Rage of Angels. Sidney Sheldon

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СКАЧАТЬ us examine the phrase, ‘in cold blood’. Murder for any reason is as distasteful to me as I know it is to you. But sometimes murders are committed for reasons we can at least understand. Let’s say that someone with a weapon is threatening your loved one – a child, or a husband or a wife. Well, if you had a gun you might pull that trigger in order to save your loved one’s life. You and I might not condone that kind of thing, but I’m sure we can at least understand it. Or, let’s take another example. If you were suddenly awakened in the middle of the night by an intruder threatening your life and you had a chance to kill him to save yourself, and you killed him – well, I think we can all understand how that might happen. And that wouldn’t make us desperate criminals or evil people, would it? It was something we did in the heat of the moment.’ Di Silva’s voice hardened. ‘But cold-blooded murder is something else again. To take the life of another human being, without the excuse of any feelings or passions, to do it for money or drugs or the sheer pleasure of killing –’

      He was deliberately prejudicing the jury, yet not overstepping the bounds, so that there could be no error calling for mistrial or reversal.

      Jennifer watched the faces of the jurors, and there was no question but that Robert Di Silva had them. They were agreeing with every word he said. They shook their heads and nodded and frowned. They did everything but applaud him. He was an orchestra leader and the jury was his orchestra. Jennifer had never seen anything like it. Every time the District Attorney mentioned Abraham Wilson’s name – and he mentioned it with almost every sentence – the jury automatically looked over at the defendant. Jennifer had cautioned Wilson not to look at the jury. She had drilled it into him over and over again that he was to look anywhere in the courtroom except at the jury box, because the air of defiance he exuded was enraging. To her horror now, Jennifer found that Abraham Wilson’s eyes were fastened on the jury box, locking eyes with the jurors. Aggression seemed to be pouring out of him.

      Jennifer said in a low voice, ‘Abraham …’

      He did not turn.

      The District Attorney was finishing his opening address. ‘The Bible says, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” That is vengeance. The State is not asking for vengeance. It is asking for justice. Justice for the poor man whom Abraham Wilson cold-bloodedly – cold-bloodedly – murdered. Thank you.’

      The District Attorney took his seat.

      As Jennifer rose to address the jury, she could feel their hostility and impatience. She had read books about how lawyers were able to read juries’ minds, and she had been skeptical. But no longer. The message from the jury was coming at her loudly and clearly. They had already decided her client was guilty, and they were impatient because Jennifer was wasting their time, keeping them in court when they could be out doing more important things, as their friend the District Attorney had pointed out. Jennifer and Abraham Wilson were the enemy.

      Jennifer took a deep breath and said, ‘If Your Honor please,’ and then she turned back to the jurors. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the reason we have courtrooms, the reason we are all here today, is because the law, in its wisdom, knows that there are always two sides to every case. Listening to the District Attorney’s attack on my client, listening to him pronounce my client guilty without benefit of a jury’s verdict – your verdict – one would not think so.’

      She looked into their faces for a sign of sympathy or support. There was none. She forced herself to go on. ‘District Attorney Di Silva used the phrase over and over, “Abraham Wilson is guilty.” That is a lie. Judge Waldman will tell you that no defendant is guilty until a judge or jury declares that he is guilty. That is what we are all here to find out, isn’t it? Abraham Wilson has been charged with murdering a fellow inmate at Sing Sing. But Abraham Wilson did not kill for money or for dope. He killed to save his own life. You remember those clever examples that the District Attorney gave you when he explained the difference between killing in cold blood and in hot blood. Killing in hot blood is when you’re protecting someone you love, or when you’re defending yourself. Abraham Wilson killed in self-defense, and I tell you now that any of us in this courtroom, under identical circumstances, would have done exactly the same thing.

      ‘The District Attorney and I agree on one point: Every man has the right to protect his own life. If Abraham Wilson had not acted exactly as he did, he would be dead.’ Jennifer’s voice was ringing with sincerity. She had forgotten her nervousness in the passion of her conviction. ‘I ask each of you to remember one thing: Under the law of this state, the prosecution must prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the act of killing was not committed in self-defense. And before this trial is over we will present solid evidence to show you that Raymond Thorpe was killed in order to prevent his murdering my client. Thank you.’

      

      The parade of witnesses for the State began. Robert Di Silva had not missed a single opportunity. His character witnesses for the deceased, Raymond Thorpe, included a minister, prison guards and fellow convicts. One by one they took the stand and testified to the sterling character and pacific disposition of the deceased.

      Each time the District Attorney was finished with a witness, he turned to Jennifer and said, ‘Your witness.’

      And each time Jennifer replied, ‘No cross-examination.’

      She knew that there was no point in trying to discredit the character witnesses. By the time they were finished, one would have thought that Raymond Thorpe had been wrongfully deprived of sainthood. The guards, who had been carefully coached by Robert Di Silva, testified that Thorpe had been a model prisoner who went around Sing Sing doing good works, intent only on helping his fellow man. The fact that Raymond Thorpe was a convicted bank robber and rapist was a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect character.

      What badly damaged Jennifer’s already weak defense was the physical description of Raymond Thorpe. He had been a slightly built man, only five feet nine inches tall. Robert Di Silva dwelt on that, and he never let the jurors forget it. He painted a graphic picture of how Abraham Wilson had viciously attacked the smaller man and had smashed Thorpe’s head against a concrete building in the exercise yard, instantly killing him. As Di Silva spoke, the jurors’ eyes were fastened on the giant figure of the defendant sitting at the table, dwarfing everyone near him.

      

      The District Attorney was saying, ‘We’ll probably never know what caused Abraham Wilson to attack this harmless, defenseless little man –’

      And Jennifer’s heart suddenly leaped. One word that Di Silva had said had given her the chance she needed.

      ‘– We may never know the reason for the defendant’s vicious attack, but one thing we do know, ladies and gentlemen – it wasn’t because the murdered man was a threat to Abraham Wilson.

      ‘Self-defense?’ He turned to Judge Waldman. ‘Your Honor, would you please direct the defendant to rise?’

      Judge Waldman looked at Jennifer. ‘Does counsel for the defense have any objection?’

      Jennifer had an idea what was coming, but she knew that any objection on her part could only be damaging. ‘No, Your Honor.’

      Judge Waldman said, ‘Will the defendant rise, please?’

      Abraham Wilson sat there a moment, his face defiant; then he slowly rose to his full height of six feet four inches.

      Di Silva said, ‘There is a court clerk here, Mr Galin, who is five feet nine inches tall, the exact height of the murdered man, Raymond Thorpe. Mr Galin, would you please go over and stand next to the defendant?’

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