Page 34 of The 1 Lawyer

A knot of dread formed in my gut, right where he’d struck his first blow. We had a security system on St. Charles. But it wouldn’t keep Roman out.

In an offhand voice, he said, “I almost forgot. We’ve got our eye on your friends too. The lawyer, Burnett. And the woman, the PI.”

I wanted to shout at him, tell him to leave my wife and friends alone. Counter his digs with threats of my own.

But he wouldn’t have heard me. He was already gone.

CHAPTER 27

THE PROSECUTION rested its case on Monday. It was finally our turn, time to present the evidence for the defense. It looked like Caro was going down, and I had serious doubts about my ability to turn it around.

I kept my expression neutral. We were in trouble, and I needed to be sharp, to fully immerse my brain in the strategy of the trial. But my focus was seriously distracted.

Directly behind me, next to my client’s wife, sat Hiram Caro. And he was accompanied by Joey Roman.

Under my shirt, right at my waist, I had an ugly souvenir of my recent visit from Roman. Every time I moved, my belt rubbed against the bruise and reminded me of the threats he’d tossed at me before he left.

When the judge invited me to call the first witness, I tried to push Roman out of my head. We kicked off the defense with our own DNA expert, hired from an independent lab in Jackson. He did a credible job on the stand, as he damn well should have. The guy’s testimony didn’t come cheap.

Our witness was just as qualified as the witnesses from the state lab Gordon-James had put on the stand. And our man was a lot better dressed and gave a smoother presentation. I walked him through a short and sweet explanation in which he made it clear that none of Aurora Gates’s injuries could be tied to Daniel Caro by any trace evidence collected in the investigation. He also helped along the seed I’d planted when I cross-examined the DA’s experts: he reiterated that the DNA match with Caro was taken from the victim’s cervical os and he explicitly stated that sperm can survive for as long as two weeks after intercourse.

I checked out the jury while my witness testified. They were attentive. They got it. But they weren’t necessarily convinced.

Gordon-James did a perfunctory cross-examination just to flex some muscle. He didn’t hurt my guy. When he was done, I wasted no time getting my next witness on the stand. She was bringing an exhibit to court that would shake things up, no doubt about that.

I called the records custodian from Dr. Caro’s office. I had issued a subpoena duces tecum, which required her to bring documents to court. My direct examination wasn’t flashy or dramatic. We walked through the foundation. When she authenticated the exhibit, I offered Aurora Gates’s medical records into evidence.

Our character witnesses took the stand next, a string of upright citizens from Biloxi and Gulfport who swore that my client was a peaceful man with no reputation for violence. It was hard to judge their impact on the jury. But the character evidence was the classic lead-in for my next step.

“The defense calls Daniel Caro to the witness stand.”

His hand didn’t shake when he raised it to take the oath. In a criminal trial, that was generally a good thing. But seated on the stand, he looked stiff, wooden.

“State your name, sir.”

“Daniel Caro, MD.”

I blinked, trying to keep my irritation from showing. I’d specifically told him not to do that. His professional occupation was not his goddamn name; I’d explained that to him when we rehearsed over the weekend. The jury knew he was a doctor, our evidence would show he was a doctor, and I intended to call him “Doctor.” He didn’t have to insert the information himself. In the current circumstance, it sounded pompous, and we didn’t want that.

“Where do you live?”

“In Biloxi, Mississippi.”

“And what is your occupation?”

To his credit, he looked abashed. “I’m a physician, a medical doctor. I guess I already said that.”

“You did.” Though I smiled at him, it was intended as a message.

“Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little nervous. I have a clinic here in Biloxi. I’m an ob-gyn.”

“And what do you do in your clinical practice?”

He sat back and lifted his eyebrows. “I’d guess that half the people in this room know firsthand what an ob-gyn does.”

Someone in the jury box snickered. I was glad to hear it. Caro was going off script, but this time I didn’t mind. It might loosen him up. Giving him an encouraging nod, I said, “For the record, please, Doctor.”

He turned and addressed the jury. “My specialty is female reproductive health. My patients are women from the community and surrounding areas. I care for them during and after pregnancy and deliver their babies, and I treat patients for a wide range of conditions involving the female reproductive system from adolescence through menopause and beyond.”

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