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Sport of kings?

- My bookmaker lives like one.

- I'll bet.

- You admiring your polished prose?

- No, your picture.

- Charleen Westin's much prettier.

- You know, this'll be the 27th case of yours I've covered.

Maybe my good luck charm.

- If I thought so. I'd consider jumping off the train.

- I make good copy, don't I?

- Sure. I've got a Pulitzer Prize to prove it.

Quit trying to reform me.

- I don't give a hoot about you.

- Save your lecture about the majesty of the law,

or I'll throw you off the train.

- You don't scare me,

except when you're in a courtroom.

- Springfield in five minutes, sir.

- Here, Willie.

Forget the change.

- Thank you very much, Mr. Blane!

- Where is he? I can't see him!

- All right, all right. Take it easy now.

There he is!

Hey!

Oh, look it!

Golly, how big you are!

- Hello, Diane.

- Hello, Jim.

Here, let me look at you.

- Grown, haven't they?

- So fast.

How are the electric trains?

- Haven't got 'em anymore.

- They're mine now.

- How's your mother?

- She's fine.

- Why can't we go with you, Dad?

- Maybe you can join me. You can stay in Desert Valley.

- The boys are in school.

Well, just for a week.

Can't we, Mom?

- Sometimes we get sick and stay out that long.

- Your father will be very busy.

We don't want to be in the way.

Board!

- Yeah, your mommy's right now.

Now, you take care of everything, you hear?

I gotta go.

You're big guys now.

You take care of mommy and look after her.

I'll write to you.

I'll call you as soon as I get there.

Bye!

- Nice family.

- It wasn't for publication.

- I'm just making mental notes

on a book I'll probably never write.

- Didn't even bring anything for the kids.

I forgot.

- Like to read something interesting?

- Who's it from?

- Convict number 673066. Namely Lee Benson Powell.

- What's the point?

- The point of miscarriage of justice.

I think he's innocent.

- One, please.

- Read the letter, please.

- One case at a time.

- You're the only one who could get a new trial for Powell.

- I can recommend a fillet of sole.

- I've decided on the steak.

- Rare?

- Yes.

- May I?

- Thank you.

- Friendly natives.

Don't throw pennies.

- Hello, I'm Paul Vernon.

- Hello!

- Ralph Adams, New York Bulletin.

- How do you do? - Well.

- Pleasant trip?

- Unusually.

Nice welcoming committee.

- All prospective jurors.

- At least the weather's warm.

- I'll see you later at the hotel.

- All right.

- The car's over this way.

- Oh, fine.

Thank you very much.

You wanna follow us with those two?

- Smart looking fella, that lawyer.

- Mm-hm.

If it he'd have been real smart,

he never would've left New York.

- You want me to drive?

A man could relax out here.

- With what's confronting you, I hardly think so.

- Which reminds me, did I come cheaper

than the legal eagle from San Francisco?

- I take it you're referring to Lester Rawlings.

- Mm-hm.

I heard the Restons had him down as their first choice.

- They did, but I persuaded them to retain you

despite your higher fee.

- Coming from a Baltimore corporation lawyer,

that's a compliment.

- I'll pay you but one compliment Mr. Blane,

if and when you win an acquittal.

Mrs. Reston.

Mr. Blane.

- How do you do?

How's the water?

- Find out for yourself.

- Oh, Paul, dig out a pair of trunks for Mr. Blane.

- Looks inviting.

- Mr. Blane?

- Mr. Reston, how are you?

- I thought you'd be an older man.

- I thought you'd be a much more worried man.

- When I spill a drink on the carpet,

my butler cleans up after me.

- When you spill blood,

your lawyer is expected to do the same.

- Exactly.

- Did Larry Bell assault you?

I'm defending you, not Mr. Vernon.

- Would you care to see the dress?

- Did he assault you?

- Sounds like gutter talk.

- That's a very acute observation.

Did he?

- Yes, he did.

- For the first time?

Now look here!

- You be quiet until I come to you!

- Mind your manners Mr. Blane!

- Mr. Reston, I'm not impressed by you or your bank account.

In fact, you irritate me.

- Now look here! It's about time-

- That's more like it.

That's the way I want to see you in court,

not as a cold fish, but as a man outraged.

Mrs. Reston, are you a faithful wife?

- In my fashion.

- Were you having an affair with Larry Bell?

- He was a bartender.

- Were you?

- No.

- Don't lie to me,

or you'll have to get yourself another lawyer.

- I saw Larry Bell just twice before.

- Were you receptive to his advances?

- Yes.

- What happened the third time?

- I was bored with him.

- And you resisted him

- I ignored him.

- You tease him?

- You sound like a prosecutor.

- Another acute observation.

You're cleverer than I imagined.

Did you want Bell to attack you?

- You mean

subconsciously?

- No, consciously.

- That's absurd, isn't it?

- Is it?

- I don't know.

I have to think about it.

- Mrs. Reston, as you move about from resort to resort,

what else do you think about it?

- You're so right, Mr. Blane.

- I'll be at the Fulton Hotel.

- We have arranged for you to stay here.

- Oh, Mr. Blane doesn't approve of us.

- No sense adding to the prejudice of the jurors.

I don't want him to think I belong to Desert Valley.

- Good point.

- Perhaps another time,

if you and your lovely wife manage by my sweat

to escape the state penitentiary.

- I'll be seeing you, Mr. Blane.

- Mm-hm.

Honestly, I was only doing 80.

- I'll take your word for it, Mr. Blane.

- I'm Nick Hoak, Sheriff of Fulton County.

- Hello.

- You wanna follow me?

- Where to, traffic court?

- I'd hate to see you in any of our courts.

- Thanks.

Where we going?

