Page 53 of The 1 Lawyer

The prosecutor didn’t object. The photos were admitted.

“No further questions,” I said. And I sat down, relieved to be off my feet. I was low on stamina. Exceptionally low.

CHAPTER 40

JUDGE ECKHARDT nodded at the assistant DA. “Ms. Piper, you may cross-examine.”

Mollie Piper, a young prosecutor I’d handily defeated at trial three times in prior years, stood and approached the stand. Wearing a stern expression on her fresh, youthful face, she said to my client, “So you admit that you threatened all three of those boys with a lead pipe and struck two of them with the weapon.”

The pitch of Della’s voice rose: “I had to do it. I loved that cat. He was my family.”

The law permitted her to use reasonable force to protect herself. The law was much less interested in the protection of her cat.

We’d gone around on the issue the night before during trial prep at the jail. I’d made it clear as the blue sky: We were trying to justify her actions on the basis of self-defense, so she had to shut up about the cat and talk about the attack on her person. When she argued with me, I lost it. Apparently, shouting her down hadn’t convinced her.

She glared at the prosecutor. “Me and that cat took care of each other. We’d stuck together for two years or more. I wish I knew if he was okay. Don’t expect I’ll ever see him again.”

As Della wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, I stole a glance into the jury box. A lot of women like cats, so maybe there were some cat lovers among the group of twelve. If so, they gave no sign.

Piper walked to the counsel table and picked up her exhibit. She carried it to a spot between the witness stand and the jury box so that it could be seen by all.

“Ms. Calhoun, I show you what’s been marked for identification as State’s exhibit nineteen. Do you recognize it?”

Della ran her hand across her mouth. “Yeah. Think so.”

“It’s the lead pipe you used to attack those boys on April seventh, isn’t it?”

“Could be.”

Piper faced the jury and rolled her eyes. I just sat there and watched, trying hard to stay engaged and alert. Della wasn’t scoring any points by being stubborn. The police officer had already testified that he’d taken possession of the pipe at the scene. Chain of custody had been established in the State’s case.

Piper hefted the pipe and swung it in an arc. I thought about objecting, but I couldn’t summon the energy.

“Isn’t it true that you kept exhibit number nineteen as a weapon because you believed it could inflict serious bodily harm?”

“I had to use it! They were knocking the shit out of me and taking everything I owned in the world!”

I wanted to sink down in my chair as Judge Eckhardt banged his gavel. Pointing it at my client, he said, “There’s no cursing permitted in my courtroom.”

She wore a hangdog look. “All right.”

The assistant DA carried the length of pipe back to the counsel table, set it down with a thud, and aimed a knowing glance at the jury box. Then she returned to the lectern and asked her next question. “Ms. Calhoun, have you been convicted of any crimes for which you were represented by counsel?” She crossed her arms and leaned on the lectern, indicating that she expected Della’s response to go on for some time.

She was right. It did: Public intoxication. DUI. Multiple convictions for trespassing. Misdemeanor larceny. Simple assault, aggravated assault.

Unsurprisingly, the prior convictions had a clear impact on the jury. But the only way I could have prevented the jury from learning about my client’s priors was to keep her off the witness stand, and I couldn’t do that. Della’s only shot at winning was a claim of self-defense, and she was the only person who could offer testimony to support it.

With prompting from Piper, Della recounted her criminal history, which covered many years and had occurred in multiple jurisdictions. The assistant DA wrapped up her cross and sat.

I asked only one question on redirect. “Della, did you believe you were in danger of serious bodily harm from the young men who attacked you?”

“Yes! I thought those fu—”

I took an involuntary step forward. She caught herself just in time. “I thought those no-goods was gonna kill me.”

She started to cry. I checked out the jury, hoping to detect a glimmer of sympathy in someone’s countenance. Didn’t see any. Della cried louder, but those jurors just didn’t care.

As her lawyer, I’m ashamed to admit that my fighting spirit had been dampened, and I didn’t care too much either.

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