And it was his last hope.
He toweled off and dressed in his best new jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. A bit hot for July, but they were the nicest clothes he had.
He thought about Finch’s advice: “Make the jury love you or it’s all over. Don’t let ’em smell your fear. Let ’em see a sad man, someone ruined by the bottle, but don’t let ’em see a killer. Make promises, even if you don’t plan to keep them.”
He planned to make promises. What Finch didn’t understand was that he planned to keep them, too.
Brian sighed and pulled a clean, white sock onto his bare foot. He wasn’t sure about Finch anymore. The man was a good enough attorney, worth the money But he didn’t play fair, and that bothered Brian. Ever since meeting that woman down at Church on the Way, a lot of things about his old life bothered him.
For a moment he could see the young girl, lying dead on the shoulder of the road, hear her father several feet away moaning for help, dying, trapped in his car.
Brian swallowed hard. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition …”
The image faded. He finished dressing and then checked his appearance in the Budweiser mirror that hung on Jackson’s apartment wall.
He stared at his reflection. “Gonna need your help today, Lord.”
For a moment he studied the man in the glass. He didn’t look the same. Something different … something in the eyes maybe. He grabbed a fistful of change for the bus and studied himself once more. Yes, that was it. Something gentler in the eyes.
He wondered if Carla would notice.
An air of expectation hung over Judge Horowitz’s courtroom that next Tuesday morning. Harold Finch was there early, and Hannah thought he was wearing a new suit for the occasion. It fit a bit more loosely, but its loud pinstripes, satin cuffs, and gold-plated buttons still gave him the look of a mob boss rather than a lawyer.
Matt looked relaxed as he read a stack of documents and jotted down notes.
Hannah’s eyes fell on Brian Wesley. He looked freshly bathed, neatly dressed. His hair was shorter than before … and there was something different about his face.
Hannah wanted to shake him. How could he put on a front, act like someone society could live with when he was a cold-blooded killer? He’d deliberately chosen to kill Tom and Alicia. He would do it again if this jury gave him a chance. He might pretend for a while, but nothing, no one—not God himself—could ever change Brian Wesley.
Is anything too hard for God?
Hannah blinked back the Scripture and huffed out loud. Some things apparently were. Like keeping Tom and Alicia alive.
The proceedings began, and Finch was on his feet calling his first witness. Brian Wesley. Parading about the front of the courtroom, Finch established Brian’s background as a faithful worker and husband, as a man troubled by a continual drinking problem. He worked his way up to the point of the collision, highlighting the fact that Brian had been sober for three weeks prior to August 28.
“Now, on the afternoon of the accident, what transpired prior to your visit to the bar?”
Brian frowned slightly. “You mean, why did I decide to drink again?”
Finch waved his hand, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, why did you decide to drink again?”
“Well, I got laid off.”
“And were you depressed?”
“Yes.”
Hannah held her breath, her blood all but boiling. She’d like to give both of them something to be depressed about.
Finch strutted farther from the witness stand so that he was adjacent to the jurors. His stance, his expression, it all gave the jurors the impression he was one of them … the thirteenth juror.
“So you went to the bar and had a few drinks, something to lighten your spirits, is that right?” Finch’s tone was hostile and Hannah struggled to understand. Weren’t they supposed to be on the same team?
Brian stared at his attorney with a strange expression, almost as if he were angry with the man. “It was a stupid thing to do. I’d been clean for three weeks, and if only I’d just gone home to Carla—”
“Just answer the question, please, Mr. Wesley.” Finch didn’t look pleased.… Sighing and exchanging a long-suffering look with several jurors, Finch continued. “Why did you go to the bar, Mr. Wesley? Did you go there planning to kill someone?”
Brian’s face twitched slightly. “No, of course not.”
“Did you go intending to hurt someone, perhaps destroy someone’s vehicle in a traffic accident?”
Brian shook his head.
“Answer out loud for the court, please,” Judge Horowitz said. He looked interested in the testimony for the first time that day.
