“Tell the jury about the night your wife, Catherine died.”
Having rehearsed this several times, he was quite prepared for it. Gordon leaned forward, looked directly at the jury and for the next fifteen minutes went over every detail of that night. From the moment he arrived at his going away party right up to the exact second he discovered Catherine on the floor of her bedroom.
“Judge Prentiss, I am going to ask you the question the jury needs to hear you answer. Did you come home, argue with Catherine about a divorce, take a knife from the kitchen, stalk her up to her bedroom and plunge that knife into her chest at the exact same moment she struck you with a bottle of vodka?”
Knowing this question was coming, Prentiss patiently waited for Marc to finish it in its entirety before answering. When Marc finished, Prentiss turned away from his lawyer, looked directly at the eyes of the jurors and clearly, emphatically and sincerely said, “No. As God is my witness, I did not kill my wife. She was already dead exactly as I’ve explained when I found her.”
With that, Marc finished his direct examination of his client and turned him over to Gondeck. Before Gondeck began, Rios called for the lunch break and excused the jury.
At about the same time Prentiss was finishing his morning testimony, Leo Balkus was sitting at his desk reading a local newspaper. He had his stockinged feet up on the desk, his four hundred dollar loafers sitting on the floor. Leo had been reflecting on how good life was before he started reading the daily update on the trial of Gordon Prentiss. Prentiss was an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, a pebble in his shoe, an irritant he was unable to eliminate. At least not right now.
Having missed his opportunity in the jail, Leo would have to wait until after the trial. If Prentiss was acquitted, Leo would take personal pleasure in a meeting with the soon-to-be-late Gordon Prentiss. If convicted, Leo could get at him in any prison he went to. Leo could afford to be a patient man.
Johnny Czernak walked in as Leo was finishing the news article about the trial. Johnny was almost as much of a sociopath as Ike Pitts and even more loyal. He just wasn’t as bright as Ike, but Leo could do the thinking.
“Nice face,” Leo said for perhaps the twentieth time referring to Johnny’s again bandaged nose and two black eyes.
“I’ll get that bitch. You’ll see. Sooner or later I’ll find her.”
“Right. Then what? She’ll kick your ass again,” Leo laughed.
“I won’t give her the chance next time,” Johnny said as he stood in front of the desk, his left arm still in a sling.
“What time did Ike say he’d be in?” Leo asked.
“Later. He was out late last night. First to check on Conrad then he was gonna see that new chick at the strip joint.”
“Conrad,” Leo said. “He’s gone, but sooner or later he’ll turn up. I got some people looking for him. I’m looking forward to having a little chat with him, too. What’s up?”
“There’s a delivery for you from a M. Ramirez in Miami.”
“What the hell is Manny doing sending a shipment to me personally?” Leo asked rhetorically.
“There’s a note taped to the box. Says, ‘Relax, it’s a gift. It’s not what you think.’ You want me to bring it in?”
“Have it brought in through the back door,” Leo answered gesturing at the exterior door behind the desk. While Johnny was gone, Leo went back to the paper. A few minutes later he heard a delivery truck in back then the door opening. Johnny stood aside while a UPS driver wheeled in a 2’d x 3’w x 3’h wooden box and set it on the floor.
Johnny signed for it then said, “I’ll get a pry bar from the storage room and get it open.”
The delivery man left and Leo went back to the sports section. Johnny came in with the pry bar and with his good arm went to work on the box’s lid. Leo swiveled around to watch Johnny pry open the lid. Johnny loosened the lid enough to open it but not enough to see inside. He tossed the tool on the floor, grabbed the lid, jerked it open, took one look inside and said, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” as he backed away from it.
Leo jumped up, took two steps to the open box, looked inside, almost vomited and recoiled in horror. What he saw was Ike Pitts, his shattered body, wrapped in clear plastic with only his face visible. His black, vacant, dead eyes staring back up at Leo and a single hole with a trickle of blood in the middle of his forehead.
Leo tripped over his feet and fell backwards into his chair. He sat there gripping the armrests, staring at the box in shock and as frightened as if it had been filled with snakes. Johnny was the one who was able to move. He took a few deep breaths then stepped back to the box and looked down at his mentor.
Johnny noticed a piece of paper taped to the plastic sheeting covering Ike’s body. He looked at Leo who was starting to recover, removed the paper, unfolded it and read the message. What was written was:
Thought I’d let you know I’m in town.
I might stop by to see you. You wanted
her dead, she’s dead. I want my money.
C of K.C.
Johnny handed the note to Leo, then reached down and picked up the lid for the box and set it back in place. Before he did, he took another look at Ike. The box was significantly too small for him. Johnny realized whoever did this must have broken every major bone in Ike’s body to make him fit. What he didn’t know, what the funeral home who would handle the arrangements kept to themselves, was that the bones were broken before he died.
Leo read the note for the third time then quickly said to himself, “Charlie’s back.”
He looked at Johnny and said, “Pound the lid back in place. Get a truck. We need to get him to a funeral home. As a Jew, he needs to be buried within twenty-four hours. I know a place…”
“Sure thing, boss,” Johnny answered, mildly surprised to see several tears trickling down Leo’s face.
