In some murder trials, there's an element of suspense regarding the defendant: will he or won't he testify?
Not here. It had been clear from the start that if the "confession" could possibly be explained away, Tommy Dolan would have to do it. Throughout California, speculation about his testimony left front pages and radio news broadcasts with little room for anything else.
And Nate had decided that his client's obvious intelligence was an asset, not a liability. He was eloquent enough to convince me his version of what happened is the truth, so I have to believe he can convince a jury.
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He began his questioning by having Dolan explain the format of his successful radio program, "True Tales From On the Road." Then he led him through the familiar story of his first encounter with a drunken Justin Crowe. Even now, Dolan's voice throbbed with emotion as he recounted the horror story he'd heard from the lips of the despairing preacher.
"And until then," Nate asked, "you'd never heard of him or his problems?"
"No. And I'd never had occasion to set foot in Mintern. I knew nothing about the place."
"Did you consider dropping your hobo act, trying to persuade Brother Justin to go back to L.A. with you?" Nate knew that if he didn't address that question, Robinson would.
"I thought about it. But I didn't have any way, really, of walking away from the role I was playing. Colleagues were going to pick me up in a couple of days. But in the meantime, I didn't have any means of transportation, or a change of clothes, money, or any sort of ID that would prove who I was. If I suddenly started saying I wasn't a real hobo, the bunch of them would've thought I was nuts.
"And in the state of mind Justin was in, he might not have let me 'rescue' him, anyway. He might have conked me over the head with a bottle and taken off."
Nate nodded thoughtfully. "So when you returned to L.A., Brother Justin was still wandering somewhere...and you had a powerful story to tell your radio audience."
"Yes."
"Were you genuinely outraged by what you thought bigots had done to him and his flock? Or did you see it as a huge 'scoop' that would benefit you?"
"Both," Dolan said forthrightly. "I really was appalled by the crime - any decent man would be. But I'd never been a particularly spiritual person. So at that point, I admit I was thinking of myself, too."
"That's understandable." And yes, the jury likes his honesty. "You weren't 'particularly spiritual' - were you a member of any faith, Mr. Dolan?"
"Not really. My family background was Irish Catholic, but I hadn't gone to church in years. I guess I did consider myself a Christian, maybe even a Catholic. But I didn't give much thought to matters of faith.
"And then I met Iris Crowe."
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With occasional prompting questions from Nate, Dolan went on to explain how he'd met Iris, while Justin was still missing, and been deeply moved by her devotion to her brother's cause. "That changed me, somehow. I don't think it made me, exactly, more religious. But it gave me a new appreciation of religious people. I came to respect and admire Iris, as I never had anyone else.
"For a while there, I imagined I was falling in love with her."
Nate still found it hard to believe Dolan had been romantically attracted to a dour spinster like Iris. But Dolan had told him the prosecution might claim he'd accused her of setting the fire because she'd rejected his advances. And there actually had been an "advance" on one occasion. So Dolan had suggested they mention it themselves, and hopefully defuse the issue.
He's right, I know. Be on the safe side.
But I don't really think the prosecution would have brought it up. They seem to be trying to make as little mention of Iris as possible. "Don't breathe her name!"
"I'd never been the sort of guy who wanted to settle down," Dolan was explaining. "So I dated silly girls who were in no more of a hurry to get serious than I was.
"Iris was different, a mature woman, with brains and depth. I was attracted to that. And I tried to kiss her - just once. It could have been a very 'proper' kiss, if that was what she wanted! But she pushed me away, and made it clear she wasn't interested."
"How did you feel about that?" Nate asked.
"I was hurt, at first. But only for a few minutes. Then I realized she was totally committed to her faith, like a nun. Committed to her cause - helping her brother fulfill what she saw as his great destiny as a man of the cloth. She didn't want, wouldn't accept, any separate 'life' of her own.
"Now, I know that was unhealthy. But at the time, it made me respect her more than ever. Respect and revere her.
"And I took Justin's 'destiny' more seriously, because she did."
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"When Brother Justin returned to Mintern," Nate observed, "he discovered he'd become famous. And donations to his cause were pouring in, faster than volunteers could handle them. I suppose he was grateful for all the publicity you'd given him?"
