[Supreme Court, Trial Part 23]
McCoy concluded his questioning of Detective Lennie Briscoe.
"Ms. Saunders had her throat slit," McCoy said. "Surely the killer would have had blood splattered all over him."
"That's true," Briscoe stated matter-of-factly. This routine was old hat to him. "We found maintenance overalls covered in blood in the trash compactor of LuthorCorp.'s Manhattan headquarters. The lab confirmed that the blood was that of Chelsea Saunders."
"Thank you," McCoy replied. Lex's attorney, Goldstein, quickly stood up to rebut.
"Detective," he began, "did the lab find any evidence that would link Lex Luthor to the murder?"
Briscoe sighed in frustration. Stupid lawyers. "A security camera tape shows Lex lurking around the garage level – both before and after the time of the murder. The overalls had the logo of LuthorCorp. on them. Did I mention that the compactor room is on the same floor?!"
"Yes or no, detective," Goldstein replied, "Was there any hard physical evidence linking Lex Luthor to those overalls? DNA? Blood?"
"No," Briscoe stated.
"There are thousands of employees in that building – and any one of them could have done it!" Goldstein declared, then returned to his seat.
McCoy immediately stepped forward. "Detective Briscoe, as one of the most experienced homicide detectives in the 27th Precinct, in your professional opinion – did Lex Luthor have a motive for having Chelsea Saunders killed?"
"Yes," Briscoe replied. "The major case squad examined the package we found at the crime scene. It contained confidential records pertaining to illegal chemical shipments to the Mediterranean."
"Records that, if exposed, could ruin LuthorCorp.?" McCoy asked.
Many people were intimidated by the power and influence of the Luthors. Lennie Briscoe wasn't one of them. He glared directly at Lex. "Yes. They could."
Judge Fitzwater, with what seemed like a permanently furrowed brow, peered over the rim of his glasses. "Do the people have another witness today?"
"Yes, Your Honour," McCoy stated. He motioned to the rear.
Assistant D.A. Southerlyn stood up, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man.
"The people call Clark Kent to the stand," McCoy announced.
All colour in Lex's face faded away. Martha gasped. Her son would have to tell the truth.
About everything. Even his secret? Martha buried that fear and watched as Clark approached. He wore a crisp charcoal grey suit, blue dress shirt and blood-red tie.
He looked towards his mother and grinned nervously. Lex leaned towards his attorney and seemed to be in a heated discussion about their strategy.
Goldstein stood up. "The defense objects to this witness. It's a callous attempt by the prosecution to sensationalize this trial. Clark Kent wasn't even in the city at the time of Ms. Saunders' death!"
"Our investigation shows that Lex regularly communicated with Clark throughout his stay in New York," McCoy rebutted. "He's Lex's best friend and knew better than anyone Lex's movements in the period prior to – and including – the Saunders killing."
Judge Fitzwater nodded wearily. "Proceed, Mr. McCoy. I don't want this to become a fishing expedition, however."
Once the court officers swore in Clark, he sat in the witness stand.
McCoy began by asking Clark about his family, his school, the names of his friends – even about his farming chores. This wasn't the grilling Clark had anticipated.
"You're a pretty smart kid, right?" McCoy asked.
Lex's attorney stood up. "Relevance, Your Honour?"
"I'll allow it," the judge stated, but pointed firmly at Jack. "—for now."
"I'm just a conscientious student, that's all," Clark replied.
"In fact," McCoy continued, "in a recent statewide exam, you scored in the top two percentile."
"Yes," Clark stated, unsure why Mr. McCoy was asking him about school.
McCoy paused, as if he was collecting his thoughts. Southerlyn called him over. "Just ask him about his emails to Lex, that's all he knows," she urged.
"He's hiding something ... I know it," McCoy insisted. He had no intention of handling Lex's best friend with legal kid gloves.
"As one of Clark's closest friends," McCoy began, "you exchanged email with Lex throughout his stay in Manhattan."
"Lex has many friends around the world," Clark replied.
