Page 108 of The Devil's Advocate

Lawson wiped his mouth with his hand, then drew his index finger and thumb along the lines of his moustache, tracing his beard line down the sides of his mouth to his chin.

‘Not friends, exactly. Not after he told me he killed that girl.’

‘Take your time, Mr. Lawson, tell the jury exactly what the defendant told you.’

He sighed, closed his eyes, then said, ‘We were in the cell, late at night, and I heard him crying. He was on the bottom bunk, you know – I was top dog. I heard him crying below, he ain’t never been inside before. I told him to hush, that there ain’t no use in crying. He just gotta get through it. He said he deserved to be here. That he should never have killed that girl.’

When he finished that answer, he looked around the court. First at the jury, then at Korn.

‘Did you ask him what girl he was referring to?’

‘I knew it was that girl got killed at the truck stop.’

‘Did you say anything in response to this statement from the defendant?’

‘I just told him there was nothing he could do now ’cept confess. Tell the cops everything. He said he couldn’t do that because they would fry his ass.’

The stenographer let out a sigh that was more of a bellow of frustration. He was still talking too fast for her.

‘Thank you, Mr. Lawson. Just one last thing, have you been promised anything by anyone in my office in return for your testimony in court today?’

‘Nah, man. I’m just here to tell it like it is, you know?’

‘Thank you.’

Judge Chandler looked at me, raised his eyebrows as if to ask if I dared to question the witness. Kate whispered something to Harry, and both of them turned and began speaking softly to Andy. He was shaking his head, more agitated than I’d seen him for a while. It’s hard sitting quietly while someone stands in a courtroom and lies about you.

I stood up and moved around the defense table, taking my place in the well of the court. Lawson cocked his head to one side and met my gaze. He looked smug. Like there was nothing I could do to shake him.

‘Mr. Lawson, how long is it since you last put on that suit?’ I asked.

His eyebrows knotted together, his lips pursed and curled down at the corners and his head shot back on his shoulders. He looked confused, like I’d just asked him to name the capital city of Peru.

‘Ah, I don’t know? Six years maybe?’

‘The last time you would’ve worn that suit was probably at your sentencing. Am I right?’

‘Right.’

‘So, you’ve served six years. What were you sentenced for?’

‘Distribution of narcotics,’ said Lawson.

‘You were dealing drugs?’

‘Yeah, but I never killed nobody,’ he said.

‘I didn’t say that you had. How long do you have left on your sentence?’

‘A little under eight years.’

‘And you served six years in the state penn, and then, for some reason, you were transferred to the county lock-up for two weeks, is that right?’

‘S’right,’ he said. He was getting a little agitated, and his answers were speeding up.

‘Transferred straight into the cell with Andy Dubois?’

‘Yeah.’