Sleepers. Part 40

"It was my pleasure," Father Bobby said.

"Your witness, Mr. Sullivan," Judge Weisman said.

"Thank you, your honor," Michael said, standing up and walking over to Father Bobby.

"Did you buy the tickets for the game, Father?" Michael asked. "Or were they given to you?"

"No, I bought them," Father Bobby said.

"On the day of the game?"

"No," Father Bobby said. "I went to the box office about a week before."

"How did you pay for the tickets?"

"With cash," Father Bobby said. "I pay for everything with cash."

"Did you get a receipt?"

"No," Father Bobby said. "I didn't."

"Did anyone know you were going to the game," Michael asked, "other than the two defendants?"

"I don't think so," Father Bobby said.

"When did you ask the defendants to go to the game with you?"

"The Sunday before," Father Bobby said.

"Was anyone else present?"

"No," Father Bobby said.

"So, no one saw you buy the tickets," Michael said. "There's no record of any purchase. And no one else knew you were going with the defendants. Is that right?"

"That's right," Father Bobby said.

"So how do we know you were there?" Michael asked. "How do we really really know you and the two defendants were at the game on the night of the murder?" know you and the two defendants were at the game on the night of the murder?"

"I'm telling you both as a witness and and as a priest," Father Bobby said. "We as a priest," Father Bobby said. "We were were at that game." at that game."

"And a priest wouldn't lie," Michael said. "Isn't that right?"

"A priest with ticket stubs wouldn't need need to lie," Father Bobby said, putting a hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out three torn tickets. "And I always keep the stubs." to lie," Father Bobby said, putting a hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out three torn tickets. "And I always keep the stubs."

"Why's that, Father?" Michael asked, standing next to him. "Why do you keep them?"

"Because you never know," Father Bobby said, looking straight at Michael, "when someone will want more than your word."

"Has anyone questioned your word before today?"

"No," Father Bobby said. "No one ever ever has. But there's a first time for most things in this world." has. But there's a first time for most things in this world."

"Yes, Father," Michael Sullivan said. "I guess there is."

Michael turned from Father Bobby and looked up at Judge Weisman.

"I have no further questions at this time," Michael said. "Witness is free to go."

The spectators applauded as Father Robert Carillo, a Catholic priest from h.e.l.l's Kitchen, stepped down from the stand.

19.

I PUT ONE PUT ONE foot on a rusty mooring, my hands in my pockets as I looked out at the Hudson River. The skies were overcast and the winter air felt heavy with impending snow. Carol had her back to me, staring past the iron legs of the West Side Highway toward the streets of h.e.l.l's Kitchen. It was early evening, six hours removed from Father Bobby's testimony. foot on a rusty mooring, my hands in my pockets as I looked out at the Hudson River. The skies were overcast and the winter air felt heavy with impending snow. Carol had her back to me, staring past the iron legs of the West Side Highway toward the streets of h.e.l.l's Kitchen. It was early evening, six hours removed from Father Bobby's testimony.

I still hadn't recovered from seeing him take the stand and lie for us. He didn't just testify for John and Tommy, he testified against Wilkinson and the evil that had lived there for too long. Still, I was sorry he had to do it, to tell the lie that I know must have cost him dearly, just to help us get our ounce of revenge.

I was sorry any of us had to go through this trial. I wondered about Carol, and how these days would affect her. She was smart and attractive, and should have been spending her time meeting men who did more than simply combat the ghosts of their pasts. I prayed that the trial would free Michael of his demons and allow him to go on with his life. As for John and Tommy, I hoped the best for them, but feared only the worst.

It just seemed that no matter how hard we tried, no matter how many of them we got, we could never rid ourselves of the Wilkinson Home for Boys. My friends and I had had to live with it. Now Carol and Father Bobby had to live with it as well. to live with it. Now Carol and Father Bobby had to live with it as well.

Carol turned toward me and, sensing my unease, leaned over and hugged me.

"That place is a part of me and a part of Father Bobby too," Carol said. "In different ways, maybe. But it's in our lives. And it's going to stay in our lives. No matter what we do now."

"None of it helps make it even," I said. "We've got a long way to go till we get to even."

"But you've got to admit," Carol said, "you're off to a h.e.l.luva nice start."

"I was real proud of him up there," I said, wiping tears I couldn't control.

