Page 63 of The Right to Remain

The five-minute break was over, and the trainees were returning to the studio.

“Jack needs to know this,” said Theo.

CJ chuckled. “Rest assured of one thing, Mr. Knight. I don’t say anything in front of you that I don’t want to get back to Jack Swyteck.”

“Good to know,” said Theo. He walked with Sheila back toward the exercise mats, where the group was retaking their positions.

“Don’t believe anything he says,” Sheila said in a tight whisper.

“No shit,” said Theo.

CJ addressed the group in a loud voice. “All right, everyone. Some light stretching to get back in the groove. Downward-facing-dog pose.”

Theo mimicked what the others were doing, hands and feet planted on the mat, his butt in the air to form an inverted V. Sheila was beside him.

“And as for what Jack asked you to find out—what’s behind the gun destruction business?” she said, still whispering.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not the only one who thinks there’s more to it than Elliott and I showed you.”

Theo smiled to himself. CJ’s insults of Uncle Cy aside, one of the old man’s kernels of wisdom came to mind:When your enemy claims to be an open book, better read between the lines.

“Shocking,” Theo said with a smirk.

Chapter 22

The courtroom was packed on Friday morning. Jack was seated at the defense table, nearest to the witness stand, with Elliott at his side. It was prejudicial and contrary to the presumption of innocence to make a criminal defendant wear the distinctive prison uniform in front of a jury, but there was no jury at an Arthur hearing, so Elliott was dressed in jailhouse orange. Julianna Weller and an assistant state attorney were seated at the table for the prosecution, nearest to the empty jury box.

“Good morning, everyone,” Judge Garrison said from the bench, seemingly pleased to see his courtroom filled to capacity.

The stakes were high. It was up to the judge to decide whether Elliott would prepare for his trial from behind bars, or if he could walk out of the courtroom a free man, unless and until convicted by a jury. The lawyers’ eloquent legal battle over bail, however, did not account for the television cameras and rows of reporters packed shoulder to shoulder in the media section. Rather, an Arthur hearing was a first look at the strength of the state’s evidence against the accused, as the judge explained from the get-go.

“Ms. Weller, as you know, this court must release the defendant on bail unless the State of Florida presents enough evidence to establish a ‘great presumption’ of guilt. That said, I do not intend this mini-trial to last more than one day. Choose your witnesses carefully. You may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. The State of Florida calls Dr. Lopez.”

“I object,” said Jack, rising.

The judge did a double take. “Well, congratulations, Mr. Swyteck.An objection before the witness even enters the courtroom and is sworn to testify. I do believe that’s a new world record.”

It was more sarcasm than Jack deserved, but Judge Garrison liked an audience, and he was known to ham it up, as long as there was no jury present.

“Respectfully,” said Jack, “any testimony from this witness is so patently inappropriate that swearing her in would be a waste of time.”

“Who is Dr. Lopez?” asked the judge.

The prosecutor took a step forward, as if being two feet closer to the bench made her voice more important. “Dr. Lopez is the gynecologist the defendant consulted before she, er, I mean he—whatever—began to medically transition.”

“Which is precisely the grounds for my objection,” said Jack. “Dr. Lopez was my client’s treating physician. Anything they discussed is protected by the physician-patient privilege.”

“Ms. Weller, is that your intention?” the judge asked. “You want to question Dr. Lopez about communications between a doctor and her patient?”

“Allow me to explain, Your Honor. Six years ago, Mr. Pollard and his wife adopted a baby boy from a teenage girl. That girl is now a transgender man who will never give birth to another child. Testimony from this witness goes to the heart of our case. For second-degree murder, we are required to prove that the defendant acted with a ‘depraved mind’ in taking the life of Mr. Pollard. To prove the requisite mindset, I intend to ask Dr. Lopez about any regrets the defendant may have expressed about the inability to have children as a result of his own self-mutilation.”

The termself-mutilationdrew, from some corners, a fist-pumping chorus of support more suitable for a locker room.

The judge banged his gavel. “Order! Ms. Weller, please try to use less inflammatory language in my courtroom.”