FiFty Fifty

Chapter Fourty - Eight

KATE

Kate could not sit silently in front of her client and not try to limit the damage from Sagrada's testimony. Bloch had told her about the million dollars, but they had not mentioned it to Alexandra. It looked like she was bribing Hal Cohen, and it's possible Cohen was murdered because either he asked for more money, or he was going to spill his guts to the NYPD. Either way, Alexandra had potential motive to kill him.
It was Alexandra's defense that was dying now. Kate doubted she could do anything to staunch that wound, but it would look suspicious to Alexandra if she didn't try. She had to do something – Alexandra was muttering 'no, no, no,' under her breath. The tremors were back in her arms and legs. She took a pill from her purse and swallowed it dry. It didn't seem to do any good. Kate had to at least put on a show.
'Doctor Sagrada, you may not have heard all of the testimony from the previous witnesses, and I just want to remind you that Detective Tyler confirmed that after a forensic examination of the victim's home, and my client's apartment – no traces of Haloperidol were found. None. Do you accept that?'
'I do.'
'And is it fair to say that you now don't know, with any certainty, who really wrote that journal?'
'I think that's fair. Part of the journal could've been written by the victim, or all of it, or none of it.'
Kate had gotten all she could. She sat down. No re-direct from Dreyer. The prosecution closed their case. Flynn stood and told the court the defense calls no witnesses.
Last thing a defendant wants to do is put themselves through the ordeal of cross-examination. Not if they're smart enough to avoid it. If the defendants didn't testify, it meant they didn't get to tell the jury that they didn't do it, but at the same time they didn't have that assertion torn to pieces by the prosecutor either.
'I want to testify,' said Alexandra.
Kate had moved her seat away from Alexandra, by a few more inches, at the start of the day. She felt the need for distance. Alexandra was a multiple killer. A
 
psycho who had manipulated, killed her father and framed her sister for it. And had taken many more lives to ensure she was never convicted. Kate wanted the trial over – fast. More than that, she wanted her client to be convicted and locked away for a very long time.
'I don't think it's wise. You could face more charges for attempting to bribe a witness. What was that about? You never told us about Cohen.'
Alexandra began to cry. Kate thought she might be able to turn on the waterworks and hysterics like a switch.
'I wanted him to tell the truth. He said he would go to Sofia for money, and whoever paid him he would be on their side – either saying the journal is real, or a fake. I-I-I'm so, so, sorry. He told me not to tell my lawyer.'
'It's up to the prosecution to prove their case. If Dreyer destroys you in cross- examination, you've just done his work for him. And if you tell that to the court, you'll definitely face more charges. Let's leave it to the jury.'
'Are you sure?' asked Alexandra.
'I'm sure. I think you testifying has more downsides than you can imagine. It won't be pretty. And it will give Dreyer an advantage – you'll be the only defendant he gets to accuse in person, and the only one he gets to tear apart.'
Kate watched her client's wheels turning. Calculations running alongside fear. Five seconds. Ten. Biting her wet lip, Alexandra looked toward the jury. A couple of jurors stared right back. Kate tried hard to discern those looks. Were they looking at someone they thought was innocent – or were they waiting for their chance to punish a killer? Kate's best guess was they were looking at Alexandra the way a ten-year-old kid looks at a tiger in their enclosure: an element of fascination, but the knowledge boiling behind it that this thing could kill.
'Alright, if you think it's for the best then I'll take your advice. I trust you. I won't testify.'
Kate confirmed to the court she would be calling no witnesses.
'Well that just leaves closing arguments. Mr. Dreyer ...'
The prosecutor stood and approached the jury. He took his time. Confident of
the win. Kate knew he could smell the blood in the room and he wanted to strike now.
'We've all learned something during the course of this trial,' began Dreyer. 'We've learned that Sofia and Alexandra Avellino are rich enough to buy themselves good defense lawyers, that's for sure.'
Dreyer's face pulled his lips apart into something that would resemble a smile on a human face, but Kate had never seen Dreyer smile. On the prosecutor, the smile was as fake as watching a jaw move on a ventriloquist's dummy. Dreyer

