The Anonymous Client

saying, ‘no, you must be mistaken, those couldn’t be my fingerprints, because I was never there.’ If she can’t answer that way, it means that her testimony was false. That means she’s guilty of perjury. And if she’s guilty of perjury, she’s certainly a biased witness. And that bias is something I have a legal right to establish. The witness has given testimony on a very material point, i.e., the altercation in Bradshaw’s apartment at the time of the murder. Therefore, if there is the slightest chance that she committed perjury, I have every right to bring it out.”
    “Only by legitimate means, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel’s question is entirely irregular.”
    Judge Graves took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson. On the surface, it might appear to be. However, as counsel has said, he is merely asking the witness whether she knew certain things to be true. But I think you’re missing the point here. A young woman is on trial for murder. If there is a chance that one of the prosecution’s witnesses is committing perjury, I want to know it. And I think you should want to know it too.
    “However,” Judge Graves went on, turning to Fitzpatrick and Winslow. “Once that charge is brought up, if she is not committing perjury, I want to know that too.
    “I am now going to rule. To begin with, the objection is overruled. I want the question answered. And I want it answered without any sparring between counsel. And I am referring to that particular line of questioning, Mr. Dirkson. I don’t want you jumping up on the follow-up question, unless a new point is raised. As far as this line of questioning goes, I’m going to allow Mr. Winslow to pursue it to its conclusion. But—”
    Judge Graves turned to Steve Winslow. His face was dark. “I’m allowing this on your assurance that you have a definite purpose in mind. In the event that you do not, in the event that it should turn out that you called this witness merely to harass her, to make her a red herring—in the event that it turns out you had no foundation whatever for asking the question that you did, that in fact you had no definite purpose in mind, then Mr. Winslow, you and Mr. Fitzpatrick will find that you have laid yourselves wide open for an abuse of process charge. And believe me, this is no idle threat. So, before we resume, I would like to give you one last opportunity to consider: would you care to withdraw your question?”
    Fitzpatrick looked as if he were going to be ill. He looked at Steve Winslow with pleading eyes.
    Steve looked at him. It could be Fitzpatrick’s career. It could be his too, what little career he had. And he had so little to go on. Such a thin thread.
    For a second he hesitated.
    But only for a second.
    “We do not, Your Honor,” Steve said. “The question stands.”

45.
    J UDGE G RAVES LOOKED DOWN FROM the bench. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I am sorry for the interruption. We are ready to proceed. The objection has been overruled. The witness will answer. The court reporter will read back the question.”
    There was a delay while the court reporter shuffled through the tapes. The question was way back, since he’d had to record the entire session in chambers. Finally he found it, and droned it out in an expressionless voice, ending with, “And did you know that when we compared your prints, two of them matched absolutely with the latent prints taken from the decedent’s apartment and introduced in evidence here in court.”
    “Do you understand the question?” Steve said.
    The witness took a breath. “Yes. I do.”
    “Then answer it.”
    She hesitated. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “No.”
    “You don’t know how your fingerprints could have got in Bradshaw’s apartment?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “You were never in there on any occasion?”
    “I—”
    “Think. It’s important. You’re under oath. How could your fingerprints have gotten there?”
    The witness’s eyes flicked around the courtroom. “I ... I ...”
    “Yes,” Steve said. “Go on.”
    “I remember now. I was in there once.”
    Steve tried hard to keep his face from looking like he had just gotten a death row reprieve. A glance at the defense table told him Fitzpatrick was not doing quite that good a job. He looked positively ecstatic.
    But Dirkson looked positively murderous.
    “Oh, were you now?” Steve said. “And when was that?”
    “Silly of me. It was a long