The Brass Verdict

her with a gun?”
    Elliot opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated and didn’t respond.
    “You see, Walter?” I said. “You get up there and you open yourself up to anything – most of it not good.”
    He shook his head.
    “I don’t care. It’s a given. Guilty guys don’t testify. Everybody knows it. I’m testifying that I did not do this.”
    He poked a finger at me with each syllable of the last sentence. I still liked his forcefulness. He was believable. Maybe he could survive on the stand.
    “Well, ultimately it is your decision,” I said. “We’ll get you prepared to testify but we won’t make the decision until we get into the defense phase of the trial and we see where we stand.”
    “It’s decided now. I’m testifying.”
    His face began to turn a deep shade of crimson. I had to tread lightly here. I didn’t want him to testify but it was unethical for me to forbid it. It was a client decision, and if he ever claimed I took it away from him or refused to let him testify, I would have the bar swarming me like angry bees.
    “Look, Walter,” I said. “You’re a powerful man. You run a studio and make movies and put millions of dollars on the line every day. I understand all of that. You are used to making decisions with nobody questioning them. But when we go into trial, I’m the boss. And while it will be you who makes this decision, I need to know that you are listening to me and considering my counsel. There’s no use going further if you don’t.”
    He rubbed his hand roughly across his face. This was hard for him.
    “Okay. I understand. We make a final decision on this later.”
    He said it grudgingly. It was a concession he didn’t want to make. No man wants to relinquish his power to another.
    “Okay, Walter,” I said. “I think that puts us on the same page.”
    I checked my watch again. There were a few more things on my list and I still had some time.
    “Okay, let’s move on,” I said.
    “Please.”
    “I want to add a couple people to the defense team. They will be ex-”
    “No. I told you, the more lawyers a defendant has, the guiltier he looks. Look at Barry Bonds. Tell me people don’t think he’s guilty. He’s got more lawyers than teammates.”
    “Walter, you didn’t let me finish. These are not lawyers I’m talking about, and when we go to trial, I promise it is going to be just you and me sitting at the table.”
    “Then, who do you want to add?”
    “A jury-selection consultant and somebody to work with you on image and testimony, all of that.”
    “No jury consultant. Makes it look like you’re trying to rig things.”
    “Look, the person I want to hire will be sitting out in the gallery. No one will notice her. She plays poker for a living and just reads people’s faces and looks for tells – little giveaways. That’s it.”
    “No, I won’t pay for that mumbo jumbo.”
    “Are you sure, Walter?”
    I spent five minutes trying to convince him, telling him that picking the jury might be the most important part of the trial. I stressed that in circumstantial cases the priority had to be in picking jurors with open minds, ones who didn’t believe that just because the police or prosecution say something, it’s automatically true. I told him that I prided myself on my skills in picking a jury but that I could use the help of an expert who knew how to read faces and gestures. At the end of my plea Elliot simply shook his head.
    “Mumbo jumbo. I will trust your skills.”
    I studied him for a moment and decided we’d talked enough for the day. I would bring up the rest with him the next time. I had come to realize that while he was paying lip service to the idea that I was the trial boss, there was no doubt that he was firmly in charge of things.
    And I couldn’t help but believe it might lead him straight to prison.

Twenty
    By the time I dropped Patrick back at his car in downtown and headed to the Valley in heavy evening traffic, I knew I was going to be late and would tip off another confrontation with my ex-wife. I called to let her know but she didn’t pick up and I left a message. When I finally got to her apartment complex in Sherman Oaks it was almost seven forty and I found mother and daughter out at the curb, waiting. Hayley had her head down and was looking at the sidewalk. I noticed she had begun to adopt this posture whenever her parents came into close proximity of one another. It was like she was just standing on the