- God's country.

We got us a visitor from New York.

- Hello.

- How about a couple beers?

Mr. Blane, did you ever see anything like this before?

- It's beautiful.

- Mm. No swimming pools.

None of those fancy Hawaiian sport shirts

like in Desert Valley.

- Yeah, it'd cost me a pretty penny

to level this off and dig a well.

- Is this your place?

- Mm-hm.

Oh, Hank and Sarah?

- Yeah.

- They run it for me.

Thanks.

- Thank you.

Well, I'd call it a natural paradise

if I hadn't seen Hank and Sarah.

They looked at me like the loneliest

and unhappiest people I've ever seen.

- Well, they got reason to be.

You see, their son was shot down and killed last week.

They're Larry Bell's folks.

Larry Bell could run around you or over you.

Yep.

He could have been one of the greatest halfbacks

of all time.

What a waste.

What a lousy waste.

- I saw you play once.

- Ah, you did?

Yeah.

- Where?

- Chicago.

College all-star game, 1937.

I remember you made a diving catch for a touchdown.

- That was the last game I ever played.

You were All-American then, weren't you?

- No, not exactly.

Those Eastern newspaper guys.

Well, it's a long time ago.

You know, some nights

I get to dreaming like I'm still playing.

I'll never forget, one night in my sleep,

I busted right outta bed like I was going for a long pass.

Crashed right into a window.

- What's he raise out here?

- Staley?

He raises any hand he figures to feed.

- Sounds like me.

- Yeah?

- Well, at your convenience anytime.

It's swanky all right.

- The governor stays here when he's in town.

- Never in Desert Valley?

Not if he wants to stay governor.

- Does the governor take orders from you?

- He takes my advice.

I gotta run now. See you boys around.

- All right, thanks.

Hello.

Okay.

- Jim? Billy Giles.

- Billy? Where are you?

- Vegas.

Are you knocking 'em dead?

Dead?

That's the word for it.

The slot machines get more laughs than I do.

- Well, when am I gonna see you?

- Well, drive over when you can. It's only 150 miles.

The highway runs right past all the crap table.

- Billy, can I have some more?

Thank you!

- By the way, Jim, they're betting six-to-one against you.

- Well, you get 10 grand down for me.

Seriously, Jim, I hated to see you take this one.

- Make that 15 grand, Billy.

- That should remind me of a story, but it doesn't.

Okay, Jim, if you feel lonesome, give me a buzz.

- All right, so long, Billy.

- How's he doing?

- He just didn't have it anymore.

What a shame.

- How can he make an audience laugh?

They look at him and remember how he emptied a revolver

into his wife and her lover.

- That was 10 years ago, and he was acquitted.

- Quite a feat, too.

I don't think you convinced anybody but the jury.

- Well, when it comes to picking juries-

- I know.

But this time you'll be forced to pick

from Sheriff Hoak's private pork barrel.

- Don't print this,

but Mr. Hoak is the answer to my prayers.

- Hoak? - Mm-hm.

- Don't tell me he's your gimmick in winning this case.

- He is my only hope.

When I get him on the witness stand,

I'll cut him down to size, strip him of his convictions.

When I finish with him,

they'll arrest him for indecent exposure.

- Hello.

- Hello.

This makes the second time today I've been picked up.

- I called the hotel.

- What's on your mind?

- You.

I hear you separated from your wife.

- How does that concern you?

- You interest me.

- It's the reason my wife left me. I interest other woman.

- Can you forget for a while that I'm your client.

- Whatever you say won't be held against you.

And where, Sheriff, did you see them together?

At the Water Hole tavern,

where Larry was tending bar.

Was Mr. Rest in there also?

If he was, I didn't see him.

- What did you see?

- Mrs. Reston sitting at the bar alone,

acting chummy with Larry.

In your conversations with Larry Bell,

did he ever mention Mrs. Reston by name?

- Nah.

He always called her "that rich babe from Baltimore".

- Do you recall his exact words

concerning his relations with Mrs. Reston?

- Yes.

He said, "I'm making time with her."

- Thank you, Sheriff.

I now turn you over to the New York lawyer.

Your witness.

- Your Honor, during the past week in this court,

the prosecution has persisted in referring to me

as "the New York lawyer".

It appears there's another defendant in the case,

and the charge is that he is from New York City.

To that count, I plead guilty as charged.

Now, Sheriff Hoak, based on your experiences,

what does the expression "making time" mean?

- Well, it means that Larry Bell

was having relations with Mrs. Reston.

- Had you always found Larry Bell to be truthful?

Yes, I have.

- You were like father and son.

- We were very close.

Like father and son?

- Yes.

- Was Larry Bell always in the habit

of discussing his personal affairs with you?

- Well, like I said, we were very close.

- Are you married, sir?

- I was divorced a couple of years ago.

- That was your only marriage?

- No, it was my second.

- How did your first marriage end?

- Divorce.

- Well, tell me this, Sheriff,

were you in the habit of discussing your personal affairs

with Larry Bell?

- Objection.

Sustained.

- The expression "making time",

is that something Larry Bell may have borrowed from you?

Did you ever use the expression?

Objection.

- Sustained.

- Larry Bell was a noted athlete, wasn't he?

- One of the finest.

- Do you know what the expression "to score" means?

- Objection.

- Sustained.

- Can you describe Larry Bell's demeanor

when he told you he was "making time

with the babe from Baltimore"?

- I don't think I understand the question.

- Was he smiling?

- Yes, I believe he was.

Was it a cocksure smile or a smirk?

Objection.

- Sustained.

- Can you describe the smile?

- Well, I'd say it was more of a grin.

- The kind of grin you associate

with a man who succeeds with a woman.

