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“No, mon. Nobody gets close to that dude. I served the guests.”
“So, you never saw Imani talk to him?”
“Imani, sure. Everybody wanna talk to Imani. She’s the star.”
“Other than the people we’ve talked about, do you remember who else was on Kava’s boat?”
“No, mon. This is more than ten years ago.”
“Think hard. Even if you don’t remember names, is there anything you remember about the other people on the boat?”
Leon popped another fritter into his mouth, thinking, then swallowing.
“I remember there were a lot of girls.”
“Girls? Or women?”
“Definitely girls. Like teenagers.”
“Do you mean teenage girls who were fans of Imani?”
“Maybe they was fans. But that’s not why they was on the boat.”
Jack could read between the lines, but he needed Leon to spell it out. “Why were they there, Leon?”
“Shee-it, mon. Why you think?”
The picture was suddenly coming clearer to Jack. “Let me ask,” he said. “And there’s no way to ask this delicately. Was your cousin Tyler stalking Imani?”
“Stalking? Not really. Though, I guess some people might call it stalkin’.”
“What do you call it?”
“Me? I call it blackmail, mon.”
Jack paused. In the short period of time he’d known Imani, Tyler McCormick had gone from a nobody to her lover, to her stalker, to her blackmailer. It was suddenly clear why Leon had gone to a criminal defense lawyer instead of the police.
“I need to hear more about that,” said Jack, and then his phone vibrated on the table. Jack checked the incoming number. It was from Judge Cookson’s chambers.
Lawyers, in general, were terrible readers of tea leaves, and their guesses as to whether a quick ruling from a judge would be good news or bad news were mostly useless. Jack didn’t even hazard a guess.
“I have to take this call,” said Jack. He rose and stepped away from the table, finding a relatively private spot beside the lone open outdoor table, the one with the big splotch of bird poop on it. He kept one eye on the cousin to make sure he didn’t leave, though that seemed unlikely as long as there were more fritters on the way.
“Jack Swyteck here,” he said into the phone.
Owens and the judicial assistant were already on the line. “Please hold for Judge Cookson,” the assistant said.
The wait was short.
“Counsel, I’ve made a decision,” the judge said. “Having considered all admissible evidence in the light most favorable to the prosecution,it is the determination of this court that no reasonable jury could find beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant, Imani Nichols, committed the crimes charged. The defendant’s motion for judgment of acquittal is therefore granted on both counts.”
The prosecutor was silent. Jack, too, was at a loss for words.
“The jury is hereby discharged, and the defendant is released from all conditions of bail,” the judge added.
“Thank you, Judge,” said the prosecutor. There was nothing else to say. The prosecution has no right to appeal a trial judge’s entry of a judgment of acquittal, any more than it can appeal a jury verdict of not guilty.
Jack couldn’t help wondering if evidence that Tyler McCormick was blackmailing his client would have forced a different result. Shame on the prosecution for not uncovering it.
