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“Yes,” he said.
“Please point her out for the jury.”
For the first time since he’d taken the stand, Paul Yates looked at the defense table. He pointed to Briana Hill.
Yuki said, “Let the record show that the witness has indicated the defendant.”
The judge said, “The record will so reflect.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yates. Your witness,” Yuki said to James Giftos.
CHAPTER 48
GIFTOS STOOD, BUTTONING his jacket. He kept his eyes on Paul Yates as he crossed the courtroom’s polished wood floor. Giftos greeted him, then launched into preliminary questions about his work as an advertising copywriter.
Yates described his job. “I write ads and campaigns. Print and TV commercials, et cetera.”
“Do you do other kinds of writing other than advertising?”
“You mean for myself?”
“That’s right,” said Giftos. “Do you write poetry? You know, creative writing.”
“I’ve written some screenplays,” Yates said tentatively.
“So, fiction. You’d call yourself—in fact, many people would call you—a creative person, isn’t that right?”
“I haven’t sold any of my scripts.”
“Well. Maybe your luck will change. Mr. Yates. The events you just described taking place in your apartment. You said that you and Ms. Hill were making out and you stopped the action.”
“That’s right.”
Giftos stood close to the witness without blocking the jurors’ view. He said, “And your testimony is that she pulled a gun. You were terrified. Is that correct?”
Yates straightened his posture and answered, “Yes.”
“Did that really happen, Mr. Yates, or did you make this all up once you heard the fantastic story Mr. Christopher spread around?”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
Giftos said, “Is this one of your creative ideas? Trying it out for your next script?”
Yuki jumped to her feet. “Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness.”
Rathburn said, “Sustained. Don’t do that, Mr. Giftos. Do you understand me?”
Unruffled, Giftos said, “Sorry, Your Honor. I’ll rephrase. Mr. Yates, is it true that Ms. Hill pulled a gun on you?”
“Absolutely.”
Giftos walked back to his table. Ms. Benson, his second chair, handed him a manila envelope, and Giftos brought it back with him to the witness stand.
He said, “You said you were really scared of that gun, Mr. Yates. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You must have been staring at it the whole time it was pointed at you,” said Giftos. “I’ll bet you’d say it was etched in your memory, right?”