- Objection.

Sustained.

- Now, Sheriff Hoak,

is it a fact that the State University Alumni Association

a few years ago voted you the outstanding football player

in the history of the school?

- Well, yes, that's a fact.

- Did you graduate from State University?

- Yes, I did.

- Is it a fact that Larry Bell

was a star halfback for Fulton High School?

- Yes, sir.

- Can you tell me if many colleges

offered him athletic scholarships?

- Oh, yes, there are a great many.

- Well, how many would you say?

- At least 50.

- And which college did he choose?

- State University.

- Because you advised him to do so?

- Yes.

- Because he was your protege

and you wanted him to follow in your footsteps?

- Yes.

Did Larry Bell graduate from State University?

- No, he didn't.

- What prevented him from graduating?

- He flunked out.

- I assume you are using that expression

in the scholastic sense.

- Yes, Larry failed in too many courses,

and so he was expelled.

- For academic failure.

- That's right.

- Do you recall the particular courses he failed?

- Well, as a matter of fact, I do.

Yes, there was European history,

English literature, and sociology.

- Isn't it a fact that Larry Bell

was being tutored in those very courses

by an instructor who was on the payroll

of the State University Athletic Department?

- Yes, but that's common practice.

- Has State University de-emphasized football?

- No, we haven't.

- And a victory on the gridiron is as important today

as it was in your time, is it not?

- Probably so.

- Wasn't Larry Bell a sophomore sensation

for State University?

By that I mean wasn't he,

more than any other man on the team,

responsible for a highly successful football season?

- Probably.

- Sheriff, did you make any attempt

to keep the university authorities

from expelling Larry Bell?

Yes, I did.

- Did you make a special trip to the campus?

- I did.

And yet you failed. Why?

- Well, like I told you, Larry failed in three subjects.

He just couldn't knuckle down to studying.

- Do you recall an incident occurring at State University

in the same month of that year?

- An incident?

- Well, perhaps I use the wrong word.

I'm referring to a collegiate prank

commonly known as a panty raid.

- Well, that was happening at lots of colleges

all over the country.

- But it did happen at State University?

- Yes. Yes, it did.

- On April 12th, 1955?

- I'd have to take your word for that.

- Did Larry Bell ever mention anything about it to you?

- No, he didn't.

- Knowing Larry Bell, do you think he participated

in the so-called prank?

- I don't know.

- You don't know Larry Bell?

- I don't know whether he had anything to do with it!

- Is the term "panty raid" perfectly clear to you?

- Certainly.

The boys raided some sororities and girl dormitories

and made off with some feminine undergarments.

- Where were those garments?

- Oh, in dresser drawers or on the clothes lines, I guess.

- Are you on the mailing list

of the "State University Tiger" student newspaper?

- I am.

- Do you recall an item in the issue of April 15th, 1955

in the gossip column "Campus Capers"?

- I only read the sports pages.

- Then you must have missed following item.

- "The ivy line has it from eyewitnesses

that one not-so-sophomorish sophomore

pilfered his trophy from a very petite

and perturbed frosh coed."

- I never read that item.

- Do you recall the date Larry Bell

was expelled from State University?

- April 1955.

- April 18?

- I believe so.

Is it a fact, Sheriff Hoak, that the final examinations

for the spring semester are held

during the last week of the month of May?

- It is.

- Then Larry Bell was expelled

at least five weeks prior to those examinations, was he not?

- Something like that.

- Sheriff, isn't it possible that you were innocently misled

into believing that Larry Bell

was expelled from State University

merely because of academic failure?

Thank you, Sheriff.

- He did it again.

- Thank you.

- May I ask what the money is for?

- Just a small advance on my fee.

- You sounded most urgent over the telephone.

- Can't tell you any more. It might incriminate me.

Goodnight.

- I'll pick you up at the courthouse at 11:00.

- Slight correction.

I'll see you in court Monday morning.

Off the top.

- Two to the dealer.

- Opener bets 50.

beats me.

- Nope.

- 50 and 200.

See the 250, raise it 500.

Too much for me.

- You drew two.

I'll call.

- Three deuces full.

- Straight's no good.

- Too bad. Nice hand.

- Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

have you arrived at a verdict?

- We have, Your Honor.

How find you?

Guilty or not guilty?

- Not guilty.

Court is adjourned.

- Mr. Blane, congratulations.

- Thank you.

- Jim, you did it again, boy.

- Darling. - Hi, baby, how are you?

The DA's here!

With the Sheriff.

- Look who's here.

- If I offered the prosecutor a drink, would he object?

What are you gentlemen drinking?

- We can't stay long. Thanks anyway.

- I can't say I know how you feel.

Hard as I try, I just can't seem to lose a case.

What's this?

- Subpoena.

Subpoena?

- Grand Jury?

Is this on the level?

- It is.

What's the charge?

- Bribing a member of the jury, namely Mrs. Carol Morrow.

- Ralph, you don't believe...

- Hello, Billy.

- Diane!

Come in.

Gee, I'm sure glad to see you.

- Where's Jim?

- I don't know.

I was in the bedroom calling down for some breakfast.

Then I came in here and Jim's gone.

How about some coffee?

- Thank you.

- I came in from Vegas last night

as soon as I heard about the Grand Jury indicting Jim.

- What's the story, Billy?

- Simple. Hair-raising.

Jim was taken for five grand in a poker game

out in some desert shack.

Then a dame turned up with the money,

a dame on the jury, Carol Morrow,

and she's saying that Jim gave her the money as a bribe.

How are the boys?

Is Timmy taller than me yet?

- They didn't feel so big yesterday.

- Cut yourself?

- If I admit it,

would you arrest me for attempted suicide?