“No, I didn’t intend to hurt anyone.”
“Fine, then let’s go a little further. You sat at the bar for a certain amount of time. Do you know how long you sat there, Mr. Wesley?”
Brian shrugged. “I didn’t take notes or nothing.”
“Answer the question to the best of your knowledge.”
“I don’t know. My memory’s a little hazy on it, you know?”
Finch’s jaw dropped half an inch, and Hannah caught Matt’s suddenly alert look. Certainly this wasn’t the line of testimony Finch and Brian Wesley had practiced.
Finch cleared his throat. “I am not asking for a vivid account. I am asking you to tell this court, as best you can remember, how long you sat at the bar on the afternoon of August 28.”
“Okay.” Brian looked determined to come up with an answer. “I think that guy was probably right, that bartender guy. Two hours maybe.”
Finch looked about to swallow his tongue. “Fine. At the end of that time, when you left the bar, did you think you were drunk?”
Hannah expected Finch to ask Brian how many drinks he’d consumed in that time. When he didn’t, she figured he was starting to fear Brian’s answers. She couldn’t blame him. Brian’s testimony was strangely unsettling.… Of course, it was favorable for the prosecution, but why on earth was he making statements that might harm his case?
Finch was waiting for an answer. “Do you understand the question, Mr. Wesley?”
Brian nodded and then caught himself. “Yes. I understand. I don’t know that I really thought about it, to be honest. I drank a lot, and I wanted to get home.”
“So you didn’t think you were drunk, correct?”
Matt leaned forward slightly, as though he were about to object, but he waited, poised on the edge of his seat.
Brian’s face grew red. “Listen, man, don’t put words in my mouth.”
A hush fell over the courtroom, and Finch stared at Brian, clearly stunned. In a strained voice he requested a moment alone with his client.
The jury was ushered out, and for ten minutes Brian and his attorney talked in hushed but heated tones. Hannah sat stone-still as she watched them reach some kind of apparent agreement.
“Your honor, we’re ready for the jury again.” Finch wiped a layer of perspiration off his forehead and shot a glare at Brian.
Hannah’s head was spinning. What was happening? Why was Brian suddenly fighting with his own attorney? Then it struck her, and she leaned toward Carol. “It’s an act!”
Carol considered her. “Maybe.”
“Carol, come on! Don’t you see it? They make it look like Finch is the bad guy, the slimy defense attorney. Brian’s the guy who’s trying to come clean, trying to be straight with the jury. The jury sympathizes with him, and we lose the conviction. It’s all an act!”
Carol looked from Brian to Finch and back to Hannah. “Let’s watch and see what happens.”
The jury was back in place, and Finch’s friendliness seemed forced as he phrased his next question. “Were you drunk when you left the bar that afternoon, Mr. Wesley?”
Brian leaned back in the witness stand. “I might have been. I didn’t think about it.”
“Okay.” Finch stayed near the stand. His hands twitched at hi
s sides, and Hannah thought he looked like he might strangle Brian if he gave anymore unexpected answers. “Did you plan to leave the bar that afternoon—maybe drunk—and drive your car through a red light on Ventura Boulevard?”
“No.” The sadness on Brian’s face pierced Hannah. It was an image that didn’t fit into the category of behaviors she had assigned him. He was an animal. Animals didn’t look sad.
“Did you plan to kill Tom and Alicia Ryan on the afternoon of August 28?”
“No …” Brian’s voice dropped off, and when he spoke again Hannah watched everyone in the courtroom strain to hear him. “It was an accident.”
Finch shot a satisfied look at the jury, dabbed at another layer of perspiration, and then turned to Judge Horowitz. “No further questions, your honor.”
Matt rose slowly to his feet and studied Brian for a moment. “Did you know that drinking shots of whiskey and glasses of beer would affect your blood alcohol level, Mr. Wesley?”
“Yes.”
Matt nodded and moved slowly toward the jury. He turned back to Brian. “Did you know it was against the law to drive a vehicle with an elevated blood alcohol level?”
