mr. crawford? crawford looks up from his drawing.
your witness, mr. crawford. crawford takes in the uniform cop.
mr. crawford, you might want to object. the witness can't know your state of mind. crawford doesn't even look up from his drawing.
i'm sorry - mr. crawford, did you say something? crawford sets aside his pen for the first time. looks up.
on what grounds?
why don't you just explain it in layman's terms.
mr. crawford -
detective nunally? nunally looks down, silent. shaking his head.
mr. crawford, i warned you about representing yourself.
mr. slocum - is it true?
excuse me?
mr. slocum - your witness was intimate with the victim, and he assaulted the defendant during the arrest.
he's got a point. they were alone in the house. the confession is no good.
in police custody. arguably, in fear for his life. i'm sorry, mr. slocum - it's all 'fruit of the tainted tree.' we have to exclude all versions of the confession and any evidence collected by lieutenant nunally or by other police officers on the night he was present.
yes, i do. and i don't like it. but it's done, so we have to deal with it.
don't push it, mr. crawford. what we're going to do is give mr. slocum a few days to regroup and come up with new evidence. if he doesn't - then you can go home. that's going to put us into the long weekend. we reconvene monday morning. willy just stands there: blind-sided, shell-shocked. crawford smiles at him.
mr. crawford? crawford glances up at the judge. then at gifford, as if he's just noticed him up there. beat. without getting up:
on what grounds, mr. crawford?
mr. slocum? willy and crawford turn to the judge.
have you got any new evidence? beat.
mr. slocum? willy turns back to his briefcase. he breathes. press the menu button - selects speed dial. on the tiny screen, a list of names. selected: mona. cell.
mr. slocum? now or never. willy won't look up. nunally stares, agonized. willy grimaces slightly, as if he feels his soul burning up, turning to ash and blowing away - - nods, closing the cell phone, sliding it under nikki's note. shuts the briefcase. looks at the judge.
motion to dismiss is granted. uproar. the judge bangs his gavel -
order! the jury is released, with our apologies - - practically shouting over the chaos - reporters hastily heading for the doors, pulling out cell phones -
- and the defendant is free to go. crawford gives the judge a gentlemanly bow of the head. willy begins to pack his papers into the briefcase. refusing to look up. the judge and the bailiff might be saying other things, but no one is listening - spectators swarm up the aisles, out to the hallway - and the court starts to close down. crawford comes over to willy, holds out a hand. willy looks him in the eye. doesn't move. crawford shrugs.
what do the doctors say?
what did the doctors say, mr. slocum?
i'm sorry. i have no probable cause to issue a court order against mr. crawford - and he's protected agai-