You could turn me in for stealing your Jeep.

- No, no, it's yours anytime you want it.

- You know where I've been, don't you?

- Staley's shack, I guess.

- Should I have found him at home?

- There's no telling about Staley.

- No poker table, no chips.

- Oh?

You sure you found the right shack?

- My only mistake was going there in the first place.

Now where will I find Staley?

- He comes and goes.

- Where does he go to?

- You know something,

I never got around to asking him.

Have a drink?

- No thanks.

You won't help me then?

- Sure, I'll do all I can.

- What about the other players?

- Who were they?

- My only introductions weren't exactly formal,

but you mean to tell me you don't know the crowd

that play's poker with Staley?

- I drive around and summon them up as soon as I can.

- Sheriff, are you out to get me?

- I wish he wouldn't think that.

- Well, I hit you pretty hard in the courtroom.

- You never raised your voice once.

- Is Mrs. Morrow a friend of yours?

- Every voter's a friend of mine.

- Even if a voter commits perjury?

- You know something, Mr. Blane?

I'd like to believe you,

but it's not easy, considering the evidence.

- Say, where have you been?

- Out the desert looking for mirages.

- Two-car mirages?

- No Staley, no poker table, no chips, no nothing.

- A frame house, huh?

- It's not too funny. Hoak's building a beautiful frame.

- And you'll have 10 years to admire it,

at the state's expense.

- You selling me short?

- Me sell you short? My memory's not that bad.

Every morning when I wake up,

I look to make sure there are no bars on the windows.

If I were you, I'd go and do a little Irish jig right now.

- You would, huh?

- A very attractive lady just checked in down the hall.

- I'll try to find time.

- It's Diane.

- Diane?

- 408.

- Why didn't you let me know?

- I was waiting for your call.

- I wasn't thinking.

I haven't been thinking straight since they subpoenaed me.

How are the kids upset?

- Upset.

- Why didn't you bring them?

- It's not exactly a holiday.

- I didn't bribe Mrs. Morrow.

How did she get the money?

- Not from me!

I lost the $5,000 in a poker game to some card sharps,

and the man who got me into the game collected the money

and turned it over to Mrs. Morrow.

- Who is this man?

- Nick Hoak, Sheriff of Bolton County,

friend of the late Larry Bell, foe of the Restons,

and victim of a cross-examination

by the incomparable James Gordon Blane.

Darling, I've hurt you, but I've never lied to you.

- I believe you, Jim, and I want to help.

- I'll move Billy out of my suite.

- No, Jim, no.

- I've never stopped loving you,

needing you and the boys.

- That's why I'm here, for their sake, not mine or yours.

- Objection sustained.

Thanks for being here.

- Well, you tell him he better get in line,

or come next November, I'll be running for the Woods

instead of for the state senate.

Right.

Mm-hm. I'll talk to you later.

Hey!

What do you think you're doing?

- I ain't doing nothing.

- Nevermind! Just put it down.

Mr. Blane is here.

- All right.

Look scared.

Come right in.

- Well, Mr. Blane, you recognize either one of them?

- Nope. - You sure now?

- I'm sure.

- All right, boys, I'm sorry.

- Welcome to Fulton, Mrs. Blane.

- Thank you. You.

- You too, Mr. Giles.

- Nice town you got here.

The last time I came through, it was so quiet,

you could hear the pinball machine.

- That's pretty funny.

Say, I'll keep looking around.

One of those poker players ought to turn up.

- Thanks.

- Lester Rawlings is vacationing in Desert Valley,

staying at the Sun Club.

- Why the social note?

- Merely remembering a maxim about your

a lawyer who defends himself has a fool for a client.

That should be good for a laugh somewhere.

- Forget it. I'm the exception to the rule.

- Let's face it, Jim, you too can be a fool.

- I'm defending myself.

- Correction. You're also defending Timmy and Johnny.

- Hello.

Mr. and Mrs. Reston, my wife, Diane, and Billy Giles.

- How do you do?

- Hi.

- Join us for a drink?

- Oh, thank you, no. We were just going inside.

- When did you arrive?

- This morning.

You have a very remarkable husband.

- Yeah. Very remarkable.

- Well, what's your complaint?

I just don't like the mess you made.

- The mess I made?

- I didn't ask you to bribe Mrs. Morrow.

That was your own stupid idea!

If I ever hear you say that again,

so help me. I'll kill you.

- You mean you didn't give her the money?

- No, Mrs. Reston, I didn't.

My only mistake was in defending you and your idiot husband.

In parting, may I say you deserve each other?

- So of the piano players said,

"Well, hum a few bars and I'll fake it."

That's rather amusing, don't you think?

Uh-oh.

Business calls. Pardon me, girls.

- See you later.

- Jim Blane!

I'm Lester Rawlings.

We met a few years ago at Tout Shores restaurant, I believe.

- Of course. My wife, Diane, and Billy Giles.

- Hello.

- Would you permit me to buy you all a drink?

- Well, thanks but-

- I could use one. Thank you.

- Well, good, good.

Every time I get a chance to escape from the city,

I come down here.

It's a great place to relax.

- You hear that, Jim?

You're supposed to relax. It's a local law.

- I here I took the Reston case away from you.

It was more of a hot potato than a case, wasn't it?

I wish I'd have said that.

- What's your opinion?

- Opinion of what?

- The indictment against me.

- Am I to answer that as an acquaintance or as your lawyer?

- Why the business pitch?

You want to deduct the drinks from your taxes?

- We're interested in a legal opinion. Mr. Rawlings.

- I prefer to hear Jim speak for himself.

- Is this your way of getting the Reston fee?

- Oh, no, no. I'm not asking for a cent.

- What's in it for you then?

