reading glasses, which were slightly tinted and half-moon shaped. "Mr. Powell. The people seek to deny bail?"
Powell stood up. "We do, Your Honor. This is a special circumstances case. The allegations are multiple murders and murder for profit. The defendant has already killed—"
"Your Honor!" Freeman was not having any of this. To date, it was not established that Jennifer had killed anybody. That was, after all, what this was about.
The judge scowled down at the prosecutor. "Mr. Powell, please."
Powell put on a show of contrition, but wasted no time getting the needle in.
"I'm sorry, Your Honor. But this is a death penalty case. The law provides that this defendant should be held without bail. Further, the People believe there is substantial risk of flight."
Freeman came back matter-of-fact. "Your Honor, Mrs. Witt will surrender her passport. She has never been accused, much less convicted, of any crime. There is no basis in Mrs. Witt's history or in fact for the prosecution's contention that there is a risk of flight. She has stayed in the City since December, and she must have had some inkling that she was under suspicion during that time. She did not resist arrest."
"All right, all right." Thomasino peered over his glasses. "Nevertheless, Mr. Freeman, at that time she was not yet charged with any crime, let alone three counts of capital murder. We've got a different situation now, wouldn't you agree?"
"Your Honor, Mrs. Witt did not commit these crimes and she is anxious to clear her name in court."
Thomasino almost smiled. "Yes. Well, she will get that opportunity, but I'm inclined to agree with the People that, facing the possibility of the death penalty she might at least be tempted to forgo that opportunity. And without any remaining ties to the community and no immediate family—"
"Your Honor!" Jennifer's voice was a surprise to everyone in the courtroom. Defendants were, after all, usually so intimidated by these proceedings, by being referred to in their own presence in the third person, that it rarely occurred to them that they could actually speak up themselves. Jennifer did. "I do have family here today."
Hardy turned around. In the second row a graying man who might have been Thomasino's brother was halfway to his feet. Another younger man looked as though he was thinking about getting up, too. Between the two sat a middle-aged woman.
Hardy also noticed something pass between Jennifer and a well-dressed bearded man a few rows farther back in the gallery. Who was he? And why didn't Jennifer make some kind of friendly gesture to her own father, brother, mother? She pointed them out to Thomasino in hopes that they might help her win bail, but she didn't so much as nod to any of them.
Thomasino recovered quickly. "All right, thank you. You folks back there, please be seated."
"If it please the court." Dean Powell was on his feet. "I'd like to ask Mrs. Witt about the last time she saw her family."
"Your Honor, please!" Hardy was sure that, like himself, Freeman had no idea what Powell was talking about, but he wasn't going to let such a request go unchallenged. They were a long way from trial here, and questioning the defendant was out of line.
"What are you getting at, Mr. Powell?"
"Your Honor, in the course of our investigation it's become clear that Mrs. Witt is not at all close to her family. In fact, they have been estranged—"
Freeman, from the hip, shot out. "And that's why they're here today, Dean?"
The gavel slapped down. "Mr. Freeman, you will address all your remarks to the court. Clear?"
"Of course, Your Honor, I'm sorry." Like most of Freeman's moves, this one was calculated. Get off a losing point, direct attention anywhere else, even if it got him a contempt warning. And taking Thomasino's reprimand gave him another few moments to think of something else. "But Mr. Powell should know
Powell stood up. "We do, Your Honor. This is a special circumstances case. The allegations are multiple murders and murder for profit. The defendant has already killed—"
"Your Honor!" Freeman was not having any of this. To date, it was not established that Jennifer had killed anybody. That was, after all, what this was about.
The judge scowled down at the prosecutor. "Mr. Powell, please."
Powell put on a show of contrition, but wasted no time getting the needle in.
"I'm sorry, Your Honor. But this is a death penalty case. The law provides that this defendant should be held without bail. Further, the People believe there is substantial risk of flight."
Freeman came back matter-of-fact. "Your Honor, Mrs. Witt will surrender her passport. She has never been accused, much less convicted, of any crime. There is no basis in Mrs. Witt's history or in fact for the prosecution's contention that there is a risk of flight. She has stayed in the City since December, and she must have had some inkling that she was under suspicion during that time. She did not resist arrest."
"All right, all right." Thomasino peered over his glasses. "Nevertheless, Mr. Freeman, at that time she was not yet charged with any crime, let alone three counts of capital murder. We've got a different situation now, wouldn't you agree?"
"Your Honor, Mrs. Witt did not commit these crimes and she is anxious to clear her name in court."
Thomasino almost smiled. "Yes. Well, she will get that opportunity, but I'm inclined to agree with the People that, facing the possibility of the death penalty she might at least be tempted to forgo that opportunity. And without any remaining ties to the community and no immediate family—"
"Your Honor!" Jennifer's voice was a surprise to everyone in the courtroom. Defendants were, after all, usually so intimidated by these proceedings, by being referred to in their own presence in the third person, that it rarely occurred to them that they could actually speak up themselves. Jennifer did. "I do have family here today."
Hardy turned around. In the second row a graying man who might have been Thomasino's brother was halfway to his feet. Another younger man looked as though he was thinking about getting up, too. Between the two sat a middle-aged woman.
Hardy also noticed something pass between Jennifer and a well-dressed bearded man a few rows farther back in the gallery. Who was he? And why didn't Jennifer make some kind of friendly gesture to her own father, brother, mother? She pointed them out to Thomasino in hopes that they might help her win bail, but she didn't so much as nod to any of them.
Thomasino recovered quickly. "All right, thank you. You folks back there, please be seated."
"If it please the court." Dean Powell was on his feet. "I'd like to ask Mrs. Witt about the last time she saw her family."
"Your Honor, please!" Hardy was sure that, like himself, Freeman had no idea what Powell was talking about, but he wasn't going to let such a request go unchallenged. They were a long way from trial here, and questioning the defendant was out of line.
"What are you getting at, Mr. Powell?"
"Your Honor, in the course of our investigation it's become clear that Mrs. Witt is not at all close to her family. In fact, they have been estranged—"
Freeman, from the hip, shot out. "And that's why they're here today, Dean?"
The gavel slapped down. "Mr. Freeman, you will address all your remarks to the court. Clear?"
"Of course, Your Honor, I'm sorry." Like most of Freeman's moves, this one was calculated. Get off a losing point, direct attention anywhere else, even if it got him a contempt warning. And taking Thomasino's reprimand gave him another few moments to think of something else. "But Mr. Powell should know
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