Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [63]
After a technical question, which Wood answered in arrogant detail, DeCegli quickly asked, “Did you speak with Supervisor Mulligan on the morning of the accident?”
“Yes.”
“How many times before the accident did you speak with him?”
“I don’t know, possibly three.”
“And what was the nature of those calls?”
“This was two years ago.”
“Yes, of course. Let me be more specific. Did Supervisor Mulligan express any concern about the procedure and safety of lowering this disc?”
“He was a man predisposed to worry. He left the company soon after.”
“Yes, I know. However, he had been with the company for ten years. I suppose his worry was not worrisome until this incident.”
“That is not a question, sir!” objected Wood’s lawyer.
“Excuse me. What precisely were Supervisor Mulligan’s objections to the method in which he had been instructed to lower the disc?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Sir, may I remind you, since the surroundings do not, that you are under oath.”
“I told you, he worried a great deal.”
“And I repeat, what was his worry?”
“That the disc would slip on its descent.”
“And by slip, do you mean fall?’
“That was his assessment, not mine.”
“If he was afraid of the disc falling, that would explain his reluctance to put men under the two hundred tons of steel, yes?”
Wood’s lawyer interjected, “My client cannot suppose to know what this supervisor thought.”
“You’re absolutely right, barrister. That is why I need your client to remember exactly what he said.”
It took more than a half hour of questioning before the court reporter was able to record Wood saying, “Supervisor Mulligan thought the disc was not secure enough for men to work underneath while it was being lowered.”
DeCegli tried to hide his elation because he wasn’t through with Mr. Wood yet. He got up and opened the window to allow the neighborhood sounds and smells to waft into the room.
“Mr. Wood, if your company wasn’t responsible for this accident, who was?”
“I told you. Accidents happen. That’s why they are called accidents.”
“Is it your belief that there is nothing Taylor, Wood & Co. could have done to avert this particular accident?”
“I realize we have a language problem here.” He exaggerated his enunciation saying, “There is nothing Taylor, Wood & Co. could have done to avert this accident.” Waving his arm toward the window, he snidely added, “If they spoke English…”
Wood’s lawyer jumped in. “Mr. Wood doesn’t think any party is responsible for this accident.”
“On the contrary, your client insinuated the Italians…”
“Don’t twist my words, young man. I was commenting on the difficulty of working with these—your—people.”
“If no one was responsible, why did you give the men money in exchange for not talking about the accident?”
“There was no exchange! We gave them money because they witnessed a tragedy and they worked overtime to find those bodies.”
DeCegli pulled out the agreement that Mariano had signed. “It says nothing about overtime here. However, it does state that he agrees not to talk about the accident.”
Wood’s face reddened at seeing the document. “Because they are ignorant and say ignorant things! That’s why. They could have said that one of their saints did it, or it was because of the evil eye, or something ridiculous that would have scared off the other workers!”
The attorney jumped in. “What Mr. Wood is saying, is that in order to protect future workers and his client, they asked the Italian workers not to talk about the accident.”
DeCegli was momentarily stymied. This was the type of argument that would resonate with an American jury. Everyone was well aware of Italian superstitions.
“I need water,” said DeCegli, getting up. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”
“This has gone on long enough!” exclaimed Wood.
“I’ll only be a minute,” said DeCegli, leaving the room. He stood in the hall and assessed where he was. He had gotten Woods to say exactly what he wanted him to, but he had a feeling if