Leo picked up the phone, dialed a number, handed it to Johnny and said, “Tell him to be here in an hour. Don’t tell him why; he’ll know why.”
Johnny heard a man answer and then Johnny simply told him to be at The Blue Lady in an hour. He had not used Leo’s name or any other type of identification. Even so, Nathan Tollman, Leo’s banker, was there fifteen minutes early.
“You may proceed, Mr. Gondeck.” Judge Rios said to indicate he could cross-examine Prentiss.
“Thank you, your Honor. Mr. Prentiss,” he began still seated at the table. “I must confess I’m a little unsure of where to begin…”
“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Marc interrupted.
Ignoring Marc, Gondeck continued by asking, “Am I to understand that you are basically admitting that every rotten thing the jury heard about you from your dead wife’s diary is true but your daddy made you do it?”
Marc almost objected again but waited and Prentiss calmly answered, “No, I am responsible for myself and my behavior. I thought the jury should know my background.”
“I just want to be clear about this. The night of your wife’s death, you came home and heard a noise upstairs, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You went upstairs and found your wife, covered in her own blood with a butcher knife sticking out of her chest, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then your girlfriend hit you over the head with a bottle of vodka, is that true?”
Before he answered, Prentiss shifted his eyes to Marc expecting him to object to calling Ava his girlfriend. Not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than it already was, Marc decided not to.
“Yes,” Prentiss answered.
“Your girlfriend then…”
Marc decided once was enough and said, “Objection. Enough with the use of the term ‘girlfriend’.”
“He’s right, Mr. Gondeck,” Rios agreed.
“Yes, your Honor. Then, Ava Hammond, having knocked you out on top of your wife, placed your hand on the handle of the knife, is that correct?”
“Yes, because that is exactly what
happened.”
Gondeck turned to look at Jennifer Moore and slightly, almost unnoticeably, nodded his head. Jennifer tapped a button on her laptop and the projection screen lit up with the picture of Prentiss lying on top of his dead wife.
“Who should they believe, you or their lying eyes?” he asked.
“The sarcasm is getting a little deep in here,” Marc said.
“Yes, it is, Mr. Gondeck. Stop.”
“I’m sorry, your Honor, but the whole thing screams out for sarcasm,” Gondeck replied while Marc was thinking, “nicely done, Steve”.
Gondeck then walked away slowly over to the evidence table and picked up Catherine’s diary. As a reminder for the jury, he held it up and asked, “Did you know she was keeping a record of your abusive behavior?”
“There was no abusive behavior to keep a record of,” Prentiss testily replied.
Gondeck set the book back down and returned to his seat at the table. He had received the exact answer he wanted to his abuse question and now he was going to play it for all it was worth.
For the next three hours, with only a small fifteen-minute break, Gondeck went over every allegation of abuse contained in Catherine’s diary. Not just the ones that were read into the record, but all of them. By the time he finished it was almost six o’clock and everyone in the courtroom was exhausted from the relentless pounding Prentiss received. Prentiss denied them all but by the end it sounded weak and no one in the room felt anything but loathing for the man on the stand. The only minor victory Marc could achieve was to get the photo removed from the screen.
Finally, Gondeck finished and Marc took some time to have Prentiss again restate that he wasn’t a very warm, attentive and affectionate husband or father. And the last thing the jury heard for the day was another resounding denial that he had killed his wife.
EIGHTY-SIX
“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the jury,” Steve Gondeck said beginning his closing argument while standing in front of the jury box. “First of all, I want to thank you for your patience and your service.
“We are in the final phase of the trial, what we call the closing arguments. This is my opportunity to explain to you why you should find the defendant, Jonathan Gordon Prentiss the third,” he said emphasizing the aristocratic sound of Prentiss’ name, “guilty of murdering his wife.
“Before I go any further, I must explain something to you. I will be using legal terms to convince you that the state has met its burden and has proven the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. When I and Mr. Kadella have finished our closing arguments, Judge Rios will give you your legal instructions. If I say something or if Mr. Kadella says something that contradicts what the judge tells you then you must disregard what the lawyers tell you and do what Judge Rios says.”
Starting with the term beyond a reasonable doubt, which anyone with a television has heard, Gondeck began to make his case. He explained to the jury that beyond a reasonable doubt does not mean beyond any and all doubt. They were allowed to use their common sense and reach a verdict based on the evidence presented before them.
Before the closing arguments began, the lawyers got together with the judge to present proposed jury instructions to her to give to the jury. They had gone over all of them and Rios had decided which ones to read to the jury. Knowing this, Gondeck used them and led the jury through each and every element of every crime charged. He used the testimony of witnesses and the evidence presented to nail down the state’s case to justify a guilty verdict, beyond a reasonable doubt, of each and every one of the crimes in the indictment.
While he was doing this, Marc sat and carefully listened to the prosecutor go over the details because if Gondeck missed presenting evidence of any single element of any of the crimes charged, then that particular crime would be dismissed. Marc knew Gondeck was a careful enough prosecutor and because of this, Gondeck missing anything was extremely unlikely. However, a defense lawyer’s most important role was to keep the state honest. To make sure the prosecution did its job and didn’t railroad an accused by not presenting the appropriate evidence to convict.