Trying to prove you're a better lawyer than I am?

- Well, for your sake, I hope I am.

- Mr. Rawlings, can you give us an idea

of what your defense tactics are going to be?

- Well, my first tactic is not to reveal my tactics.

- Considering the local prejudice against Jim Blane,

are you planning to move the trial to Capitol City?

- The only thing I plan to move is the jury.

Well, that covers everything I believe.

Now, one more question, please.

- Yes, Mr. Adams.

- Will the defense be a joint effort?

- I believe that Jim Blane is the greatest trial lawyer

since the late Clarence Darrow.

But in this case,

Mr. Blane is going to be the defendant,

that and nothing more.

- Is that so, Jim?

- You heard the man.

- I just can't picture you as a defendant, Jim.

My idea of a defendant is somebody like Benson Powell.

- Yes, well, thank you gentlemen.

Thank you and goodnight.

- Thank you. Bye.

- Oh, would you excuse us Mr. Giles?

I would like to confer with my client.

- Oh, Billy can stay.

- Oh, it's okay. I gotta see a man about a horse.

- I'll see you later.

- There's one point we haven't discussed as yet.

The possibility of defeat.

- You say possibility or probability?

- Please, Jim.

- Forgive me for injecting

this depressing and pessimistic note,

but we must prepare for all eventualities.

- Shall I have my tailor fit me for sack cloth and ashes?

- Better let Billy Giles handle the humor department, Jim.

You and I have some very sober decisions to reach.

- Such as?

- Well, for one, the advisability of making a deal.

- What the hell are you talking about?

- Should your case appear to be lost,

I would like to be able to approach the prosecution-

- Plead guilty?

- I'm merely trying to cover all of the angles,

the purpose being to keep you out of the state penitentiary.

- Mr. Rawlings, do you believe my husband

bribed Mrs. Morrow?

- Well, let's not go into that.

- Please answer my question!

- Perhaps you'd better answer your wife.

Set her straight.

- Hey, you're the one that needs to be set straight.

You're through before you begin.

You better get outta here before I break your jaw.

Do you want a drink?

- No, thank you.

I'm going to bed.

- Look, was I outta line?

- No. No.

- You referred to me as your husband.

- Did I?

- Please stay. I need you.

We're still legally man and wife.

- Did that stop you with Charleen Reston?

- Jim.

- Yeah?

- Easy on the bottle, please.

Your defense is in your own hands now.

Mrs. Morrow?

- Yes. What is it?

- I'd like to speak to you. I'm Mrs. Blane.

May I come in?

- Go away.

Go away.

- Please, please! I must!

- Leave me alone.

No!

- Quit it!

I said quit it!

- Oh, please, Nick, don't make me go through with it.

There's no other way.

- I'm frightened, I'm frightened!

- I keep telling you, it's all worked out.

- What'll happen to me when he gets me on this stand?

Please, Nick!

- That's why we're in this,

because of what Blane did to me on the stand.

Get this through your head.

It's not that New York lawyer you have to be afraid of.

It's me.

- Well, good luck, Jim.

- Thanks.

You got those descriptions with you?

- Yeah. All I need is a Sherlock Holmes's hat.

Don't worry, Jim.

If any of those card sharks are in Vegas, I'll fish 'em out.

- All right.

So long. Take care of yourself.

- Bye, Billy.

- I'll be seeing you.

- Well, look, the coach comes across the locker room,

takes one look at my shoes and flings them against the wall.

"These ain't Hoak's shoes," he said.

"How do you expect him to get past the secondary?"

What do you suppose happened?

I get-

Hm?

All right, all right.

Break it up! Come on!

Move, pronto!

Sorry.

- And this $5,000 introduced into evidence

is what Mr. Blane gave you?

- Yes.

- Thank you, Mrs. Morrow.

You may cross-examine.

- Mrs. Morrow, how long have you been a widow?

- Six years.

- Now, you said that, on the night in question,

I forced you to stop your car on a dark highway.

You said that I got into your car and gave you $5,000

to make certain you would vote to acquit my clients.

Is that your testimony?

- Yes, it is.

- Now, in as much as I seem to be a victim of amnesia,

would it be possible for you to tell me in detail

what was said and by whom as well as you can recall?

- I'll try.

- Thank you.

Now, who spoke first?

- You did.

You said, "Good evening, Mrs. Morrow.

I hope I didn't alarm you."

- And then what was said?

- Well, I said nothing.

You got in the car, sat down, and offered me a cigarette.

- Do you recall the brand?

No, I don't.

- Well, then who spoke?

- Well, you did.

You said, "You're a widow, aren't you?"

And I said, "Yes, I am."

And then you said,

"Your husband was a war hero I understand."

- And what did you say?

I didn't say anything. I choked up.

- What did I say?

- You said nothing.

You took out an envelope and handed it to me.

Then you said, "Put this in your purse."

And did you put it in your purse?

- No, I didn't.

I said, "What is it."

- And how did I answer you?

- "Some insurance I'm buying." That's what you said.

- And what did you say to that sales pitch?

- I don't know.

I said something silly like, "I don't sell insurance."

- Mrs. Morrow, what are you trying to sell this court?

- Nothing!

Nothing but the truth!

- Is truth for sale?

- Objection!

Sustained.

- Mrs. Morrow, have you ever run afoul of the law?

- No.

- Have you ever had any difficulty with your taxes?

- No.

- Have you ever been involved in a lawsuit?

- No.

- Have you ever committed any traffic violations?

- No.

- You are a law abiding citizen?

- I do the best I can.

- Are you in debt?

- No.

- Are you addicted to drugs? - No.

- Drinking? - No.

- To gambling? - No.

- Are you being blackmailed by anybody?

