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“I assume the analysis is being done by an FBI handwriting expert,” said the judge.
“Yes. Dr. Gerald Stone in Quantico, Virginia, is leading that analysis with his team.”
“Will Dr. Stone be testifying today?”
“No, Your Honor. Dr. Stone’s analysis is not yet finished. For obvious public safety reasons, the completion of his work is highly time sensitive. He is therefore unavailable so that he can continue with that work, full speed ahead.”
“I’ve ordered that the FBI provide a witness to testify about the comparison. Who will that be?”
“A member of the Operation Gibbet task force has been selected to review the preliminary conclusions of Dr. Stone and to present that information to the court.”
“Does this person have a name?” asked the judge, his patience waning.
The DOJ lawyer glanced at Jack, then back at the judge. Jack wasn’t quite believing what he knew he was about to hear.
“FBI Agent Andrea Henning.”
Jack was required to sit, but it took all his strength not to rise to object. “Judge, Agent Henning is my wife.”
The judge took a breath. He seemed to have passed the point of irritation, but not with Jack.
“I know who she is. Former Governor Swyteck has glowed about his daughter-in-law several times in my presence.”
“With the court’s permission,” said the prosecutor, “I will present Agent Henning’s testimony by videoconference. She is currently in Chicago.”
“I don’t care if she’s right here, hiding under the table,” said the judge, his irritation quickly turning to anger. “Mr. Swyteck’s wife isnottestifying.”
“Judge, with all due respect,” said the prosecutor, “Mr. Swyteck demanded that a member of the task force testify as to the FBI’s comparison of the ‘goodbye girl’ signature. So we have provided—”
“His wife,” the judge said, cutting him off harshly.
“Which is—”
“Which isbaloney,” the judge said, cutting off Owens again. “I issuedan order. The prosecution and the FBI don’t like my order. You are now sending me a message: If I insist on enforcing my order, you are going to bring in Mr. Swyteck’s wife to embarrass him, to embarrass herself, and to make a mockery of this proceeding. I resent that kind of gamesmanship, and I won’t allow it.”
“Judge, if you will just allow us to proceed, you will see this is on the up-and-up.”
“Don’t test me, Mr. Owens. Is Agent Henning an expert in handwriting analysis?”
“She is not.”
“Of course not,” the judge said. “She’s a pawn in this stunt, and someone with a very small mind at the bureau has decided that it’s all okay, because Agent Henning brought it on herself by marrying a criminal defense lawyer. That, as I said, isbaloney. I can only imagine how she must feel.”
Jack, too, could only imagine, and it was making him nauseous.
The judge continued, “Fifteen minutes from now, my bailiff is going to swear in an FBI handwriting expert as witness, and that witness will testify in compliance with my order. If that doesn’t happen, I will hold Mr. Owens and the FBI in contempt. We’re in recess.”
“Judge, this is really—”
“Stop, Mr. Owens. You now haveless thanfifteen minutes to comply with my order. I suggest you go, and go quickly.”
The lawyers on the prosecution’s side of the table packed up their computers and other items, but Jack was the first one out the door, leaving his client at the table with Shaky’s lawyer. “Go, and go quickly” seemed like good advice to Jack. He found an empty room at the end of the hallway and reached Andie on her cellphone.
“This is not cool, Jack.”
“I am so sorry,” he said into the phone. “Owens threatened to do this, but I thought it was a total bluff.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
