“So, you were only joking?”
“Yes. I never dreamed…”
“Would you describe yourself as a good husband?”
“As good a husband as I could be. I tried to be, I really did try to be a good husband.”
“And how would you describe your affair with Constance Perkins in the context of being a good husband?”
“As a mistake. I knew it was wrong. That’s what the weekend was for. To put an end to it. To break it off.”
“How did Ms. Perkins react when you told her the relationship was over?”
“She was angry. Very angry. I guess she still is.”
From my position on the witness stand, I am the first to see Leo when he opens the door to the courtroom. I have to suppress a mischievous grin when I see him. His chest is comically puffed out in a parody of righteous pride. He makes his way down the aisle, but he doesn’t stop to take a seat. Spectators crane their heads to see him. It is quite dramatic, almost overly so, but, I must confess, I had at that time grown most fond of high drama.
He approaches the bench, still beaming with righteousness. “Your Honor, I have new evidence that directly relates to this trial. It will affect the outcome of this trial. I respectfully ask the court’s permission to confer with Adam Lee.”
The courtroom is silent. I know this will be Leo’s finest hour. The entire court stares at him. The judge’s expression is almost comical. “Are you kidding?” he asks. I try my best to look as amazed as the others. I hope the sketch artist can adequately capture my astonishment. If this isn’t front-page material, then nothing is.
Leo stands boldly before the judge and takes a deep breath, and for one horrifying moment I am certain that he will lose his nerve, whimper mildly, and slink away. But I have not underestimated Mr. Hewitt; he performs admirably. “No, sir,” he says to the judge. “I am not kidding. I am in possession of evidence that could directly affect the outcome of this trial.”
Monty, as if on cue, rushes forward. He too plays his part with aplomb. “Your Honor, we have no wish to speak with this… individual. We respectfully ask that you have him removed from the courtroom.”
Ms. Manning grins stupidly and nods her head in silent agreement. If it were in my power to give the judge a gavel that he could use to shake at Leo as he spoke, I would, but some things are beyond my control. The judge’s voice, however, carries more dramatic weight than any prop ever could. “Sir, you may leave this courtroom voluntarily, or-”
And now for the reversal. Everything shifts. What you think will happen does not; in fact, just the opposite occurs. The one thing no one in the audience expects to happen, happens. I speak. And I say the one thing no one expects me to say. “No,” I say, and all heads turn toward me. “I want to talk with him.”
“Absolutely not!” Monty bellows. I smile at him.
“Bailiff, please escort the jury out of the courtroom until we can get this mess settled.” The bailiff does so, and Leo crosses the stage to confer with me. We hold our heads together and he whispers dark secrets to me, secrets I already know. We both turn our heads when Ms. Manning speaks to the judge.
“Your Honor, this is highly unusual.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Ms. Manning, he’s a member of your team. Correct?” Ms. Manning doesn’t respond. The judge looks past her to the district attorney. “He does work for your office, doesn’t he, Mr. Fox?”
Fox begins to respond, but I interrupt him, concerned that he may ad-lib, insert a line that isn’t in the script. “Your Honor,” I say, “based on information I’ve just received, I would like to dismiss my attorney.”
Monty is in shock, as well he should be. “Adam, are you crazy?”
The judge sighs and hangs his head. “I’m inclined to agree with your brother, Mr. Lee. This is crazy. This isn’t a Perry Mason novel. I’m not the cantankerous old judge with a heart of gold. In fact, I’m starting to get angry.”
Ms. Manning is having none of it. “He’s about to be found guilty of murder; of course he wants to change counsel.”
“Do I have the right to dismiss my attorney or not?” I ask. The judge sighs, and I know that suddenly he has allowed me to recast him. He is the cantankerous old judge with a heart of gold.
“Oh, you have the right all right, but let me tell you right now, we’re not stopping this trial. Ms. Manning is correct. This looks an awful lot like the actions of a desperate man.”
“Fine. The trial goes on. I dismiss my attorney, Montgomery Lee.”
“Adam!”
“And name as my new attorney Leo Hewitt.”
“Adam, what in the name of God are you doing? This is insanity!”
I ignore Monty and study Leo instead. He backs away from me and shakes his head. He is scared. He hadn’t bargained on me calling him to task, but I have faith in my loyal and trusty servant.
We all wait for his assent or dissent, but he offers neither. He merely stares at me and imperceptibly shakes his head.
The judge asks, “Well, Mr. Hewitt? Are you Adam Lee’s attorney or not?”
“He can’t,” the Manning woman says, her carefully applied makeup not coming close to disguising the purple bloom of anger in her flesh. She says each word with deliberate, barely controlled fury. “He works for the district attorney’s office.”
Still no word from Leo. We all wait. But, as I said, I have faith.
“Well?” the judge asks.
Leo breaks his silence and says, “No.”
Ms. Manning smiles wickedly. The flush retreats from her face, leaving scarlet trails down her neck. She believes she has won. She believes in Leo’s weakness. For one uneasy moment, I too believe she has won, but, like her, I also believe in Leo’s weakness, and know that all is not lost.
Leo turns to look directly in Ms. Manning’s eyes. “No. I don’t work for the district attorney’s office. I quit.” He turns now to the judge. “And to answer your question, Judge Cray, yes, I am Adam Lee’s attorney, and, in light of new evidence, I would like to dismiss Adam Lee as the defense’s final witness and call instead Mr. Montgomery Lee to the stand.”