Hear No Evil by James Grippando

Author:James Grippando
Format: epub, mobi

30

The United States of America calls Alejandro Pintado.”

With those ominous words from U.S. attorney Hector Torres, the case against Lindsey Hart was officially in high gear.

It had taken three days to select a jury. With over fifty percent of the county’s population foreign-born, everything about Miami was a mix, and juries were no different. Not even Sigmund Freud could have divined the psychological interplay of race, culture, language, and politics. As a defense lawyer, you didn’t try to be everything to everybody. You simply created enough reasonable doubt so that there was something for somebody to cling to, which was exactly the way Jack had played it during jury selection and his opening statement.

Now, it was show time.

“Mr. Pintado, please approach,” said the judge.

A sea of heads turned as the victim’s father made his way toward the witness box. The trial was in the central courtroom, which was filled to capacity. The Mediterranean-style surroundings were impressive, with stone arches, frescoed ceilings, and plenty of high-polished mahogany. Only the center courtroom had a public seating area large enough to accommodate the overwhelming media interest. Despite the murmuring crowd of spectators, Jack could hear his client sigh in the seat beside him. She’d seemed dazed since the bailiff called the case at nine A.M. sharp. Jack understood. Nothing was more unsettling than to hear the words “The United States of America versus” followed by your own name.

Jack gave her hand a little squeeze. It was ice cold.

“I do,” said Pintado, promising to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Please be seated,” the judge said.

Pintado settled into the witness stand, which was situated opposite the jury. Judge Garcia was perched between the witness and the jury, a commanding figure in his own right, very judicial and even scholarly in his appearance and demeanor. Pintado was one of those rare witnesses who seemed to command even greater deference. Jack could see the respect and admiration in the eyes of several jurors.

“Good morning,” the prosecutor said as he approached the witness. “First, let me express my condolences to you and Mrs. Pintado for the loss of your son.”

“Thank you.” The jury followed his gaze toward his wife in the first row of public seating. She was an attractive woman, smartly dressed, but her face spoke of many sleepless nights of grieving.

Predictably enough, the testimony began with the witness’s impressive background—his childhood in Cuba, his harrowing raft trip to Miami, his first job as a dishwasher, and his rise to fame as owner of a successful chain of Cuban restaurants. The prosecutor then steered him toward more pertinent matters.

“Mr. Pintado, would you please tell us about your son?”

He seemed to sigh at the size of the question. Pintado did not come across as the kind of man who was easily shaken, but his voice quaked just a bit as he answered. “Oscar was the kind of son every parent wants. He was a good boy, a good student in school. At Columbus High he was president of his senior class and played quarterback on the football team.

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