The Trials of Max Q, page 22
Chapter 56
Those craving glamour, sex, or mystery from the first witness will be disappointed. Gretchen Hewitt is the antithesis of those traits, and that is one of the main reasons she is our lead off hitter.
Her purpose is to lay out the scene. Time of death, how Laney was killed, and so on. A bonus is that she is professional and credible. Normally I would begin with the police, but for obvious reasons, I don’t want Beneke and Opp to be our opening act.
Gretchen approaches the stand in cargo pants and a sweater-vest filled with cat hair. Most people, knowing a worldwide audience is following the case, would have glammed-up. But not Gretchen, which is why she is the ideal first witness.
Her testimony is scientific and some would say boring. I would counter that it’s a refreshing diversion from the tabloid sensationalism that’s been dominating this case. We hit on two important points. The first is that her analysis shows a match between Laney’s wounds and a knife owned by Drew Anderson. The other is that the type of wounds match a killing tactic taught by the Special Forces unit that Anderson was a member of. Score one for Shep’s attention to detail during our research on that one.
I set up a board that displays a diagram of the tactic, detailing how the knife would enter the victim. Gretchen testifies that the diagrams match the type of wounds suffered by the victim.
Kerri comes back swinging in her cross. She gets Gretchen to admit numerous other instruments could just as likely be the murder weapon. She also picks apart our knowledge of military tactics and provides the court with several other places where such tactics are taught.
When Kerri wraps up her questioning of the witness, the first real day of the trial ends. We are still far behind on the scoreboard of public opinion. The next morning the New York Globe runs the headline Prosecution: We Expect an Acquittal, twisting the words from my opening argument.
“The people call James Lansdale,” I begin day two.
He walks to the stand, slightly hunched, but still fairly rugged and athletic looking for seventy-five.
I glance at Shep. It burns me, and further inspires me to nail this guy to the floor. Problem is, I need to make it clear that he couldn’t have done it, since only his friend Max Q could have. So for the most part, I have to play nice.
Lansdale stares at me, his leathery face dripping arrogance. In some regards he is a terrible witness for us, in that he is loyal to Anderson, and will lend credibility to his defense. But he can help us in two areas—mortalization and Lizzie Borden.
“Good morning, Mr. Lansdale,” I greet him.
“I guess that’s in the eye of the beholder, counselor,” he snarls back at me. He is breathing fire before I even ask a question. But I am confident. The courtroom is my turf.
“Mr. Lansdale, please explain your relationship with the defendant.”
“Drew Anderson is a business partner and a confidante. He is someone I look up to and aspire to be more like. Most of all, he has been a loyal friend. I am blessed and honored to know him.”
I take a brief glance at the jury and I can tell they are eating up every word, spoken with an easy-on-the-ears New Zealander accent.
“So your relationship with the defendant goes beyond just business?”
“Yes—Drew introduced me to the beautiful Otsego Lake. I dock my yacht there in the summer and I will often host Drew and his wife Marissa.”
“What was your reaction when this friend of yours, whom you aspire to be like, became involved in an affair with a woman that your website had listed as its number one target?”
“It wasn’t an affair.”
“Then what would you call the relationship between the defendant and the victim?”
“Drew made a mistake. He is human—not God.”
“Yes, Drew Anderson is far from perfect,” I editorialize. Kerri objects, but I have made my point. Max Q is mortal.
I move on to Lansdale’s organization. It’s a tricky subject, mainly because I am trying to avoid areas that might make him appear to be a zealot—for instance, his desire to shake the hand of whoever killed her.
“Tell me about the organization you founded called Smut Cleanser.”
Kerri objects on grounds of relevance, but is immediately overruled. Lansdale looks annoyed by her objection. I think he really wants to talk about his organization.
“Smut Cleanser is a non-profit organization dedicated to improving moral values, focusing on obscenity and pornography, and promoting clean-living lifestyles.”
“And Laney Bang was an example of this smut?”
“A prime example.”
“Does Smut Cleanser promote violence as a tactic to improve these moral values?”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
“Absolutely not!” Lansdale barks. “We do our work peacefully—organize boycotts and such. Any accusations to the contrary would be slanderous.”
“But Smut Cleanser sponsors a website in which the deceased was listed as ‘Most Wanted.’ That doesn’t seem like a peaceful term to me.”
Lansdale takes a deep breath and blows it out to display his frustration. “It’s tongue in cheek. Nowhere on the website is violence condoned. In fact, quite the opposite.”
Next up is the meeting the night prior to the murder. My interest begins when the party starts to break up. “At eleven o’clock, Ryan Maxon and Amber Jazz leave the meeting. So at this point, the only people present besides yourself, are Laney, Drew, and of course, the extensive staff?”
“No, the staff had been sent home.”
“Drew Anderson sent them home?” I ask as if I’m bowled over by such a revelation.
Lansdale shakes his head at my theatrics. “The meeting was of a sensitive nature and we did not want the details to be leaked to the press. It wasn’t the norm, but this wasn’t your typical meeting. It was the prudent thing to do.”
A glance at the jury tells me they think it’s a logical explanation.