"Our detectives in Smallville checked your computer," McCoy flipped through a dossier, "you have his email in Metropolis, his home computer, his offices in New York, his luxury condo on Park Ave. ... and his chalet in Lake Placid. And phone numbers. Not even Bruce Wayne has this amount of access to a Luthor. It seems to me, Mr. Kent, that you're one of his closest confidants."
Clark hesitated, then looked confidently at Lex. "Yes, I'm a friend of his."
"Friends watch out for each other, especially in a town such as Smallville," McCoy continued.
"Why, yes, you have to," Clark answered, "we're not Metropolis. You have to be able to count on your neighbours."
"Lex was going through some problems at work," McCoy added, not waiting for a reply. "He was having problems with one employee in particular in the weeks prior to Saunders' death."
"Yes," Clark replied. "He said someone was planning to leak confidential information."
"Are those your words – or his?" McCoy demanded.
"I – don't know," Clark seemed nervous. "It was several weeks ago."
"Let me refresh your memory," McCoy pulled out a laminated document. "People's exhibit H1. Email pulled from Clark's computer, dated November 20. 'Let me tell you, Clark, I'd rather be back in Kansas. Everyone's a vulture up here. One of my subordinates threatened to leak confidential information, instead of bringing it up with me first. What I hate most of all is disloyalty.'
Goldstein stood up again. "Your Honour, this email proves nothing! There's no indication the employee mentioned was, in fact, Chelsea Saunders."
McCoy was unfazed, as he pulled out People's Exhibit J2. "You called Lex on the night in question, didn't you?"
"I don't recall," Clark stated. He felt uncomfortable. He wasn't lying. He really couldn't remember if he had talked to Lex that night, that afternoon or the day before.
"In fact, you did," McCoy showed him the phone records, which clearly showed that Clark had called Lex a mere hour before the Saunders killing.
"He told me that he was going to come back to Metropolis for the museum gala," Clark stated.
Now, Clark knew, I'm stretching the truth. While he did talk to Lex about when he was returning, Lex briefly talked about his gripe with a certain junior employee – though unnamed. Clark didn't mention that Lex had put down the receiver during the conversation. He had stepped away from his desk. There were mumbles. Clark's superior hearing had heard part of Lex's conversation with one of his executives.
He didn't hear everything, but he had heard enough. Not even D.A. McCoy's interrogations could pry that information from him.
Lex's words haunted him now: "...if Saunders doesn't watch it, there'll be more than her career on the line ..."
Clark shook his head. "I don't recall." How could he explain that he heard a private conversation? Lex was away from the receiver, though not far enough that Clark couldn't hear Lex's words. Perhaps he misunderstood them?
"Chelsea Saunders was found in a pool of her own blood one hour later," McCoy declared, "and you – who had called him only one hour before her death – are telling this court that Lex Luthor said nothing to you – no indication of his mood, his frame of mind – except the time of his arrival in Metropolis?"
"That's correct," Clark began, but he was already agitated. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "—what I mean was that, well, you see –"
McCoy tossed the evidence file on the table. Clark was hiding something! This was exactly what I wanted, Jack frowned. Clark was playing the naïve, fish-out-of-water farm boy. There was something odd about this kid from Kansas. Beneath that honest exterior lay something unknown.
Hidden.
Not today, Jack decided, not when all the evidence points to Lex Luthor. If he didn't slit Chelsea's throat, he had someone do it for him. He's a murderer by proxy.
"The people would like to treat Clark Kent as a hostile witness," McCoy announced. Southerlyn was surprised, motioning with her hands that she did not expect this tactic.
"He's badgering the witness!" Goldstein declared. Lex fidgeted with his hands nervously.
"I'm not satisfied with Mr. Kent's answers," the judge stated. "Mr. Kent, might I remind you that you are under oath!"
Clark gulped.
McCoy raised his voice. "On the night in question, did Lex Luthor mention Chelsea in his conversation?"
"No," Clark stated.
