"Have you ever lied under oath?"
Casey plays the card. Takes a drink of water, and the next words out of his mouth are, "Mr. Smith, have you ever lied under oath?"
It's the old husband joke. It doesn't matter whether Jack answers yes or no. Either way he's screwed.
Casey didn't want to do it. He'd hoped that Jack would have just laid down on direct exam and let his case fade away. Should have gone down for the count but came out swinging instead, so now Casey has to go for the knockout punch and he hates doing it.
Especially when he sees Jack flush.
Jack can feel himself turning red. My goddamn shame, he thinks, blazing red under my skin.
The jurors see it. They lean forward to get a better look.
Jack can feel their eyes.
Burning into him.
Peters jumps to her feet.
"Objection, Your Honor! Relevance?"
"Goes to the witness's credibility, Your Honor."
"Prejudicial, Your Honor," Peters says. "More heat than light."
Mallon looks at the lawyers, then down at Jack.
"Overruled," he said. "You may proceed."
Casey asks again, "Mr. Smith, have you ever lied under oath?"
Get it over with, Jack thinks.
Take the hit.
"Yes," he says.
And leaves it at that.
He and Casey look at each other for a minute. Casey giving him this look like If you had only stayed on the mat, but…
"That was in connection with an arson trial, wasn't it?" Casey asks.
"That's right."
Casey asks, "You lied about how you obtained a confession, didn't you."
"Yes."
"You swore under oath" Casey says, "that you hadn't coerced the confession when you had, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"In fact, you beat a confession out of a suspect, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then told the court that you hadn't."
"Yes."
"And that was a lie."
"That was a lie."
"You told other lies, didn't you?" Casey asks. Thinking, Sorry, Jack, but believe it or not, I'm trying to save your ass. And your job. "You told other lies, right?"
"Yes."
"You lied about evidence, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"You said that you found evidence at the fire scene, correct?"
"Yes."
"But you hadn't found it at the scene, had you?"
"No."
"How did the evidence get to that fire scene?" Casey asks.
Jack says, "I planted it there."
Jurors shake their heads.
Hands pressing down on the joysticks.
Casey starts to kick the ball downhill. Short questions, rapid fire, all while he looks at the jury, his back to the witness.
"You planted it there," Casey says.
"That's correct."
"You went out and got a gasoline can."
"Yes."
"And you forced the suspect to place his fingerprints on the can."
"Yes."
"And you took the can to the scene."
"Yes."
"And photographed it there."
"Yes."
"And then swore that you had found it there during your initial inspection, isn't that right?"
"That's what happened."
Casey says, "You planted phony evidence because you thought the suspect was guilty, you were 'damn sure,' but you needed physical evidence to confirm that the fire was of incendiary origin, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
Keeping up the pace, he turns to face Jack.
"Now, you testified earlier that you took debris samples from my client's home," Casey says, "and that these samples tested positive for accelerants, is that right?"
"Yes."
"The fire inspector, Deputy Bentley, found clean samples, isn't that right?" Casey asks.
"That's what he says."
"He was at the scene first?"
"Yes."
"Before you."
Jack says, "He was there when I arrived."
"The alleged 'dirty' samples only showed up after you got there, isn't that right?" Casey asks.
"I took the samples from the house."
"And the holes in the floor," Casey says. "The fire inspector didn't see those, did he?"
"He didn't do a dig-out."
"There's no mention of them in his report, is there?"
"No."
"They only appear after you show up, isn't that true?" Casey asks.
"They 'show up' after I did the dig-out," Jack says.
"It would have been pretty easy to punch out those holes self, wouldn't it?"
"I didn't do that."
"Pretty easy to pour a little accelerant into the joists and light a match."
"That's ridiculous, counselor."
"Pretty easy to bring your own contaminated samples to the scene and photograph them there."
"That didn't happen."
"You swear?"
"Yes."
"Just like you swore before, right?" Casey says.
"Objection!"
"Sustained."
"Same oath, wasn't it, Mr. Smith?"
"Knock it off, Mr. Casey," Mallon says.
Casey nods and takes a drink of water. Makes a little show of getting his righteous indignation under control.
Then he ups the ante. To show the corporate mucks behind the mirror that they can't just dump Jack and walk away from this thing, he ties a tail onto management.
"You were convicted of perjury, isn't that right?" he asks.
"I pled guilty to several counts of perjury."
"And you were thrown out of the Sheriff's Department," Casey says, "for perjuring yourself, beating up a suspect, and planting phony evidence, isn't that right, Mr. Smith?"
"That's correct."
"And shortly after that," Casey says, "California Fire and Life hired you, right?"
Casey looks right into the mirror to make sure the boys in the back get the point.
They do. They're looking at a monitor that's Negative 10 all the way.
"Yes," Jack says.
"Did they know about your record?"
"The man who hired me was aware of my record."
"In fact," Casey says, "he sat through the trial in which you perjured yourself, right?"
"I believe so."
"He knew you were a liar," Casey says.
"Yes."
"A brutal cop."
"Yes."
"That you would plant phony evidence to nail an alleged arsonist."
"He was at the trial."
"And he hired you anyway."
"Yes."
"And he hired you specifically to handle large fire losses for California Fire and Life, isn't that right?"
"That was one of his reasons."
"Does this gentleman still work for California Fire and Life?" Casey asks, looking to the jury.
Several of whom are shaking their heads.
"He does."
"In what capacity?"
"He's the head of Claims."
Jury goes nuts. Pushing the hammer down on those joysticks, shaking their heads; one guy says out loud, "Unreal."
"And he's your boss now, right?" Casey asks.
"Yes."
"Did he supervise your investigation of my client's claim?"
"Yes."
"Have you in any way been punished for what you did in this investigation?" Casey asks.
"No."
"Suspended?"
"No."
"Criticized?"
"No."
Casey looks back into the mirror as he asks, "So this is the way California Fire and Life wants you to handle its claim, right? Strike that question. No further questions. Thank you."
"You may step down, Mr. Smith."
Casey says, "I'm sorry, one further question. Mr. Smith, if you had to handle my client's claim all over again, would you do anything differently?"
It's the standard cross-exam wrap-up question. Another trap where you don't care what the guy answers. If he answers that he wouldn't do anything differently, you get to tell the jury that this arrogant bozo would do the same bad things again if he had the chance. If he says that he would do something different, you get to tell the jury that by the witness's own account, he screwed up.
Jack knows it's over. Can see it in the jurors' eyes. They're looking at him like he's a criminal. They're shocked and pissed off and they're going to award poor tragedy-stricken Mr. White at least $25 million.
And he knows what's going on in the back room. The corporate boys are pissing all over themselves, hopping up and down on one foot they're so eager to lay the Green Poultice on this gaping wound and give Nicky Vale $50 million.
So he says, "Yes, I would. Do something different."
"What would you do?"
Jack turns to the jury, to make eye contact.
"I'd kill the son of a bitch."
Then he gets up and walks out.