After almost three hours, which included another complete showing of the pictures and video of the scene in Catherine’s bedroom, Gondeck began to wrap up. Before he did, he made sure that the photo of Prentiss on top of his wife’s bloody body, his hand holding the knife, was on the screen.
“In summation, ladies and gentlemen, the defendant is charged with two counts of first-degree murder, one count of second-degree murder and first-degree manslaughter.
“I won’t go over each element again but I do want to touch the most important ones. First-degree premeditated murder. Catherine Prentiss was upstairs in her bedroom. The defendant, having been told his wife wanted a divorce, went into the kitchen downstairs.” Gondeck picked up the knife from the evidence table and walked toward the jurors. “He took a large knife from a set on the kitchen counter, this very knife. He then stormed upstairs with it and plunged it into her chest.” When Gondeck said this, he held up the knife, stepped up to the jury and went through the physical act himself, emphatically stabbing the air in front of them.
“By taking the time to go into the kitchen for the sole purpose of getting the knife, then following her upstairs is enough to form the element of premeditated murder. He doesn’t have to take the time to fully and carefully think it through and we don’t have to prove he did. The act speaks for itself. He retrieved the knife from the kitchen, went upstairs after her with murder in his heart and did it.
“The next charge, first-degree murder involving domestic abuse. We heard the victim’s own words describe the hell she lived in. The murder itself does not have to be from an act of domestic abuse. But you are certainly free to infer that it did. What could be more abusive than plunging a butcher knife into your wife’s chest?
“Next, second-degree murder and first-degree manslaughter. If you do not believe there was sufficient premeditation or domestic abuse to convict the defendant of first-degree murder, then he is surely guilty of second-degree murder. Second-degree murder is basically murder without premeditation but committing the act with intent to kill. Plunging this knife into his wife’s heart,” he said as he held it up again, “could only be done with intent to kill. The last charge, first-degree manslaughter entails committing the act in the heat of passion. Again, storming up those stairs after her with a knife in his hand.
“We have met our burden, ladies and gentlemen. We have presented evidence clearly sufficient to prove beyond a reasonable doubt the defendant murdered his wife.
“Finally, what you are left with, what the defense wants you to believe is the outrageous claim, made by the defendant’s lover that Catherine committed suicide. We obviously were able to discredit her story as nothing more than a shallow attempt by Ava Hammond to help out the man with whom she was committing adultery. She saw him at the jail two days before she changed her story from her previous testimony and made this ridiculous claim. She had more than enough opportunity to step forward with this clearly contrived perjury before that. I’ll be honest, I don’t know what they talked about, but you are allowed to infer whatever you want to,” he said, almost literally winking and nodding at them. “The only thing she has to back up her story is a bloody cloth in a plastic bag she claims she took from the crime scene. Given her credibility, obviously she cannot be believed.
“Given the evidence, the credible, believable evidence and testimony, ladies and gentlemen, I submit we have met our burden of proof on all of the charges and argue that you find Jonathan Gordon Prentiss the third, guilty. Thank you.”
After lunch, Marc took his turn with his closing argument. He began by also thanking the jury for their service and then reminded them of their oath. As he slowly paced in front of them, he looked directly at each and every one and told them they swore to presume his client, Judge Prentiss, innocent and make the prosecution prove him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.
“Th
e defendant is innocent until proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt, that’s the law each of you swore to uphold. I want to take a little time to talk to you about what that means,” Marc said while standing in front of them, dressed in Margaret’s gift of an Armani, double-breasted suit. He held his hands together to keep them still and not distract his audience and continued. “It means the defense doesn’t have to prove anything. We are under no obligation at all to present any evidence of any kind.
“Our case,” he continued, “was always based on someone else, someone other than Judge Prentiss committing this horrible act. Again,” he said as he paced very slowly, “we don’t have to go out and find that person. We don’t have to drag the guilty party in here and present that person to you. In fact, that is the job of the police and you heard their testimony, they didn’t bother to even look for someone else. No, that’s not my job. All we have to do is show you that there is reasonable doubt that Judge Prentiss did this.”
Marc then stopped pacing, stood in front of them again and went over the evidence he believed created that doubt. He put the photo of the footprints behind Catherine’s door on the screen. The footprints made by the splashing vodka when Prentiss was struck in the head with the bottle. The footprints Ava Hammond testified were hers.
Marc talked at length about the performance, or lack of it, by the police who, despite being told there was a third person in the bedroom that night, didn’t bother to lift a finger to investigate even the possibility it might be true. How the police dismissed the threat letters the judge had received and basically closed their case within minutes.
“It’s possible, ladies and gentlemen, if the police had bothered to even minimally investigate her death, perhaps they would have found evidence of a suicide. We’ll never know because they put blinders on when they went in that bedroom.”
Marc then spent considerable time going over the story of Ava Hammond’s second day of testimony. How she came forward knowing she was about to subject herself to scorn, ridicule and possibly criminal sanctions. Her conscience brought her forward and nothing else.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 91