"Lex's phone records indicated that he called every important person on his directory. A dozen calls to his attorneys, executives in Manhattan and Metropolis, a blue-chip advertising agency, a Kansas senator. Something must have lit a fire under him ... to send him into such a frenzy. Do you know who the last person he talked to was?"
"No," Clark replied.
McCoy rushed forward to the witness stand. "It was you, Clark Kent. His best friend in the whole world. After he talked to his lawyers, his PR hacks, his cronies – all who were trained to appease the boss. You were the only honest sounding board he had. When you called, he discussed his problems with Chelsea Saunders!"
"No, that's not true!" Clark insisted.
"Oh, come now, Clark," McCoy scoffed, "all your correspondence indicates that you knew of Lex's issues with a disloyal employee. An employee who was about to FedEx damning records to the company ombudsman, who would be forced to hand over information to the authorities. An employee who had retained a lawyer two days before her death, out of fear of becoming a scapegoat to Luthor arrogance, Luthor's political interference, his covert chemical arms trading, his --"
"Your Honour, he's on a soapbox now!" Goldstein announced. Lex clenched his teeth. He could barely contain his anger. Jack McCoy was crucifying Clark on the stand, just because he was his friend.
"Your question, Mr. McCoy, and make it quick!" the judge ordered. Martha held her hand up to her mouth in horror. She feared that her son might admit something he could not take back.
McCoy piled the phone and email records in front of Clark. "Are you prepared to tell this jury, under oath, that after two weeks of phone conversations and email correspondence with Lex Luthor that you knew absolutely nothing about Lex's frame of mind on the night of Chelsea Saunders' killing?"
Clark took a deep breath as McCoy placed the last record atop the witness stand. The heavy file slammed onto the stand, its echo reminding him of the Luthors' track record of scandal cover-ups.
"That's not what I'm saying –"Clark replied in a louder voice.
"On the night in question, you knew – you KNEW – Lex was going to take action against Chelsea Saunders?"
"Well, I felt that –", Clark began, but McCoy was relentless. McCoy didn't know if Clark knew anything, but his instinct told him to hammer away. Destroy Lex's only source of loyalty before his eyes, and Luthor would surely break.
"It's a simple question, Clark," McCoy barked angrily, "You're one of the smartest students in Kansas! Did you know that Lex was going to act against Ms. Saunders ... not next week, not next month, but that very day?"
"Clark Kent, your answer," the judge persisted. "Answer the question, or I will hold you in contempt."
"Yes, I did!" Clark blurted. "But not murder! You don't know Lex! He's not like that!"
"One hour after your final call," McCoy collected the piles of records, "Chelsea Saunders was found dead in LuthorCorp.'s Park Avenue condo. He was your friend, but it seems he misled you, too, Mr. Kent."
"Thank you, Mr. Kent, you may step down," the judge nodded. "This court will recess for lunch."
Clark seemed flustered as he slowly stepped down. Martha ran towards him and hugged him.
"You did nothing wrong, Clark," she insisted. Clark looked towards Lex. His friend didn't look back. Lex's face seemed vacant. Unfeeling. Was he mad that his best friend sold him out on the witness stand?
But I didn't, Clark believed. Mr. McCoy twisted everything I said to suit the people's case. I was played for a fool. He wanted to use my testimony all along to paint Lex as a calculated killer.
Goldstein and Lex called for a meeting with McCoy, who was anticipating a futile attempt at a plea bargain. Even if Wallace Johnson was the hired killer, Lex Luthor must have ordered Saunders' killing. Bank records, once found, could not lie. Southerlyn had taken Clark back to the hotel, so Jack was alone in the conference room with the defense.
"Jack, we need to talk –"Goldstein began, but Lex pushed him aside.
"You have a pretty big chip on your shoulder, Mr. McCoy!" Lex snarled. "I'm not one to let things rest. I intend to launch a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the NYPD, the city and the D.A.'s office for malicious prosecution and police brutality. I can deal with whatever baggage you allege to have against our family. But no one treats my friend the way you just did!"
McCoy ignored the outburst. "Mr. Goldstein, you're wasting your time. I don't need a plea bargain any more. Threats won't change the jury's mind either!"
