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Jimmy’s seen it in courtrooms his whole life, every time he’s watched a defendant take the stand. The really smart ones, and often the guilty ones, they know what’s verifiable and what’s not. They know what they can get away with, what they think they can sell to a jury, just how much shit they can make up.
Jimmy had a bad day yesterday, so he’s watching it on the live feed, feet up, laptop open on the table next to him. He knows all the things Jacobson finally decided to tell Jane the night before. That Kathy Gates, the former Kathy Fuller,isthe other girl in the picture, even if you can’t see her face. That they were friends in high school, Jacobson from Dalton, Kathy Fuller from Spence.
That isn’t all of the story, just the part Jimmy is watching Jacobson sell to the jury at the moment like a goddamn champ.
Jimmy remembers watching some big-shot woman from one of the big-shot drug companies take the stand in her own defense one time in a fraud trial about some miracle drug that wasn’t, talking about years of physical and mental and emotional abuse from her partner, saying that she hadn’t intentionally misled the public; it was because of her partner, and his controlling and abusive ways. In the blink of an eye, she went from being one of those billionaire masters of the universe to a victim.
And ended up getting away with it.
Now Jane is saying to Jacobson, “Why is this the first we’re hearing of your prior relationship with one of the victims?”
“Because this is the first chance I’ve had to speak on my own behalf.”
“Except when you were calling opposing counsel’s sister a liar,” Ahearn says.
“Is that an objection, Mr. Ahearn?” Judge Prentice says.
“More of an observation, Your Honor.”
“Keep those to yourself,” the judge says, “at least until your cross.”
Now Jimmy watches Jane ask, “Could you please tell us how Kathy Gates once saved your life?”
The feed switches to a camera that is close on Jacobson. Jimmy sees him look over at the jury with big, moist eyes. Charlie Sincere.
“It was depression,” he says. “Not something guys my age talked about in those days. But something as real then as it is now. Severe depression.”
“No one talked about it nearly enough in those days,” Jane says. “Please go on.”
Jimmy watches Jacobson take a deep breath now. Then another one. The catch in his throat is actually audible enough that Jimmy can hear it on the live feed.
“It was when I nearly OD’ed,” Jacobson says.
“When?” Jane says, barely audible herself.
“When I tried to kill myself after my father killedhimself,” Rob Jacobson says.
One Hundred Three
I KNEW COMING INTOthe trial just how good Kevin Ahearn is as a prosecutor. And how ambitious he is. Knew full well he’d never lost a case, either.
But now, right here in front of me, I see, in full and in the moment, that he has saved his best for last. And has me thinking, really for the first time, that his best might be better than mine.
Bottom line is that the Suffolk County district attorney scares the hell out of me in the process.
He is theatrical, and in total command of the room, has the complete attention of the jury as he artfully deconstructs the case that Rob Jacobson has just tried to make for himself. Deconstructs it or simply unpacks it.
“Depression is something quite real and quite powerful. We put a bigger light on it all the time,” Ahearn says. “But there are millions of depressed people in this country, amajorityof the depressed people in fact, who don’t pick up a gun and murder an entire family, including a teenage girl, in cold blood.”
“Objection,” I say. “Is Mr. Ahearn getting to a question anytime soon?”
“Sustained,” Judge Prentice says. “She makes a good point, counselor.”
“Here’s my question, Mr. Jacobson,” Ahearn says. “Were you ever treated for depression?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“By whom?”
