CHAPTER 52

The courtroom is jam-packed with journalists today—including Sherry Beagan, who was somehow able to secure a front-row seat. Of course there’s nothing unusual about a courtroom jam-packed with journalists for a murder trial, especially one of this magnitude. The unusual part is that I personally invited every single one of them. And assured each that the events of this morning would shock their audience to the core.

Jake stands at the defense table, leans across the back of Erin’s chair, and whispers in my ear. “Sure you wanna do this, son?”

I answer by standing up.

“Your witness, Mr. Corvelli,” Maxa calls from the bench.

“Thank you, Your Honor. And good afternoon to you, Detective Tatupu.”

“Counselor,” he responds with a slight nod of the head.

There are many unwelcome side effects that come with the prospect of cross-examining a genuinely good cop: abnormal dreams, anxiety, dizziness, drowsiness, dry mouth, flushing, increased sweating, increased urination, loss of appetite, nausea, nervousness, restlessness, ringing in the ears, stomach pain, stomach upset, taste changes, trouble sleeping, vomiting, and weakness, to name a few. Indeed, for defense attorneys on trial, good cops present a constant hazard—they can single-handedly steer a jury toward a conviction with the right tone of voice, the right look, the right credentials. But the one good thing about a good cop is that you can count on him to be consistent. You can always count on him to tell the truth—regardless of the consequences to the prosecution.

“Detective, let me begin by asking you, are you familiar with a man named Corwin Pierce?”

Behind me I can almost feel Maddox smiling.

“Yes, Counselor, I am.”

“Can you describe Mr. Pierce’s physical appearance for the jury?”

“Mr. Pierce is approximately five feet, nine inches tall. A slight build, maybe a hundred-forty pounds. Rather unique red-orange hair and light, light blue eyes. Caucasian, very pale complexion.”

“In what capacity do you know Corwin Pierce, Detective?”

“In his capacity as a lawbreaker, I guess you could say. Mr. Pierce has been arrested by our department on several occasions, including once just recently.”

“Mr. Pierce’s most recent arrest,” I say, “what was the most serious charge?”

“Arson.”

Chatter spreads through the gallery like falling dominoes. No one on the other side of the rail is quite sure where I’m heading with this, but the media is no doubt texting or tweeting their speculation already. No doubt much of that speculation will end up on the air. CORVELLI JUST PUT A FIGURE IN THE EMPTY SEAT, some of these texts or tweets will undoubtedly say. HIS NAME IS CORWIN PIERCE.

“Were you involved in Corwin Pierce’s most recent arrest, Detective?”

“No, I was not. Mr. Pierce was involved in an arson investigation and I am assigned to the homicide division.”

“I see. Were you ever involved in a case in which Corwin Pierce was arrested?”

“No, I was not.”

“Were you ever involved in a case in which Corwin Pierce was a suspect?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” He shakes his head. “No, I think not.”

“Did you ever meet Corwin Pierce?”

Tatupu shakes his head again. “Face-to-face? No.”

“Then tell me, Detective, how did you do such a fine job describing Corwin Pierce’s physical appearance a few moments ago?”

“I have viewed photographs of Mr. Pierce. Booking photos.”

“I see. On how many occasions did you view photos of Corwin Pierce?”

“Just once, I believe.”

“Did you review any or all of the arrest file on Corwin Pierce at the time you viewed these photos?”

“Sure.”

“You viewed these photographs, these booking photos, Detective, before or after Corwin Pierce’s most recent arrest?”

Tatupu hesitates. “After,” he finally says.

I shrug my shoulders enough so that the entire courtroom can see. Then I ask: “Why?”

Tatupu avoids looking at Maddox for as long as he can, then finally his eyes dart over to the prosecution table. I note the look to the jury by following Tatupu’s gaze myself.

“Did you view the photographs of Corwin Pierce in connection with your investigation in this case?” I ask helpfully.

Tatupu breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes, that’s correct.”

I shrug my shoulders dramatically yet again. Then I ask: “Why?”

Tatupu scratches his chin, buys some time.

“Remind me, Detective, when was Corwin Pierce’s most recent arrest?”

“Five or six weeks ago.”

“By that time you had your suspect—my client—in custody for months already. Certainly you weren’t harnessing any doubt at that time?”

“No, Counselor, I was not.”

“Then why did you view the booking photographs and arrest file of Corwin Pierce in connection with the Kupulupulu Beach Resort fire, Detective?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Maddox is on his feet. “Counsel is moving far beyond the scope of direct.”

