That night, the other cop, Keith Knoxel, was in for a $100 quickie. The rate was $125 for the other customers but her pimp liked to take care of the cops. Knoxel had stopped by several times, said she was his favorite. Her street name was China. She was now eighteen years old, but she’d been seventeen on the night of the killing.
Not long after Knoxel left her, she heard gunshots but had no idea where they came from. Gunfire was not uncommon in Little Angola. An hour or so later word hit the streets that a cop had gone down. She wondered if it was Knoxel. Didn’t matter to her.
Bradley opened a drawer and produced a photo of Knoxel, one she’d seen before. “That’s him,” she said. “Remember him well. Don’t get many white guys.”
Bradley looked proudly at Sebastian and said, “So, Counselor, in summary, the State’s star eyewitness, while on duty, was actually having sex with a child under the age of eighteen while his partner was getting himself shot. And, as you know, Officer Knoxel is a married man with three small children.”
Sebastian said, “Got it, but he’ll just claim it’s a lie, that he’s never met China.”
To which she replied, “He was regular. Other people know him.”
As Sebastian was leaving, he whispered to Bradley, “Make plans to get her out of town.”
The Honorable Owen Schofield read slowly and silently, flipping one letter-sized sheet of paper every five minutes, it seemed. The deep wrinkles in his forehead, along with the occasional pinching of the bridge of his nose, revealed a growing concern as the words accumulated. Without comment he finished the affidavit of John Doe, set it aside, and picked up the one from Jane Doe. No relation.
On one side of the narrow table Sebastian sat alone and doodled on a legal pad. He’d written both affidavits. There was no need to read them again.
Across the table, Max Mancini sat uncharacteristically alone. As he read the affidavits, he put himself through an entire repertoire of histrionics as his face grew redder. Veins bulged in his neck. He shook his head in disbelief. He shot murderous looks at Sebastian. He bit his tongue and clenched his jaw to keep from blurting out something and interrupting His Honor. He tapped his fingers nervously as he turned the pages. He exhaled loudly in complete disbelief.
“Would you knock it off?” the judge said, glaring at him.
“Sorry.”
The judge returned to his reading. When he finished, he looked at Sebastian and asked, “As for Jane, when did you learn this?”
“Yesterday,” Sebastian replied.
“It’s clearly inadmissible, Your Honor,” Max finally blurted. “The deadline for disclosing witnesses was a month ago.”
Schofield looked at Max as if he were a complete idiot. He paused, then said, “Last time I checked I’m wearing the black robe. If I need anything from you in the way of commentary or opinions, I’ll ask. Until then, try to restrain yourself.”
Max did not respond. Sebastian said, “John Doe appeared on the scene last week. Jane, yesterday.”
“And Jane is willing to reveal her identity at trial, but John is not. Correct?”
“As of today, Your Honor, that is the case.”
“They’re both lying,” Max said.
Schofield looked at him and said, “Well, it looks as though Mr. Knoxel may be having his own problems with the truth. That’s why we have juries. To hear evidence and evaluate the credibility of those testifying.”
“So you’re going to allow them to testify?” Max asked.
“Yes. To exclude them would be reversible error in the event of a conviction. Fairness dictates allowing them to take the witness stand. Gentlemen, let’s tee it up.”
Knoxel brought a lawyer to the meeting, a union veteran named Dahl, a tough labor guy the cops ran to when they were in trouble. Dahl had once been a cop and had learned the ways of the streets from the gutters up. He truly believed that no cop should ever be punished. The average citizen wanted to be safe but had no idea what that required of the men in blue. Any day could be their last. The criminals had them outnumbered. The pressures were enormous, and if they cracked occasionally it should be overlooked or swept under the rug.
On the phone Mancini said it was bad. As Dahl and Knoxel read the sworn statement from Jane Doe, Mancini watched them carefully. He fancied himself a shrewd observer of people. He had to be. Success in the courtroom often turned on which side presented the most effective witnesses. Smooth liars, and they were rare, often convinced jurors. Honest witnesses often came across as unsteady because of the pressure.
Watching Knoxel read the affidavit, Max Mancini had no doubt Jane was telling the truth. When Knoxel finished, he huffed and tossed it on the table. “What a crock of shit,” he said.
“Unbelievable,” said Dahl.
“Were you with the girl?” Mancini asked.
“What? Hell no.”
“You’re lying, Keith. Look at you. Your eyes. You’re a deer in headlights.”
Knoxel flinched as his jaw dropped open. He had just been called a liar by the chief prosecutor. They were on the same side, weren’t they?
