In The Plan - 23. Chapter 23

23

Finally, Ben Carleson had only one more witness to put on the stand - Doug Hodges. They'd carefully gone over what Doug needed to include. He knew he had to describe what had happened from the time he and Brad left the Railroad Inn until as close to before the crash as he could remember. Carleson wanted Doug to be especially careful because he didn't want Stu Lee to have anything to object to. Carleson was afraid that might rattle Doug. Still, he didn't want his client to sound over-rehearsed, either.

"You're sure about this?" Doug asked.

"Yes."

"What if I forget something?"

"I can always ask you a question, and you can go back. But the idea is to let you speak honestly and uninterrupted."

"What if Stu Lee interrupts?"

"He can't if you're just telling the jury what you saw. It's like your depositions."

"But you were asking questions there - to guide me. Or the other lawyer was."

"Not really. We mainly wanted to hear your general experience - and that's all the jury wants to hear now."

"Can the judge interrupt?"

"She hasn't up till now. She's objected to things I've said - and overruled plenty of my suggestions. But she's never interrupted a witness."

Doug still seemed doubtful.

"She's not a bad judge," Carleson assured him. "She just doesn't like me." He grinned at that - mainly for Doug's sake. "And I've worked with bad judges. Lazy. Unprepared. Sometimes even stupid. She's nowhere close. In fact, she's very protective about witnesses. She knows they don't have the experience the rest of us do. So relax. Everyone's there to help you. You just have to help yourself."

Doug understood that and promised Carleson he'd do his best. Of course, Carleson knew Lee wasn't there to help Doug. But that was something else he kept to himself.

The morning Doug was to testify, his wife, Jenny, was there. And his ex-wife, Pam. And their sons, Nick and Doug, Jr. And their wives. And Doug's sister, and some of his friends. Doug had discussed this in the days before, with many of them.

"You're sure we won't make you nervous?" was the repeated question.

"No. The more I look out into the courtroom and see people I trust, the less I'll be nervous. It's only when I'm staring at strangers that I start getting the shakes."

"You've done this before," his ex-wife reminded him. "You've made presentations at work and even made them at church. And you testified at the first trial."

"I know," Doug said. "But I still want you all there."

So they came. Doug must have had twenty fans. And he looked great. Neatly dressed but not flashy. Smiling. Seeming comfortable with himself. Not afraid to look anyone in the eyes. Carleson put him further at ease by starting with easy questions: Where Doug was coming from that evening before he got to the Railroad Inn. What time he arrived. What happened after he he got to the bar. Finally, "Could you tell me what happened when you and Brad Coghlan left the Railroad Inn that evening?" And Doug was off.

"Well, it took a little convincing to get Brad out of the bar that night," Doug started. "He was so sure he was sober."

At that point, Doug looked at his former friend, almost as if they might share an earlier, still-funny experience. Carleson had been watching Doug but for a moment shifted to Coghlan. The officer had also been watching Doug, but as soon as Doug looked at him, Coghlan's focus went down to the table.

Doug smiled anyway. Then he shrugged slightly, at the jury.

"Anyway, after we all convinced Brad not to drive, he slipped out of the bar ahead of me. I reminded Robyn the bartender I'd be right back, then hurried after him - afraid Brad would change his mind and get away."

Again, he looked at Coghlan but got no reaction

"I think someone else felt the same way because the door - the outside one to the bar - didn't close behind me. I think Cole Grubaugh was standing there.

Doug looked to where he knew Cole was sitting, and Cole nodded in support.

"Well, Brad's car was parked across the street - almost at the corner of Sunrise - Sunrise Highway. That's a big, divided road - three or four lanes in each direction. And his car was facing the highway, so he didn't have to turn around or anything to get on it."

"He got to the car ahead of me and tossed in his briefcase. It landed in what would've been the back seat - if the car had one. But it's really small and there's only a kind of narrow storage space behind the seats."

Doug looked at Carleson as if he had a question. Then he decided to go on.

"The reason Brad had his briefcase - it was really old and still had his dad's initials on it - was he was meeting with Greg - Greg Mackel, his business partner - in the bar. Nolan Starizny - the owner - told me this. He was giving them mortgage advice, and Brad had his business papers in the briefcase."

He looked again at Carleson, who nodded approval.

"Anyway, Brad tossed in the briefcase and then leaned against the car. He was on the passenger side, and the top was down - I forgot to say that, but it's kind of obvious - and I think he was leaning against the car for support.

"'Keys?'" I soon asked him. Because it seemed he'd forgotten."