“So with the staff sent home, it’s just the three of you remaining—until you leave by helicopter just after one o’clock.”
“I had an early meeting the next morning and I was up way past the time a seventy-five year old man should be up,” he says with a charismatic chuckle, showing a self-effacing sense of humor that is always popular with juries.
“And your arrival at 3:30 a.m. at the Four Seasons Hotel was witnessed by numerous employees, as well as being captured on security video,” I add.
I have made my point—James Lansdale could not have committed this crime. Unlike Drew Anderson and Lizzie Borden, he has an irrefutable alibi.
“So when you left, Laney Bang and Drew Anderson were the only people remaining at Anderson Estate?”
“That is correct.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Chapter 57
We reconvene on Monday, September 20. I made the decision to spend our weekend away from the case, feeling we were on the verge of burning out.
But any hope of some rest was dissolved when I ended up being stuck as Amber Jazz’s designated babysitter. Mac had to work the weekend in preparation for his big Halloween event for the Hall of Fame. Ashley’s September weekends have been consumed with flying-lessons. Shep went to Vermont with her new man.
That left Amber and me, along with a rent-a-cop that the powers-that-be in Otsego County believed would somehow protect us from a highly skilled assassin. Amber and I didn’t exactly have much in common, but we eventually found a common bond in that we both had crappy parents. I vexed that mine were too busy to show up for the school play that I played the lead. Amber was still perturbed her parents didn’t show up to the porn-version of the Oscars, where she won “Best Actress in a Group Scene.” She was dead serious.
I was once again struck how her personality transformed in regards to sexuality. When she took it out of the equation, she was a mess. Crying, craving a drink or fix, and playing the victim. But the moment she transformed into Amber the sex siren, she oozed brash confidence.
Shep and I walk into the courtroom on Monday morning, heavily guarded by our security. “How was your weekend?” I ask.
“Good—real good,” she gushes. “Vermont is so beautiful this time of year.”
“Are you sure you should be out gallivanting during the trial? You know how the media scrutiny can be.”
“Gallivanting? C’mon, Jack, it was your idea to get away for the weekend.”
I nod. I hate when she’s right.
“Speaking of which, how’d it go with the princess of porn?”
“Sex was great, but surprisingly the conversation lagged.”
“You’re disgusting. But I believe you actually have too much character to be with someone like that.”
“Someone like that happened to win the Adult Film Oscar for Best Actress in a Group Scene,” I say with a grin.
Shep laughs. “I stand corrected—she is both lovely and talented.”
I get back to the case at hand. “We’ve made great progress. We have Maxon and Amber this week. Let’s keep the momentum going.”
“Momentum?” We have a jury stacked against us, no physical evidence, and a shaky motive that we still can’t connect.”
“The jury isn’t stacked against us—they’re against what they deem to be immoral behavior. The video identifies Drew Anderson as part of the problem, not the solution.”
“If you say so, Jack.”
As we walk into the courtroom a rare supporter greets us. He is a roundish teenager who is wearing a T-shirt saluting the animated, educational TV shorts Schoolhouse Rock!, baggy jeans, and a dated pair of Adidas sneakers.
“Jaaack,” Andy Kass greets me with his usual stupid grin.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Shep responds. She’s not a fan.
“I thought you guys could use some support. I always have a soft spot for the underdog.”
He turns to me. “For all your self-gloss about what a great lawyer you are, Jack, I sure haven’t seen it yet. Lansdale practically took you over his knee and spanked your bottom on Friday. But I still support you, Jack. You’ll come through.”
“Andy, you do know I am prosecuting you, right? I’m not a friend.”
“I don’t come as a friend, Jack. I’m here as a supporter. I’m impressed that you’re standing up for this outcast woman against the well-oiled machine of tyranny.”
“By prosecuting you, I mean putting you in jail for a long time,” I say, still baffled by his presence. Not to mention breaking his bail agreement and taking the risk of being sent back to prison.
“Thanks for the law lesson, Jack. I hear that my case is going to be given off to Will Flint because the Max Q case may drag on too long. I hope that’s just a bad rumor. If I’m going to go down, I want to go down by the best.”
This kid isn’t hooked up right. “Well Andy, this is, um …”
“A major conflict of interest,” Shep finishes my sentence. She grabs my arm to move on.
He chuckles. “Still a barrel of laughs aren’t you, Jessica?”
With Shep’s urging, we head toward the courtroom. Andy salutes me like I’m his commanding officer.
“Can’t we get his bail revoked?” Shep asks.
“I agree that he’s breaking his bail agreement, but he’s not a flight risk, or a danger to anyone. And besides, he might be our only supporter.”
Shep views the courtroom, realizing that I’m right about the lack of support. “You seem to have changed your view on him?”
“Sometimes when people grow on you, you see them in a different light.”
She looks away, while nervously fiddling with the latch on her briefcase. It’s pretty obvious that my statement expands beyond Andy.
We start today’s proceedings with Cooperstown’s finest. I’ve tried to keep them off the stand as long as possible, but I can’t avoid them all together. Hopefully we’ve been able to build up enough goodwill in their absence. But as Roger Beneke once again takes the stand, I can almost hear the sound of the final nails being driven into our coffin.