- No.

- Are you pressed for money?

- No.

- You own a beauty parlor? - Yes.

- You're the sole owner? - Yes.

- Your business is profitable?

- Yes!

- Now, Mrs. Morrow,

you have described yourself

as a decent, law-abiding citizen.

You own your own business.

You're a woman of property and propriety.

Do you want the court and this jury to believe

that a person of your character

and your standing in the community

would accept a bribe of $5,000 from anyone,

let alone a New York lawyer?

Please answer my question!

- I didn't know what I was doing!

- You didn't know what you were doing?

- I didn't know what to do!

- Did you ask anyone what you should do?

- No. I was afraid to.

- Well, who were you afraid of? Me?

- Yes.

- Did I threaten you with physical violence?

- No.

- Did I threaten you at all?

- No.

- Are you afraid right this minute?

- Yes.

- Of me? - Yes.

- Because I might show the court

that you are perjuring yourself?

- I'm telling the truth.

- So help you God? - Yes!

- Does the tone of my voice disturb you?

- Yes.

- Do you dislike me?

- Yes!

- Do you hate me?

- Yes.

- Because I'm a New York lawyer?

- Yes.

- Because I defended the Restons?

- Yes!

- You wanted to send the Restons to prison, didn't you?

- Yes.

- You wanna see me go to prison, don't you?

Yes!

- You are lying now because you hate me.

Isn't that so?

- I'm not lying!

- You do hate me, don't you?

- Yes, I hate you!

- And your hate for me is so strong

that you'd do anything to destroy me!

- Yes! Yes!

Yes, I hate you!

Every time I think of your dirty, filthy money!

Every time I feel the the pangs of my conscience,

I want to see you suffer as much as I've suffered

because you've done this thing to me!

I...

- Fool.

Poor fool.

- Great idea.

- I had better luck at Staley's shack.

Didn't I bump into you there some time ago?

- What did you say?

- Staley's place in Desert Valley.

- Never worked there.

- Never even heard of the place.

- Hit me.

Must have been two other guys.

That's a good name for this game. Blackjack.

- Better luck next time.

- You were so great, you had me believing you.

Nick, I'm worried.

Come over to the house, please.

Don't wait up for me.

Nick, please.

Why other phones ringing?

We can't afford to take any chances now.

Goodnight, baby.

Hello.

- Nick? Cal Morrison.

Where you calling from?

- Vegas.

Listen, Billy Giles just spotted me.

- I told you to lay low.

But Nick, I had to work.

I was short.

- You lamebrain, what did you tell him?

- I played dumb. Honest I did, Nick.

But he's on his way to Fulton with a picture of me.

- A picture?

Did you autograph it for him?

- Giles got it from the manager.

Listen, it's a picture of the casino, and I'm in it.

But good!

- Get out of Vegas, Kyle.

Get lost somewhere, and don't let me find you.

♪ Could sell me the Thousand Islands ♪

♪ Whenever he talks to me ♪

♪ That man could sell me Niagara Falls ♪

♪ Could sell me the National Forest ♪

♪ Remarkable, isn't he? ♪

Billy Giles, boy detective.

Is he crazy?

- Why don't you go to bed, Jim?

- I couldn't sleep if I wanted to.

Cross-examining Mrs. Morrow all night.

- You're not thinking of putting her on the stand again.

- No, that's not where I'd like to see her.

- Don't throw anything at me, Jim,

but she was convincing.

- Can I come in?

- Sure.

What glad tidings do you bring?

- It's bad news.

- What happened?

Mrs. Morrow confessed she was lying on the stand?

- No.

It's about Billy Giles.

He's dead.

- Dead?

- Oh, no!

- How'd it happen?

- Highway accident about 10 miles outta Desert Valley.

Missed a curve.

His car plunged down a ravine and burned up.

I think he was killed instantly.

Anyway, they've got him in the hospital morgue.

- I got bad news for you.

I'm gonna get you on the stand.

- I expected as much.

I'm awfully sorry about Billy Giles.

He was one of my favorites from way back.

- Would you like to go the hospital with me, Jim?

I'll go over later.

You know what Billy said to me after his trial?

I guess I never told you this.

He said, "Where do I go now, Jim?"

I said, "Anywhere you please. You're a free man."

He said, "Am I?

Doesn't God know what you and I know?"

I tried to tell him how important laughter was,

how much of it he had to give.

He said, "How do I open my act now?

A funny thing happened to me

on the way to the electric chair."

- Here. This way.

Well, how you feeling today?

- All right.

- Good.

Recognize them?

- No.

- Come here.

Stick out your hands.

They look like they've been in a brawl.

- Not with me they haven't.

You sure now?

- I'm sure.

- All right.

Get out of town, pronto!

I kind of figured I had 'em.

Maybe if you could give me a better description of them.

Come to think of it, they both looked like you.

You can save that phony laugh for the witness stand.

When I get through with you,

you'll wish I'd gone to work on you with a baseball bat.

- Exactly my sentiments.

- Pardon me, please. Excuse me.

- Raise your right hand.

Do you swear the testimony you're about to give this court

is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,

so help you God?

- I do.

- State your name.

- Nick Hoak.

- Be seated.

- Sheriff Hoak, do you recall the verdict

in the Reston case?

- How could I forget that?

- Did you agree with the verdict?

- No.

- Was the verdict a disappointment to you?

- Yes.

- A bitter disappointment?

- Yes.

- One of the most bitter disappointments in your life?

- Yes.

- You resented the Restons, didn't you?

- Yes, I did.

- Because they were rich society people from Desert Valley?

- No.

Because they murdered Larry Bell.

- You believe this with all your heart?

- I do.

- You believe that, in their case, justice was thwarted?

