Substantial Risk (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 5) Page 17

  “Michael and Tina were in a long-term monogamous relationship,” Sylvan replied. “Sexually, they enjoyed a dominant-submissive dynamic where Michael was the dominant partner and Tina was the submissive. These roles were apparently never reversed, even in play. Each derived sexual satisfaction from the dynamic, which they augmented with restraint play and the use of sexual aids.”

  “And what conclusions did you draw,” Jacobsen continued, “about their activities the night Tina died?”

  “Their activities that night were entirely consensual,” Sylvan said. “The dominant-submissive dynamic does not imply any lack of consent on the part of the submissive partner. To the contrary, the entire point is that the submissive is consenting to the power of the dominant.”

  And the pay-off question. “What conclusion did you draw regarding the manner of Christina Belfair’s death?”

  With its pay-off answer. “Tina’s death was an accident.” Then, just in case the jury didn’t get it, and before Brunelle could object for giving an opinion on the ultimate issue, Sylvan added, “It wasn’t manslaughter.”

  Brunelle felt the rush of the word ‘Objection!’ under his skin, but it was too late, and he didn’t want to draw any more attention to that last sentence of Sylvan’s. All the judge could do was instruct the jury to disregard it, which would ensure that they didn’t. You can’t, as the lawyers say, un-ring a bell.

  So instead he waited for Jacobsen to confirm, “No more questions,” then stood up and began his cross examination.

  He had three goals, the same three goals he had with any expert. Usually it was some retired crime lab guy who’d decided to make a few bucks on the side criticizing his former colleagues work for a few hundred bucks, or a Ph.D. with book smarts and no practical experience. Sylvan was neither of those, Brunelle knew, but the strategy was the same: attack the discipline, attack the qualifications, attack the conclusion.

  “Sexology, huh?” Brunelle started. “That almost sounds made up.”

  Sylvan was a good witness. He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he acknowledged the truth. “I’m afraid you’re right. It does. But I assure you, it is an actual discipline and I actually have a Ph.D. in it.”

  No, not just a good witness. A very good witness. He took Brunelle’s barb and used it to remind the jury of his qualifications.

  Which Brunelle then clumsily tried to attack. “But a Ph.D. in a made up discipline doesn’t seem to be that impressive of an achievement.”

  Sylvan paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be, but again, it’s a very real and very important discipline. People across the country and across the world have benefited greatly from the advances in understanding human sexuality brought about by the scientific study of something which has been a core aspect of who we all are, but until recently was treated as something to be ignored or condemned.”

  Brunelle frowned. This wasn’t going well. He considered attacking Sylvan’s personal accomplishments, but decided against giving him another opportunity to recite his degrees and publications.

  He glanced around the courtroom. He didn’t care about Yamata or Jacobsen or even Master Michael. He just wanted to confirm Robyn was still there. She was. And he was doing a shitty job, right in front of her.

  “Uh,” he stammered, realizing he was taking too long to ask his next question. “You said Ms. Belfair’s death was an accident, not manslaughter. Do you even know the legal definition of manslaughter?”

  He could actually hear Robyn’s exasperated huff as she stood up and walked out. Brunelle tried to pretend that didn’t hurt. He took solace in the fact that she wouldn’t see the end of the train wreck his cross was turning into.

  “Why, yes,” Sylvan replied. Of course. “I am familiar with the definitions of both first degree and second degree manslaughter.”

  Well, the die was cast, Brunelle realized. He had to follow through now. But that meant not only did Sylvan get to tell the jury that Tina’s death wasn’t manslaughter, Brunelle was about to give him the chance to explain why.

  So he thanked God when the fire alarm went off.

  “Oh, Good Lord,” Quinn let out. Brunelle agreed. Then the judge regained herself and took control of the situation.

  “Counsel and members of the public, please exit the courtroom by way of the main doors. Jurors, please go with my judicial assistant, who will keep you together and separate from the public during this fire alarm. We will reconvene in the court room as soon as the fire department gives the all clear to re-enter the building.”

