Exquisite Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  “You’re a good lawyer. Don’t sell this jury short. You are capable of rebutting it. Do you want to put this on the record again?”

  “No, your Honor,” Marc said. “But I will object before Officer Schilling testifies. For the record.”

  “That’s fine,” Tennant said. “Mr. Gondeck, anything else?”

  “Nothing from me, your Honor.”

  “We ready to go?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” both sides said.

  “You still planning on giving your opening today?” Tennant asked, looking at Marc.

  “Yes, your Honor,” Marc said.

  “Okay, let’s have at it.”

  It was ten o’clock by the time Gondeck began his opening statement.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “My name is Steve Gondeck and my associate is Jennifer Moore. We are lawyers for the people of Minnesota. It is our job to present the evidence against the defendant for the callous murder of a minister, a religious icon in the community, Reverend Lionel Ferguson.”

  The opening statement is not supposed to be an argument for or against a guilty verdict. That is what the closing argument is for. There had been a pretrial argument about what to call Ferguson. Marc wanted him referred to as the deceased or, at most, Mr. Ferguson. Gondeck wanted him as close to deified as possible, second only to Jesus himself. Tennant ruled they use Reverend Ferguson. But Gondeck referring to him a religious icon of the community is an example of Gondeck going too far. It almost brought Marc out of his seat. He let it go after exchanging looks with the judge.

  Gondeck knew he had pushed the envelope a little too far and had gotten away with it. Not wanting to press his luck and be chastised this early in the trial, he scaled it back.

  He carefully, completely walked the jury through his case. He told them, in order, what happened, who did it and would be told why. He assured them they would hear from witnesses who would testify to each and every element of the case.

  “At the end of the trial, a trial that is not really in dispute, I believe you will find the defendant, Robert Dane, guilty of the crimes charged. There is no doubt, Robert Dane is the one who pulled his service gun and fired three bullets into the heart and lung of Reverend Ferguson that caused his death.”

  It was only a few minutes past eleven when Gondeck finished. Judge Tennant called the lawyers up to the bench and turned on the white noise device, so they would not be overheard.

  “How long, Marc?” she asked.

  “Less than his,” Marc replied.

  “Okay. Let’s take a break, then you can do yours and then lunch,” Tennant said. She looked at Gondeck and said, “Have your first witness ready at two.”

  “Yes, your Honor.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after the break, while the gallery was still filling, Judge Tennant addressed the crowd.

  “I understand that this case has generated a lot of attention. Let me be clear about something. I am a very punctual judge. When I say the break will be fifteen minutes, I mean fifteen minutes––not sixteen. From now on, if you are not in your seat at whatever time I say, you will be kept out. I am not waiting for the media or spectators and I will not allow disruptions.

  “Mr. Kadella, are you ready to proceed?”

  Marc stood and said, “Yes, your Honor.”

  “You may proceed.”

  Marc walked out in front of the jury box and began. He started by thanking them and introducing himself, Arturo and Rob Dane. He introduced Rob as Officer Robert Dane of the Minneapolis Police which almost drew an objection. He also introduced Maddy Rivers.

  “Seated behind the defense table is our investigator, Madeline Rivers,” Marc said while extending his left hand toward her. Maddy stood and when she did, Marc watched the looks on the faces of the male jurors. Several of them smiled and leaned forward.

  “Normally, I would not introduce her, but her name will come out during the course of the trial. Also, it’s obvious she is sitting there so I thought you should know who she is. To put a face to the name, so to speak.”

  Maddy sat down and Marc continued.

  “Mr. Gondeck is a skilled trial lawyer, as is Ms. Moore. I know they will put on a very well prepared and convincing case.

  “Each and every one of you during jury selection gave your word, your solemn oath, to this court, to the people of Minnesota and,” here Marc paused for several seconds and looked in the eyes of every juror before continuing, “more importantly,” he said, barely above a whisper, “to each and every one of you and to yourselves.”

  He stepped back, looked them over again and said, “And that oath was to keep an open mind, to wait until all of the witnesses have been heard, the evidence presented and to follow the law as given by the judge before you make a decision.”

  He paused again, folded his hands together, sighed and said, “Mr. Gondeck is absolutely correct. There is no point in denying it. I’m not going to insult you by trying to con you with some nonsensical claim that some other dude did it.

  “Officer Robert Dane, during a street protest in downtown Minneapolis, drew his service sidearm and fired three bullets into the chest of Lionel Ferguson. And, there is no disputing the medical evidence, that is what killed Ferguson.

  “Mr. Gondeck told you that he would present you with the motive for why Officer Dane did this. But he didn’t tell you what he will claim that motive is. And the reason he didn’t tell you?”

  “Objection, your Honor. Counsel is speculating as to what the state’s case will be…”

  “Overruled. If he is telling the jury something that isn’t true, I’m sure you will point that out.

  “You may continue, Mr. Kadella.”

  “As I was saying, the reason he didn’t tell you is he wants to use it for its shock value. To surprise you with it.”

