Play Dead

“Now, the defense has raised the possibility-I would even say the probability-that Stacy Harriman lied about her true identity. And I cannot tell you why she did that. But none of the possible reasons-and they are many-could possibly justify her murder.”

Hawpe walks over to the jury and stands maybe three feet from them. “If one of you took a gun out right now and shot me, thinking my name was Daniel Hawpe, you would be arrested. If later you found out that my real name was Bill Smith, or Carl Jones, it wouldn’t matter. You would be just as guilty.

“On behalf of the State of New Jersey, I want you to listen to the judge’s instructions, follow your common sense, and vote your conscience. If you do that, Richard Evans will never be in a position to murder again.”

As soon as Hawpe sits down, I am gripped by exactly the sense of fear and anxiety and dread that I face every single time I give a closing statement. This is my last chance; once I sit back down I will never have another opportunity to influence this jury.

It’s like a baseball pitcher who throws a three-and-two pitch with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning of the seventh game of the World Series. The pitcher is in control until the moment the ball leaves his hand, and then he has no control over his fate whatsoever.

Once I finish this statement, I’m a bystander.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have been involved in a lot of trials, more than I sometimes care to remember, and I have seen many different prosecutorial approaches. A good prosecutor adjusts his case and his style to the facts he has to present, to the strength of his case.

“Mr. Hawpe is a very good prosecutor, and it is obvious that he carefully assessed his evidence before coming up with the tactic that best fit this trial. What he wound up with is the ‘well, maybe, but’ approach.

“You heard it throughout. When we proved that Reggie was alive, his response was basically, ‘Well, maybe he is alive, but…’

“When it was shown that Richard did not take Amenipam in pill form, Mr. Hawpe backed off with ‘Well, maybe he didn’t, but…’

“When it was demonstrated that Mr. Evans could not have sustained his injury in the way it was presented, Mr. Hawpe allowed that ‘Well, maybe he didn’t, but…’

“And when it was proven beyond doubt that the very identity of the murder victim was a lie and a mystery, he conceded, ‘Well, maybe it was faked, but…’

“Before a prosecutor asks you to send someone to a life in prison, he has to be certain of his facts. He should not be constantly amending them when they prove wrong. He cannot be allowed to tap dance his way to a murder conviction. Richard Evans deserves better than that.

“Stacy Harriman’s entire life was a lie, a complete fabrication, even to her own future husband. This is not something that she would have done casually. How many people do you know that have done it? She was a young, beautiful woman so afraid of where she had been that she couldn’t get herself to reveal it to the man she loved.

“She lived alone with her fear, her secret, until it killed her.

“Richard Evans has never done anything criminal-not on the boat that night, not in his life. Before this nightmare he was a dedicated public servant, a caring friend, a loving brother.

“He can be all that again, if you will let him. Thank you.”

I turn around and walk back to the defense table. I see Karen in the front row, sobbing, and Richard grabs my arm as I reach him.

“Thank you,” he says. “No matter how this turns out, thank you.”

* * * * *

IT SEEMS THAT you can never get a good coma going when you need one.

My strong preference would be to remain in an unconscious state while a jury is deliberating. In fact, I’d like to be wheeled into the courtroom that way and not woken up until the very moment that the clerk is starting to read the verdict.

That way I would be able to avoid the anxiety, the doubt, and the second-guessing that I inflict on myself. I wouldn’t have to go through my ridiculous preverdict superstitions, and my friends wouldn’t have to deal with me at my most obnoxious.

This is not a fun time.

Making matters worse is Karen Evans’s understandable desire to hang out with me while we wait. She knows I’ll hear things first, so this is where she wants to be. This gives me the unwanted burden of having to be reasonably pleasant at a time when I am always impossibly cranky.

Karen also assumes I know more about this process than she does, but she’s wrong about that. I have no idea what is going on in that jury room, or what decision they might reach. The entire thing is impossible to predict and, more significantly, completely out of my control. That is what makes it so maddening.