  Everyone did as they were told. Brunelle hoped the fire department would take their sweet time, maybe even shut the whole building down for the day like they did when that box of spare parts on the loading dock was mistaken for a bomb. But in less than thirty minutes, the public was filing back into the courthouse and Brunelle was going to have to go back in and try to salvage his cross examination. It wasn’t even 10:30 yet.

  The only bright spot was that, in the confusion of mass reentry he got a moment with Robyn who had emerged from the crowd to confront him in the hallway outside Quinn’s courtroom.

  “That was horrible,” she started. “Just terrible.”

  Brunelle pasted on a smile. “Why, thank you,” he said sarcastically. But he knew she was right.

  “You can thank me later,” she said enigmatically.

  Brunelle’s eyebrows knitted together. “For what?”

  Robyn rolled her eyes. “I pulled the fire alarm, dummy. It was your only hope.”

  Brunelle was speechless. Robyn often had that effect on him. But this was different. “You…?” he started.

  “Pulled the fire alarm,” she finished. “Yes. You had to be stopped. You don’t get it at all. You’re going to lose this case.”

  Brunelle’s confusion deepened. Why would she care about that? She was a defense attorney. Didn’t she want Jacobsen to win?

  But he didn’t voice those thoughts, and Robyn stuck with hers. “You need to adjourn for the day. While Sylvan is still on the stand. You need to start your cross all over. You need to figure out the right way to do it.” She paused again. “You need me.”

  Brunelle could hardly argue the last point. “But it’s only ten-thirty. Quinn will never let me adjourn for the day. Especially not in the middle of cross examination.”

  Robyn locked her eyes on Brunelle’s. “Tell her your stomach hurts.”

  But Brunelle shook his head incredulously. “I can’t lie to the judge.”

  Robyn must have agreed, because she punched him square in the gut. Hard.

  Brunelle doubled over, spitting for air. He hadn’t expected it at all. Especially not with her eyes locked on his. “What the fuck are you doing?” he finally managed to wheeze.

  “Do you trust me?” Robyn demanded.

  Brunelle took a moment to consider the question. She’d just sucker-punched him in the stomach. But he knew the answer. They both did. “Yes.”

  “Then go in there,” Robyn commanded, “and tell her you can’t go on any more today. Insist. Make yourself puke if you have to. Get the case adjourned until tomorrow and don’t agree to finish your cross first. You need to finish your cross tomorrow.”

  Brunelle finally managed to stand up straight again, but his stomach still hurt. “Why tomorrow?”

  “Because,” Robyn grabbed his shirt roughly, “you’re going to spend tonight with me.”

  Chapter 39

  The ruse worked, although it wasn’t truly a ruse. Brunelle didn’t lie. Instead, he did that old lawyer trick where each of the sentences was true by itself, but together they misled the listener into a false conclusion.

  He told the judge his stomach hurt, which was true. Robyn had punched him pretty hard.

  He told the judge that he was having trouble focusing on the case. He was focusing on seeing Robyn that night.

  And he told the judge he didn’t think his cross examination would be very effective. That was obvious to anyone in the courtro
om.

  But it worked. Judge Quinn, after initial reluctance and with more than a little consternation, gave Brunelle the rest of the day off.

  Jacobsen was pissed.

  Sylvan seemed amused.

  And Brunelle spent the rest of the day in his apartment, completely distracted by thoughts—both memories and fantasies-- of Robyn Dunn.

  By the time eight o’clock rolled around, he had worked himself up into quite a fever. As he knocked on Robyn’s apartment door, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep his cool. But Robyn did. She opened the door and stepped outside before he even got the chance to try to push his way in.

  “Not yet, Dave,” she chided, as she swiftly locked the door behind her. “We have a long night ahead of us, but it’s still a bit early for what I have planned. Let’s get a drink. Or two. Then we’ll be in the right frame of mind.”

