Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series)

by Dennis Carstens

  Marc had done everything he could to have as many young men on the jury as possible. The more of them he could get paying attention to Maddy and not the trial, the better. At least, that was his theory.

  During the jury selection process, Marc had hammered home the concepts of innocent until proven guilty and the standard of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. He had also obtained a promise from every juror to keep an open mind and not decide the case until all of the evidence had been submitted by both sides. Because of this, Marc had deferred giving his opening statement. The defense had the option of waiting until the prosecution had finished presenting their case before giving their opening.

  Jennifer Moore had given the opening for the prosecution. She had done a very thorough, professional and easy-to-follow presentation of the evidence the jury would receive. Doing so, Jennifer had used up most of the morning session.

  Gondeck stood and said, “The state calls Detective Owen Jefferson.”

  Jefferson came in from the hallway and in less than a minute was sworn in and took the stand. Having been thoroughly prepared and being a veteran detective with many trials under his belt, Jefferson’s testimony was extremely smooth.

  Gondeck started slowly by having Jefferson tell the jury about his years as a cop and homicide detective. They spent almost a half hour going over the awards and commendations he had received to implant in the jurors’ minds the obvious information that Owen Jefferson knew his business and could be trusted.

  The entire afternoon was taken up by Jefferson explaining to the jury and the cameras, how the investigation had been conducted. Normally this would be done in a sensible, chronological order. The detective’s arrival at the crime scene would be delivered right away and in great detail, including a photo display of what was found.

  Instead, Jefferson, with Gondeck’s prompting, barely touched on it at the beginning of his narration. When this happened, after Jefferson’s testimony had moved on, Marc found himself looking at the wall clock. Knowing what was coming at the end of the afternoon, Marc thought, Very clever, Steve.

  When 4:30 rolled around, Gondeck went back to the crime scene. ”Detective,” he began, “Let’s go back to the crime scene. Please describe for the jury what you found in the bedroom when you arrived at the victim’s apartment.”

  “It was the most gruesome scene I had ever come across in all my years as a homicide detective,” Jefferson began.

  For the next ten minutes, he methodically explained in horrific detail the interior of Rob Judd’s bedroom. When he finished, Gondeck, over Marc’s objection, used the large screen TV to display six photos of various angles of the room to visually imprint the bloody scene in the jury’s memory.

  In every homicide trial, these photos are a subject of intense scrutiny, debate and heated argument. The prosecution wants to show the jury every horrible detail in large, blown-up, high-definition color. Of course, the defense does not want any of that shown to anyone. More than one-hundred photos of Rob Judd’s bedroom were taken and Judge Graham had pared down the number to the six showing, plus one more. Two of the six were shots of the mutilated, bloody corpse of Rob Judd lying on the bed.

  A few minutes before 5:00, Gondeck and Jefferson got to the seventh photo, the one Marc had been waiting for with dread.

  “Detective Jefferson,” Gondeck began as the final photo came up on the TV screen which caused a stir in the jury box. “On the screen is a photo marked States Exhibit Seven. Do you recognize this photo?”

  “Objection,” Marc said as he stood to address the court. “It is my understanding that Detective Jefferson did not take this picture. He should not be allowed to testify about it.”

  Graham knew Marc would object for the record. He patiently waited for Marc to finish then politely overruled him.

  “Yes, I do,” Jefferson said.

  “Describe it for the jury, please.”

  “It is a photo of how and where the defendant, Madeline Rivers, was found on the morning of the murder of Robert Judd. That is her, unconscious, lying on the bedroom floor of Robert Judd’s apartment. She is dressed in a white t-shirt we subsequently found belonged to Mr. Judd and white, cotton panties. The red substance splattered all over her and her clothing is Mr. Judd’s blood.”

  Marc reached under the table and took Maddy’s hand. She squeezed his hand so hard it actually hurt. The two of them were able to look at Jefferson and act as if this was the most natural, normal testimony they had ever heard.

  “What is that in her hand?” Gondeck asked.

  “It is a kitchen knife with a seven-inch blade. It was one that matched a set we found on a counter in the kitchen apartment. It was the one used…”

  “Objection. Lack of foundation,” Marc said without standing.

  “Overruled,” Graham said.

  “It was the one used to stab Mr. Judd fourteen times,” Jefferson said finishing his statement.

