Page 28 of Witness 8

Jackson hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut. He was physically in great shape. A surgeon has to look after his mind and his body to be able to perform at the peak of his skills. This was not a physique and mind that was made for vanity – it was built for the service of others. Sensing his pain, Alison wrapped both her arms around John, placed her head on his shoulder and whispered to him that it would be alright.

‘Listen to Alison, John. Things are going to be okay,’ said Harry.

John’s head snapped up, his eyes wet and red, and when he spoke his voice was breaking. ‘How do you know it’s going to be okay? Youcan’tknow that.’

‘We know you’re innocent,’ said Kate. ‘We wouldn’t be here otherwise. That’s how our practice works. We don’t represent the guilty.’

‘People think I murdered that woman,’ said John, and broke down.

Kate let him cry. Let his wife comfort him.

‘John . . .’ began Parish, reaching out a hand to him. Kate shot Parish a look. Harry gave him a nudge under the table and then shook his head – telling Parish to shut up.

This was technique. An old lawyer’s trick. If the client wants to cry, let them. Say nothing. Let it all come out. Look sympathetic, but professional. Kate didn’t have to fake the sympathy – this man’s heart was breaking right in front of her. Yet she knew that for his own good, John needed to listen to her. That meant he had to stop crying. If Kate tried to comfort him, it would give him encouragement, relax him, let his emotions run wild. Kate couldn’t afford that. Easiest way to stop a client from crying was to sit in front of him in complete silence. It’s hard to cry in front of somebody. Even a relative stranger. Soon, the silence from the lawyers would make him uncomfortable. And that discomfort would rapidly overtake his emotional state.

All of this happened in less than thirty seconds. John wiped his face with a Kleenex, apologized to everyone.

‘It’s okay,’ said Kate. ‘I have never gone through what you are experiencing right now, but I’ve sat beside enough people who have and I think I understand it. You feel like you’ve got a sign around your neck that says you killed somebody . . .’

‘Yes,’ said John, nodding. ‘People look at me on the street, or when I’m in a restaurant having lunch. Friends, neighbors, they all think I killed Margaret.’

‘But you didn’t kill her. Andyouknow that,’ said Kate.

‘Of courseIknow that – but no one else sees it that way, apart from my family.’

‘Everyone will know you’re innocent, given time,’ said Kate. ‘Until then, this sign you’ve got around your neck, I know it feels heavy, but you’re going to have to carry it. Alison, she doesn’t see that sign. We don’t see it. When you’re with us, it disappears. That sign is not in your home. It’s not in this office. And when we win your case we’re gonna take that thing off your neck and burn it for all the world to see. All we need you to do is hang in there until we get to that day. Can you do that?’

John looked at his wife. Held her hand. Drawing strength from her fingers.

‘I can do that.’

‘We know you can, John,’ said Harry. He was right. To cut into kids’ skulls and perform live-saving operations that can take ten hours or more requires a special kind of fortitude.

Harry continued, ‘We’re going to keep things light today. We just have a few questions. I want you to open your mind, speculate a little. Could someone who has access to your home have planted that gun in your closet?’

‘No way. It’s just us, and Ruby the nanny, and Althea the maid, and they’ve been with us for a while. They’re just young girls. Ruby is the sweetest girl in the world. She had a terrible upbringing and managed to get through it. Tomas loves her. And Althea, the maid, she just works and works and works. We trust them completely.’

‘Okay then, do you have any idea how that gun got into your closet?’ asked Kate.

‘Sure I do,’ said John.

This was new information. Harry leaned forward and Kate drew the top off her pen, held it to the page, ready to make a note.

‘The NYPD planted it there,’ said John.

Kate and Harry said nothing. Proving that the NYPD planted a gun in his home and then somehow faked the DNA results wasa lot for any jury to swallow. Plus, there was no evidence for any of it.

‘The police arrested you and searched your home because of a tip. An anonymous phone call. We’ve asked for the recording in discovery. Tell me, do you have any idea who would have made that call?’ asked Kate.

‘No clue.’

‘Someone with a grudge against you? Maybe a former patient, or their family?’

‘I have a great relationship with my patients and their families. I don’t hate anyone and, far as I know, nobody has any strong feelings against me. I’m just baffled by the whole thing.’

As he talked, veins stood out on his neck. Alison laced her fingers through his and spoke as John swallowed down the rising emotion.

‘John is the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever met. I don’t know why someone would lie about John. Obviously, they’ve never met him. They don’t know him. If they did, they couldn’t lie about him. On our first wedding anniversary, John was a new resident at the hospital. He spent seventeen hours in the theatre with a five-year-old kid from Harlem. He removed a tumor from his brain. John got home exhausted just before midnight, and you know what he did? He cooked dinner for both of us and we ate it in our pajamas on the kitchen floor. We didn’t even have furniture. We’d just moved from San Diego. He slept for four hours and then went back to check on the boy. You know what that kid is doing now? He’s in college on a basketball scholarship and he’s probably going to get drafted next year into the NBA. He writes to John every couple of months. And John writes back. That’s who my husband is, Miss Brooks. He’s the best man I know.’