Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

the target letter, was in the building, Freeman had put the judge into a difficult position. That the agent was nearby and easily accessible would make it harder for the judge to dismiss the issue out of hand. I stepped in before the judge could respond.
    “Judge Perry? I would suggest that, since counsel says she has the federal agent who wrote the letter right here in the courthouse, she simply put him on the stand to counter anything that I might draw from Detective Kurlen on cross-examination. If Ms. Freeman is so sure the agent will say the target letter he wrote amounts to nothing, then let him tell the jury that. Let him blow me out of the water. I remind the court that we’ve already dipped our toes into these waters. I asked Kurlen about the letter yesterday. To simply go back out there and not mention it again or have you tell the jurors to un-ring the bell and dismiss it from memory… that could be more damaging to our collective cause than a full airing of this issue.”
    Perry answered without hesitation.
    “I tend to think that you are correct about this, Mr. Haller. I don’t like the idea of leaving the jury all night with this mysterious target letter to ponder and then pulling the rug out from under them this morning.”
    “Your Honor,” Freeman said quickly. “May I be heard once more?”
    “No, I don’t think that is necessary. We need to stop wasting time in here and get the trial started.”
    “But, Your Honor, there is one other exigent issue the court has not even considered.”
    The judge looked frustrated.
    “And what is that, Ms. Freeman? My patience is drawing thin.”
    “Allowing testimony about a target letter directed at the defense’s key witness will likely complicate that witness’s previous decision not to invoke his Fifth Amendment rights during testimony in this case. Louis Opparizio and his legal counsel may well reconsider that decision once this target letter is introduced and discussed publicly. Therefore, Mr. Haller may be building a defense case that ultimately results in his key witness and straw man, if you will, refusing to testify. I want it on record now that if Mr. Haller plays this game he must abide by the consequences. When Opparizio decides next week that it’s in his best interest not to testify and asks for a new hearing on the subpoena, I don’t want defense counsel crying to the court for a do-over. No do-overs, Judge.”
    The judge nodded, agreeing with her.
    “I guess that would be tantamount to the man who killed his parents asking the court to show mercy on him because he’s an orphan. I’m in agreement, Mr. Haller. You are on notice that if you play it this way you must be prepared to shoulder the consequences.”
    “I understand, Judge,” I said. “And I will make sure my client does as well. I only have one point of argument and that is counsel’s labeling of Louis Opparizio as a straw man. He’s no straw man and we’ll prove it.”
    “Well,” the judge said, “at least you’ll get a chance to. Now time is wasting. Let’s get back into the courtroom.”
    I followed Freeman out, leaving the judge behind while he put on his robe. I expected her to hit me with a verbal assault but I got the opposite.
    “Well played, Counselor,” she said.
    “Thanks, I think.”
    “Who do you think sent you the letter?”
    “I wish I knew.”
    “Have the feds contacted you? My guess is they’re going to want to find out who’s leaking sensitive and confidential documents to the public.”
    “Nobody’s said jack yet. Maybe it was the feds who leaked it. If I get Opparizio on the stand he’s stuck with his testimony. Maybe I’m just an instrument of the federal government here. Ever think of that?”
    The suggestion seemed to put a pause in her step. As I passed her I smiled.
    As we entered the courtroom I saw Herb Dahl in the front row of the gallery behind the defense table. I suppressed the urge to pull him over the rail and pound his face into the stone floor. Freeman and I took our positions at our respective tables and in a whisper I filled my client in on what had happened in chambers. The judge entered and brought the jury in.
    The last piece of the picture was filled in when Detective Kurlen returned to the witness stand. I grabbed my files and legal pad and went back to the lectern. It seemed like a week since my cross-examination had been interrupted but it had been less than a day. I acted as though it had been less than a