Page 99 of Dissection of a Murder
“I was worried that if Jack found out I’d told anyone about it, he’d hurt me. Dad knew I was terrified of him.”
“Whose idea was it for your father to go to see Jack?”
“It was his idea. I tried to stop him.”
“What was the purpose of the visit?”
“He was going to tell him to stop intimidating me.”
“Can you tell us anything else about that last meeting with your father?”
“No, just that I wish he hadn’t gone,” he says, lowering his head.
Julian—King of the Well-Executed Pause—breaks for a few seconds, allowing the moment to ferment in the jurors’ brains.
“Thank you, Mr. Smythe. My learned friend will have some questions for you.”
Julian sits down as I rise.
People always ask me, “How can you defend people you know to be guilty?” It’s not my job to judge them—that belongs to the jury. It’s my job to study the evidence and the facts, then advise accordingly. What I do find difficult, however, is dealing with the rest of them. The liars in the witness box. It’s these people—not the defendants—who ought to be judged by society.
I pause for a moment before starting, just to unsettle him. He’llbe expecting me to be hostile. I deliver a warm smile, catching him off guard.
“You’re currently at Cambridge University, aren’t you, Mr. Smythe?”
“I am, yes.”
“What are you studying?”
“Law.”
Oh, the irony.
“Law?” I repeat. “I’m sure your father would be very proud.”
“I hope he would.”
“You must have grown up in a household that promotes the importance of criminals answering for their offenses.”
“Absolutely,” he confirms, leaning forward in the witness box to further his point.
“With a father as a criminal judge, this must have been instilled in you more so than others?”
“Yes.”
“He knew, more than anyone, the procedures involved when dealing with criminals. He dealt with them every day, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Bizarre, then, that when his son was being criminally harassed, he chose to deal with it himself rather than go to the police.”
“Your Ladyship.” Julian rises to object, as I knew he would. “The witness is being asked to speculate upon the actions of his father.”
“My Lady, I am merely probing as to the discussions that were had that led to Anton Smythe visiting Jack Millman on the night he died. These are highly relevant.”
“I’ll allow it,” she says. “Be careful, Miss Reynolds.”
Julian sits down in a dramatic, slow manner, trying to let the jury know he still has authority. I know his games.