had chops as a prosecutor. Tactically sound, smart, ruthless and determined. But in that moment Kate saw what he lacked – humanity. There was no rapport with the jury. No relationship there at all. She guessed that Dreyer recognized this deficiency, or that it had been pointed out to him before, and he was desperately trying to work on it.
He'd tried to crack a joke, and almost cracked his own face.
Dreyer just looked creepy.
'But those expensive defense attorneys cannot get in the way of the truth.
There is one truth, one fact, one absolute that no one in this courtroom has challenged, and it's the key thing for your consideration – when Frank Avellino died, his daughters were in his mansion. His body was still warm by the time the paramedics got to him. One of the defendants killed him. Or both of them did. But it had to be at least one of the defendants who sit before you today,' he said, pointing first at Alexandra, and then Sofia.
'Sofia Avellino has chosen not to testify in this case. Same with Alexandra. That is their right. Their silence means you don't get to hear them say they didn't kill their father. Each of them deny it, through their counsel. But if you are denied the opportunity to hear from the defendants, then you must use your judgment and assess the evidence and testimony against them. And there's plenty ...'
He went though the testimony from the police and experts, in detail, and said the challenges to that evidence from the defense attorneys may be valid, but the jury may decide it was just courtroom tricks.
'Members of the jury, I ask you to return the verdict of guilty for both of the defendants. If you think one deserves the benefit of the doubt, then give it to them. But at least one of these women is a killer. Maybe it's Alexandra, who tried to buy a witness, and falsify her father's journal? Maybe it's Sofia, whose hair was found in a knife wound to her father's chest? We, the People, invite you to consider that they both had motive and opportunity to murder their father, and that forensic evidence links both sisters to this horrific crime. Thank you.'
Eddie stood. He had half a dozen pages in his hand. A speech, written and ready to be delivered. Kate thought it would be something bold, something stirring about the presumption of innocence, and the foundation of our justice system and constitution. She thought Eddie would have begun working on this speech days ago, adding and editing it as the evidence mounted. And once complete, he would have practiced it in front of a mirror like she had. Honed it. Polished every word so that the delivery was perfect and the message was loud and clear.
The jury waited in silence. Eddie threw the pages on the defense table,

scattering them.
'I don't need to read my speech. I don't even need to talk to you about the
evidence in this case. You've been paying attention carefully. I know this. So, I won't waste your time. Do the right thing. Acquit Sofia Avellino.'
And with that he sat down.
If he had a mic, he would've dropped it.
'Miss Brooks,' said Judge Stone. 'Do you have anything to say to this jury?' Kate swallowed, looked at the speech she'd written, and turned the pages
over, laid them face down on the desk. She rose to her feet, adjusted her blouse, and came around the defense table to stand in front of the jury.
'My client ...' she said, and then froze.
My client killed her father, his friend Hal Cohen, a pharmacist, a cashier, probably Mike Modine, maybe her mother and stepmother too, along with Jesus knows how many more.
How do you represent someone you know is guilty? How do you stand there and tell a jury that they're innocent? Why did this have to happen in her very first trial? These questions rolled around her mind like bingo balls in a tombola.
'Members of the jury, I had written my closing speech before this trial began. That's the way I was taught to do it. Before the trial started I had prepared my client's defense. I knew the points I had to make, and I knew what the issues in the case would be. I wrote my speech with those points in mind. I wanted to remind you of those points. The unreliability of forensic evidence, the holes in the prosecutor's case, the co-defendant's motives for murder ...'
She took another pause. Let the silence into the room. Two jurors sat up a little straighter, they were listening. They didn't know where this was going.
Neither did Kate.
'But I'm not going to do that. I think you already know your own minds. I think you already have a good grasp of the evidence. I would ask you to be fair, and impartial, and to return the verdict which my client deserves.'
Kate didn't tell the jury which verdict her client deserved. She had gotten through her speech, and she hadn't lied to her first jury.
She stood straight and true and returned to the defense table with her head up, and her conscience intact.
Until the verdict.