"'Hang on a sec,'" he said. Or something like that. "'Lemme get my balance.'"

"I laughed, and maybe joked a little - like, 'Yeah. You never know how hard it'll be to walk until you try.' Maybe he laughed, too, or maybe not. But while I was waiting for the keys, I admired his car."

Doug paused, then went in a slightly different direction.

"It really was a beauty," he told the jury. "You can't tell from those pictures." He pointed toward the stack of evidence folders. "It's all banged up in those. But it was newly painted and had hardly been out all winter. And in the light... I mean, the way the light was hitting it... well, it belonged in a commercial. All it needed was mountains, and an ocean, and happy people driving."

He grinned at the jury as if to say, "Yeah... I know - I'm way off track. But I'll get back on."

Carleson again nodded in support.

"Well, we were still standing at the car - me on the driver's side and Brad on the passenger's - when he said something like, 'You can see better inside. And check out the dashboard. It has all these retro dials.' And maybe that's where I made a bad mistake."

He was silent for a moment, considering.

"Because instead of getting immediately into the car, I walked around it. Just taking it in."

He tried to let the jury appreciate what he saw.

"It was deep red, and pretty low to the ground. And there wasn't too much chrome, but just enough. And thin, white-wall tires showed off the hubs. And just looking at it, I wanted to be twenty again. And single. And driving out west where I've never been. And... well... you know..."

A couple of the jurors - and several people in the courtroom - were smiling now. They were with him. A few others had puzzled looks on their faces, which Carleson didn't like.

"Anyway," he said, coming back to focus, "Brad said something like 'C'mon. Try the seats,' and by then, he'd followed me halfway around the car - we'd kind of switched sides. Then he leaned in, to toot the horn. Except he didn't just toot. He leaned on it hard."

"'Stop it,' I warned. 'You'll get everyone's attention.'"

"'Nah,' he said, grinning. 'They'll think it's a train.'"

"I kind of accepted that. Trains were always blowing their whistles - and rumbling overhead. The whole Railroad Inn shook every time - it was like being on the subway. Anyway, I reached in to feel the smooth leather on the passenger seat - that's the side I was on - and I realized Brad was getting in the car.

"'Hey!'" I said. 'I'm driving!'"

"'No worries,' he told me. 'I just want you to hear the engine.' And he started it. 'Listen to that,' he went on. 'You'd think it was new.'"

"I listened, and it sure sounded new. 'Well, isn't it?' I asked."

"Brad smiled and almost shrugged. 'Can't get anything past you,' he said - then admitted, 'Yeah, it's mostly new. There wasn't much left of the original.'"

"'I know a little bit about cars,' I reminded him. 'I used to have a Jag.'"

"'No kidding,' he said. 'Which one? When?'"

"'Fore my son was born - my oldest. I must've been all of twenty-one. I found it in a junkyard and was slowly rebuilding. But - like you said - they cost too much.'"

"'Take you for more than an ex-wife,' he joked."

"Now, you gotta remember, he was drunk," Doug broke, to tell the jury. "Because - sober - I'm sure he would've known that wasn't true. Just as I hoped he wasn't thinking about my ex-wife." Doug looked across the room, found Pam and smiled at her. "I mean we broke up. We couldn't live together anymore. But that wasn't either of our faults."

Carleson shook his head slightly, hoping Doug would see him without anyone else noticing. He couldn't seem to be controlling the testimony. That would look bad. But he didn't want Doug going off on confessionals.

Either Doug noticed, or he realized he was wandering. Because he stopped.

"Anyway, Brad asked me 'What kind of Jag?' - what kind I'd had. Meanwhile, he was slowly revving the engine. It sounded so nice, and I wanted to take a road trip so badly... But that wasn't going to happen. Instead, I told Brad, 'XKE. I had an XKE. God, it was fast.'"

"'Faster than this?' he suddenly asked. And as he revved the engine, the car began slipping slowly forward. Not far - maybe an inch or two... like his foot was slipping on the clutch. I quickly yanked opened the passenger door and jumped in. I was afraid he was going to take off."

"'Hey! Hey! Stop!' I said again. 'I'm driving!'"

"'I live four blocks away,' he told me. Which was a lie - he lived further than that. But he was almost like a kid - bargaining. 'I'll crawl,' he promised."

Doug paused. As if this was a really decisive moment. Then he took a deep breath. "Instead, he peeled around the corner." Doug closed his eyes. "And all I could do is brace myself."

"'Jesus! Jesus! Slow down!' I shouted." Doug's eyes opened and his voice picked up speed. "One of my hands was on the dash, and the other was holding tight to my seat. 'Stop!' I shouted again. 'Pull over! Pull over now!'"

