Eliza or Till Death Do Us Part, page 35
– I also think that it is in everybody’s interest to forget this regrettable incident, including or, I should say, especially yours, Mr. Smith.
– Your Honor, please give me a chance to tell my story. I just need five minutes.
– Very well, Mr. Smith, I will give you five minutes and I will ask Mr. Carson and Mr. Fenway not to interrupt you. Go ahead.
Without taking my eyes off Eliza, who was sitting next to me, I then roughly told my story, starting with the reasons that made me do what I did, briefly mentioning practically every step in my physical transformation, my two meetings with David Smith, my intentional arrest in New York City, my pursuit of Eliza in San Francisco, and ending with the day when she told me she intended to go to St. Louis to investigate what had happened to Gary. Eliza, who all along stared at the wall behind the judge, at first looked very interested, then nonplussed, and finally clearly skeptical.
– That’s about it, Your Honor.
– I must admit that it is quite an unusual story. However...
– Your Honor, it’s the most ridiculous and the most unbelievable story I’ve ever heard. It’s obviously a ploy to delay the inevitable.
– Mr. Carson, please, be quiet for now. Mrs. Denman, do you believe Mr. Smith’s story?
– No, Your Honor. This is an interesting story, but it’s another lie.
– In other words, you do not believe that Mr. Smith and Mr. Jenkins are one and the same person.
– Of course not, Your Honor. I have been married to both men and I know for a fact that they are two very distinct individuals.
– All right, then we are going to ignore this unfortunate incident.
– Please, Your Honor, please Eliza, I can easily prove I’m telling the truth.
– Your Honor, I can easily prove my husband’s not telling the truth.
– All right, Mrs. Denman, go ahead and let’s get it over with.
– I don’t even know where to start. I guess one of the most obvious differences is that David’s voice is very different from Gary’s.
– It’s just because I used to smoke heavily and I don’t anymore. It drastically changed my voice.
– And David is much taller than Gary.
– That’s not true, Eliza. It’s an optical illusion. I look taller because I’m much thinner than I used to be, that’s all.
– Your Honor, may I say something?
– Go ahead, Mr. Carson.
– There is an easy way to check. We have Mr. Jenkins’s old driver’s license and Mr. Smith must have his driver’s license with him.
– That is a good point, Mr. Carson. Let us compare what both licenses say about their heights.
I knew this first verification would go against me, but I didn’t say anything. I had an explanation for the two-inch difference. If they didn’t believe me, I had many other ways to prove that I was telling the truth. A few minutes later, when the judge had both licenses in front of him, he said what I expected:
– Let us see: Mr. Smith’s license says that he is six feet tall, and Mr. Jenkins’s, that he is five feet ten inches. Well, I guess that takes care of that.
– Your Honor, I can explain. I’m really six feet but, when I got the old license in 1985, the clerk just copied the height that was on the previous license and the same happened three years before that and three years before that. The bottom line is that I was indeed five ten at some point, but that I have gained two inches since then. And when I got the most recent license in David’s name, they copied the information that was on his old license and that turned out to be right.
– You have an explanation for everything, don’t you, Mr. Smith?
– Your Honor, if my client is telling the truth, it should be easy enough to verify whether he had a hair transplant, eye surgery, moles removed...
– Right, Your Honor. In fact, I’ve got tiny scars where my old moles used to be. I can show you if you want.
– That won’t be necessary, Mr. Smith.
– Jenkins, my name is Jenkins, Your Honor. As far as my hair is concerned, any professional can see that I’ve had a transplant. And maybe even you, if you look close enough. Same thing for my myopic keratomileusis. I’m sure that any ophthalmologist can tell...
– Your Honor, the defendant is using delaying tactics again. Besides, even if he can prove that he did undergo a hair transplant and radial keratotomy...
– Myopic keratomileusis.
– Whatever. I was saying that even if Mr. Smith can demonstrate he had all kinds of surgery, it certainly won’t mean that he is Mr. Jenkins.
