The Trials of Max Q, page 27
“I’m sorry for what your husband did, but it’s my job to review the evidence and present it to a court. The evidence tells me that Drew murdered Laney Bang, and you coming down here to try to sway me isn’t going to work.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Jack! Key pieces of evidence just mysteriously fall into your lap? Including a video that a person would need intimate knowledge of Anderson Estate to be able to make. A witness with a connection to the incident at Florida State, or at least knowledge of it. How about you take your blinders off for a minute and tell me what the link is.”
I say nothing, but I know who she’s talking about. It’s been bugging me since Florida. Ryan Maxon.
“I can’t have this conversation,” I say.
“A conversation is an exchange of ideas between two people—this is me talking to a wall.”
Marissa stands to leave. Like a good lawyer, she’s made her point and lingering can only diminish it. She begins to walk away.
She turns and shouts, “Drew is innocent,” as if she is trying to convince herself.
I make a foolish decision. I get off my bar stool and catch up with her. “Let me walk you to your car.”
She acts like she doesn’t want to accept, but I’ve seen enough of her game to know she sees it as a great opportunity to plant more doubt about her husband’s guilt. We walk out into a cool, moonlit October night. All it will take is one snap by a photographer and I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.
“Sorry about that—I usually don’t get so emotional. I guess you can take the girl out of the Bronx, but not the Bronx out of the girl,” Marissa softens her tone.
She continues, “It’s just that sometimes I fool myself into feeling safe. But ever since I was a little girl, the things I love were always ripped away from me. When I watched you in that courtroom, I visualized Drew being taken from me.”
I remain quiet.
“What I would give to just feel that sense of safety. The feeling that things can’t be taken away on a whim. Now that would be true perfection.”
“Nothing is perfect, and nobody is guaranteed another breath. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
“Call me an eternal optimist, but I’ve always believed you can reach perfection in this world. That feeling of ultimate safety and stability. And I thought I found it when I met Drew. But now it’s being threatened again.”
I try to avoid eye contact, just as I have all night. But I give in, and instantly realize that I’ve made a mistake. I see Reyanne everywhere.
I also understand how the things you cherish can be ripped away, and I agree, it would be perfect if they weren’t.
I force myself to walk away.
Chapter 70
“So did you end up going out Friday night?” Shep asks me upon arriving at the courthouse Monday morning.
“Went to Touch ’Em All for a couple drinks and then home,” I reply. I leave out the part about Marissa. I don’t want to see Shep have a coronary on the courtroom steps.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about my weekend?” Shep asks.
“I thought you didn’t mix your private and professional lives?”
“Call me a changed woman. I didn’t think we would be able to get a conviction, either, but we’re going to do that.”
I notice an extra pep in her voice. I hope the elation is due to the case, but I deduce that it’s probably related to her boyfriend. I decline the details.
As we walk through security and past the daily cluster of media, it astounds me how I’ve become numb to it. It’s amazing what you can get used to. “We have a long way to go,” I say.
“Nothing we can’t handle. We’re the champ, remember?”
“We hit him with a few shots from our pellet guns, but when Anderson takes the stand he will be a nuclear weapon.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s just a figure of speech.”
She sighs. “What’s with guys and war metaphors?”
We enter the courtroom. Marissa is in her usual spot, sitting confidently behind her husband in a body-hugging red sweater. She provides me a look that seems to be held over from our meeting on Friday. I am hypnotized. I pull away before Shep has a chance to pick up on it.
The first day of defense testimony has brought out all the big guns. As if to say this is the real trial and the prosecution case was just the dress rehearsal. James Lansdale is back, and my father has made his first appearance. The only one who acknowledges my existence is a hunched over woman with snow-white hair, pulling her wood cane close to her frail body. Ethel Lawson is still trying to have her cake and eat it too.
As is custom, the defense files a motion to throw out the charges based on lack of evidence presented in the prosecution case. As is also custom, Figliomini denies the motion.
Kerri is probably eager to get Maxon back on the stand to minimize any damage that PE Albertson may have done to her client—I know I would be. But she shows surprising restraint. She’s aware that leading with him will give credence to Albertson’s testimony. Starting with the jogging witnesses, with the intent to prove Anderson’s alibi, is the prudent move.
The foundation of our case is that Drew is the only person who could have killed Laney Bang. If Kerri can prove an alibi, it’ll cripple us. If she’s successful, the jury will eventually give Shep and me a charity forty-five minute deliberation, followed by an overwhelming acquittal and a Mardi Gras style celebration on the courthouse steps by the Max Q supporters.
Each jogging witness puts Drew Anderson along his usual route within the usual time frame.
Shep does the honors on the cross-exam. The standard vanilla stuff. It was early in the morning and Anderson was a moving target for their early-morning eyes. Are you sure it was him—are you really-really sure it was him—how did you do on your last vision test?
She left out—were you paid off? We don’t dispute that Drew went for a jog that morning. The fact we disagree on is whether or not he continued on his usual route.