"We were all proud of him," Carol said. "And Father Bobby did it not because we asked him to. But because it was the only only thing he thing he could could do. He had no choice either, Shakes." do. He had no choice either, Shakes."

"He looked like Cagney up there," I said. "Looked everybody square in the eye. Didn't back off for a second."

"More like Bogart, you mean," Carol said, smiling, putting an arm around my waist.

"I'll never understand how you could have grown up around here and still think Bogart's better than Cagney," I said.

"I suppose you think the Three Stooges are better than the Marx Brothers too."

"Hands down, porcupine-head."

"And you probably like John Wayne westerns too," she said.

"There's where you're wrong," I said. "I love love John Wayne westerns." John Wayne westerns."

"You're hopeless." And then Carol Martinez laughed out loud. It was the first time I'd heard real laughter in a very long time.

"We're all hopeless," I said, walking with her alongside the dock, up toward Pier 82, her arm under my elbow. "That's why we're still together."

"But I swear, if you tell me you still think Soupy Sales is funnier than Woody Allen, it's gonna be all over," Carol said. "I mean it."

"Can Woody Allen do White Fang?" I asked her.

"Probably not," she said.

"That's right," I said. "n.o.body "n.o.body does what Soupy does, because does what Soupy does, because n.o.body n.o.body can." can."

"No, Shakes," Carol said. "It's because n.o.body wants wants to." to."

The sound of our laughter echoed off the empty steel piers and out into the rough waters of the Hudson.

20.

AT NINE-TEN A.M., on a rainy Thursday morning in January 1980, Michael Sullivan stood in the well of a courtroom and addressed a jury for the last time in his career.

That morning, he had carefully chosen his dark gray suit, blue tie, and black loafers. Two thin specks of dried blood clung to his right cheek, thanks to a close shave with an old razor. He had a Superman wrist.w.a.tch on his left hand, an egg-shaped college graduation ring on his right, and a cherry Life Saver in his mouth.

"Is counsel ready?" Judge Weisman asked.

"Yes, your honor," Michael said. "I'm ready."

"Please proceed," Judge Weisman said.

Michael pushed his chair back and walked toward the jury box, twelve faces studying his every move. He put one hand in his pants pocket, caught the eye of the eldest member of the panel, and smiled.

"You have to admit, it's been an interesting couple of weeks," Michael began, his free hand rubbing the rail of the jury bench. "And it sure beats deciding a civil court case."

He waited with his head down for the scattered laughter to fade.

"But now you have a decision to make. A very difficult decision. A decision whose weight will determine the fate of two young men.

"You've heard the arguments from both sides. My side tells you the defendants, John Reilly and Thomas Marcano, shot and killed the victim, Sean Nokes. The other side tells you they didn't. In fact, if you really really want to know the truth, they weren't even want to know the truth, they weren't even there there to kill him. to kill him.

"So, who to believe? That's That's what you must now decide." what you must now decide."

Michael moved slowly down the jury box, taking care to look at every member of the panel, looking beyond their faces, beyond their eyes.

"So how do you reach a decision? You start by going over what you know based on the evidence that was presented. You know know that Sean Nokes was murdered on November 6, 1979, at eight twenty-five in the evening. You that Sean Nokes was murdered on November 6, 1979, at eight twenty-five in the evening. You know know he was shot to death while sitting in the back booth of the Shamrock Pub. And you he was shot to death while sitting in the back booth of the Shamrock Pub. And you know know he was gunned down by two men in black jackets. But which two men? That's where things start getting a little fuzzy." he was gunned down by two men in black jackets. But which two men? That's where things start getting a little fuzzy."

Michael had both hands in his pockets now as he walked past the court stenographer, his head raised, his back to the jury. The spectators in the crowded courtroom were, with a handful of exceptions, all from h.e.l.l's Kitchen.

"You heard testimony that painted the two defendants as less than ideal citizens. Does that make them killers? Does that make them killers? Then you heard testimony that described Sean Nokes as a man with an ugly past. Then you heard testimony that described Sean Nokes as a man with an ugly past. Does that make it less than a crime to kill him? Does that make it less than a crime to kill him? You heard from an eyewitness who saw the two defendants walk out of the Shamrock Pub moments after shooting Sean Nokes dead. Then you heard from a priest who said the two defendants were with You heard from an eyewitness who saw the two defendants walk out of the Shamrock Pub moments after shooting Sean Nokes dead. Then you heard from a priest who said the two defendants were with him him at a Knicks game, eating hot dogs and drinking beer at the same time Sean Nokes was sitting up dead in a back booth. So, who do you believe? Who's lying? Who's telling the truth?" at a Knicks game, eating hot dogs and drinking beer at the same time Sean Nokes was sitting up dead in a back booth. So, who do you believe? Who's lying? Who's telling the truth?"