Maxa frowns deeply at the prosecutor. “Mr. Corvelli is asking the lead detective about his investigation into this very case, Mr. Maddox. Objection overruled.”

“Detective,” I say, “please answer the question.”

“Your Honor,” Maddox says, standing again, “I would like to request a fifteen-minute recess.”

“Request denied.”

“But Your Honor—”

“Mr. Maddox, sit down.”

“Detective,” I say again, “please answer the question.”

“Do you need the question read back to you, Detective?” Maxa says.

“No worries, Your Honor,” I say. “I’ll ask the detective again.” I move in front of the podium where I can see the sweat budding on Tatupu’s forehead. “Why, Detective, did you view the booking photographs and arrest file of Corwin Pierce in connection with the Kupulupulu Beach Resort fire, the subject of this very trial?”

“I was asked to,” he says.

“By whom?”

Maddox renews his objection. “This is work product, Your Honor.”

“Then I am a dancing chicken,” the judge says to light laughter. “Overruled.”

When I glance back, Maddox is still standing, this time glaring at me. His cheeks are ashen, his mouth half-open as though preparing to catch flies.

“Who asked you to view Corwin Pierce’s file, Detective Tatupu?” I say with some urgency.

“Well, I wasn’t asked to view Mr. Pierce’s file specifically,” the detective says.

“What specifically were you asked to do, Detective?”

Tatutpu draws a breath. He’s made a decision, the right decision, to answer my questions accurately and honestly just as I knew he would.

“I was asked to do a search for arson investigations in which we currently had a suspect in jail awaiting trial.”

“Again, Detective, I ask who assigned you this task?”

The slightest pause. “Luke Maddox.”

I point to the prosecution table. “The same Luke Maddox who is prosecuting this case?”

“Yes, Counselor.”

“Did Mr. Maddox tell you why he was making such an unusual request?”

“Objection to the characterization of the request as ‘unusual,’” Maddox says.

“Fine. Strike the last question,” I say. “Detective, at the time Mr. Maddox made the request, did you find the request to be unusual?”

“I did,” he concedes.

“Then I ask again, did Mr. Maddox tell you why he was making such an unusual request?”

“Mr. Maddox didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”

“Was Corwin Pierce the only arson suspect in jail awaiting trial at that time?”

“That I could find, yes.”

“And what did you do when you discovered Corwin Pierce was in jail awaiting trial?”

“I did what I was asked to do. I reviewed the file and passed it on to Mr. Maddox.”

Maddox rises again. “Objection, Your Honor. I fail to see any relevance whatso—”

“Overruled. Have a seat, Mr. Maddox. And please do everything humanly possible to remain in it during the rest of Mr. Corvelli’s cross-examination of Detective Tatupu.”

“Do you know what Mr. Maddox did with Corwin Pierce’s file after you gave it to him?” I say.

Tatupu shakes his head. “You would have to ask him.”

I turn and face both Maddox and the jury. “Oh, I’m quite sure Mr. Maddox will be asked that very question at some point under oath.” I spin back to Tatupu. “But tell me, Detective, did you become curious about what Mr. Maddox intended to do with Corwin Pierce’s file after you gave it to him?”

“Of course.”

“You wanted to find out?”

“Sure.”

“To that end, Detective, what, if any, steps did you take?”

Maddox is up again. “Objection. Is the detective the one suddenly on trial here?”

Maxa looks up. “I believe you are, Mr. Maddox.”

The gallery erupts with talk and movement.

Maxa lifts her gavel and threatens to clear the courtroom. “The objection is overruled. Please answer the question, Detective.”

“I followed up by checking with the Hawaii Department of Corrections.”

“And what, if anything, did you discover, Detective?”

“That Corwin Pierce was subsequently transferred from the OCCC to the Halawa Correctional Center.”

“On whose authority, Detective?”

“On the authority of Deputy Prosecutor Luke Maddox.”

As the gallery again alights with hushed conversation, Judge Maxa stands. “I think maybe it’s time for me to see both lawyers in chambers.”

I hold up my right hand. “Just one last question, Your Honor.” I don’t give her time to refuse the request. “Detective Tatupu, are you familiar with a man named Turi Ahina?”

“I am.”

“How so?”

“I believe Mr. Ahina is a client of yours.”

“More than a client,” I say, stepping away from the podium toward Judge Maxa’s chambers. “It should be noted for the record that Turi Ahina is more than just a client of my firm. And that Deputy Prosecutor Luke Maddox knows it.”