Dolan nodded. "Yes, of course. And Iris and I helped him realize the radio could continue being a very useful tool in his mission."
"Did you become, at some point, a paid member of his staff?"
"Yes. But only because I was working so many hours on his behalf that Kay-Zack couldn't justify keeping me on the payroll as a full-time employee. So I began drawing small salaries from both Kay-Zack and Justin's movement."
"Were you in complete sympathy with the goals of that movement?"
For the first time, Dolan hesitated.
As planned. We both want what he's about to say to be a part of the record, but he can't seem too sure of it.
At last Dolan said, "There were times when I was sort of disturbed by what I was hearing...
"Justin claimed to be a champion of the poor. But he only seemed to be interested in one kind of 'poor' - displaced farmers, all of them white, old-stock American Protestants.
"They were really in need, so maybe that was okay. But sometimes he struck me as being not so much interested in helping them as in making them personally loyal to him, and stirring up their resentment against other groups.
"But it troubled me to have doubts about him, when I'd been so responsible for making him a 'star.' And I thought my Catholic background might be making me oversensitive about the Protestant thing. So I kept trying to put the doubts out of my mind. Remembered how broken up he'd been, on the road, over those dead children...and how passionately Iris believed in him."
A murmur went through the courtroom.
But murmurs are hard to interpret.
At least Robinson hadn't objected. He just looked puzzled.
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Nate cleared his throat, and addressed a new topic. "The court has heard Brother Justin's testimony about the fire investigation. He said the police had gotten nowhere, but he wasn't willing to let the matter drop. And so he asked you, Mr. Dolan, to conduct a new investigation. Is that how you remember it?"
Dolan shook his head decisively. "No. As I recall, we didn't see any possibility of the matter 'dropping'! We would have been perfectly content if it had.
"The problem was that information had leaked out - that bit about the 'suspicious' car, there being only four of them in Mintern, one owned by Justin. Rumors were swirling, and the situation was getting worse rather than better. It posed a threat to Justin's ministry.
"And there seemed to be a possibility that the rumors would force the police to put the case back on the front burner, try harder to find the arsonist. If that was going to happen, we wanted to learn the truth first."
"Why?" Nate asked. "Mr. Dolan, did you ever suspect Brother Justin himself?"
Another shake of the head. "No. Because he'd been so devastated by the children's deaths. Thinking about it now, I suppose that wasn't positive proof - he could have 'snapped' and set the fire, and regretted the deaths later. But at the time, I thought the grief I'd seen ruled him out."
"What about Iris?"
Dolan grimaced. "After we learned about the car...I don't know what Justin was thinking, but yes, I began to suspect her then. I was hoping our investigation would prove she hadn't done it. But if she had, and was destined to be found out anyway, I thought we could make it go better for her by convincing her she should turn herself in."
Nate was grateful that Robinson wasn't making frivolous objections, such as protesting the "slander" of Iris. The prosecutor evidently wanted to listen to Dolan's version of events, even if he didn't believe a word of it.
"Tell the court about the investigation you conducted," he prompted.
"Well, I checked out the owners of the other cars - all twenty-eight in the county, not counting Justin's. There was nothing suspicious about any of them.
"I spoke to Eleanor McGill." Anything she'd said would, of course, be inadmissible: hearsay. "And Miss Bright. The court already knows what I learned from her. I'm sorry I fibbed about that unwed mother - I didn't want anyone to know I was investigating on behalf of Justin.
"But there was something else. I think that either Iris had overheard something, or she just caught on that we suspected her because she was being left out of conversations. She started acting strangely - and when she slipped away in the car one night, I followed her.
"She went to an isolated place, started a fire, and burned a lot of stuff! After she left, I gathered up the remnants - women's clothing. I took the whole mess back to Justin, and he confirmed it was Iris's own clothes."
After the judge quieted the buzzing courtroom, Nate asked, "What conclusion did you draw from that?"
"We figured she'd worn those clothes the night she set the orphanage fire, and she thought they might somehow be incriminating. Maybe, that an item of clothing might have borne some indelible trace of the accelerant she'd used."
