The Brass Verdict

couldn’t get him there so I decided to use a shove.
    “Detective, didn’t it ever occur to you that if Walter Elliot knew about his wife’s affair, it would have made better sense just to divorce her before the prenuptial agreement vested?”
    “There was no indication of when he learned of the affair. And your question does not take into account things like emotions and rage. It was possible that the money had nothing to do with it as a motivating factor. It could have just been betrayal and rage, pure and simple.”
    I hadn’t gotten what I wanted. I was annoyed with myself and chalked it up to rust. I was prepared for the cross but it was the first time I had gone head-to-head with a seasoned and cagey witness in a year. I decided to back off here and to hit Kinder with the punch he wouldn’t see coming.

Forty-five
    I asked the judge for a moment and then went to the defense table. I bent down to my client’s ear.
    “Just nod like I am telling you something really important,” I whispered.
    Elliot did as instructed and then I picked up a file and went back to the lectern. I opened the file and then looked at the witness stand.
    “Detective Kinder, at what point in your investigation did you determine that Johan Rilz was the primary target of this double murder?”
    Kinder opened his mouth to respond immediately, then closed it and sat back and thought for a moment. It was just the kind of body language I was hoping the jury would pick up on.
    “At no point did I ever determine that,” Kinder finally responded.
    “At no point was Johan Rilz front and center in your investigation?”
    “Well, he was the victim of a homicide. That made him front and center the whole time in my book.”
    Kinder seemed pretty proud of that answer but I didn’t give him much time to savor it.
    “Then his being front and center explains why you went to Germany to investigate his background, correct?”
    “I did not go to Germany.”
    “What about France? His passport indicates he lived there before coming to the United States.”
    “I didn’t go there.”
    “Then, who on your team did?”
    “No one. We didn’t believe it was necessary.”
    “Why wasn’t it necessary?”
    “We had asked Interpol for a background check on Johan Rilz and it came back clean.”
    “What is Interpol?”
    “It stands for International Criminal Police Organization. It’s an organization that links the police in more than a hundred countries and facilitates cross-border cooperation. It has several offices throughout Europe and enjoys total access and cooperation from its host countries.”
    “That’s nice but it means you didn’t go directly to the police in Berlin, where Rilz was from?”
    “No, we did not.”
    “Did you directly check with police in Paris, where Rilz lived five years ago?”
    “No, we relied on our Interpol contacts for background on Mr. Rilz.”
    “The Interpol background pretty much was a check of a criminal arrest record, correct?”
    “That was included, yes.”
    “What else was included?”
    “I’m not sure what else. I don’t work for Interpol.”
    “If Mr. Rilz had worked for the police in Paris as a confidential informant on a drug case, would Interpol have given you this information?”
    Kinder’s eyes widened for a split second before he answered. It was clear he wasn’t expecting the question, but I couldn’t get a read on whether he knew where I was heading or if it was all new to him.
    “I don’t know whether they would have given us that information or not.”
    “Law enforcement agencies usually don’t give out the names of their confidential informants willy-nilly, do they?”
    “No, they don’t.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Because it might put the informants in danger.”
    “So being an informant in a criminal case can be dangerous?”
    “On occasion, yes.”
    “Detective, have you ever investigated the murder of a confidential informant?”
    Golantz stood up before Kinder could answer and asked the judge for a sidebar conference. The judge signaled us up. I grabbed the file off the lectern and followed Golantz up. The court reporter moved next to the bench with her steno machine. The judge rolled his chair over and we huddled.
    “Mr. Golantz?” the judge prompted.
    “Judge, I would like to know where this is going, because I’m feeling like I’m being sandbagged here. There has been nothing in any of the defense’s discovery that even hints at what Mr. Haller is