  Two drinks turned into three. Maybe four. Somewhere in there, Robyn started rubbing his leg. By the time they finally got back to her apartment, Brunelle was ready to pop.

  So of course, she wanted to talk.

  She pointed at the couch. “Sit down, Dave.”

  He hesitated. He wanted to go to her bedroom, not the couch. They could fuck on the couch too—he knew that—but there was something in her tone of voice that said he might as well keep his pants buttoned.

  He sat down, a bit reluctantly, and clasped his hands between his knees. He was glad for the sitting though; his head was swimming a bit from the alcohol. Robyn stepped into her bedroom for a moment and came back far too quickly, still dressed and holding a paper in her hand. Brunelle wondered if it was some sort of contract or waiver of something. He’d heard that sometimes BDSM couples use contracts. Or was that only the professional dominatrixes? If a prenup sucked the romance out of a marriage, what did a hold-harmless clause do to sexual attraction?

  Mercifully, Robyn sat down next to him and interrupted his thoughts. She kept her paper rolled up in her hands.

  “What did you think we were going to do tonight?” she asked him.

  He thought for a moment, then decided to be honest. “I thought we were going to fuck.” Then, after a moment, “Er, have sex.”

  Robyn laughed. “Just don’t say ‘make love’ or I’ll kick you out right now.”

  Brunelle managed a laugh. And filed the information away. He really liked her.

  “What kind of sex did you think we were going to have?” she continued.

  Again, a moment to think. “Heterosexual?” He wasn’t sure where she was headed with all this, so he defaulted to humor to cover his unease.

  She laughed. “Obviously. Anything more than that?”

  Brunelle shrugged, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Nonreciprocal power sex coupled with device and restraint protocols?” Again, a little humor to cover his true feelings.

  Robyn didn’t laugh that time, but she smiled. It made her one dimple appear. He really liked that dimple.

  “And who did you think would have the greater power in that nonreciprocal relationship?” she asked, peering at him out of the corner of lowered eyes.

  “Me?” he hoped aloud.

  Robyn’s smile stayed static. “Uh-huh. So, we’ve talked, and we’ve fucked, and we’ve played. Do you think you know what I like?’

  Brunelle narrowed his eyes in concentration. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. It felt like a job interview. “I think so.”

  “Do you think you can give me what I need?” she pressed.

  He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I can.” Then he considered his word choice, always important when talking with a lawyer. “Yes, I can.”

  She unrolled the paper and handed it to him. “Read this.”

  He looked at the piece of paper. At the top, it was titled, ‘The Master’s Creed.’ At the bottom, the footer told him she’d printed it off the internet that afternoon. It read:

  Above all else the Dominant cherishes his Submissive, in the knowledge that the gift the Submissive gives him is the greatest gift of all. The Dominant is demanding and takes full advantage of the power given to him, but knows how to share the pleasure that comes from that precious gift.

  To win his Submissive's mind, body, spirit, soul, and love, he knows he must first win her trust. He will show his Submissive humor, kindness, and warmth. He must always show her that his guidance and tutoring is knowledgeable and deserving of her attention, that this is a man she can learn from, and trust his direction.

  When it comes time to teach his Submissive her lessons, he is a strong and unyielding teacher. He will accept no flaw, nothing less than perfection from his student. Never does he use discipline without a good reason. When he does it is always with a knowledgeable and careful hand.

  He is patient, taking time to learn her limits, and knowing that as her trust of him grows, so will they. She responds to him out of the want of pleasing him. Compliance comes from the wanting to please, not the fear of punishment. He understands the fragile nature of mind and body and never violates the trust given to him.

  His tools are mind, body, spirit, soul, and love. He understands that each partner gains most from pleasuring the other. And both of them know that love and trust are the only bindings that truly hold.

  Brunelle lowered the paper again and looked into Robyn’s eyes. But it was she who spoke.

