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He trailed off deliberately, pretending to search for the right words, letting my imagination build me a nightmare. My whole body tensed, as if preparing to repel a physical attack. I felt adrenaline washing my system with rage.
Volchek’s movements were slow and graceful, like a big cat sitting in the long grass, stalking its prey; his intellect was primal, instinctual—almost feral.
Four large arched windows on the left-hand wall revealed a familiar skyline. The marble floor seemed to sip at the pale morning sun.
The truth has no place in a courtroom. The only thing that matters is what the prosecution can prove.
“You’re not touching me and you’re not touching these bags. I got four million reasons in here to hurt you and your boyfriend here, Rudolph. And if I walk out, Jimmy’s going to want to know which asshole made me walk. I’ll tell him it was the cute one. Now let me through, gorgeous, or I’ll give you a kiss you won’t wake up from.”
Kennedy knelt and put a hand on one bag, and as he did so, I saw water trickling from the zipper. I knew that bodies found in lakes or rivers were usually bagged in the water, to preserve whatever evidence was around them. Sometimes that evidence helped with the cause or time of death.
A trial lawyer can dance through the evidence and entertain the jury and still get his client convicted in a heartbeat for any number of reasons. Even the best trial lawyer can be undone by a really good suit. If I showed up to trial in Armani, my client might as well just fire me and call the public defender.
The trick was to be quick and devastating and therefore memorable.
In cross-examination there is no “would you?” or “can you?” Everything, absolutely everything, should be a statement, not a question. They say good lawyers never ask a question unless they already know the answer. This is true, but it’s not because lawyers have any greater knowledge than anyone else. It’s because we give you the answer we want in the question.