  Marc paused and paced a little first, looking at Gondeck, then back to the jury.

  “I know what it is and I’m going to just put it out there. You might as well know. He’s going to claim that Officer Dane was, as were all of the other police monitoring the protest, getting tired of it. This was the fourth day and they were tired of being screamed at, cursed and spat upon. And Officer Dane’s racism boiled over and he decided to kill the man responsible for it.

  “There it is,” Marc said. “They will claim racism is why he did it. Well, ladies and gentlemen, it simply isn’t true. I brought it out so you would know what’s coming and to remind you of your oath. Your oath is to wait until you have heard from both sides. Wait until you have heard all of the witnesses, seen all of the evidence, been given the law by the judge.

  “If you do that, if you do what you promised, what you said you would do, what you swore a solemn oath to do, you will come back with a verdict of not guilty. I believe that because the defense will present witnesses to refute it, including the defendant, who will tell you what really happened. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, you are going to hear from the defendant and he will tell you what actually happened. Why he shot and killed Lionel Ferguson.

  “While we are taking you through this trial keep something else in mind. Officer Dane is a duly licensed police officer and a member of the Minneapolis Police Department. As such, there are times when a police officer is legally justified in using deadly force. You will hear testimony that this was one of those times.”

  “What do you think?” Marc asked his tablemates while the courtroom was emptying.

  “I think you were right to tell them Rob will testify,” Maddy said. “No matter what they hear, they will have it in their heads that he is going to take the stand and give his side of it.”

  “I think that will at least keep most of them from making up their minds. They will want to hear from him,” Arturo agreed.

  Marc looked at Rob who said, “I’m ready. I’ll take the stand today, right now.”

  “Easy, tiger,” Marc said. “Just maintain your cool during the trial.”

  Fifty-Two

  “Sergea
nt Coffey,” Gondeck began with the first witness sworn and seated. Sgt. Brent Coffey was one of the first three police officers to reach the scene of the shooting. Being the senior officer, he took charge and tried to secure the area.

  Gondeck led him through his early testimony, mostly about himself, his years as a police officer—eighteen—his awards and promotions. Forty-year-old Coffey was a veteran who had testified many times. His answers were a little too practiced, but these were credibility questions. As an eighteen-year veteran, jurors tended to believe him anyway.

  “If you secured the crime scene, how did a Star Tribune reporter walk past you to take pictures?”

  “That was a lapse, a mistake on my part, and I took responsibility for it. Not to make excuses, but the area was still in a state of bedlam. There were people running everywhere.”

  “What did you find when you first arrived?”

  Coffey explained finding Ferguson lying in the street and Rob Dane about ten feet away holding his pistol skyward. He checked Ferguson for a pulse while one of the other officers called it in to dispatch. Technically, this would be hearsay, but Marc let it go. The next witness was likely the officer who called it in and could testify to it anyway.

  “I didn’t find a pulse on Reverend Ferguson and he appeared to be dead already. I then took Officer Dane’s sidearm. By then, there were a few more officers at the scene.

  “Rob, I mean Officer Dane, was saying over and over that Ferguson had a gun. I assigned an officer to stay with him and told the others to search the area for a gun.”

  “Did you find one? Did anyone find a gun?” Gondeck asked.

  “No, not to my knowledge, no.”

  “How thoroughly did they search?”

  Coffey sighed a bit and stole a quick, sympathetic glance at Rob.

  “Quite thoroughly, I would say. We, I mean the police officers, searched at least a ten square block area of downtown. By then it could have been anywhere,” he blurted out.

  “Sergeant,” Gondeck politely said, “I understand that you feel sympathy for a fellow officer. But please don’t embellish your answers.”

  For the next ten minutes, he explained to the jury what he did after securing Rob’s gun. By then, the EMTs had arrived and the MPD detectives were right behind them. Coffey turned Rob’s gun over to the detectives.

  Before he finished, Gondeck used this opportunity to get the gun into evidence through Coffey.

  “Sergeant Coffey,” Marc began after a short break, “do you recognize this man?”

  Arturo was handling the laptop to put visuals up on the monitors as soon as Marc finished the question.

  “Objection, your Honor,” Gondeck stood and said. “Goes beyond the scope of direct.”

  “May we approach, your Honor?” Marc quickly asked.

  She signaled them forward and turned on the white noise machine.

  “Judge, all I’m asking is if he has seen this man. I believe he has. Now, if you sustain his objection, I will subpoena this witness and most of the others to come back and do it later. Or, we can go through it now and save everybody the time and trouble.”

  “Who is he?” Gondeck asked.

  “A protester who we believe is central to this case. That’s all I can say for now. Before we’re through, everyone will know,” Marc said.

  “And if he doesn’t make a connection, I’m sure you’ll let the jury know about it,” Tennant said to Gondeck. “You want to withdraw the objection or have me overrule it?”

  “Overrule it,” Gondeck said.