Nate nodded sagely. "A reasonable inference. Did anyone other than you and Brother Justin see the burned clothing, and hear him identify it as Iris's?"
"Yes." But from his expression, Dolan found the memory painful. "Rev. Norman Balthus, the old minister who'd raised Justin and Iris, had been living with them since he suffered a stroke. He was mute and paralyzed, but his mind was perfectly sound. He saw the clothing, and I'm sure he was convinced Iris had set the fire. But I've been told he's dead now."
"You said he was mute and paralyzed," Nate mused. "If he were still alive, would he have been capable of testifying? Could he have answered questions with a yes or no, maybe, by blinking his eyes, or by nodding or shaking his head?"
"Yes," Dolan replied, "definitely. In fact, he had some use of his right hand and arm - he might have been able to write."
With that, Nate turned to the judge and said, "Your Honor, I'd like to enter into evidence the coroner's report and other notarized statements concerning the death of Rev. Norman Balthus.
"Tragically, he was one of several people killed in the course of rioting in New Canaan several months ago.
"And by a strange coincidence, he died only a few days after the unsolved murder of another person who might have testified in this case - Eleanor McGill."
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When the flap over that died down, Nate finally cut to the heart of the case. "Mr. Dolan. I don't have to tell you that the core issue here - the reason we're all here - is your handwritten, signed confession."
With downcast eyes, Dolan said, "You're right. I understand that."
He sounded vaguely distressed, as if his thoughtlessness had created a problem for other people.
"I'll let you explain it in your own words," Nate said kindly.
"All right." Dolan looked up, took a deep breath, and launched into his story.
"Like I said, I had assumed that if we had to face the fact that Iris had set the fire, we'd try to persuade her to confess, before the law closed in.
"But that wasn't what Justin had in mind. I was floored when he begged me to confess.
"He said it wasn't just a matter of protecting the sister he loved. If that was it, he would have taken the rap for her. But his entire mission was at stake! Not only could he not sacrifice himself, take himself out of the picture - if his sister went down, his millions of followers would be disillusioned, the movement would crumble, all would be lost!"
By this point, the din in the courtroom had risen to such a crescendo that Dolan was almost shouting, to be heard over it. The judge signaled him to wait, and devoted the next five minutes to the restoration of order.
Then Nate asked, "Mr. Dolan, are you saying Brother Justin actually asked you to sacrifice your life, by confessing to a capital crime you hadn't committed?"
Dolan gave a vehement shake of his head. "No. He assured me that if I made things easy for the authorities by coming forward, when there'd been no evidence against me, I wouldn't face the death penalty. And he'd be urging mercy. So I'd get off as lightly as anyone could, in a case with multiple deaths."
"But 'lightly' would have meant life in prison."
Dolan nodded, conceding the point. "Yes. Probably."
Nate said gently, "Mr. Dolan, you told us at one point that you'd 'imagined' you were falling in love with Iris Crowe. Were you in love with her when you wrote that false confession?"
Dolan slumped, appearing to ponder the question. "I...I'm not sure." But then he straightened, and said more firmly, "No, I don't think so. It wasn't romantic love. But I still respected her, and cared for her. I believed she'd set the fire, not because she was 'evil,' but because her passion for Justin's work had crossed the line into mental illness.
"And as a reporter, I've seen how the mentally ill are treated in our hospitals and prisons. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
Nate asked carefully, "So was that the reason you agreed to make the false confession?"
After a few moments' thought, Dolan responded, "There were three reasons.
"First, Justin's talking so much about how readily he would have done it, if he could, made it seem like a natural thing. Not unreasonable. He was the only person I was talking to at the time - it was as if we were in our own little world.
"Second...yes, I wanted to protect Iris because I believed she was mentally ill. I knew either Justin or I could endure the hell that would follow a confession, but Iris would be shattered.
"And finally...finally...
"This is why, later, I found it hard to explain the confession to people like my friend Walt Ellison, an old newshound...
"I had a sense that in a way, what I represent - the power of modern communications - really had caused the crime.
"Iris had never heard of me, as an individual, when she set that fire. But she set it in the hope, the near-certainty, that someone like me would pick up the story and run with it, portraying the victims as martyrs and her brother as a wronged hero.
