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I take a seat in the witness box. Mateo stands up and steps out from behind his table, and walks in front of it. He doesn’t look nervous, just unpracticed. I give him the faintest smile to encourage him.
“Could you please introduce yourself,” he asks me.
“My name is Klein McKenna… Esquire. I am a lawyer for the office of District Attorney Richard Nicoletti. I am a colleague of Blaine Roycroft’s.”
“Where were you during the attack on the courthouse?” He asks.
It’s a bit of an open-ended question. It’s obvious Mateo’s not a lawyer, but he’s trying his best. At least I’m a cooperative witness.
“During the attack, I was outside the courthouse. I was standing on the sidewalk by the parking lot.”
“Could you describe what you saw during the attack?” Mateo asks.
“I heard the van drive up,” I answer. “That’s when I looked over and saw it. The van pulled to a stop between where I was standing and the courthouse. Some men jumped out. Then I heard gunfire.”
“Did you see how many men jumped out of the van?”
“No,” I say. “I actually couldn’t see.”
“Why couldn’t you see how many men jumped out of the van?” Mateo continues.
“When the men started to jump out, you pushed me onto the ground,” I answer. “You pushed me down between two parked cars. You covered me during the attack.”
I hear whispering from the gallery. In my peripheral view, I can see people turning toward each other.
“When did I let you up?” Mateo asks.
“Once it was safe again,” I say. “When the shooting had stopped. When the van had left, that’s when you uncovered me and let me back up.”
“At any point did you see me pull out a gun or shoot anybody?”
“No. You stayed on top of me, protecting me the whole time.”
“I guess,” Mateo turns toward the judge. “Let the record show that I, Mateo Barone, was protecting Klein McKenna during the attack and did not shoot Blaine Roycroft.”
“That is correct,” I say. “I know Blaine Roycroft’s testimony to be false.”
“Thank you,” Mateo says to me. It’s a very formal ‘thank you.’ There’s the faintest trace of a smile on his face as he says it. The court reporter and the stenographer won’t be able to pick up what I know he is really communicating to me.
He took a chance. He put all his trust in me. And I’ve done the same. I know my career is over. At least my career as I knew it. As soon as I step down from the stand, Nicoletti will fire me and make sure no one else in his vast network will hire me in this lifetime. But it hardly matters. As long as I can be with Mateo, I don’t care.
“No further questions, your honor,” Mateo tells the judge. He walks back to his table and sits down.
“Prosecution,” Judge Korbel turns to Joseph Foley. “Would you like to cross examine the witness?”
At this point, I wish they’d just throw out the case. But I expect that Nicoletti might want to ask for a recess and figure out whether they want to come back with another plan. The prosecution has hardly anything to go on. It was a weak case to begin with. There’s no way they can get a jury to agree that Mateo is guilty beyond reasonable doubt now that I’ve given him an alibi.
Nicoletti leans forward from the front row of the gallery. He’s staring right at me. Joseph Foley leans back so Nicoletti can whisper to him. His orders are short. I can’t read his lips. But Foley nods.
“Yes, your honor,” Foley stands up from the table. He buttons the top button of his blazer and walks around his table toward me. Instead of losing confidence in the case I’ve just blown apart, he seems even more confident.
“Ms. McKenna,” he says. “You said you were standing next to Mateo Barone during the attack, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“You were not standing next to your colleagues, is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