- Yes, I do.

- Do you realize that you lost the case for the state?

- No, I don't.

- Other people realize it, don't they?

- I wouldn't know about that.

- Or didn't Mr. Mitchell, the prosecutor, tell newspaper men

that it was my cross-examination of you that defeated him?

I don't know what he told them.

It was in all the newspapers.

Don't you read the papers?

- I don't believe everything I read.

- What do you believe?

- That you're a sharp lawyer.

- Let me return the compliment.

You're the sharpest sheriff I've ever encountered.

Are you a vengeful person, Sheriff?

- I'm human.

- Human enough to understand

that I've severely damaged your stature and reputation?

- I can't answer that fill the next election.

- You intend to run for reelection to your office?

- Yes, I do.

- Would you say it would be helpful to your cause

if I were convicted?

- Probably.

- And you're interested in having the jury

return a verdict of guilty?

- Oh, that's my job.

- I didn't ask about your job. I asked about your interest.

- Well, I think that justice will be done.

- What is justice in this case?

- That's for the jury to decide.

- Well, what have you decided?

- It's not my decision to make.

- You do make decisions, however, don't you?

- Well, I have to, yes.

- Weren't you forced to make a fateful decision about me?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- I'm talking about conspiracy!

Do you understand the meaning of the word?

- Of course I do!

- Would you admit if the court decides in my favor

that I was a victim of conspiracy?

- I'll abide by the jury's verdict.

- Wouldn't a verdict of not guilty

mean that the jury believes I was a victim of conspiracy?

- I guess so.

- Assuming that such is their verdict,

that would mean that some person or persons unknown

did willfully plot to ruin my reputation

and throw me into prison, would it not?

- Could be.

- This would also involve Mrs. Carol Morrow, would it not?

Might.

- And if the jury feels that I have told the truth,

then it must assume that Mrs. Morrow was lying,

isn't that right?

- I guess so.

- Would it not also be possible

that Rod Staley and his poker companions

could be involved in the same conspiracy?

- Oh, I couldn't say about that.

- Remember, now, hypothetically at least,

I have been acquitted.

Then, if I did lose the money in the poker game

and the same money turned up in Mrs. Morrow's possession,

does it not stand to reason that someone other than I

gave the money to Mrs. Morrow?

- I don't follow you.

- Shall I repeat the question for you?

- If it's important enough for you.

- Isn't your name and reputation important to you?

- I'm not on trial here.

- Will you admit that I am?

- Yes!

- Will you also admit this,

that it was you who told me about the poker games

at Staley's house?

- Yes.

- And wasn't it you who specifically invited me

to participate in a poker game at Staley's House

on the night of February 24?

- Yes.

- And didn't you tell me I could use your Jeep

to get to Staley's house?

Yes.

- Why were you doing these things?

- I was just trying to oblige you.

- Why would you want to oblige me?

- Well, I try to oblige all of my friends.

- You mean to tell this court

that you regarded me as your friend?

- Well, yes.

- Now, Mr. Hoak, how could I ever be your friend?

I'm a New York lawyer.

The last time I had you on the stand, I made a fool of you.

I've got you on the stand this moment,

trying to make a liar, a perjurer,

and a conspirator out of you,

and you persist in regarding me as a friend.

Can you tell the court any incident, moment, time or place

when or where I showed any sign of friendship for you?

- Your Honor, may I remind Mr. Blane

that he's conducting a direct examination

and that he's attempting to impeach his own witness?

- That's all right. I'll answer the question.

- Objection withdrawn.

- Well, it was the first day we met.

We were driving across the desert in my Jeep

and talking about Larry Bell and football.

You said something that kind of surprised me.

You mentioned that you'd seen me play once,

and you even remember the game and the date

and the pass that I caught to make a touchdown.

And you remembered that I was an All-American,

but it's something that I missed out on.

But the way you said, it made me feel good.

Made me feel real friendly toward you.

Well, I know I felt that way, because after that,

I told you something, something real personal,

something that I'd never tell anybody who wasn't a friend.

- Jim, can't you get a postponement of the trial?

- Why? It's about over.

- Wouldn't it be a good idea

to bring in another lawyer for the summation?

- Mighty Blane has struck out, hasn't he?

- It's time for decisions, not self pity.

- There'll be a new defense attorney in court tomorrow.

- Who will he be?

- The man you deserved and never got.

- Couldn't sleep?

- No.

- I can't even sit still.

- You need a drink?

- No, no, thanks.

Sun will be coming up soon.

- There'll be no sleep in court.

- Got a lot to think about, strange new sorts.

Do you want one of my sleeping pills?

- Everybody rise.

Superior Court of the county of Fulton is now in session.

The honorable David L. Johnson, judge presiding.

Be seated.

- Council for the defense may begin his closing argument.

- Gentlemen of the jury,

you have heard the prosecution refer to me

as the criminal lawyer.

My only complaint is he seemed to stress the word criminal

rather than the word lawyer.

Let me tell you how I became a criminal lawyer.

First of all, my ambition was to be a corporation lawyer,

to have an office in Wall Street,

a home in an exclusive suburb,

and all the wealth and prestige that I could win.

After passing my bar examinations,

I knocked on the door of every reputable law firm

in New York.

But no luck.

Why?

Because I was a night school lawyer.

I stood no chance against the men

from the Ivy League law schools.

To eat, I became a process server.

I drove a taxi.

I delivered Christmas mail.

Until one day someone remembered I was a lawyer.

That someone was ward leader.

It seems a boy was being tried for burglary,

a hopeless case.

And I was paid $25 to go through the motions.

Well, the boy was acquitted.

And after a few more cases like that,

the underworld discovered me.

