“So you knew Patty since the third grade as well, correct?”

He hesitated. “Yes. I guess.”

“You knew her well?”

“Yes.”

“You cared about her, Mr. Howard?”

“Of course.”

“And yet you saw her mutilated body and you were cool as a cucumber, right?”

Howard didn’t respond.

“There were tire tracks around the body, weren’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have an expert identify the tracks around the time of the murder?”

“Yes, we discovered that—”

“Uh-uh, Mr. Howard, I didn’t ask if you looked at the tracks under orders from Mr. Graham several months after the homicide. I asked if at the time or around the time of the homicide you had these tracks analyzed.”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Seems important, doesn’t it?”

“It is, yes.”

“But you and the forensic unit didn’t do it.”

“No, we did not.”

“You should’ve done it.”

“Yes, we should’ve.”

“Just another mistake for the pile, right?”

He didn’t respond.

“Did you look around for signs of any witnesses?”

“Yes, we didn’t find any.”

“But there was one, correct? Lyle Mallory.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Another mistake, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Before arresting my client, did you talk to people near him about Patty’s and his relationship?”

“No.”

“You didn’t talk to a Ms. Bebe Stewart?”

“No.”

“Ms. Stewart informed Mr. Graham that Anderson was not the killer, and it was in fact Mr. Brown, didn’t she?”

“Objection, Your Honor, hearsay,” I said.

“Sustained.”

“Mr. Howard, do you have any disciplinary proceedings against you?”

“No.”

“Ever had any?”

He glanced at me. I had looked up his records from the Utah POST Academy, and they were clear.

“No.”

Pritcher went back to his table and brought out another photo. I hadn’t seen this one before. A blonde woman standing with Howard outside a baseball stadium.

I stood up and said, “Your Honor, the State would object to the use of this photograph. I haven’t seen it before, and a reverse discovery motion was filed.”

“For impeachment, Your Honor, no notice required.”

“I’ll allow it if it pertains directly to impeachment.”

Pritcher approached Howard. When Howard saw the photo his eyes went wide. This wasn’t good.

“Who is she, Mr. Howard?”

“She’s . . . um . . . April Mannis.”

“A former lover, correct?”

“Yes.”

“A former lover who accused you of rape, correct?”

“Objection, sidebar!”

“Approach.”

I stormed over to the bench. “Judge, if true, Mr. Pritcher had an ethical obligation to disclose that information to me.”

“Impeachment, again, Your Honor. I don’t have to disclose anything to the State if their own witness is up there lying, and I catch them in the lie.”