Thursday, February 26, 2009
"Imelda took the stand. She was spectacular. I believed every word she said. Joker, her husband, mistreated her; Joker was a miserable human being; she hoped she'd never have to see him again; she hoped her daughter would never have to see him either. In fact, Imelda prayed every day that her husband never would be released from jail. And, then I asked her about Joker's whereabouts on Christmas Day. She reluctantly produced the baptismal certificate with the date of the murder and the baptism - Christmas Day. She said her husband indeed had been with her at the Church on at exactly the same time as the killing took place. This is what I refer to, boychik, as an excellent alibi witness. Joker kept on making comments to me during her entire testimony - 'why'd you put her up there? she's a whore. she doing favors for you old man?' I tried to explain to him that she was probably saving him from spending the rest of his life in prison but somehow he didn't seem to appreciate this.
Imelda survived cross admirably. She more than survived, she was triumphant. How can you effectively cross examine the truth? That's what I say. We argued to the jury and the jury went out to deliberate."
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Judge banged his gavel and simultaneously jumped off the bench. Court's done, finally. But Arthur is still going on. I'm trying to be polite, I love Arthur, but I want to get outta there. "Arthur..." I try to make him aware that we're the only ones left in the entire courtroom. Arthur doesn't get it. He keeps on telling me the story. "And then the civilian - Hector Gutierrez - I must say I made mince meat of him. He actually got huffy with me when I put it to him that that the view from his window was obstructed behind bars and trees." "Arthur I gotta go." I blurted this out. He looked at me like I had stabbed him in the abdomen. "I thought you wanted to hear the story?" "I do Arthur but they're closing the courtroom." He looked around and seemed to recognize the truth of what I had just said. He frowned with disapproval. He got up out of his chair with a major league grunt. Then his face brightened like he had come up with a solution to a major dilemma. "Okay boychick I'll finish the story on the way out." And he continued talking as I gathered up my stuff and we left the courtroom and went towards the elevators. It was a good strategy on Arthur's part because those CCB elevators can take a very long time to arrive.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
"Actually the trial itself, once we started with the witnesses went rather well. Boxer's girlfriend, Loretta, quite the looker as we used to say (why do these gangsters attract such lovely gals? After 50 years making this observation I still have no viable theory) - you do remember Boxer, the innocent young man admirably washing his automobile on Christmas day when he was allegedly gunned down at the hands of my client? Loretta took the stand and contrary to what she had told the police before, testified that she was in fact, unable to actually see the gunman as she was still in the apartment when she heard the shots. She had only told the police that she had seen my client because that was the word on the street and she wanted someone to be held accountable for the loss of her beloved Boxer. Our prosecutor, a hard as nails blonde DA, strongly resembling what I imagine to be a Valkyrie, Ms. Ashley Armstrong, did not take this turn of events well. She accused Loretta of lying because she was afraid of gang retaliation. Loretta denied this, holding firmly to her "wanting to tell the truth." Ms. Armstrong reacted to this phrase "wanting to tell the truth" very much as I imagine she would to an obscenity. She accused poor Loretta of disloyalty not only to the truth but to her beloved departed Boxer. Now the tears flowed down Loretta's rosy cheeks. Ms. Armstrong icily terminated her questioning. I had no questions of Loretta.
"Okay, maybe not an Astronaut, I'm simply not going to allow myself to be confined in a box for a week or however long it takes to travel in space these days but rest assured I am capable of it if necessary. You do want to hear about the trial?" Arthur didn't even stop long enough for me to answer. "We end up in front of the Honorable Jim Rogers, Jr., the judge with the internal combustible engine for a mind. Explodes thirty times a minute. Not quite explode - he builds up to an explosion but then at the last moment contains himself and all you hear is this faint whisper. 'I don't know what you're doing Mr. Famish.' After he'd said this for the tenth time in front of the jury I must have given him a slightly angry look - and for the first time I heard his voice come out loud and angry - 'Are you eyeballing me!!!' I was startled and continued to gaze at him. 'You better not be eyeballing me!' I responded with perfect dignity even if I say so myself - I looked at the ground and said 'I am not eyeballing your honor.' That's all I said. Lovely isn't it? I actually expected applause from the jury. But they continued to look on as they had from the start of this trial - in complete and utter boredom."