Chapter 1 #2
At that moment the judge came into court, we all stood to greet her and then she ushered in the jury as we settled back in our seats.
I opened a page of discovery in the case. A photocopy of Gennaro’s notebook. Of course, the app hadn’t been working, so he reverted to hard copy. The handwriting was neat and unhurried.
The page number of the notebook on the bottom left-hand corner said 59 in bold letters.
I’d issued a subpoena for the real notebook to be brought to court.
I didn’t have the right to examine it, just for it to be produced in court.
Shilton had sent me a copy of the entry relevant to Errol’s case – page 59.
I wasn’t entitled to look at anything else in that notebook because it would contain notes on other police calls.
This was a dilemma that the law couldn’t get around. I had a good idea how Gennaro made the false entry recording Errol’s description instead of the real description given by the nightwatchman, but I couldn’t prove it without the notebook.
But I wasn’t entitled to see it, by law.
Shilton rose and made his opening statement to the jury, telling them that if they believed Officer Gennaro, and his contemporaneous note of the description given by the nightwatchman, then this amounted to lawful probable cause for the arrest. He called Patrolman Gennaro to the stand.
The rear doors of the courtroom opened, and a policeman in uniform entered. Gennaro was smaller than Shilton, and much rounder. He was one of those guys who looked like a human bulldog. A ball of muscle and fat, with no neck and a red complexion.
His notebook was clutched tightly in his meaty left hand.
To get to the witness stand, Gennaro had to walk down the central aisle that divided the public seating, go through the pinewood gate that separated the lawyers from the public and then pass between the defense and prosecution tables.
As Gennaro passed by, I leaned back in my chair, stretched out my legs.
My left ankle caught Gennaro’s right foot, and he reached out his hands to save himself as he went down, face first.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ I said as I leapt to my feet, maybe too fast, and as I dashed to help Gennaro, I knocked over the fifteen or so law books I had piled on my table.
The heavy books clattered to the floor around Gennaro. I grabbed his left arm, helped him to his feet.
He had turned a brighter red, with embarrassment.
‘Are you okay? God, I’m so sorry,’ I said.
‘Fine,’ he said, shrugging off my helping hand. He bent down and picked up the notebook from the floor, and then took the stand and the witness oath while I retrieved my books and put them on the defense table.
Shilton took a second to let Gennaro get settled in the witness stand, then began.
‘The jury are well aware of the issues in this trial. It is our case that you recorded a description from the nightwatchman, and that description matched the defendant. Let’s get straight to the heart of this matter.
Do you have your original contemporaneous note of the description provided to you at the scene of the burglary by the nightwatchman? ’
‘I do. It’s in my memo book,’ said Gennaro, holding the leatherbound book aloft.
‘Just for the record, you didn’t record this in the digital app?’ asked Shilton.
‘There was no signal at my location. I keep a standard-issue police notebook in my patrol vehicle in case that happens, and I used that.’
‘And there was no bodycam footage of this conversation?’
‘Not usually, not when I am talking to witnesses. I turned on the bodycam when I arrested the plaintiff, Errol Jackson.’
‘With the court’s permission, please, take your time, and find the relevant entry in your notebook, then read it aloud.’
‘Of course, just a second, and I’ll find it.’
Gennaro opened his notebook.
The surprise and confusion registered on his face.
I knew what he was looking at. The first page. Something written there that he didn’t expect to find. In black marker. Capitals.
DON’T REACT.
I CAN GET YOU OUT OF THIS.
KEEP TURNING THE PAGES.
Gennaro flipped the page.
LOOK UP.
As his head came up, I gave him my best smile.
Then winked and nodded toward the book in front of him.
Gennaro flipped the page.
I’VE GOT YOUR ORIGINAL NOTEBOOK.
When he looked up at me again, he was just in time to see me holding my cell phone over his original notebook, right in front of me on the defense table.
After I’d tripped Gennaro, then spilled a pile of books on the floor, I’d switched his notebook for the one he was now reading.
I had his notebook open to the page of notes he’d later made.
I noticed the tiny scraps of torn paper edges, at the center fold of the notebook.
The pages of the book went from 57 to 59.
The original description given by the nightwatchman was no doubt on that missing page. I snapped a photo with my cell phone.
Officer Gennaro’s rosy pallor suddenly began to fade into a fearful white as he flipped to the next page.
JURIES DON’T LIKE COINCIDENCES.
THE NYPD LIVE LOG APP WASN’T WORKING . . .
YOUR BODYCAM WASN’T ON . . .
Next page . . .
A PAGE HAS BEEN RIPPED OUT OF YOUR NOTEBOOK?
Gennaro flipped to the next page.
TELL SHILTON YOU’VE brOUGHT THE WRONG MEMO BOOK.
On the next page.
SETTLE AND LEAVE HIM AND HIS FAMILY ALONE.
YOU’LL GET THE BOOK BACK AFTER.
He closed the notebook, glared at me, his eyes bugging out of his big round head. It took a few moments for Gennaro to gather himself enough to start thinking. But it didn’t take him long.
‘Your Honor,’ said Gennaro, addressing the judge, ‘I’m so sorry, but I think I’ve brought the wrong notebook. Could I have some time to go find the correct one?’
The judge rolled her eyes, said, ‘Let’s adjourn for fifteen minutes. Mr. Shilton, by then I want an update on how long it’s going to take for Officer Gennaro to get his original notebook and bring it to this court. Shouldn’t take more than an hour, but I want a firm timeline when we come back.’
With that, the judge stood, and Gennaro almost ran out of the witness stand and grabbed Shilton, taking him to a corner of the courtroom for a hushed and anxious conversation.
‘What’s happening, Eddie?’ asked Errol.
I could only see Shilton’s back, but the way he hung his head, and then slumped his shoulders told me all I needed to know.
‘Looks like justice is happening, Errol.’
Gennaro shook his head, his blood pressure now getting the best of his fear as he turned lobster red and then stormed out of court, Shilton calling after him.
Shilton gestured that we should talk. I took Gennaro’s notebook and put it in my jacket pocket, and joined Shilton.
‘Problem with your star witness?’ I asked.
‘Look, we’ve been thinking. We’re going to take your offer, Flynn. Settled at twenty-five grand, no admission of liability. Settlement agreement to be sealed.’
‘I told you I would win this case without saying a word in court, didn’t I? Look, I can see you’ve got a problem with Gennaro. I’ll agree no admission, and to sealing the agreement. But my offer of settlement was fifty thousand dollars, Shilton, not twenty-five.’
‘What? You told me, not ten minutes ago, you would take twenty-five.’
‘You need to get your hearing checked. I said fifty.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Did you write down my offer settlement in your notes?’
Now it was Shilton’s turn to change his complexion. His neck flushed red.
‘No,’ he said.
‘What did you tell me? If it wasn’t written down at the time it didn’t happen? Fifty. Take it or leave it. And make sure Gennaro leaves Errol and his family alone.’
Shilton stared at the ground. He was out of moves.
‘I’ll take it. Jesus, you’re not a lawyer. You’re a goddamn con artist, Flynn.’
‘Believe it or not, I take that as a compliment.’
Errol’s grandma damn near crushed my ribcage as she took me in a bearhug. I didn’t mind. I was too busy watching Errol and his wife as the dollar signs rolled around in their eyeballs.
Sometimes I really like this job.
My cell phone buzzed, a reminder for an appointment at a white-shoe law firm on Wall Street.
Right then, I got a feeling that my day was about to go downhill rapidly.