"I'm moving to have Clark's testimony stricken from the record," Goldstein continued. "Your grandstanding won't convince the jury that you have any evidence against Lex – with or without those bloody overalls!"
"All I need is one strand of hair, one drop of blood from Wallace Johnson," McCoy declared smugly, "and your client can bid Metropolis goodbye forever. Sing Sing will be Luthor's HQ for life!"
"Put me on the stand," Lex demanded. "Put me on the stand, Mr. Goldstein."
"Lex, that's not a good idea," Goldstein pleaded with his client, "the prosecution will do to you what they did to Clark!"
Lex would not relent. He stared directly at McCoy's hardened eyes, then turned to his attorney. "Just put me on the stand. It's neither Clark's responsibility nor duty to answer for my actions. It's mine. I'll put this ridiculous theory to rest once and for all!"
Goldstein gathered his files and escorted Lex from the room.
"By the way, Mr. McCoy," Lex mentioned, "I'd suggest you re-assess why you're so determined to convict me. Somehow I don't think Truth, Justice and the American way are the only values at play here. Arthur Branch should look over his shoulder. It seems I'm not the only one trying to scale the Big Apple's career ladders." They quickly closed the door behind them.
McCoy huffed, bored with Lex's spoiled-brat dramatics. Lex was backed in a corner. If he dared to take the stand, McCoy had enough ammunition to tear Lex Luthor apart before the jury. The Club Zero incident – now opened by the Kansas A.G. – was just one of many questionable events. The county sheriff had dozens of reports about Luthor involvement in many mysterious accidents and deaths.
Perception was everything in the media capital of America.
McCoy wanted to do justice – for Ms. Saunders' sake. But he was quietly gleeful about the political capital he could gain from a Luthor conviction.
'LUTHOR GUILTY OF MURDER: MCCOY PONDERS SENATE SEAT'. A future headline, he imagined.
The possibilities were endless ... if he got the conviction.
Lex Luthor was right about one thing, McCoy considered. Arthur Branch should look over his shoulder.
McCoy concluded his questioning of Detective Lennie Briscoe.
"Ms. Saunders had her throat slit," McCoy said. "Surely the killer would have had blood splattered all over him."
"That's true," Briscoe stated matter-of-factly. This routine was old hat to him. "We found maintenance overalls covered in blood in the trash compactor of LuthorCorp.'s Manhattan headquarters. The lab confirmed that the blood was that of Chelsea Saunders."
"Thank you," McCoy replied. Lex's attorney, Goldstein, quickly stood up to rebut.
"Detective," he began, "did the lab find any evidence that would link Lex Luthor to the murder?"
Briscoe sighed in frustration. Stupid lawyers. "A security camera tape shows Lex lurking around the garage level – both before and after the time of the murder. The overalls had the logo of LuthorCorp. on them. Did I mention that the compactor room is on the same floor?!"
"Yes or no, detective," Goldstein replied, "Was there any hard physical evidence linking Lex Luthor to those overalls? DNA? Blood?"
"No," Briscoe stated.
"There are thousands of employees in that building – and any one of them could have done it!" Goldstein declared, then returned to his seat.
McCoy immediately stepped forward. "Detective Briscoe, as one of the most experienced homicide detectives in the 27th Precinct, in your professional opinion – did Lex Luthor have a motive for having Chelsea Saunders killed?"
"Yes," Briscoe replied. "The major case squad examined the package we found at the crime scene. It contained confidential records pertaining to illegal chemical shipments to the Mediterranean."
"Records that, if exposed, could ruin LuthorCorp.?" McCoy asked.
Many people were intimidated by the power and influence of the Luthors. Lennie Briscoe wasn't one of them. He glared directly at Lex. "Yes. They could."
Judge Fitzwater, with what seemed like a permanently furrowed brow, peered over the rim of his glasses. "Do the people have another witness today?"
"Yes, Your Honour," McCoy stated. He motioned to the rear.
Assistant D.A. Southerlyn stood up, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man.