I walk Officer Beneke through the basics—the call he received and why he gave it low priority. How his alertness level changed upon arriving at Anderson Estate, which led to him entering the residence and searching for the victim.
When I get to the part about pushing past a disheveled Drew Anderson and finding a dead Laney Bang, I get ready to present the jury with the gory crime scene photos. My thinking is that I can shock them into overlooking the numerous errors by the police.
As expected, an immediate objection from the defense results in a sidebar. Kerri argues that the shock-value of the pictures will outweigh their use, causing prejudice. Figliomini agrees and I’m overruled.
I move on to the important part that can’t be objected to. I play the audiotape of a nervous Drew Anderson being questioned by Beneke. Kerri will play it off as a panic attack of a man who just found a dead body in his house, which is logical. But the tape is powerful. I look at the jury and while I don’t think Max Q has been pushed off his pedestal, for the first time he’s slightly rocking.
Kerri hammers Beneke again in her cross. Her main topics are: his threatening language toward Laney at the book signing, his decision to disregard the 911 call, which was either sinister or a sign of incompetence—neither is good for us—along with his hasty shift in priority once he arrived at the house that didn’t seem to add up.
I redirect with one question I’ve held in my pocket to hopefully cushion our fall. “Officer Beneke, if you were such a threat to Ms. Bang, how come she felt comfortable enough to ask you for a ride to Anderson Estate that night?”
For once, Beneke does something to help our case—he says nothing. The only person who can answer that question is dead.
Chapter 58
After Kerri finishes beating up on the Otsego County police department, which has dragged into Tuesday, Shep and I go for a quick cheeseburger at Touch ’Em All. When we return, we call Ryan Maxon to the stand to begin the afternoon session. Another hostile witness for the prosecution.
Maxon has cleaned up from the drunken, distraught man that Shep and I interviewed back in July. He is clean-shaven today and wearing an LB&G purchased suit, along with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. But money and a shower can only cover up so much—the dark circles under his eyes make it appear like he hasn’t slept since the murder. I sense an inner turmoil, and I think the reason for his angst is that he is playing both sides.
Maxon is an important witness, but what intrigues me most about him is his relationship with Laney. I’m not sure if he was motivated by his feelings for her, or his jealousy of Drew, but I believe he was assisting Laney in her blackmail. At the same time, he was Drew’s trusted confidante, who was called in a panic after Laney was murdered. That would mean Maxon knows everything about this case from both sides of the ledger.
Somehow I need to sew these angles together, all the while keeping Maxon safe from Kerri. I start with his unlikely relationship with a glitzy porn star.
I approach Maxon delicately. His body language reeks of victim and I feel if I raise my voice he might curl into the fetal position. “Mr. Maxon, you are employed by Drew Anderson, is that correct?”
“Yes it is,” he says in a soft voice.
“Could you please tell the court what type of work you perform for Mr. Anderson?”
“Drew and I have known each other since college. For lack of a better word, I am his right-hand man. I assist him in managing his affairs.”
“And by affairs, do you mean the one he was having with Laney Bang?” I can’t help myself. It gets a few laughs from the gallery, but also an objection from Kerri and a strong warning from Figliomini.
I withdraw the question and move on, “Numerous times during this trial, we have discussed a meeting that took place at Anderson Estate on the night of July 23. Were you present at this meeting?”
“Yes I was.”
“It seems unlikely to the average person that Drew Anderson would choose to conduct business with Laney Bang, and vice versa—they appeared to be rivals. Could you please explain to the court how such a meeting came about?”
“I set it up,” he proudly proclaims. The first sign of life I’ve noticed from him.
“You set it up?” I ask, faking amazement. I’m tempted to question why Drew and Laney couldn’t have arranged it during their lengthy time spent together in the bedroom, but I’ve already reached my wisecrack quota for the day with Figliomini.
“Would arranging such a high-level meeting be part of your normal job description?”
“I would normally assist, but I was the lead contact in this one.”
“Why were you given such increased responsibility?”
“Because of my close relationship with Laney.”
This wakes up the gallery. “Can you define close relationship?”
“I cared for her deeply. I didn’t know her for long, but it seemed like I’d known her for years. She was one of those people you could tell anything to, and we instantly developed a close bond. With our different schedules, we didn’t get to see each other often, but we spoke on the phone at least three times a week, sometimes into the wee hours.”
The last part is true—I have the phone records to prove it.
Normally it’s like pulling teeth to get Maxon to expand beyond yes or no answers, but when it comes to Laney I can’t shut him up. “What people don’t understand is that Laney was not the person you saw on camera. That was a character that she played. Underneath, she was just a normal girl who wanted to feel safe and secure, just like the rest of us.” He then adds, “I loved her. And I miss her every day.”
The gallery buzzes. They have been waiting for soap opera moments.
But Maxon fans the flame, “You don’t have to be romantically involved to love someone. I would describe our love as the type a brother and sister might have.”
Kerri and I make eye contact, then break into laughter. “I wouldn’t know much about that, perhaps you could enlighten me,” I say. Within seconds, the whole gallery catches on and begins to laugh. I even catch Figliomini grinning.
