Page 10 of Witness 8

‘Doesn’t the DA live a block away?’ I asked.

Harry nodded.

‘Cops would’ve been under pressure to make an arrest. Could be they’re bluffing. This charge might go away on its own,’ I said.

Soon as I said that, I saw John Jackson’s head roll back on his shoulders, his eyes widened and his mouth opened. Like Ihad just floated the prospect of taking a boulder the size of a Volkswagen off of his chest.

‘Could that really happen?’ he asked excitedly.

‘This is a murder charge,’ said Harry. ‘Anything is possible.’

Jackson looked at Kate. She nodded, said, ‘Harry and Eddie are right. When something bad happens in a good neighborhood, the NYPD makes arrests and ask questions later. There’s just one thing. Neither Al, nor you, have told us about the gun the police found in your home.’

‘It’s not mine. I don’t own a gun. Never touched one in my life,’ said Jackson. ‘When I was a young resident in Saint Luke’s, I saw what guns can do to people. I must’ve dealt with fifty gunshot wounds. No way in hell I would ever pick up a gun.’

‘John is now a brain surgeon at NYU Hospital,’ said Al.

That explained the hands.

‘So where did the gun come from?’ asked Harry.

It was the question I wanted to ask, but it sounded much better coming from Harry. He had a soft tone that made hard questions land like raindrops on a feather pillow.

‘I have no idea where it came from. All I know is it’s not mine and I have never even seen it before, never mind touched it,’ said Jackson.

‘This is where you come in, Eddie,’ said Al. ‘We have a criminal division in our firm, but as you know, I’m a civil litigator and no one in our team has ever tried a murder case. John here deserves the best, so we came to you. No disrespect, but you’re a small outfit. John would also like you to make use of our considerable resources. With you and your team leading, of course.’

‘And you driving from the back seat?’ I asked.

Al raised his palms, said, ‘No fear of that, I promise. This is your show, and we’ve got the manpower to back your every play – that’s what we bring to the table. Also, we’re going to handlethe lawsuit against the city for wrongful arrest. We’re just getting ready to file.’

‘Don’t you think that’s a little too soon?’ asked Kate. ‘We haven’t cleared Mr. Jackson yet.’

‘Never too soon to start a lawsuit,’ said Al, and winked at Kate.

I didn’t like it.

I used to practice alone. I had a partner a long time ago, but that was always destined to fail. In recent years, I’ve loved working with Kate and Harry. She is an incredible lawyer, but more than that, she’s utterly fearless. Harry, well, I just like having him around. He keeps me on the straight and narrow both in and out of the law. And there’s no one alive who knows more about trial law than Harry Ford, one of the first African American senior judges to grace the benches of Manhattan’s courts.

There was one other thing I did like.

John Jackson.

I can usually tell when I see a guilty client. And an innocent one.

‘There’s one question before we go any further,’ I said. ‘Mr. Jackson, John, did you kill Margaret Blakemore?’

The question hit him like a bucket of cold water. That’s the way it is at the beginning. Those who are accused of a crime they didn’t commit, look like they’re drowning. Every accusation is another freezing wave that causes them panic, makes them fight to get to the surface. Until their name is cleared, they spend their lives kicking to get their head above water.

‘I have never killed anyone in my life,’ he said. ‘And I never could.’

Al piped up at this point.

‘Eddie, a week before Margaret Blakemore was killed, this guy spent forty-two hours in the operating theatre taking atumor the size of an avocado stone out of a fourteen-year-old kid’s brain. He’s a goddamn hero.’

Jackson hung his head, hiding the tears on his face. Fighting down the panic and confusion that overwhelms people in his situation.

I looked at Kate and Harry. They nodded.