Chapter 43
Judge Garrison called the crowded courtroom to order. With the media section at capacity, just a handful of open seats remained
in the public gallery. Even though Jack had done nothing to cultivate publicity, word had traveled fast that the victim’s
widow would return to the witness stand.
“Mr. Swyteck, you may proceed,” the judge said.
Jack rose. “At this time, the defense calls—”
“Your Honor, if I may,” said the prosecutor. “The State of Florida has a request.”
The judge seemed annoyed. “Ms. Weller, I will not reconsider my decision to allow the defense to further question Helena Pollard.”
“Judge, Ms. Pollard testified at the first hearing as a witness for the prosecution, and then she was cross-examined by Mr.
Swyteck. My request is simply that we proceed in the same fashion today. The prosecution should go first.”
“That sequence has some logic to it,” the judge said. “Mr. Swyteck, do you intend to treat Ms. Pollard as an adverse witness?”
Labeling a witness “adverse” or “hostile” had legal significance. If Helena proved uncooperative, Jack could use leading questions
and other tactics to control the witness, as in cross-examination, even though Jack was calling her as a witness for the defense.
“Your Honor, I reserve the right to treat Ms. Pollard as hostile.”
“In that case, the prosecution’s request is granted. Ms. Weller, you may examine the witness first.”
The bailiff brought in the witness through the double doors at the rear of the courtroom.
Helena’s gaze was locked on to the witness stand as she walked down the center aisle, but Jack noticed that she made brief eye contact with her lawyer, Patricia Dubrow, who was seated in the first row of public seating.
Helena raised her right hand, the bailiff administered the oath, and the witness settled into the chair.
“Thank you for being here, Ms. Pollard,” the prosecutor said in a polite tone. “Again, I wish to convey my condolences for
the loss of your husband.”
“Thank you.”
“A lot has happened since the last time you were in this courtroom. I want to ask about one thing, in particular. The handgun
recovered from your yard, a twenty-two-caliber Beretta Bobcat.”
“Okay,” said Helena.
“According to the police report, that firearm has no serial number and no registered owner. My question for you is this: Whose
gun is it?”
“Objection,” said Jack, but the witness answered anyway.
“It’s mine,” said Helena.
The judge held up his hand to stop the witness from saying more. “Mr. Swyteck, what is your objection?”
The prosecutor’s last-minute maneuvering had felt like an ambush, and Jack was expecting Helena to say the gun belonged to
Elliott. “I withdraw the objection, Your Honor.”
Weller continued. “Did you have the gun in your possession on the day of your husband’s death?”
“I did. But only for part of that day.”
“Which part?”
“The early morning. While I was at the house.”
“Can you pinpoint the moment at which the gun was no longer in your possession?”
“Yes. As I testified before, Owen and I had an argument that morning.”
The prosecutor checked her notes. “Just to be clear: This was the argument that followed the phone call in which your husband
told Mr. Stafford, ‘Stay away from my son, you freak.’ Correct?”
“Objection, leading,” said Jack.
“Sustained. Ms. Weller, you ceded the right of cross-examination to the defense by asking to go first.”
“But I was merely quoting her prior testimony.”
“Stop leading the witness,” the judge said firmly.
“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. “Ms. Pollard, what happened after that argument?”
“As I testified before, Owen ordered me out of the house.”
“What do you mean when you say he ‘ordered’ you?”
Helena drew a breath, then continued. “He told me to get out and never come back. He said I didn’t know the first thing about
raising a boy properly and that Austen was staying with him.”
“What did you do?”
“I left.”
“Without Austen?”
She glanced in Jack’s direction. “Yes. Mr. Swyteck tried to make me feel ashamed about that at the last hearing, like I was
a bad mother. I’m not. I was afraid.”
Jack could have pointed out that if anyone had cast shame on her, it was the prosecutor, but an objection would only have
made him look like a bully. He simply took mental note: If that was the way she remembered it, Helena was a “hostile witness”
indeed.
The prosecutor continued. “Not to be flip, but it doesn’t sound like this was a situation where your husband said, ‘Get out,
I’m keeping our son,’ and you replied, ‘Good idea, let me get my purse, have a nice life.’”
“Not even close. I literally ran out the front door. And it’s funny you mention my purse.”
By “funny” she presumably meant a coincidence, which Jack knew it was not. This was a choreographed show.
“Why is that funny?” asked the prosecutor.
“Because I ran out so fast, I left my purse behind.”
“Is that important for some reason—the fact that you left your purse behind?”
“Very. My Bobcat is a small, palm-sized handgun. When it wasn’t locked in the gun cabinet at home, I kept it in my purse.”
“Was it in your purse on the morning of your husband’s death, when you ran out the door without your purse?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m confused. You testified earlier that you drove to your mother’s house in Fort Lauderdale. Wasn’t your car key in
your purse as well?”
“No. Owen and I kept our keys on a hook by the door. I grabbed the keys and ran out.”
“I see,” said the prosecutor. “Now, you also testified that you returned home that evening, correct?”
“Yes. After Owen called me and said Austen was upset.”
“Did you have your gun with you when you returned home?”
“No,” she said, slightly annoyed. “I just told you the gun was in my purse, and I left without my purse.”
“Right, sorry. Here’s what I really want to know: Was the gun inside your purse when you returned home?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t check?”
“No. I was in a hurry to get Austen and ran straight up to his room.”
“Did you eventually check?”
“Eventually, yes. This was a horrific night. I found my husband’s body. The police were there. I had a six-year-old son to
console. I didn’t look inside my purse until the next morning.”
“What did you discover?”
“The gun wasn’t there.”
The prosecutor paused, but Jack knew she wasn’t finished.
“Just a few more questions, Ms. Pollard. You were in this courtroom when your son Austen testified, were you not?”
“I was.”
The prosecutor checked her notes. “Did you hear your son testify that the defendant, Elliott Stafford, came to the house that
evening?”
“Yes. Austen said that Mr. Stafford came and went before I got there.”
“Right,” she said, sounding more like a professor than a prosecutor. “So, if Mr. Stafford was there before you, that means
your gun was still in the house when he arrived, inside the purse you had left behind that morning in your rush to escape.
Correct?”
“Objection,” said Jack. “Your Honor, this is not closing argument.”
“Sustained. Ms. Weller, please don’t ask the witness to connect the dots by speculating. I believe you’ve taken this line
of questioning about as far as you can.”
“Yes, Your Honor. And I believe it’s just far enough. I have no further questions.”
Her smugness had overtaken any semblance of professionalism, as the prosecutor thanked the witness and returned to her seat.
“Mr. Swyteck,” the judge said. “You may cross-examine.”
Jack remained in his chair, thinking. Helena’s testimony had changed everything. Jack’s objection was sustained, but the prosecutor
had finally explained how Elliott could have gotten his hands on the murder weapon. If Jack was going to undercut the prosecution’s
case, it wasn’t nearly enough for this witness to explain how she got the gun in the first place. Jack needed an entirely new plan of attack—and a much bigger payoff.
The judge cleared his throat. “Mr. Swyteck, do you have any cross-examination for this witness?”
Jack rose and buttoned his suit coat. “Yes, Your Honor. I do indeed.”