The problem with the defense witnesses, from our perspective, is that they all ooze credibility. A sharp contrast to the sleazy boozers and hostile witnesses we put on the stand. At this point, I comprehend how much the Aokis selling of their story to a tabloid has hurt us. They could have provided a big shot of credibility.
Finally on Tuesday morning, Kerri recalls Ryan Maxon.
I watch him closely as he walks to the stand. He looks like a college professor in tweed jacket, khakis, and his horn-rimmed glasses. His thinning brown hair is neatly matted to his head. He remains the wild card in the case.
I notice Marissa glaring at him. While I have questioned Maxon’s role, and wondered which team he is truly loyal to, Marissa insinuated that the part he played was much more sinister. She never came right out and said it, so I might be over-thinking her words, but I’m now open to all possibilities.
Kerri approaches Maxon. She tries to give the appearance of friendly restraint, but I can see that the back-alley bully dressed in Chanel is ready to pounce.
“Mr. Maxon, I would like to discuss the testimony this court heard from a man named Prince Edward Albertson. You know him, correct?”
Maxon seems uneasy, but the scripted questions allow some comfort level. “I knew him in college, but I haven’t seen him in over ten years.”
“Could you describe your relationship during those college years?”
“He was Drew’s roommate. I lived in a connected suite. We were acquaintances, but I wouldn’t call us friends. I believe he was jealous of my friendship with Drew.”
“Objection—speculation,” I shout out.
Kerri nods and revises, “How did Drew describe to you his feelings toward Mr. Albertson?”
“That he was a hanger-on. Someone always seeking the spotlight. Drew didn’t trust him.”
“So it doesn’t surprise you that Mr. Albertson shows up again after all these years, and shines a bad light on Drew and yourself?”
“Not at all.”
“Based again on what Drew told you, is Mr. Albertson the type of person who would seek out publicity for personal gain?”
“Yes he is.”
Kerri looks at the legal pad she holds in her hand, and then looks back up at Maxon like these questions are off-the-cuff. “Mr. Albertson told this court about a video made between Drew and the victim back in college. Do you recall such an event?”
“I have no recollection of any video.”
“A university investigation?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“Mr. Maxon—is it fair to say that you knew Drew Anderson as well as anyone, going back to your college years?”
“That is a fair statement.”
“Based on this unique knowledge, did he even know Laney Bang, then known as Darby Kelleher, during that time?”
Maxon again chuckles.
If I were him I wouldn’t be feeling so confident.
“Drew only had eyes for the most beautiful girls in the school, and at the time, believe it or not, Darby was more of a Plain Jane than the international sex symbol she became. Nobody really noticed Darby back then, and it’s too bad because she was …” he pauses and the chuckle turns to sadness. He wipes away tears from under his glasses. “She was a great girl … I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
Kerri pauses to give the impression she’s concerned about Maxon’s emotional state. When she determines the proper time has passed, she continues with a soft voice, “Mr. Maxon, I would like to clear something up. You told this court that you had met Laney Bang at a party in Las Vegas, but in actuality you were first introduced to her when you were in college. Could you explain this?”
Maxon again adjusts his glasses. “I have always considered Darby and Laney to be different people. Once Darby left college, I never saw her again. It was a different person I met at that New Year’s party. They might have the same DNA, but from my perspective they were as different as night and day … except that they both had a big heart.” More wiping of tears. “I should have made it clear, and I apologize if my answers were confusing to the court. But that was not my intent—I answered truthfully in my mind.”
Kerri and Maxon are in a scripted groove. “During Mr. Albertson’s testimony, the defense floated a theory that Laney Bang was blackmailing Drew, claiming this ‘Mr. Perfect’ character in her book was actually him. Being such a close confidante of hers—did your friend Laney ever mention this to you?”
“No.”
“Did she ever mention any animosity toward Drew?”
“Never.”
“Did she ever push you to meet Drew?”
“No.”
“Did she push for the meeting the night of July 23?”
“No—the meeting was my idea.”
“Had Laney Bang ever been to Anderson Estate prior to July 23?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“If she hadn’t been there prior, then how was this video filmed? Wouldn’t she have had to have been at Anderson Estate, as Amber Jazz had testified?”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t, but I don’t believe it. It’s one video, which proves she was there one time. That video could have been made the night of the meeting, after Amber and I left.”
“Being in daily contact with Drew, wouldn’t you suspect if he was having this ongoing affair, as Amber Jazz testified?”
“I knew of no affair.”
Kerri begins to pace, her heels clicking the floor in a rhythmic fashion. I can feel the storm about to arrive.
Is that thunder I hear?
Chapter 71
Kerri pauses dramatically. She stares quizzically at her legal pad, appearing confounded. She looks up at Maxon, and then back to the pad. I have seen that look before. I hope Maxon has his health insurance paid up.
“Something doesn’t make sense to me,” Kerri says, shaking her pen as if it’s helping her to think.
Maxon squirms in his seat, the tweed coat suddenly not fitting as well. I can tell this isn’t in the script.
“Don’t you find it interesting that Mr. Albertson just showed up during the prosecution’s investigation? Totally out of the blue. It boggles the mind.”
“Um … I guess.”