"The people call Clark Kent to the stand," McCoy announced.
All colour in Lex's face faded away. Martha gasped. Her son would have to tell the truth.
About everything. Even his secret? Martha buried that fear and watched as Clark approached. He wore a crisp charcoal grey suit, blue dress shirt and blood-red tie.
He looked towards his mother and grinned nervously. Lex leaned towards his attorney and seemed to be in a heated discussion about their strategy.
Goldstein stood up. "The defense objects to this witness. It's a callous attempt by the prosecution to sensationalize this trial. Clark Kent wasn't even in the city at the time of Ms. Saunders' death!"
"Our investigation shows that Lex regularly communicated with Clark throughout his stay in New York," McCoy rebutted. "He's Lex's best friend and knew better than anyone Lex's movements in the period prior to – and including – the Saunders killing."
Judge Fitzwater nodded wearily. "Proceed, Mr. McCoy. I don't want this to become a fishing expedition, however."
Once the court officers swore in Clark, he sat in the witness stand.
McCoy began by asking Clark about his family, his school, the names of his friends – even about his farming chores. This wasn't the grilling Clark had anticipated.
"You're a pretty smart kid, right?" McCoy asked.
Lex's attorney stood up. "Relevance, Your Honour?"
"I'll allow it," the judge stated, but pointed firmly at Jack. "—for now."
"I'm just a conscientious student, that's all," Clark replied.
"In fact," McCoy continued, "in a recent statewide exam, you scored in the top two percentile."
"Yes," Clark stated, unsure why Mr. McCoy was asking him about school.
McCoy paused, as if he was collecting his thoughts. Southerlyn called him over. "Just ask him about his emails to Lex, that's all he knows," she urged.
"He's hiding something ... I know it," McCoy insisted. He had no intention of handling Lex's best friend with legal kid gloves.
"As one of Clark's closest friends," McCoy began, "you exchanged email with Lex throughout his stay in Manhattan."
"Lex has many friends around the world," Clark replied.
"Our detectives in Smallville checked your computer," McCoy flipped through a dossier, "you have his email in Metropolis, his home computer, his offices in New York, his luxury condo on Park Ave. ... and his chalet in Lake Placid. And phone numbers. Not even Bruce Wayne has this amount of access to a Luthor. It seems to me, Mr. Kent, that you're one of his closest confidants."
Clark hesitated, then looked confidently at Lex. "Yes, I'm a friend of his."
"Friends watch out for each other, especially in a town such as Smallville," McCoy continued.
"Why, yes, you have to," Clark answered, "we're not Metropolis. You have to be able to count on your neighbours."
"Lex was going through some problems at work," McCoy added, not waiting for a reply. "He was having problems with one employee in particular in the weeks prior to Saunders' death."
"Yes," Clark replied. "He said someone was planning to leak confidential information."
"Are those your words – or his?" McCoy demanded.
"I – don't know," Clark seemed nervous. "It was several weeks ago."
"Let me refresh your memory," McCoy pulled out a laminated document. "People's exhibit H1. Email pulled from Clark's computer, dated November 20. 'Let me tell you, Clark, I'd rather be back in Kansas. Everyone's a vulture up here. One of my subordinates threatened to leak confidential information, instead of bringing it up with me first. What I hate most of all is disloyalty.'
Goldstein stood up again. "Your Honour, this email proves nothing! There's no indication the employee mentioned was, in fact, Chelsea Saunders."
McCoy was unfazed, as he pulled out People's Exhibit J2. "You called Lex on the night in question, didn't you?"
"I don't recall," Clark stated. He felt uncomfortable. He wasn't lying. He really couldn't remember if he had talked to Lex that night, that afternoon or the day before.
"In fact, you did," McCoy showed him the phone records, which clearly showed that Clark had called Lex a mere hour before the Saunders killing.
"He told me that he was going to come back to Metropolis for the museum gala," Clark stated.
