Page 110 of The Devil's Advocate

‘I told you, I don’t know. I just wanted to tell the truth, that’s all. The girl had been killed, I wanted to help the cops catch this guy,’ said Lawson, talking real quickly now. The stenographer grimaced and hammered at the keys on her machine.

I took a small step toward the witness. He was unsettled and had forgotten to keep his answers slow and steady. I needed to push a little harder.

‘I’m not asking you to reveal anything sensitive or confidential if you don’t want to, but I’d be interested to know what your lawyer said when you told him you didn’t make a deal?’

Another step toward Lawson. I wanted him to feel like I was closing in on him. Giving him no room.

‘I ain’t spoken to my lawyer about it,’ he said.

I was about to take another step, then stopped. Shook my head, confused.

‘Wait a second, I know it looks better for the prosecution if you haven’t made a deal. An informer doesn’t carry much credibility with a jury if they’re only testifying to help themselves get out of jail. Sometimes the prosecutor doesn’t want the jury to know there is a deal. It makes their testimony more credible. You understand that’s how these things generally work, right?’

Lawson swallowed, said, ‘I understand.’

‘You see that lady over there typing as I talk?’

His jaw flexed as he looked over, then said, ‘Yeah.’

‘She is the court stenographer. She types out every word said in this court. If there is a dispute about anything that is said in this room, the record decides it. Your testimony is on the record. You understand that?’

‘I do.’

‘Well, what happens if you go before the parole board in six months, and they say they know nothing about a deal with the DA? You’re on the record, under oath, telling this judge and this jury that thereisno deal. Your lawyer knows nothing about a deal, and there’s no paperwork. What if Mr. Korn says there’s no deal? Do you think the parole board will believe you over Mr. Korn?’

The room was cool under the ceiling fans, but it didn’t stop the fat pimples of sweat breaking out on Lawson’s forehead, and rolling down into his eyes, his cheek, and into his beard. His eyes were narrow and locked on Korn.

‘I’m a defense lawyer, Mr. Lawson, I know what it’s like to come up against the district attorney, and so for your benefit, and your benefit alone, I’m going to ask you again, did the district attorney offer you a deal in exchange for your testimony today?’

Two jurors leaned forward, anticipating the answer.

Lawson wet his lips. Wiped the sweat from his face.

‘Forthe record, Mr. Lawson, please answer the question,’ I said.

‘He said he would put in a good word with the parole board.’

The jurors who had leaned forward, Avery and another juror, swung their gaze at Korn. I followed their line of sight. Korn smiled, shook his head.

‘So, he did make you a deal?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘I see, so when you testified that there was no deal, you were lying?’

‘Nah, I just misspoke.’

‘Just to be clear, you lied to this jury about a deal with the district attorney, but you weren’t lying when you said Andy Dubois confessed to the murder of Skylar Edwards?’

‘Somethin’ like that.’

‘When you were arrested on the narcotics charge which put you in jail, did you plead guilty or not guilty?’

‘Not guilty.’

‘And you were convicted?’

‘Yeah.’