"And I gave her exactly what she'd wanted. Maybe, gave encouragement to the next fanatic who wants publicity..." His voice trailed off.
The courtroom seemed mesmerized.
At last, Nate cleared his throat and said, "All right. Since Miss Crowe witnessed your confession, I assume she was aware of all this. Did she, like her brother, urge you to sign it?"
Dolan shook his head. "We - Justin and I - hadn't said anything to her about our belief that she was mentally ill. She was present when I wrote and signed the confession, but she never spoke to me, never looked at me. She seemed...humiliated. Crushed."
Nate found himself saying, "That's...understandable."
My God. I knew everything he meant to say, but I'm still reacting like a person - a stunned person! - hearing it for the first time.
"So now," he hurried on, "we know why you made the false confession. Why did you later retract it?"
Dolan managed a wry smile. "You're being polite. Do you mean, why did I 'panic,' and behave like a 'coward,' in front of hundreds of people?"
"No, I wouldn't put it that way." Nate was smiling too. "In fact, the one thing I know you're not is a 'coward.' "
"Thank you." Dolan inclined his head in a gracious nod. Then he said softly, "You'll remember my saying Justin was the only person I'd been talking to...
"When it was just him and me - and later, Iris - knowing what I meant to do, it all seemed perfectly reasonable. Like I said before, we were in our own little world.
"But then" - his voice gradually rose - "I found myself reading the confession in front of a crowd. And suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the enormity of what we were doing - the magnitude of the lie! Whatever my thoughts about the power of radio, I had not actually set that fire. But we were claiming I had..."
He shook his head, eyes closed, as if in disbelief. "Justin's followers trusted him, totally. And we were about to betray that trust by telling a monstrous lie, not just to the hundreds in the tent, but to a radio audience that may have numbered in the millions!"
Opening his eyes, he leaned forward in the witness chair, as if struggling to communicate with every individual in the courtroom. "I can tell you this. I wasn't simply afraid the crowd would attack me and tear me limb from limb. If I'd been making the sacrifice on my own initiative - to protect either Iris, or the movement that meant so much to so many people - and Justin had believed I'd really set the fire - I would have gone through with it.
"But it wasn't just Tommy Dolan who'd been prepared to lie to those millions of people. It was Justin, the shepherd of the flock!
"All my doubts came surging up. What sort of 'shepherd' was he, anyway?
"Of one thing, I was sure. His lying to those millions, betraying their trust, would undermine the very foundation of the movement. Kill its soul.
"So in the end, I at least spoke the truth."
The courtroom was so still that Nate could hear his heart beating.
He couldn't resist a final, theatrical flourish. "I'm sure you realize, Mr. Dolan, that either you or Brother Justin has committed perjury."
He saw a flicker of something like amusement in Dolan's eyes. But then the defendant said mildly, "Yes. I'm afraid Justin has done exactly that."
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Throughout Robinson's attempt at cross-examination, the crowd in the courtroom booed his every challenge of the defendant. The facial expressions of the jurors told Nate they too sympathized with Dolan. And Dolan himself was poised, dignified - and completely unshakable in his testimony.
The prosecution had known he'd claim that Iris Crowe had set the fire, and he'd agreed to make a false confession to protect her, then changed his mind. Stated in those bald terms, it sounded ridiculous. Nothing had prepared them for the manner in which those claims would be made, the impact of Dolan's presentation.
When defendant and counsel were finally reunited at the defense table, Nate said quietly, "I think we scored a touchdown. Are you sure you still want to go for the point after?"
Dolan replied, "The touchdown tied the game. The point after wins the game...and the championship."
So Nate politely asked the judge for a recess...until the next day, when he planned to call three more witnesses.
He'd never before seen a jaw visibly drop. But the judge's did.
"You're calling more witnesses? After the defendant?"
"Yes, Your Honor. The case boils down to whether the jury believes the defendant or Brother Justin, and these witnesses will present evidence pertaining to their respective credibility."
The judge granted the recess. But as the courtroom began clearing, Brandon Robinson's mouth still hung open.