Defending Jacob(52)

Jonathan was brought up short, chastened. “All right, Jacob, your mother’s right. Maybe we’d better stop right here. I don’t mean to upset you. But I want you to think about something. This whole story of yours might have sounded good when you told it in your head, when you were alone in your room. But things tend to sound different under cross-examination. And I promise you, what we’re doing here is a walk in the park next to what Neal Logiudice will do to you if you take the stand. I’m on your side; Logiudice isn’t. I’m also a nice guy; Logiudice—well, he has a job to do. Now, I think what you’re about to tell me is that, faced with this body lying facedown with blood flooding out of three gaping chest wounds, you somehow managed to stick your arm underneath the body so that you could leave a single thumbprint inside Ben’s sweatshirt—yet when you pulled your arm out again there was not a trace of blood on it, so that when you showed up at school a few minutes later no one thought anything was amiss. Now, if you were a juror, what would you think about that story?”

“But it’s true. Not the details—you messed me up on the details. He wasn’t lying, like, totally facedown, and it wasn’t like blood was gushing all over. It just wasn’t like that. That’s just you, you know, playing games. I’m telling the truth.”

“Jacob, I’m sorry I upset you. But I am not playing games.”

“I swear to God, it’s the truth.”

“Okay. I understand.”

“No. You’re calling me a liar.”

Jonathan did not respond. It is, of course, the last resort of a liar to challenge his inquisitor to call him a liar directly. Worse, there was an edge in Jacob’s voice. It might have been the hint of a threat or it might have been a terrified boy near tears.

I said, “Jake, it’s all right. Jonathan has a job to do.”

“I know, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“It’s okay. He’ll be your lawyer whether he believes you or not. Defense lawyers are like that.” I gave Jacob a wink.

“What about my trial? How am I going to get up there?”

“You’re not,” I said. “You’re not going anywhere near that witness stand. You’re going to sit at the defense table and the only reason you’re going to get up is to go home at night.”

Jonathan slipped in, “I think that’s wise.”

“But how will I tell my story?”

“Jacob, I don’t know if you’ve been listening to yourself the last few minutes. You cannot take the stand.”

“Then what’s my defense?”

Jonathan said, “We don’t have to present a defense. We have no burden. The burden is entirely on the prosecution. We’re going to attack their case at every turn, Jacob, until there’s nothing left of it. That’s our defense.”

“Dad?”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s going to be enough, Jonathan. We can’t just throw a few spitballs at Logiudice’s case. He has the thumbprint, he has the witness who puts a knife in Jacob’s hand. We’re going to have to do more. We have to give those jurors something.”

“So what do you suggest I do, Andy?”

“I just think maybe we need to consider presenting a real, affirmative defense.”

“Love to. What do you have in mind? As far as I can see, all the evidence points one way.”

“What about Patz? The jury should at least hear about him. Give them the real killer.”

“The real killer? Oh, my. How do we prove that?”

“We’ll hire a detective to dig into it.”

“Dig into what? Patz? There’s nothing there. When you were in the DA’s office, you had the state police, every local police department, the FBI, CIA, KGB, NASA.”

“We always had less resources than you defense guys imagined.”

“Maybe. But you had more than you have now, and you never found anything. What’s a private detective going to do that a dozen state police detectives couldn’t?”

I had no answer.

“Andy, look, I know you understand that the defense has no burden of proof. You know it, but I’m not entirely sure you believe it. This is how the game is played from the other side. We don’t get to pick our clients, we don’t get to just drop a case if the evidence isn’t there. So this is our case.” He gestured toward the papers in front of him. “We play the cards we’re dealt. We have no choice.”

“Then we have to find some new cards.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Up our sleeves.”

“I note,” Jonathan drawled, “that you are wearing a short-sleeve shirt.”





15 | Playing Detective


At the Starbucks in Newton Centre, Sarah Groehl had plugged herself into a MacBook. Seeing me, she disengaged herself from the computer, canting her head left then right to remove her earphones, just as women do when they take off earrings. She looked at me sleepily, blinking, rousing herself from a Web-trance.

“Hi, Sarah. Am I disturbing you?”

“No, I was just … I don’t know.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“About what?

I gave her a look: Come on. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”