– Mr. Smith– please allow me to call you Mr. Smith since the driver’s license in front of me tells me that it is your name–, are there any records that prove that you or rather Mr. Jenkins underwent all these procedures?
– There must be. The only problem is that I used various aliases, which I have forgotten, and I always paid cash. Also I did it in several different cities and don’t remember the names of the clinics or the doctors, but I’m pretty sure that if you give me the yellow pages of those cities, I’ll be able to find them again.
– But since you used aliases and looked different, it won’t help us, right?
– Right, but you’ve got to believe me.
– And you don’t know how to reach the “real” David Smith or his parents either?
– Unfortunately I don’t.
– Your Honor, may I?
– Yes, Mr. Carson, you may.
– I’ve never heard of a procedure that would allow somebody to change the color of their eyes. If we can demonstrate that such a procedure does not exist, it will remove any doubt you may have about the defendant’s story.
– Excellent idea, Mr. Carson. You know what I am going to do? I am going to call my own ophthalmologist right now. If he tells me that he does not know about any such procedure, we will go back to the courtroom immediately and ask the jury to deliberate. Besides, we have used up our twenty minutes.
– Your Honor, please, I have something to say about that procedure.
– Mr. Smith, I am sure you do, but I’d rather trust my ophthalmologist than you. Let’s see, I should have his number with me... Here we are. Please be quiet everybody... Hello? Yes, this is Judge Oppenheimer. I need to speak to Dr. Piasecki immediately, this is an emergency... Yes, I realize he is with a patient and cannot be disturbed... No, I do not want him to call me back. I need to talk to him right away. I am in the middle of a criminal trial. I need him right now. It will take just twenty seconds... Miss, please, in the name of Justice, go and get Dr. Piasecki this very minute... Thank you... Dr. Piasecki? This is Bill Oppenheimer. I am sorry to bother you like this, but... Fine, fine. And you? It sure is pretty warm for this time of year... Yes, yes... Anyway, let me ask you a quick question and I will let you go back to your patient. Is there a surgical procedure whereby one could change the color of somebody’s eyes?... That’s what I thought. Thank you very much, Dr. Piasecki. I apologize again. Thank you... I am afraid it will be soon as my sight is deteriorating again... No, I will not make an appointment now, but soon. Bye now... Well, according to Dr. Piasecki, one of the most distinguished ophthalmologists in St. Louis and I would say in the Midwest, such a procedure does not exist, which is going to allow us to go back to the courtroom and...
– Your Honor, if you had allowed me to talk, I would have told you the same thing. The doctor who did it on me told me it was very experimental and...
– Mr. Smith, I’ve had enough of your stories.
– Your Honor, may I suggest something?
– Yes, Mr. Fenway, you may, but quickly.
– Why don’t we try to reach the Houston surgeon who supposedly operated on my client? That should take care of the matter once and for all.
– Another delaying tactic, Your Honor.
– Mr. Carson, please. Mr. Smith, if we do that and if the surgeon denies that he performed that operation, will you agree to apologize for making up your story?
– I certainly won’t, Your Honor. For one thing, even if we find him, which won’t be easy because I don’t remember his name, I’m pretty sure he’ll deny it because what he did was illegal. He asked me not to tell anybody.
– Then let’s go back to the courtroom. I will apologize to the members of the jury for you.
– Please, Your Honor, if you give me another thirty minutes, I can easily prove that I’m telling the truth. Please, Your Honor, my life is at stake. After the jury’s sentence, it will be too late. I beg you, Your Honor.
– All right, all right, Mr. Smith. I am going to give you another thirty minutes, but on the condition that you publicly acknowledge that you have lied if you cannot demonstrate otherwise, do you agree?
– I do, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.