  “Dave, you do every fucking thing I tell you.” She laughed slightly. It was warm, not in the least mocking, but it stung nonetheless. “You sit when I tell you to sit. You came over tonight fully intent on fucking me as soon as you got here, but I made you go out for two hours and have drinks first—and you did it. Hell, this morning, you quit in the middle of your trial day just because I told you to.”

  Brunelle lowered his eyes to the floor.

  She tapped the paper. “You don’t even really understand this kind of relationship, do you?”

  He considered lying for a moment, but then, admitted, “No.”

  “Do you know who does?” she asked.

  He thought for a moment and looked up at her. “You?”

  She smiled, but avoided the question. “Sylvan. Read this. Try to understand it. Then use Sylvan to hold that bastard responsible for what he did to his sub.”

  Brunelle looked at The Master’s Creed again. He supposed Sylvan was probably familiar with it. He could try to cross him with it. The gears in his head started turning, but Robyn stopped them.

  She took his hand. Hers was soft and warm. “There’ll be time tomorrow. We can talk more in the morning.” She stood up, still holding his hand and took a step toward the bedroom. “Come on, let’s make love.”

  Brunelle allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “Whatever you say.”

  Chapter 40

  The next morning found Brunelle back in Quinn’s courtroom, Robyn in the gallery, Sylvan on the stand, and Jacobsen looking uneasy. The defense attorney was enough of a gamesman to suspect Brunelle was up to something with his not-quite-fake stomach pain.

  The third biggest mystery in a criminal case was whether the prosecutor could influence the defendant’s decision to testify. Generally, it was better for the State if they didn’t testify. Juries are instructed over and over again that a defendant doesn’t have to testify and the fact that a defendant has not testified can’t be used against him in any way. The reason they’re instructed that ad nauseum is because it’s counter to everything else people do in their lives. If you accuse a child or employee of doing something wrong and they don’t deny it, you know they did it. So juries are told not to do something they do all the time and then they trick themselves into believing they didn’t do it, all the time thinking in the back of their heads, If it were me, I would have taken the stand and said I didn’t do it.

  It was even worse in this case, where Atkins was reasonably articulate and had a strong emotional appeal to his defense. Manslaughter, accident, or whatever, he had in fact lost his longtime girlfriend. He was going to cr
y and the tears would likely be real. Another thing jurors are instructed is that they can’t let sympathy influence their verdict. Again, because that’s exactly what they’ll do.

  So when Brunelle resumed his cross examination, his goal wasn’t just to get Sylvan to agree with him, it was to scare Atkins into changing his mind and not taking the stand.

  “You testified yesterday,” Brunelle began, “that you believe Tina’s death was an accident, not manslaughter. Is that right?”

  Sylvan nodded confidently. “That’s correct.”

  “You also said you familiarized yourself with the manslaughter statute in order to be able to render that opinion, correct?”

  Another nod, but a bit less confident. Sylvan knew Brunelle was the expert on the law, and he knew Brunelle was going somewhere with the questioning, even if he wasn’t sure where yet. “I did read the statute, yes.”

  “Manslaughter means recklessly killing someone, right?” Brunelle asked.

  The entire line of questioning normally would have been objectionable. Witnesses weren’t supposed to do the legal analysis—that was the jury’s job. But Jacobsen had opened the door, and both lawyers knew it. Jacobsen sat objectionless and Brunelle pressed forward.

  “That sounds correct,” Sylvan conceded.

  “And reckless means two things. First, that you knew of a risk and disregarded it, and second, that disregarding the risk was a gross deviation from that of a reasonable person, correct?”

  Sylvan frowned slightly. “I do recall that.”

  “That’s what we lawyers call a reasonable person standard,” Brunelle said.

  “Okay,” Sylvan replied to the non-question.

  “But didn’t you testify that the type of relationship Tina and Michael had was unusual?”

  Sylvan took the bait. “I didn’t say unusual. I said uncommon. Not everyone understands the bond those two enjoyed.” He thought for a moment, then added, “So to speak.”

  Under different circumstances, that might have been funny, but Brunelle was focused and serious and the rest of the courtroom was mirroring his demeanor.