Rogue Lawyer

Baloney. He rambles on a bit without notes, and I’ve known for some time that Max gets in trouble when he goes off script. The more skilled courtroom advocates convey the impression that they are speaking extemporaneously, while in truth they have spent hours memorizing and rehearsing. Max is not one of those, but he’s not as bad as most prosecutors. He does a very smart thing by promising the jurors that they will soon see the now famous video. He makes them wait. He could, even at this initial stage of the trial, show the video. Go Slow has already said so. But he teases them with it. Nice move.

His opening statement is not long because his case is ironclad. Impulsively, I stand and tell Her Honor that I will reserve my opening statement until the begi

I do not cross-examine Mrs. King. She is excused and returns to her seat next to her three children in the front row. It’s a lovely family, on display for everyone, but especially the jurors.

The next witness is the medical examiner, a forensic pathologist named Dr. Glover, a veteran of these battles. Because my career has involved a number of grisly murder cases, Dr. Glover and I have tangled before in front of juries. Indeed, in this very courtroom. He conducted an autopsy on Sean King the day after he died and has photos to prove it. A month ago Mancini and I almost came to blows over the autopsy photos. Normally, they are not admitted because their gruesomeness is so prejudicial. However, Max convinced Go Slow that three of the milder ones are probative. The first is of Sean lying on the slab, naked but for a white towel over his midsection. The second is a close-up of his face with the camera directly above him. The third is of his shaved head, turned to the right to reveal considerable swelling from several incisions. The twenty or so photos wisely excluded by Go Slow are so graphic that no sane trial judge would allow the jury to see them: sawing off the top of the skull; tight photos of the damaged brain; and the last one of the brain sitting alone on a lab table.

The ones deemed admissible are projected on a tall, wide screen. Mancini walks the doctor through each one. The cause of death was blunt-force trauma inflicted by repeated blows to the upper face. How many blows? Well, we have the video to show us. This is another smart move by Max—to introduce the footage with the medical expert on the stand. The lights go dim, and on the large screen we get to relive the tragedy: the two fighters in the center of the ring, both confident of victory; Sean King raises the right hand of Crush, who seems surprised; Tadeo’s shoulders slump in disbelief, then suddenly he hits Crush from the side, a real sucker punch; before Sean King can react, Tadeo lands a hard right to his nose, then a left; Sean King falls back and lands against the wire cage, where he sits, slumped over, defenseless, out cold; and Tadeo springs on him like an animal, pounding away.

“Twenty-two blows to the head,” Dr. Glover tells the jurors, who are mesmerized by the violence. They’re watching a perfectly healthy man get beaten to death.

And my idiot client thinks he’ll walk.

The video ends when Norberto rushes into the ring and grabs Tadeo. At that point, Sean King’s chin is on his chest and his face is nothing but blood. Crush is out cold. Chaos ensues as others scramble into the picture. As the riot breaks out, the screen goes black.

Doctors tried everything to relieve the intense swelling of Sean King’s brain, but nothing worked. He died five days later without regaining consciousness. An image of a CT scan takes the place of the video, and Dr. Glover talks about cerebral contusions. Another image, and he talks about hemorrhaging within the hemispheres. Another reveals a large subdural hematoma. The witness has been discussing autopsies and causes of death with juries for many years, and he knows how to testify. He takes his time, explains things, and tries to avoid esoteric words and phrases. This must be one of his easier cases because of the video. The victim was perfectly healthy when he walked into the cage. He left on a stretcher and the world knows why.

Arguing with a true expert in front of a jury is always tricky business. More often than not, the lawyer loses both the fight and his credibility. Because of the facts in this case, I have very little credibility to begin with. I’m not willing to lose any more. I stand and politely say, “No questions.”

When I sit down, Tadeo hisses at me, “What’re you doing, man? You gotta go after these dudes.”

“Knock it off, okay?” I say through gritted teeth. I’m really tired of his arrogance and he’s obviously distrustful of me. I doubt if things will improve.

23.

As we break for an afternoon recess, I get a text message from Miguel Zapate. I’ve seen him in the courtroom throughout the morning, one of several relatives and friends clustered in the back row, watching intently but from as far away as possible. We meet in the hallway and stroll outside. Norberto, the former manager of Team Zapate, joins us. Partner follows at a distance. I make sure they understand that Tadeo is refusing a very good plea bargain. He could be out in eighteen months and fighting again.

But they have a better deal. Juror number ten is Esteban Suarez, age thirty-eight, a truck driver for a food supply company. Fifteen years ago he emigrated legally from Mexico. Miguel says he has a friend who knows him.

I hide my surprise as we wade into treacherous waters. We turn down a narrow one-way street with all sunlight blocked by tall buildings. “How does your friend know him?” I ask.

Miguel is a street punk, a low-end drug ru

Miguel shrugs and says, “My friend knows lots of people.”

“I’m sure he does. And when did your friend meet Mr. Suarez? Within the past twenty-four hours?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that we can deal with Suarez, and he’s not that expensive.”

“Bribing a juror can land you in the same pen with Tadeo.”

“Senor, please. For ten grand Suarez hangs the jury, maybe even gets an acquittal.”

I stop walking and stare at this small-time thug. What does he know about acquittals? “If you think that jury is going to let your brother walk, then you’re crazy, Miguel. Ain’t going to happen.”

“Okay, then we hang it. You said yourself that if they hang once, then hang twice, then the prosecutor will dismiss everything.”