He then disappeared for a couple of minutes during which he extended the break by a half-hour. When he returned to his office, I was about to come up with new arguments supporting my story, but Carson spoke first:
– Your Honor, I can’t believe we’re wasting our time with such a ridiculous story. But since we are, I can demonstrate that the defendant is lying. He may have managed to explain how he claims to be Gary Jenkins while his fingerprints, the surest way to identify an individual, tell us that he is David Smith, but he is forgetting one detail: according to him, he underwent his physical transformation all over the country between June 1987 and March 1989, but his diary, I mean Mr. Jenkins’s diary of course, tells us that he was in St. Louis during that time, crying after his ex-wife. If this is not evidence that he is lying, I don’t know what is.
– Your Honor, as I was travelling around the country changing my body, I kept on writing in my diary about things supposedly happening to me in St. Louis, precisely to build evidence, in case I would need it later, that Gary and David were two different individuals.
– I can see that he’ll find an answer for everything and make his story more and more unbelievable. But I have another idea to prove my point that he is lying. We know that Mr. Jenkins’s and Mr. Smith’s handwritings are very different and that Mr. Jenkins was lefthanded while Mr. Smith is righthanded. Let’s give a piece of paper and a pen to the defendant and ask him to write with his left hand. Then we’ll compare with Mr. Jenkins’s handwriting.
– That’s a very good idea, Mr. Carson, let’s do that.
At first, I also thought that it was a good idea and that it would help me prove I was telling the truth, but, unfortunately, since I had not really written with my left hand for over two years, I was out of practice, which forced me to write very slowly, and couldn’t exactly duplicate what used to be my handwriting. The result, however, was reasonably close as Carson himself conceded:
– This is a pretty good imitation, but it’s clearly a different handwriting. Besides, it’s obvious that Mr. Smith is not used to writing with his left hand. I think I have made my point.
– I don’t agree at all with my opponent’s opinion. I think that the result of our little experiment confirms my client’s story...
– Yes, because I’ve not written with my left hand for a long time and am out of practice.
– Your Honor, what do you think?
– I think that it is fairly close but that since Mr. Smith was probably familiar with Mr. Jenkins’s handwriting, it does not really prove anything, except maybe that he is good at imitating handwritings.
– Your Honor, there is another way to prove whether my client is telling the truth. Let’s compare his dental records with Mr. Jenkins’s.
– Your Honor, it will take several days, Carson protested.
– It’s not a good idea anyway because I forgot to tell you that I also had some extensive dental work done during my physical transformation. It was in Washington, D.C.
– And naturally you did it using an alias and you don’t remember the alias you used or the name of the dentist.
– Right, but I probably can find him if you give me the yellow pages of Washington, D.C.
– What good would it do if you used an alias?
– You’re right, Your Honor, but there are other ways to demonstrate that I’m telling the truth. For instance, Eliza can ask me any questions about Gary or her life with Gary or incidents between them that nobody else can know about. If I can answer them, it will be obvious that I am Gary, don’t you think?
– That makes sense. We should have thought of it earlier. Mrs. Denman, do you agree?
– If you want, Your Honor, but I can tell you already that David is not Gary.
– Go ahead anyway, Mrs. Denman, and, hopefully, let’s finish this nonsense.
– OK, David, I’ll suppose that you are Gary. Where did we meet?
– At a wedding. I was the photographer and you were a guest. The bridegroom was a classmate of yours.
– What was his name?
– I don’t remember.
– What was the color of my dress that day?
– I’ve no idea. C’mon, ask me more interesting questions!
– Where did we meet after that?
– At the Sunshine Inn. I was eating by myself, and you showed up and joined me.
– Did we have sex before the wedding?
– No.
– When did we have sex the first time?
– The morning after the wedding. The night of the wedding, I was so nervous I was unable to perform.
– What was the color of my winter coat when I lived here?
– Beige.
– Brown. What did we usually do on Sundays during our married life when things were going well between us?