  When everyone was back at their tables, Tennant said, “The objection is overruled subject to later connection.” A small victory for the prosecution. “You will answer the question, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, in fact, I have seen him.”

  “Where?”

  “In the protest march. I distinctly remember him because he looked out of place. He looked strange.”

  “How so?”

  “A white, homeless man marching around downtown. He sort of stood out.”

  “Do you recall how many times you saw him? How many days he was with the marchers?”

  “I think he was there every day, but I can’t say absolutely. I know I saw him at least a couple of times.”

  “Where was he when you saw him?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Coffey replied.

  “Isn’t it true that he was marching in close proximity to Reverend Ferguson? In fact, right behind him?”

  Coffey looked off toward the back door as if thinking. After a brief moment he said, “Now that you mention it, yes, he was.”

  “Were you on crowd control for all four days of this particular protest?” Marc asked.

  “Yes, I was. As a sergeant, I was not assigned a specific location. I roamed around.”

  “Where were you when the shooting occurred?”

  “I was across Sixth about a half a block west, on the other side of Nicollet.”

  “Did you see the shooting?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “How long have you known Officer Dane?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At least six or seven years. Since he was a rookie.”

  “Have you ever known him to do or say anything of a racist nature?”

  This was a very risky question. Marc had no idea how the witness would answer. He hoped to get the reply he wanted and was counting on what his client told him about his own behavior. Something clients lie about all the time.

  “No, not that I recall, no.”

  Gondeck could not let that last question and answer go. He had to at least punch a little hole in it on redirect.

  “Sergeant Coffey, explain to us how well you personally know Officer Dane.”

  Having been over this very thoroughly in their preparation, Gondeck was well aware of the answer.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “Well, are you his supervisor?”

  “No, not directly.”

  “Ever been his partner?”

  “No.”

  “Made an arrest with him?”

  “I’m sure we’ve been at crime scenes before…”

  “With other officers?”

  “Yeah, that would be true.”

  “Your Honor, he’s leading the witness. Objection to this entire testimony.”

  “Overruled,” Tennant said. “The questions are not suggestive of the answers.”

  “Ever been out for a beer with just him?”

  “No, not that I recall.”

  “Ever been bowling or any other activity?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Sergeant Coffey, do you really know what’s in this man’s heart concerning racism and his attitude toward African Americans?”

  “Well, I’ve never…um, I guess maybe not,” Coffey said with his eyes downcast.

  “Mr. Kadella,” Judge Tennant said.

  Marc asked one question on recross.

  “Sergeant Coffey, have you ever personally heard or seen anything said or done by Officer Dane of a racist nature?”

  “No,” Coffey said emphatically.

  The rest of the afternoon was taken up by the other two officers who reached the scene first. Since their participation in events was minimal, the direct examination did not take long. Their testimony was brought in to back up what Sergeant Coffey had said.

  Marc’s cross was basically the same as Coffey’s. The photo of the homeless man was put up and both admitted seeing him. They also admitted they saw him near Ferguson and believed it was every day. Neither had ever seen or heard Rob say or do anything of a racist nature. Although both admitted they did not know him well.

  While the courtroom was emptying, Maddy pushed her chair up to Marc.

  “I thought you would ask these guys if it was possible the homeless guy picked up the gun and ran off.”

  “Good catch,” he told her. “I decided not to. They were too far away, and anything is possible.”

  An
hour later Damone was in the Tahoe with Lewis and Monroe. They were on their way to a meeting with Imam Sadia and some others. Monroe took a call on his phone and gave the caller the number for today’s burner phone. A moment later that phone rang while Damone was holding the phone waiting for the call.

  “It’s the man in court,” Monroe said.

  “Yes,” Damone answered by saying.

  “Nothing unusual happened today,” the caller said.

  “I know, I was able to watch most of the afternoon session,” Damone replied. “This Kadella, he seems to know his business.”

  “He is solid. He prepares well and has a plan to create reasonable doubt. It remains to be seen if he can pull it off.”

  “Who is this homeless man? The one he put up on the TV?”

  “Don’t know yet. I don’t know if he has come up with a name for him. I think he would have used it today if he knew.”

  “Keep me informed,” Damone said, then ended the call.

  * * *

  Five minutes after the phone call, Lewis parked in the side driveway of a safe house. They were approximately a mile North of Cedar/Riverside on the fringe of Little Mogadishu.

  Waiting in the dark by the back door was Damone’s man, Saadaq. Damone and Saadaq greeted each other with the traditional Muslim greeting.

  “He’s not here. One of his lackey dogs is here with an excuse. I think he knows we are onto his deceit and theft,” Saadaq said.

  Damone shifted his omnipresent Bible from under his right arm to his left without speaking.

  “The recruiter is here,” Saadaq said, referring to the man in the gray suit and wrap around Ray Bans. “They have three more recruits and are waiting for your permission.”

  “Do you know them? These three recruits?”

  Saadaq frowned, shrugged and said, “Mere boys. Still teens. Ready to die but nothing to us.”

  “Not involved in our business?”