Michael ambled past the defense table, inches away from John and Tommy, hands still in his pockets, his eyes back on the jury.

"It's not going to be easy for you to decide," Michael said. "It's not supposed to be. Decisions where people's lives are at stake should should be hard. They should take time. They should take a great deal of search and thought. You have to look at the facts, and then beyond them. You have to listen to the testimony, and then read through it. You have to weigh the witnesses and then go past their words and search out be hard. They should take time. They should take a great deal of search and thought. You have to look at the facts, and then beyond them. You have to listen to the testimony, and then read through it. You have to weigh the witnesses and then go past their words and search out their motives. their motives. You have to go beyond the one victim and the two defendants. You must look to the lines that connect them." You have to go beyond the one victim and the two defendants. You must look to the lines that connect them."

Michael stopped at his desk and sipped from a cup of cold coffee. He put the cup down, unb.u.t.toned his jacket, and moved back toward the jury box.

"With this case, I'm asking you to do what few juries are asked to do," Michael said. "I'm asking you to look at the facts and then then look at the reasons for those facts. I'm asking you to find the truth in what you've heard, in what you've seen and in what you look at the reasons for those facts. I'm asking you to find the truth in what you've heard, in what you've seen and in what you believe. believe. It might be the only way for you to come up with a decision you can live with. A decision that will not cause you doubt. A decision that you will It might be the only way for you to come up with a decision you can live with. A decision that will not cause you doubt. A decision that you will know know is the right one." is the right one."

Michael had both hands spread across the jury rail, his body leaning against it, his eyes focused on the men and women before him.

"You have to make your decision based on the guilt of two men and the innocence of one, and you have to believe believe it. You have to go it. You have to go beyond a beyond a reasonable doubt; you have to go to where there is reasonable doubt; you have to go to where there is no no doubt. You take everything you know to be true and then you take all the time you need to move past the truth and past the doubt and come out with a decision we can all live with. A decision that many may question, but doubt. You take everything you know to be true and then you take all the time you need to move past the truth and past the doubt and come out with a decision we can all live with. A decision that many may question, but you you know to be the know to be the right right one. Because now one. Because now you you are the only judges. In your hands will rest the evidence and the testimony. In your hands will rest the facts. In your hands will rest the fate of two men and the memory of a third. In your hands will rest the truth. are the only judges. In your hands will rest the evidence and the testimony. In your hands will rest the facts. In your hands will rest the fate of two men and the memory of a third. In your hands will rest the truth.

"I have confidence in those hands. I believe believe in those hands. And I believe those hands will find a verdict that will be filled with truth. And filled with justice. An honest truth and an honorable justice." in those hands. And I believe those hands will find a verdict that will be filled with truth. And filled with justice. An honest truth and an honorable justice."

Michael Sullivan then thanked a jury for the last time, walked back to his seat, and put his legal pads into his black briefcase.

"Do you have anything to add, counselor?" Judge Weisman asked.

"No, your honor," Michael Sullivan said. "There's nothing else. I've said it all."

21.

"LET ME HAVE a hot dog with mustard, sauerkraut, and onions," Michael told a chubby vendor in a leather flap cap, standing on the sidewalk outside the courthouse. "And let me have a c.o.ke too." a hot dog with mustard, sauerkraut, and onions," Michael told a chubby vendor in a leather flap cap, standing on the sidewalk outside the courthouse. "And let me have a c.o.ke too."

"No ketchup?" I asked.

"I'm on a diet," he said without turning around.

It was a snowy, windy Monday afternoon and the jury had been in deliberation since the previous Thursday night. The courthouse rumor mill was working on overdrive, with most of the gossip predicting a verdict of guilty.

"You got a place to eat that?" I asked Michael, pointing to his hot dog.

"Behind you," Michael said, lifting the bun toward a park bench over my shoulder.

"Okay if I join you?"