Soon I was the mouthpiece for racketeers,

murderers, dope peddlers, and panderers.

My fame increased. My cases were news.

Now I was a big criminal lawyer.

My fees were exorbitant.

Now my clients came from big money and high society.

I asked only three

Could the client pay my fee,

would the case be front page news?

And could I win the case?

And I won my cases.

Until the word went around,

if you're guilty, get James Gordon Blane.

That was my reputation.

I must confess. I enjoyed it.

I enjoyed every moment in the courtroom.

It was a stage for me,

and I never failed to be the principal actor in the drama.

I enjoyed the celebration and the notoriety.

I enjoyed gambling with life and death.

This note of apology is not for my profession,

but rather for my own behavior,

or, if you will, misbehavior.

Bear this in mind, please.

None of us is immune to accusations and indictments!

They strike the innocent and guilty alike.

And when it happens to you, you expect, you demand,

an experienced and successful lawyer.

I could spend hours telling you innocent men

imprisoned and executed

because of clumsy and uninspired defenses.

A good example of this is the case now before you.

During this trial, I have proved the old saying

that the lawyer who defends himself

has a fool for a client.

I've bungled it badly.

I've failed to establish my innocence.

And I'm sure that, at this moment,

the verdict of each of you gentlemen is guilty as charged.

Take for example, my cross-examination of Mrs. Carol Morrow.

With Mrs. Morrow, I lost my sense of detachment,

and I lost my head.

I hurled questions wildly, hostilely.

For I knew that truth was on my side.

Well, you...

You know what happened.

When I sprung the trap for Mrs. Morrow,

it wasn't she who fell into it.

It was I.

And as she lay there in a dead faint,

I stood here, not like a great criminal lawyer,

but rather like the village idiot.

Or take my direct examination of Sheriff Hoak.

This time I vowed I wouldn't be trapped by a big lie.

And I wasn't.

Instead, I was destroyed by the truth.

Yes, the truth,

a truth crowded out of a mind

possessed with just one thought,

that I was being framed by Nick Hoak.

And yet, these errors seem minor and unimportant

when I think of the one glaring and shameful error

of my entire career,

my blindness to the sanctity of the court.

Collier's Magazine, in referring to the Reston trial,

called it the case of the tattered dress.

I think this case now before you

might be called the second case of the tattered dress,

the tattered dress of justice.

I readily confess to my part in that assault.

But I contend that justice has been attacked

on a far greater scale

by mob passion, by provincialism,

by prejudice, and by conspiracy.

In our courts, we aspire to justice.

Because we are men and not gods, we don't always achieve it.

But remember this,

there is no other system for the governing of men,

no other except violence.

Beyond the walls of this court lies the city.

And within the city, as in all cities, there are alleys.

In the jungle dark of one of those alleys.

A few nights ago, I was attacked.

Think of the alley, please, and think hard.

Think of what happened there in the darkness.

It was a trial.

I, the accused, was confronted

by two men masked in darkness,

cloaked in the stolen majesty of this court,

and smeared with the blood of outraged justice.

These nameless men arrested me,

they accused me, they indicted me, they judged me,

they sentenced me, and they were executing me,

an execution halted only by the sound of running feet,

the sound of men from the 20th century,

running from the quiet lamp-lit street

just outside that alley of darkness.

Because of them, I escaped with my life.

But keep this in mind. I was not alone.

In every act of violence, justice is also a victim.

Gentleman of the jury, for the sake of justice,

make your choice well.

Shall it be the court, or shall it be the alley?

- Nick.

- This is pretty stupid, isn't it?

- Nick, I'm worried. I'm worried sick.

- You look it.

- Why is the jury out so long?

- That's one way to get a free meal.

- Nick, come over to the house, please.

- Look, baby, from here on out,

you'll be lucky if I tip my hat to you on the street.

- Nick, you're joking.

You're joking.

- Some joke.

Like I caught a long pass,

nobody between me and the gold line,

and I tripped and fell on my face.

- Nick, we'll go away someplace, any place you say.

- The only one that leaves this town

is that New York lawyer,

either in handcuffs or in a pine box.

Nick.

- Jury in?

- Not yet.

Hi.

You know what the boys think about your performance?

- It was no performance.

- I have to level with you.

I'm not sold it was all for real.

It's not just me.

You haven't sold the other newspaper men or the public.

They're even saying that the way you tripped yourself up

with Mrs. Morrow and Hoak,

well, it was all part of the act.

- Act?

- If that was an act, may God strike me dead.

- I'm sorry, Jim. That's the way it is.

- Jim, I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it.

Darling, if we have to, we'll live this down.

- Last night, I thought I was home again.

Now I know I can't go home.

Not just yet.

- Be seated.

- Gentlemen of the jury, have you arrived at a verdict?

- We have, Your Honor.

- How find you? Guilty or not guilty?

- Not guilty.

- Mr. Blane.

Congratulations.

- Thank you.

- Any comment, Sheriff?

- Comment?

Yeah, sure.

When you hear the gun, it'll be the end of the game.

There she is!

Come over.

- How do you feel about-

- Leave me alone!

Here comes Blane!

- How about a statement, Jim?

- Save it for the hotel.

- Are you gonna press charges

against Hoak and Mrs. Morrow?

- Later. Ask me at the hotel.

- Hold it, please!

- This way, Mr. Blane!

Move back!

All right now, let's move back

and get a little room in here.

- Jim, how do I begin to apologize?

- I think our apologies cancel out each other.

- Thanks.

Well, I'd better file my story.

- Ralph.

You can also wire Benson Powell.

Tell him, we'll talk to him.

- Who's Benson Powell?

- A man in prison... in need of a lawyer.

- Let's go home.

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