– First, we talked or listened to music in bed. Then, occasionally, we had sex. After brunch, we read the Sunday paper together. Then, when it was nice, we took long walks in the Central West End or biked in Forest Park. After that, we took a shower together. When the weather was bad, we watched TV. And in the evening, we always ate out. After dinner, you usually studied while I did housework or read.
– When you visited me in San Francisco, we took a trip to Marin County. Where did we have lunch?
– At “The Dock” in Tiburon.
– Right, what was I wearing?
– I’ve no idea.
– Did we have sex during that visit?
– Technically no. You agreed to do it the last night I was there, but I got nervous and couldn’t do it.
– What was the very last conversation we had?
– A few days after my visit to you and a few hours after you told me on the phone that you no longer wanted to see me, I called you in the middle of the night and asked you if you loved me. You answered “no.” That was it.
I could feel that I was creating quite an impression, except maybe on Carson who was snickering. Finally, I was triumphant and, I thought, about to be vindicated. I wanted to answer more questions to dispel the last doubts, but Eliza, visibly troubled, obviously didn’t enjoy the game as much as I did:
– Is that enough, Your Honor?
– I guess it is. What do you think, Mrs. Denman? Is your husband your ex-husband as well?
– I admit that I’m a bit puzzled. He seems to know quite a lot about my life with Gary. But, to answer your second question, no, David is definitely not Gary, far from it.
I protested, swearing that I was ready to answer even tougher questions, which would prove beyond any doubt that I was Gary when Carson interrupted me:
– Your Honor, I think I may be able to explain how the defendant knows all these things about the victim, if you will let me.
– I will let you.
– Your Honor, he is right. I do believe he can answer much tougher and more intimate questions about the victim. How does he do it? It’s rather obvious. We all know that Mr. Jenkins wrote in his diary every single thing that ever happened to him. We also know that, since March 1989, Mr. Smith had spent some time in the victim’s condominium where all the volumes of his diary were kept. Isn’t it clear that Mr. Smith read Mr. Jenkins’s diary and therefore knows every notable incident or episode in his life? I want to draw your attention to the fact that Mr. Smith was not able to answer all the questions asked by Mrs. Denman, especially those pertaining to her clothes. It just happens that, as all of us know, that kind of information does not appear in the diary. On the other hand, I am ready to bet that every good answer given by Mr. Smith can be found in the diary. Besides...
– That’s ridiculous. Since you’ve had the nerve to look at my diary, you know that it’s made up of dozens of volumes! It would have taken me hundreds of hours to read them all. And even if I had read them all, it doesn’t mean I would know them by heart. Your argument doesn’t hold water.
– You didn’t have to read all the volumes, just those dealing with Jenkins’s married life, which lasted only two years, and his relationship with Mrs. Denman in general.
– And why would I have done such a thing? Eliza, please, ask me anything that is not likely to have been mentioned in the diary, about tiny details for instance.
– She already did, and you couldn’t answer, Carson said.
Ignoring his remark, I was going to repeat my plea to Eliza, but the judge intervened:
– Please, Mr. Smith and Mr. Carson, behave. I believe that, indeed, since Mr. Jenkins seems to have written down everything that ever happened to him and since Mr. Smith had access to that information, the fact that Mr. Smith seems to know so much about the alleged victim does not prove anything. Mr. Smith, please do not interrupt me. We are going to try something else. You won’t be able to say that I have not done everything to help you. Before resuming the trial and letting the jury deliberate, we are going to call the witnesses who are still here and who knew either Smith when he was younger or Jenkins, and ask them if the defendant is who he claims to be. Those who have not left are waiting for us in the courtroom. I am going to go call them myself.
He then slowly rose from his chair and left the room. At that point, I felt rather desperate, especially since I doubted that any witness could help me if Eliza could not. I had thought all along that I wouldn’t have any trouble demonstrating my identity, but I now understood with horror that my scheme had worked so well that I didn’t seem to be able to prove who I was and that Eliza herself, despite all my arguments, couldn’t even start to imagine that Gary and David might be the same person.
