Page 122 of Hush

“Objection!” Ballard was on his feet. “Calls for speculation.”

“I’ll rephrase.” Renner smiled his slick attorney’s smile. “Dr. Sparks, if the defense does not dispute the facts of these individuals’ tragic deaths, then what purpose does your testimony serve?”

“Objection! The same objection! This is ridiculous.”

Tom fixed Ballard with a glare. “Outbursts from either party are not welcome in this court. Counselor, move on to a different line of questioning.” Renner had made his point. The jury was squirming.

“Dr. Sparks, do you know anything about whether Vadim Kryukov is responsible for planning these murders?”

“No.”

“Do you have any information about who may be responsible for planning these murders, other than what you’ve read in the papers?”

“No.”

“You know no facts about whether my client is guilty or innocent of the crime he is being accused of?”

“No.”

“So, since we do not dispute one iota of your testimony and you have no information to share about my client’s involvement in these crimes, your testimony, then, served only to play on juror sympathy?”

Dr. Sparks wisely did not answer. Ballard was on his feet in an instant, crying out, “Objection! This question is argumentative and abusive! The defense is badgering the witness.”

“Withdrawn.” Renner smiled again. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Strike the last question from the record. Jurors, please treat that last exchange as if it never happened.” Tom watched the jurors carefully. Some made notes, other scratched lines out on their pad. All of them glanced from Renner to Ballard, their eyes narrowing.

Special Agent Lucas Barnes took the stand next. He walked the court through the FBI’s investigation, through Bulat Desheriyev’s sniper nest, the location he fired the fateful shots from. He spoke about Desheriyev’s sniper rifle, a Dragunov, a Russian-made classic in sniper circles. Hardy and reliable, it was less powerful than the American Barrett, but still extremely lethal.

Barnes then moved to the search of Desheriyev’s bolt-hole in suburban DC, the hideout he had built up for several months, hoping to escape to, and fade into obscurity in, after the crime. Who would suspect the young immigrant who bought fruit every Tuesday and Saturday, and who smiled at dog walkers and little old ladies?

At Desheriyev’s place, they discovered the cocaine baggie, most of the cocaine gone—used—drug paraphernalia, and Desheriyev’s cell phone. Kryukov’s fingerprint was on the cocaine baggie, and a text from Kryukov’s personal cell phone was on Desheriyev’s, confirming the Russian president’s location at the Capitol on the fateful Saturday. The text was verified through phone records, and forensics were able to recover the deleted text from Kryukov’s phone.

Barnes was a skilled witness. He’d been on the stand in his career more times than Tom could count. He himself had used Barnes multiple times in high-profile FBI and counterterrorism cases. He faced the jury, his testimony as if he was having a conversation with them. Tom watched more than one juror smile at Barnes.

After a day of hard-hitting, emotionally-draining testimony, Barnes’s calm, collected competence was like a salve to their wounded hearts and minds. Even Tom found himself leaning into Barnes’s testimony.

Ballard let Barnes testify in long, narrative explanations. Barnes was in control, telling the story of the evidence with little prodding and guidance from Ballard.

“Agent Barnes,” Ballard said. “How did the FBI verify Bulat Desheriyev’s statements after he began cooperating with the prosecution?”

“We walked Mr. Desheriyev through his confession, searching for physical evidence to corroborate each of his claims. We analyzed his cell phone and discovered the text message. Through checking the cellular records and subpoenaing the carrier, we established that the number was Vadim Kryukov’s, which we confirmed when we arrested the defendant. We found the materials provided in the dead drop to Mr. Desheriyev, including the cocaine baggie, and had it tested for fingerprints. We found Kryukov’s fingerprint. The evidence clearly backed up Mr. Desheriyev’s statement and confession.”

“Was there any discrepancy between any physical evidence and Bulat Desheriyev’s statements?”

“None.”

“Did the FBI investigate the possibility that there might have been conspirators beyond Vadim Kryukov?”

“We found no evidence to indicate that there was any other conspirator beyond Vadim Kryukov. In order to verify that, we asked Mr. Kryukov to cooperate with the investigation. We offered him a similar deal to Mr. Desheriyev, if he was truthful and cooperative with the investigation. He refused.”

And then it was Renner’s turn.

Cross-examination was a battle, and with an opponent as skilled and likable as Barnes, Renner had his work cut out for him. Renner had to seize control, wrest it back from Barnes, but not look dominant in front of the jury. Not appear like a bully. He had to make himself seem more competent than Barnes, and sincere, too. Likable. Enough to plant a sliver of doubt in Barnes’s testimony, make the jurors hesitate. Start the dominos of doubt falling, slowly.

Or, he could go the other way, and try and rip Barnes a new asshole.

Tom watched and waited.