“Yes.” Brian seemed defeated and Hannah felt smugly glad. This is just the beginning, buddy.
“Did you sign a statement promising to never drink and drive and agreeing with the fact that to do so was to risk the lives of innocent motorists?” Matt’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
“Yeah, I knew it.”
Matt nodded again. “And you chose to do it anyway, is that right?”
“Yes. It was a stupid mistake.”
“Just stick to the question, Mr. Wesley. Did you choose to do those things regardless of the consequences, yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Wesley, Webster’s Dictionary defines accident as a tragic event that does not involve fault. Do you understand that definition?”
“I think so … yes.”
What in the world was going on? Brian was clearly not fighting his own cause on the stand. Hannah shifted uneasily in her seat.
“Based on that definition—a tragic event that does not involve fault—can you honestly tell us that what happened on the afternoon of August 28 was an accident?”
Brian paused for a moment, and Hannah could see that he was wrestling with his answer. “No.”
At the quiet admission, Hannah’s mouth went dry, and her heart beat so hard she thought it might explode. Had Brian Wesley just said what she thought he’d said?
He met Matt’s gaze without flinching. “Based on that definition, I can’t … I can’t call it an accident.”
Reporters stationed along the back of the courtroom began scribbling furiously as a hum of discussion broke out among those in attendance.
“Order!” Judge Horowitz glared at the gallery. “I will not have you disrupt this court.” He looked at Matt. “Continue.”
“No further questions, your honor.” Matt shot an amazed look at Hannah, and then returned to his spot at the table.
Finch worked the rest of the day trying to undo the damage done by Brian’s admission that the crash hadn’t been an accident, but it was useless. Hannah didn’t know what kind of act they were playing, but whatever it was it had backfired.
If the trial ended now, Hannah felt certain they’d win their conviction.
The week dragged on with a physicist testifying that Brian’s blood alcohol may have been lower than the police test showed because of the rate of alcohol absorption into the bloodstream. On cross-examination, the witness admitted that Brian’s blood alcohol may have been higher, as well.
“A waste,” Matt told Hannah when court was adjourned for the day. “Nothing that’ll hurt the case.”
“So things still look good?” Hannah felt stronger in Matt’s presence, as if being near him brought her closer to a point of healing.
“Yes.” Matt patted her hand and then hesitated. “Hannah … how’s Jenny?”
She started and stared at him. Jenny? She hadn’t thought of Jenny in days. Weeks …
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Still moping, still riding her bike aimlessly around town, pretending she’s a loner.”
Matt sighed. “Be careful, Hannah. She’s still a little girl. She needs you.”
I need her, too. She blocked out the thought. “You don’t understand. She’s different than … than before the … than before. I can’t reach her anymore.”
“Okay.” Matt looked troubled. “I don’t mean to meddle. I’m worried, that’s all.” He was silent a moment. “I’m still praying for her.”
Hannah resisted any overt show of doubt. She looked deep into Matt’s eyes trying to understand how he could maintain his faith in light of the pain all around him. “Whatever makes you feel better, Matt.”
On Thursday morning, Finch called his last witness, Carla Wesley. Hannah studied the young woman through critical eyes. Brian Wesley’s wife had a good figure, but was otherwise hard and unattractive, with dark circles under her eyes.
White trash. Hannah glared at Carla as she took the stand and hated her for choosing to love a man like Brian Wesley. Judge not, lest you be judged.… Hannah pushed the Scripture from her mind. How long would it take before Bible verses no longer flashed at her?
Finch established who the woman was and that she and Brian were no longer living together. Carla testified that she had been aware of Brian’s drinking problem. Then Finch moved to the heart of the issue.
“Was Brian a violent man, Mrs. Wesley?” Finch leaned against the jury box.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. Could you repeat the answer?”
Carla fidgeted in her seat and glanced at Brian, who kept his gaze downward. “No. He was not a violent man.”
“Was he an angry man?” Finch appeared confused, as if he were trying to solve a difficult riddle.