"Brad was already to the corner of Sunrise and Mill. That's like maybe a quarter mile, and he did it in a second. Then he eased into the left lane - the turn lane - and stopped - just as smooth as can be. He might've been completely drunk, but he was driving perfectly. It didn't make sense."

Doug exhaled.

"Still, I wasn't about to relax. 'Pull into the parking lot,' I told him, pointing across Sunrise to Mill - pointing diagonally. We were stopped at the light - at the island. 'We gonna switch drivers,' I said. 'You're not driving home.'"

"'You wimping out on me?' he asked. He thought it was funny."

"'Just pull into the lot,' I insisted. But that pissed Brad off more."

He paused after saying "pissed," as if he knew it was something he shouldn't have said in a courtroom Then he shrugged and added, "'You old fart!' Brad told me next. 'You ain't seen nuttin' yet!'"

"By then, the arrow turned green, and Brad turned onto Mill Road not even edging toward the curb like I asked. In fact, he did the opposite. Finding himself stuck behind a line of cars, he pulled into the oncoming lane and gunned the engine."

"'Hey! Hey! Hey!' I shouted - panicking and groping for the seatbelt. It wasn't there. The damned car had been built before seatbelts were required. 'Christ! You'll get a ticket! Or you're gonna get us killed!' I screamed."

"Brad just laughed. 'Can't give a cop a ticket!' he insisted. 'I've got the tin to prove it!'"

"He was speeding down the wrong lane of Mill - right into traffic if there'd been any. I was frozen - I mean petrified. We zipped past the turn to the mall. Raced past the first turn to Mill Brook - that's a community - and missed the second turn. In any of these places, Brad could've pulled over to let me drive. But no. He crossed the creek and was racing towards Roosevelt Avenue - the three-way intersection - when he finally outran the cars to our right and sped into our own lane. He missed the car ahead of us - and I mean dead ahead of us - by maybe an inch. It probably wasn't that much. That was Mr. Muraro's car - the one he talked about yesterday."

"Instead, I shouted. 'Pull over! Pull over! Pull over! Pull over!' I didn't stop shouting. I was losing it. I knew that. It was all I could do to keep from grabbing the wheel."

"'You know where I live, Dougie,' Brad taunted. As calm as he could be. You'd think he wasn't doing eighty miles an hour. And down a residential street. With only a handful of businesses. With kids, and cars, and traffic everywhere."

"All he said was, 'You know where I live. We play cards there enough. I'll be home in less than a minute.'"

"'Stop! Pull over! Pull over!' I shouted. He still wasn't slowing down. 'What in hell do I have to tell you?'"

"'You losing it, old man?'"

"He was insanely calm. And I just kept asking myself, 'Why did I get into the car? Why? Why?'"

"And he just kept racing down Mill. It's maybe two miles from Sunrise to Peninsula - the next major intersection. It's four lanes, and Brad's just weaving in-and-out like he's on some kind of raceway. There were lights - traffic lights - maybe three or four of them - and I kept praying they'd all be red. Or one of them would be red. That something would stop him. I was going to jump out of the car - just leap out and to hell with him. And to hell with the promises I'd made to our friends. I'd walk back to the bar and tell everyone Brad Coghlan was crazy."

Doug tried to slow down, as if to give himself a break. But he couldn't.

"But luck wasn't with me. The lights were all green - or yellow - or almost red - and Brad plowed right through. 'We'll go to Peninsula,' he baby-talked at me, seeming to change his plans. 'Then we'll take you to Rockaway' - that's another main street, like Mill, only smaller. 'Then we'll take you home the back way. Just give you a little joy ride first. Make you forget that toy Jag.'"

"By then, I'd completely shut down. I was just sitting there, listening to his insults."

Doug looked at Brad Coghlan for a moment. Coghlan just stared straight back at him, with that same intense glare he's used on Cowboy.

"'Or maybe we'll creep up the little side streets,' he went on. 'Lots of stop signs there, for the little diapered baby. Even big cops can't speed.'"

"He was grinning, and I kind of forced myself to smile - figuring maybe it would shut him up. Maybe it would calm him. But in the second it took for Brad to look at me, he didn't see a car suddenly turn in front of us. When he did, he reacted fast enough - he reacted real fast. But it was too late. There wasn't enough time. There wasn't enough space. He sliced left, swerved out of control, jumped the curb, and went tearing toward the base of the light pole - this big, solid, concrete base."

"'Shit,' I thought. 'I'm gonna die.'"