He cleared his throat. “HotFlixxx,” he said.
“With three x’s at the end, correct?” Again I spelled it out loud.
“Yes.”
He looked as though he was about to be sick.
“Can you tell me what HotFlixxx is?”
“It’s like Netflix,” he said.
“It’s a DVD movie rental service?”
“Yes.”
“How is it different from Netflix, if you know?”
He turned red. “They rent, uh, different kinds of movies.”
“What kind?”
“Um, well, adult movies.”
“I see. So before I asked if you liked pornography—perhaps a better question would have been, do you ever watch pornographic movies?”
He squirmed. “Sometimes,” he said.
“Nothing wrong with that, son.” Without looking behind me, knowing he was up, I pointed at opposing counsel’s chair. “And I bet Mr. Pubin is standing to tell us he enjoys them too, especially the plots.”
“Objection!” Pubin said.
“Withdrawn,” I said. I turned back to Flynn. “Is there any pornographic movie in particular that you like?”
The color drained from his face. It was as if the question had turned a spigot. His head swiveled toward the defense table. I moved just enough to block his view. Flynn coughed into his fist and said, “Can I plead the Fifth?”
“For what?” I asked.
Flair Hickory stood. “The witness has asked for counsel.”
“Your Honor,” I said, “when I went to law school, we learned that the Fifth Amendment was to be used to prevent self-incrimination and—correct me if I’m wrong here—but, well, is there a law on the books against having a favorite pornographic movie?”
Flair said, “Can we have a ten-minute recess?”
“No way, Your Honor.”
“The witness,” Flair went on, “has asked for counsel.”
“No, he didn’t. He asked to plead the Fifth. And tell you what, Mr. Flynn—I will give you immunity.”
“Immunity for what?” Flair asked.
“For whatever he wants. I don’t want this witness off the stand.”
Judge Pierce looked back at Flair Hickory. He took his time. If Flair got ahold of him, I would be in trouble. They would come up with something. I glanced behind me at Jenrette and Marantz. They hadn’t moved, hadn’t warned counsel.
“No recess,” the judge said.
Flair Hickory wilted back into his seat.
I went back to Jerry Flynn. “Do you have a favorite pornographic movie?”
“No,” he said.
“Have you ever heard of a pornographic movie called”—I pretended now to be checking a piece of paper but I knew the name by heart—“a movie called Romancing His Bone?”
He must have seen it coming, but the question still zapped him like a cattle prod. “Uh, can you repeat that title?”
I repeated it. “Have you seen or heard of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t think so,” I repeated. “So you may have?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not good with movie titles.”
“Well, let’s see if I can refresh your recollection.”
I had the fax Muse had just given me. I passed a copy to opposing counsel and made it an exhibit. Then I started back in: “According to HotFlixxx, a copy of that DVD had been in the possession of the fraternity house for the past six months. And again according to HotFlixxx’s records, the movie was mailed back to them the day after Ms. Johnson reported the assault to the police.”
Silence.
Pubin looked as though he’d swallowed his tongue. Flair was too good to show anything. He read the fax as though it were an amusing ditty from The Family Circus.
I moved closer to Flynn. “Does that refresh your memory?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Then let’s try something else.”
I looked toward the back of the room. Loren Muse was standing by the door. She was grinning. I nodded. She opened the door and a woman who looked like a gorgeous Amazon in a B movie stepped forward.
Muse’s private eye, Cingle Shaker, strutted into the room as if it were her favorite watering hole. The room itself seemed to gasp at the sight.
I said, “Do you recognize the woman who just walked into the room?”
He did not reply. The judge said, “Mr. Flynn?”
“Yes.” Flynn cleared his throat to gain time. “I recognize her.”
“How do you know her?”
“I met her at a bar last night.”
“I see. And did you two talk about the movie Romancing His Bone?”
Cingle had pretended to be an ex–porno actress. She had gotten several frat boys to open up in a hurry. Like Muse had said—it must have been really difficult, a woman with a figure so shapely it could draw a citation, getting frat boys to talk.
Flynn said, “We might have said something about it.”
“‘It’ being the movie?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” I said, again as if this were a curious development. “So now, with Ms. Shaker out there as a catalyst, do you remember the film Romancing His Bone?”
He tried not to drop his head, but the shoulders went. “Yeah,” Flynn said, “I guess I remember it.”
“Glad I could help,” I said.
Pubin rose to object, but the judge waved him to sit.
“In fact,” I went on, “you told Ms. Shaker that Romancing His Bone was the entire fraternity’s favorite porno flick, didn’t you?”
He hesitated.
“It’s okay, Jerry. Three of your brothers told Ms. Shaker the same thing.”
Mort Pubin: “Objection!”
I looked back at Cingle Shaker. So did everyone else. Cingle smiled and waved as though she were a celebrity in the audience and had just been introduced. I wheeled out the TV with a DVD player attached. The offending DVD was already in it. Muse had it keyed it up to the relevant scene.
“Your Honor, last night one of my investigators visited King David’s Smut Palace in New York City.” I looked at the jury and said, “See, it’s open twenty-four hours, though why someone might need to go there at, say, three in the morning is beyond me—”
“Mr. Copeland.”
The judge correctly stopped me with a disapproving gaze, but the jury had smiled. That was good. I wanted the mood loose. And then, when the contrast came, when they saw what was on that DVD, I wanted to wallop them.