OPENING STATEMENTS

COURTROOM OF REBECCA STEIN

JUNE 16

It was rare that he paused when he had the floor, but as Jack McCoy looked across the sea of faces watching him expectantly, he realized that just for a moment he held their interest. It was no different than any of the hundreds of other cases he prosecuted throughout the year, but the significance seemed multiplied in that instant, as he looked from one earnest pair of eyes to the next. It was a case that felt more personal to him, in the knowledge that it might have been his father who was on trial. It was not that Robert Hilton resembled him so much as in his mAnnarisms, in the methods in which he attempted to dominate and abuse women. This same interest was present in Jack, but not of a domineering nature. He preferred to protect them.

"Anna Murdstone," he began after a significant pause, his voice softening as though he spoke of someone dear to him, "was a musician. All she ever wanted to do was play for the London Symphony Orchestra. Her professors in school wanted to help her with this ambition, and she received a scholarship to study music abroad. Then, she met a charming man named Robert Hilton and her dreams were abruptly cut short. The Prosecution is going to tell you how he abused and terrorized her. How in fear for her life, she gave up her dreams and fled. How she lived in hiding for eight years until, one day, with his power and influence, her husband caught up to her. But unlike most men, he didn't want to talk to her, to explain. Instead, he waited in her apartment, and then brutally killed her with the string of her own instrument."

Lifting his hands in a motion meant to tame the distrust of the eyes that turned in the direction of the defendant, Jack said soberly, "There is nothing poetic about this crime. There is no defense he can offer to undo what he has done." He looked at them for a long beat, and then returned to his place beside Claire.

The trial went well for the first half, despite Prescott's attempts to undermine their case. Curtis was young and inexperienced, but Claire had spent several hours prepping him and he came full of confidence. There had been a moment in the precinct when Briscoe had learned he was summoned to testify in which Rey wasn't certain of his partner's reaction, but then Lennie had resumed business as usual. He had never actually met Jack McCoy before, only knew him by reputation, as he rarely ventured down to the precinct. What he found was a compelling sense of presence accompanying a tall individual, slightly older than he might have anticipated, with wisps of gray in his dark hair.

Rounding the desk, Jack inquired, "What did you see, on entering Anna Murdstone's apartment, Detective Curtis?" He knew better than to look at the jury, but it was clear they liked him. Rey's approach on the street was one of aggressiveness, but in the courtroom was a reassuring tone, one that put the women at ease. Claire had studied enough on jury selection to know his instincts had been right. Though it was underhanded strategy to appeal to the emotions of the jurors rather than common sense, she could not fault the body language of those in the box, leaning slightly toward the detective.

"There were groceries on the floor, and some of the furniture was overturned, as though there had been a struggle. The victim was laying just inside the entry hall."

"What did you learn on investigating Miss Murdstone's background?"

Rey glanced at the jury as Claire had instructed him to, careful not to change position in the box. She had warned him it might come across as unsure of his position. "At first, we couldn't find anything. She had no criminal record. Finally, we matched her DNA to an assault case reported to the police in Chicago. The police had responded to a domestic dispute at her former residence. We discovered she had disappeared eight years before, and assumed another identity, presumably to escape her husband."

"Objection, speculation!" Prescott called out.

"Sustained." Judge Stein turned intent eyes on the detective seated to her left, as Jack continued the examination. Content with both the young man's responses and the impression it had left on the jury, he returned to his place behind the table and Prescott approached, buttoning his jacket. He stood a moment appraising the attractive features of the detective and a hint of a smile crossed his face.

"Detective Curtis, you testified that you only arrested my client after learning the victim's true identity. Is it true that you placed another man under arrest for the same crime?"

"Yes, her employer. He had shown a romantic interest in Miss Murdstone, and we thought it possible there may have been an argument. We were wrong." Rey did not much like Prescott, as he drew nearer, for there was an unreadable darkness behind his eyes. The two had formed and immediate dislike when Prescott had waltzed into the holding cell and demanded interrogation of his client cease. Even from a distance, the animosity between them was apparent, and Claire wondered if that had not been part of her partner's ulterior motives in putting Curtis on the stand.

"Isn't it also true that a witness placed him at the scene of the crime?"

"The witness saw a man who fit the general description, but identified the defendant in a line-up."

"Because their appearances are similar."

Rey shifted in his chair. "Because the defendant is the man she saw entering the building two hours before Miss Murdstone was killed."

Nodding and allowing a pause, Prescott said, "This witness. What is her profession, Detective?"

His shadow rippled across the desk as he rose to his feet. "Objection. Not relevant."

Lifting his hands, Prescott said, "We have a right to question the eyewitness' credibility, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Detective Curtis will answer the question."

Tightening her fingers around her pen, Claire concentrated on not looking concerned. They had gone through every possible question the defense would put to him the night before, but she sensed this would be damaging to their case. Jack put his hand on the table, near enough that she took notice of it, but not near enough to be observed by anyone as inappropriate. He was indicating she should relax. She battled the desire to look at him.

Rey gave the defense attorney a withering glance. "She worked for an escort service," he said, attempting to keep the disapproval out of his voice.

"She was, in fact, a prostitute. So remembering faces wasn't exactly her business, was it, Detective?"

"Objection!"

Meeting the level gaze of the jurors, Prescott smiled. "Withdrawn. Nothing further."

He resumed his seat, and Curtis was excused.