“No. He wasn’t angry.”
Finch nodded, still puzzled. “Then he must have had tendencies toward murder, is that it, Mrs. Wesley?”
Carla shook her head quickly. “No, of course not. Brian was always …” She glanced at her husband, and for an instant Hannah saw their eyes meet. “He was always a gentleman.”
Hannah huffed softly. Gentleman. Brian and his wife were equally worthless as far as she was concerned.
Finch scratched his head. “The prosecution is trying to convict your husband of intentionally killing two people, Mrs. Wesley. You’ve known him many, many years. Certainly you would know if he had ever planned to kill someone. Would you say you know Mr. Wesley very well?”
Carla’s eyes filled with tears, and a smudge of mascara appeared under her right eye. Her voice was choked when she answered. “Yes. I know Brian very well.”
“So you would know if he had homicidal tendencies, the desire or intention to kill someone?”
Matt had been observing the proceedings passively, but now he rose to his feet. “Your honor, I object to the last question. Mrs. Wesley cannot testify as to the intentions of her husband. Mr. Finch knows that. The witness needs to stick with what she personally observed or heard him say.”
Judge Horowitz nodded. “Objection sustained. Disregard the last question.”
Finch paced for a moment and wound up a bit closer to Carla than before. “Mrs. Wesley, did you ever hear your husband say he intended to kill those people?”
Carla batted at an errant tear making its way down her cheek. She sniffed and shot another look at Brian. “No. Brian had a drinking problem, but he never wanted to kill anyone.”
For an instant, Hannah felt a pang of empathy for Carla Wesley. Both women had lost, and neither of their lives had turned out the way they’d planned. Hannah swallowed hard and her compassion dissolved. Still, that woman had chosen to marry a creep like Brian. It was difficult to feel sorry for her.
Finch made his way back to the table. “No further questions, your honor.”
Matt rose once mor
e and nodded politely at Carla Wesley. His tone was kind. “Mrs. Wesley, did you ever warn your husband about his drinking problem?”
Carla gulped and stared at her hands for a moment. “Yes. Lots of times.” She looked up at Matt again. “But he was an alcoholic. He couldn’t stop drinking—” she glanced at Brian—“not even for me.”
Matt nodded. “Very well. And did you ever warn your husband that if he didn’t stop drinking and driving, he was going to kill someone?”
Hannah held her breath.
Carla paused, clearly unwilling to answer.
“Answer the question, please, Mrs. Wesley.” Judge Horowitz sounded impatient, ready to see the testimony finished.
Carla sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Yes. I warned him.”
“You warned your husband many times that he had a drinking problem, and you warned him that if he didn’t stop drinking and driving he was going to kill someone. Is that right, Mrs. Wesley?”
Carla refused to look at Brian as she nodded. “Yes.” Another tear fell onto her cheek. “I warned him.”
Hannah shot a look at the jury and saw they were caught up in the implications of Carla’s testimony. Matt cleared his throat and continued. “You warned him, but he did it anyway, is that right?”
“Yes, obviously.” Carla pursed her lips and sat up straighter in the witness stand. Hannah wondered about Carla Wesley’s mother. Where had she gone wrong in raising Carla to marry a man like Brian Wesley. What about your own daughter? Hannah was startled by the sudden question that rattled through her mind. Jenny is fine. We’ll have time together after the trial. The voice vanished as quickly as it had come.
Matt nodded again. “Thank you, Mrs. Wesley. No further questions, your honor.”
“Call your next witness.” Judge Horowitz waved a hand toward Finch.
Finch rose, pausing momentarily, then, “The defense rests, your honor.”
Hannah exhaled slowly. It was over. No more surprises, no more questioning. It was finally over.
“Very well then.” Judge Horowitz adjusted his glasses, drew a deep breath, and directed his gaze first at Finch and then at Matt. “We will take a brief break until 2 P.M. At that time we will hear closing arguments.” He banged his gavel and left through a door behind his chair.