison, for like, ten years.”

  “Yes, at least, that’s right.” Bennie recalled that they had discussed it at the prison, too.

  “Can you get less?”

  “No. Remember what I told you, it’s all about the economics, the money. When we turned down the Commonwealth’s offer, we made them spend money. They have to prepare a case, and that takes lawyers, investigators, secretaries, and staff. It’s expensive, and if you make the Commonwealth pay, then they hold it against you.”

  “But the guys in lockup, they’ve been telling me what a ballbuster Martinez is. It’s not like I never told a lie, but if you put me up there and he starts working me over, I’ll screw it all up.”

  Bennie knew it was true. “I said, I won’t put you up there and ask you to lie. That’s suborning perjury. I’ve never done that before and I’m not going to do it now.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”


  Lou looked over, frowning, and Bennie knew he had the same question.

  “I will keep developing reasonable doubt and I’ll try to offer support for our theory the way I have been, by inference. You never know. Maybe a witness will give me an opening, or maybe I can make the cross-examination seem like more than it is. That’s up to me.”

  Bennie looked at Jason. “Is there anything else you want to ask me? Any questions I missed or anything you think I should cover?”

  “No.” Jason bit his lip, showing his jagged incisor. “I’m sorry, I feel like I’m really messing this up.”

  “You don’t have to drive this bus. I do.” Bennie turned to Lou. “How about you, Coach? Anything I should be doing that I’m not?”

  “The Delco reference. Pica’s.”

  “I’m above that sort of chicanery.”

  “The hell you are.” Lou smiled. “By the way, how did you know it was hunting season?”

  “I didn’t.” Bennie turned to Jason. “Was I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “The hits just keep on coming,” Bennie said, managing a smile.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Emily Ratigan, the waitress from Eddie’s, looked miserable as she was sworn in and sat in the witness box, casting a regretful eye at Jason. Her red hair was longer, falling to her chin and framing her soft baby face. She’d covered her freckled cheeks with foundation, but she had only light makeup on her greenish eyes, and she’d dressed up for court in a cropped navy jacket, with a white camisole and jeans.

  Martinez addressed her at a distance from the witness box. “Ms. Ratigan, you did not want to appear today to testify in court, did you?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re appearing today only because you were subpoenaed to appear, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ms. Ratigan, why is it that you had to be subpoenaed to appear to testify?”

  “Because I like Jason and consider him a friend.”

  Martinez faced Judge Patterson. “Your Honor, I would like to qualify Ms. Ratigan as a hostile witness.”