“What I really find interesting is that night in college that he testified of, only three people would have been present—my client, who I doubt sought out Mr. Albertson. Laney Bang, who is deceased. And of course … yourself.”
I see where this is going and vigorously object, but get no love from Figliomini.
“Come to think of it, Mr. Maxon, another piece of evidence mysteriously showed up out of the blue. The video of my client and Laney Bang. To create such a video, one would need both an intimate knowledge of Anderson Estate to be able to conceal a video camera, along with the technical ability to expertly operate the camera. Do I need to remind you that you, yourself, testified this to be accurate when asked by the prosecution.?”
“I didn’t make that video,” Maxon replies defensively.
I object, and once again get shot down.
Kerri looks at her magical legal pad. “You also testified that to the best of your knowledge, Laney Bang had never been to Anderson Estate before, which would rule her out. And you testified that my client is too technology challenged to make a video. That leaves you, Mr. Maxon.”
“I was with Amber Jazz at the Otesaga Hotel.”
“But nobody actually saw you inside your room. Isn’t it true that you played looping audio of you and Ms. Jazz at a high volume as a cover? Then you secretly returned to Anderson Estate and waited for my client to leave for his morning jog. After the deed was done, you stealthily returned to Otesaga in disguise, so that you could be seen leaving at 6:30, as if you had just emerged from your room for the first time.”
“You think I killed Laney?”
You are finally catching on, Ryan.
“You have always hated living in the shadow of my client. And you’ve always been in love with Laney Bang, do you deny this?”
Maxon says nothing. The avalanche has begun and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The only person who can save Ryan Maxon is Ryan Maxon.
Kerri takes his silence as an admission, “You couldn’t take it—could you!? Seeing them together, the love of your life with the man who always cast a shadow on you. It was too much for you to take!”
I could swear she just informed us that no such affair ever occurred. But maybe the thunder impaired my hearing.
“That’s not true—I would never hurt Laney.”
“That explains her lack of apprehension when you approached her. You were her special friend—why would she suspect you were about to stab the life out of her?”
“No!”
“If you couldn’t have her, nobody could. And you were going to let Drew pay for it. That’s the real reason you went above and beyond the call of duty to set up that meeting, isn’t it?”
“That’s not true!” Maxon shouts through sobs
“Objection—badgering the witness!” I yell. Not my witness, but I give it one last shot.
“Overruled.”
“I’ll bet if we searched your belongings we would find that missing murder weapon. Wouldn’t we, Mr. Maxon!?”
My objections continue to get shot down. Eventually I give up. I take my seat and watch the show. Like the rest of the gallery, I look on, mesmerized, as Kerri tears apart her own witness.
But then things turn interesting. Maxon’s look transforms, almost like he put on a Halloween mask over his usual droopy face. It’s the look of a man who has stared into the abyss. He now has nothing to lose, which makes him dangerous.
“Yes, I know where the murder weapon is!” Maxon screams out. The gallery rumbles. Shep and I look at each other with shock.
Maxon isn’t done. “That phone call everybody is talking about at 6:19. Well, Drew had more to say than changing the flight. He ordered me back to the estate ASAP. When I arrived by boat, he handed me a plastic bag with a bloody knife and instructed me to dispose of it.”
This time Kerri tries to object and Figliomini practically laughs in her face. Typical Lawson move—make a mess and then don’t want to clean it up.
Maxon can’t be stopped, his voice filled with betrayal, “He told me that a woman showed up and attacked Laney in a jealous rage. He claimed that she came after Laney with a knife and he was forced to act in order to save her, and ended up stabbing the woman in the scuffle. There was never any mention of anyone dying.”
Maxon inhales a series of deep breaths. “It looks like Drew’s pricey lawyer was going to set me up to take the fall. Loyal Ryan to the rescue. Lucky for me, I took real good care of that knife he gave me.” He flashes a cryptic smile at Kerri as the stunned onlookers go silent.
Kerri looks devastated. Could something ever blow up in your face more? This will be a cautionary legal fable that will be handed down from generation to generation.
I study Drew and Marissa. They are a complete contrast. He is icy, looking almost unaffected. Does anything bother this guy? But Marissa is seething. I wonder if her Maxon insinuations at Touch ’Em All were because she knew he could hurt Drew.
When order is somewhat restored, the judge calls for an immediate recess and a full search for the alleged murder weapon. Maxon claims to have buried it on the construction sight of the new high school that is being built for Otsego County.
I rush by the maniacal press, shouting “no comments,” and head to the safety of my office. I should be thrilled by the miraculous breakthrough in our case, but it has left me with a sick feeling. It was too easy, and seemed scripted. Since Shep and I were handed the case, we’ve been played like puppets—the video, the PE Albertson discovery, and now Ryan Maxon and the murder weapon. I have encountered a lot of bullshit in my life, so I know what it smells like.
All the major networks cut into prime-time programming to show hours of monotonous video of a backhoe digging up the construction sight. The sun hangs dramatically, as if it is cooperating with the search, but eventually relents and sinks to darkness. Hours pass, and if it weren’t so sad it would be funny.
