The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(94)

Cutler continued to peer at the hornbook, running his finger along the page and whispering to himself. Finally, he looked up from the page. “OK, Mr Drake, I’m going to allow you to continue, but I’m not yet sure whether I’m going to allow Ms Batson’s opinions to come in. That will depend on what you’re asking her about. Mr Tyler, you are welcome to object when the opinions are asked for.” He turned to Rick. “Please proceed.”

Rick walked back to the board, pointing at the number he’d written on it. “Ms Batson, you’ve made the left turn from Highway 82 onto Limestone Bottom over fourteen thousand times.”

“Yes.”

“And is that the same turn you saw Bob Bradshaw making, the day of September 2, 2009?”

“Yes, it is.”

“In the over fourteen thousand times you’ve made this turn, have you ever started to turn and then seen that a car was coming in the other direction?”

“Objection, your honor,” Tyler was out of his seat again. “Ms Batson’s experience with this turn is irrelevant.”

Rick smiled, not looking at Tyler. “Your honor, Ms Batson’s experience with this turn establishes the foundation for the opinions I want to ask her about.”

“Overruled. Let’s get on with it, Mr Drake.”

“Ms Batson, you may answer the question.”

“Several times, yes. I can’t give you a number or nothing, but that has happened before. There is a little dip in the road about a hundred yards from the light and when a car is in that dip, it can be hard to see. A couple of times, I haven’t seen the car, and barely missed having a wreck.”

Rick shot Tom a look, and his face said it all. Now. Rick turned to the witness, noticing that Tyler had already stood behind him, ready to object.

“Ms Batson, you have testified in this case that the rig was a hundred yards away from Bob Bradshaw’s Honda when the Honda began its turn, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So was the rig in the dip you were talking about?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ms Batson, based on the over fourteen thousand times you’ve made the same left turn that Bob Bradshaw was attempting, in your opinion, could Bradshaw have seen the rig before he started his turn?”

“Objection, your honor,” Tyler said. “May we–”

“Overruled,” Cutler said, cutting him off. “You can answer the question, Ms Batson.”

“It’s just impossible to tell,” Rose said, looking right at the jury. “I don’t see how anybody could say one way or another. We’re talking about split seconds. It’s happened to me several times, and I’ve never been hit because the other car wasn’t hauling ass. With how fast that rig was moving–”

“Objection, your honor.” Tyler was out of his seat, his face as red as his tie. “Ms Batson’s answer has gone beyond the scope of the question. I’d ask that any comments regarding the rig’s speed be stricken.”

“Sustained,” Cutler said. “The jury will disregard Ms Batson’s description of the rig’s speed.”

Rick nodded, knowing it didn’t matter. Like they can forget.

“Thank you, Ms Batson. I have no further questions.”



It was all Rick could do not to give a fist pump as he walked back to the counsel table. I can’t believe it worked. But he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. The minute Judge Cutler started flipping through his copy of McMurtrie’s Evidence, Tyler didn’t have a prayer. It was like arguing with Moses over the Ten Commandments.

As Rick took his seat, Tom nudged him with his elbow. “Great job,” Tom said. “That’s one down.”

And one to go, Rick thought, glancing at his cell phone. There was still no word from Faith. Given the brevity of Tyler’s cross examinations, Rick figured they had fifteen minutes before they would have to call their next witness.

Our last witness.

Rick reached into his front pocket and touched the photograph of the Bradshaw family. Then he looked at Ruth Ann. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, but she gazed stoically at the witness stand. It’s almost over, Rick wanted to tell her, feeling an ache in his heart for this woman who had lost so much.

All she wanted was the jury to know the truth.

And there was still a chance they might know. A small chance, but... a chance.

Rick squeezed his phone and began to pray. Fifteen minutes.



“Ms Batson, you’re not an accident reconstructionist, are you?” Tyler asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I don’t even know what that is. I run a gas station. Damn good one too.”

“You’ve never had any instruction on how to analyze an automobile accident for fault, have you?”

“I reckon not.”

“You’ve never investigated an automobile accident?”

“No.”

“You have no idea whether Bob Bradshaw should have seen Dewey Newton’s rig on September 2, 2009?”

“Like I said, it’s impossible to tell. We talkin’ split seconds.”

“You saw Bob Bradshaw’s Honda turn directly in front of the rig, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”