Now, Clark knew, I'm stretching the truth. While he did talk to Lex about when he was returning, Lex briefly talked about his gripe with a certain junior employee – though unnamed. Clark didn't mention that Lex had put down the receiver during the conversation. He had stepped away from his desk. There were mumbles. Clark's superior hearing had heard part of Lex's conversation with one of his executives.
He didn't hear everything, but he had heard enough. Not even D.A. McCoy's interrogations could pry that information from him.
Lex's words haunted him now: "...if Saunders doesn't watch it, there'll be more than her career on the line ..."
Clark shook his head. "I don't recall." How could he explain that he heard a private conversation? Lex was away from the receiver, though not far enough that Clark couldn't hear Lex's words. Perhaps he misunderstood them?
"Chelsea Saunders was found in a pool of her own blood one hour later," McCoy declared, "and you – who had called him only one hour before her death – are telling this court that Lex Luthor said nothing to you – no indication of his mood, his frame of mind – except the time of his arrival in Metropolis?"
"That's correct," Clark began, but he was already agitated. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "—what I mean was that, well, you see –"
McCoy tossed the evidence file on the table. Clark was hiding something! This was exactly what I wanted, Jack frowned. Clark was playing the naïve, fish-out-of-water farm boy. There was something odd about this kid from Kansas. Beneath that honest exterior lay something unknown.
Hidden.
Not today, Jack decided, not when all the evidence points to Lex Luthor. If he didn't slit Chelsea's throat, he had someone do it for him. He's a murderer by proxy.
"The people would like to treat Clark Kent as a hostile witness," McCoy announced. Southerlyn was surprised, motioning with her hands that she did not expect this tactic.
"He's badgering the witness!" Goldstein declared. Lex fidgeted with his hands nervously.
"I'm not satisfied with Mr. Kent's answers," the judge stated. "Mr. Kent, might I remind you that you are under oath!"
Clark gulped.
McCoy raised his voice. "On the night in question, did Lex Luthor mention Chelsea in his conversation?"
"No," Clark stated.
"Lex's phone records indicated that he called every important person on his directory. A dozen calls to his attorneys, executives in Manhattan and Metropolis, a blue-chip advertising agency, a Kansas senator. Something must have lit a fire under him ... to send him into such a frenzy. Do you know who the last person he talked to was?"
"No," Clark replied.
McCoy rushed forward to the witness stand. "It was you, Clark Kent. His best friend in the whole world. After he talked to his lawyers, his PR hacks, his cronies – all who were trained to appease the boss. You were the only honest sounding board he had. When you called, he discussed his problems with Chelsea Saunders!"
"No, that's not true!" Clark insisted.
"Oh, come now, Clark," McCoy scoffed, "all your correspondence indicates that you knew of Lex's issues with a disloyal employee. An employee who was about to FedEx damning records to the company ombudsman, who would be forced to hand over information to the authorities. An employee who had retained a lawyer two days before her death, out of fear of becoming a scapegoat to Luthor arrogance, Luthor's political interference, his covert chemical arms trading, his --"
"Your Honour, he's on a soapbox now!" Goldstein announced. Lex clenched his teeth. He could barely contain his anger. Jack McCoy was crucifying Clark on the stand, just because he was his friend.
"Your question, Mr. McCoy, and make it quick!" the judge ordered. Martha held her hand up to her mouth in horror. She feared that her son might admit something he could not take back.
McCoy piled the phone and email records in front of Clark. "Are you prepared to tell this jury, under oath, that after two weeks of phone conversations and email correspondence with Lex Luthor that you knew absolutely nothing about Lex's frame of mind on the night of Chelsea Saunders' killing?"
Clark took a deep breath as McCoy placed the last record atop the witness stand. The heavy file slammed onto the stand, its echo reminding him of the Luthors' track record of scandal cover-ups.
"That's not what I'm saying –"Clark replied in a louder voice.
"On the night in question, you knew – you KNEW – Lex was going to take action against Chelsea Saunders?"
"Well, I felt that –", Clark began, but McCoy was relentless. McCoy didn't know if Clark knew anything, but his instinct told him to hammer away. Destroy Lex's only source of loyalty before his eyes, and Luthor would surely break.
"It's a simple question, Clark," McCoy barked angrily, "You're one of the smartest students in Kansas! Did you know that Lex was going to act against Ms. Saunders ... not next week, not next month, but that very day?"
"Clark Kent, your answer," the judge persisted. "Answer the question, or I will hold you in contempt."
"Yes, I did!" Clark blurted. "But not murder! You don't know Lex! He's not like that!"
"One hour after your final call," McCoy collected the piles of records, "Chelsea Saunders was found dead in LuthorCorp.'s Park Avenue condo. He was your friend, but it seems he misled you, too, Mr. Kent."
"Thank you, Mr. Kent, you may step down," the judge nodded. "This court will recess for lunch."
Clark seemed flustered as he slowly stepped down. Martha ran towards him and hugged him.
"You did nothing wrong, Clark," she insisted. Clark looked towards Lex. His friend didn't look back. Lex's face seemed vacant. Unfeeling. Was he mad that his best friend sold him out on the witness stand?
But I didn't, Clark believed. Mr. McCoy twisted everything I said to suit the people's case. I was played for a fool. He wanted to use my testimony all along to paint Lex as a calculated killer.
Goldstein and Lex called for a meeting with McCoy, who was anticipating a futile attempt at a plea bargain. Even if Wallace Johnson was the hired killer, Lex Luthor must have ordered Saunders' killing. Bank records, once found, could not lie. Southerlyn had taken Clark back to the hotel, so Jack was alone in the conference room with the defense.
"Jack, we need to talk –"Goldstein began, but Lex pushed him aside.
"You have a pretty big chip on your shoulder, Mr. McCoy!" Lex snarled. "I'm not one to let things rest. I intend to launch a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the NYPD, the city and the D.A.'s office for malicious prosecution and police brutality. I can deal with whatever baggage you allege to have against our family. But no one treats my friend the way you just did!"
McCoy ignored the outburst. "Mr. Goldstein, you're wasting your time. I don't need a plea bargain any more. Threats won't change the jury's mind either!"
"I'm moving to have Clark's testimony stricken from the record," Goldstein continued. "Your grandstanding won't convince the jury that you have any evidence against Lex – with or without those bloody overalls!"
"All I need is one strand of hair, one drop of blood from Wallace Johnson," McCoy declared smugly, "and your client can bid Metropolis goodbye forever. Sing Sing will be Luthor's HQ for life!"
"Put me on the stand," Lex demanded. "Put me on the stand, Mr. Goldstein."
"Lex, that's not a good idea," Goldstein pleaded with his client, "the prosecution will do to you what they did to Clark!"
Lex would not relent. He stared directly at McCoy's hardened eyes, then turned to his attorney. "Just put me on the stand. It's neither Clark's responsibility nor duty to answer for my actions. It's mine. I'll put this ridiculous theory to rest once and for all!"
Goldstein gathered his files and escorted Lex from the room.
"By the way, Mr. McCoy," Lex mentioned, "I'd suggest you re-assess why you're so determined to convict me. Somehow I don't think Truth, Justice and the American way are the only values at play here. Arthur Branch should look over his shoulder. It seems I'm not the only one trying to scale the Big Apple's career ladders." They quickly closed the door behind them.
McCoy huffed, bored with Lex's spoiled-brat dramatics. Lex was backed in a corner. If he dared to take the stand, McCoy had enough ammunition to tear Lex Luthor apart before the jury. The Club Zero incident – now opened by the Kansas A.G. – was just one of many questionable events. The county sheriff had dozens of reports about Luthor involvement in many mysterious accidents and deaths.
Perception was everything in the media capital of America.
McCoy wanted to do justice – for Ms. Saunders' sake. But he was quietly gleeful about the political capital he could gain from a Luthor conviction.
'LUTHOR GUILTY OF MURDER: MCCOY PONDERS SENATE SEAT'. A future headline, he imagined.
The possibilities were endless ... if he got the conviction.
Lex Luthor was right about one thing, McCoy considered. Arthur Branch should look over his shoulder.