  “Your Honor,” Gondeck stood and said to Graham. “It’s after five and I am at a good place to break…”

  “Very well,” Graham said. “We’ll adjourn and pick up with this witness at 9:00 Monday morning.” Before formally adjourning, the judge gave the jury a stern and explicit warning to avoid any and all news coverage of the case. He then rapped his gavel once and walked out.

  The jurors all stood to be escorted out. Marc watched them and every one of them glanced at Maddy as they were leaving the jury box, including the four alternates. None had a sympathetic look on his or her face.

  Marc swiveled his chair toward Maddy and silently watched her for several seconds until the jury was gone.

  “We knew he was going to do that,” Marc quietly said referring to Gondeck. Marc had anticipated that the bloody photo of Maddy, unconscious on the floor of Rob’s bedroom would be the last one shown today. Being Friday afternoon, Gondeck had planned Jefferson’s testimony so that picture would be in the jurors’ minds all weekend. Marc would have done the same thing.

  “I’m okay,” Maddy finally said with a weak smile.

  “Come on,” Marc said. He placed a hand on her arm and continued, “Connie told me to call when we finished for the day. She’s ordering in pizza. Everyone’s waiting.”

  Maddy paused for a moment then said, “I am hungry.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Marc said.

  “What were your impressions of the first day of the trial, Victor?” Pablo Quinones asked Victor Espinosa. Pablo was relaxing alongside the pool at his boss’ seaside villa outside Panama City. El Callado was in a lounge chair a few feet away smoking a cigar and listening to his counselor’s side of the conversation.

  “I was not in the courtroom myself. We have someone there watching the proceedings. Are you getting it on a satellite TV feed?” Espinosa replied.

  “Yes, we are,” Quinones acknowledged. “But I don’t have time to sit and watch it on TV all day. Plus it is boring most of the time.”

  “Our man says it went very well. The pictures that were put on the TV were very graphic, very gory,” Espinosa told him

  “They were not shown on TV,” Quinones said.

  “I know, but he had a seat in the courtroom that had a good view of them. The first day definitely went well for the prosecution.”

  “Good. Good. Very good,” Quinones said nodding his head at his boss. “Take care, my friend. We’ll be in touch.”

  Charlie Dudek was home in his suburban Kansas City house and had spent the entire day watching the trial. Charlie loved court TV. He watched trials on it as often as he could. There was something about the real-life drama taking place that he found almost irresistible. Probably because deep down in his psyche, he knew he would likely be the guest of honor at one someday. Plus, over the years, he had learned a lot about criminal procedure and admissibility of evidence, pointers Charlie had picked up that helped him in his business.

  There was something about what Charlie had seen during the trial that was bothering him. Something in the back of his
mind that was causing a physical reaction, a tugging sensation in his chest.

  Charlie shut off the TV then retrieved a beer from the refrigerator. He returned to the living room and silently stared at the blank TV screen without really seeing it. It took almost a half hour before he was able to understand what it was that was bothering him.

  Over the years, Charlie had dealt with his sexual yearnings mostly by visiting prostitutes. Charlie had learned at an early age that he was sexually straight but emotionally unable to connect with females. He did not dwell on it because it did not bother or affect him at all. It was simply part of who he was. Charlie was emotionally detached from everyone, except young children. For some reason, he understood that they needed and must have adult protection. He had never once come close to harming a child. Women, men, lovers or friends were not in Charlie’s DNA.

  Charlie looked up at the ceiling and said, out loud, to himself. “Wow. So this is what it’s like to be attracted to a woman. Interesting. God, I hope she gets off.”

  Madeline Rivers, without her knowledge of course, had managed something no one else had ever done. She had jabbed a theoretical finger through Charlie Dudek’s shield and touched his heart.

  Dale Kubik was angry and getting angrier with each shot of whiskey he tossed down. Kubik had also watched the opening day of testimony on TV. At the end of the day, he was almost giddy from what he had seen and heard. Several times the camera panned over the courtroom to give the viewers a close up of the Rivers woman. She tried to look calm and in control but Kubik wasn’t buying it. He had been involved in enough trials himself to know the photos the jury saw would be devastating.

  An hour ago, there was a knock on his door, which caused Kubik’s good mood to evaporate. When he opened the door a man in an inexpensive suit handed him a piece of paper. Dale Kubik had been given a subpoena to appear as a witness for the defense at a date and time to be determined.

  “I’m at the office, why?” Marc said into his cell phone. Tony Carvelli was on the line.

  “I got some information today I need to talk to you about. Is Maddy with you?”

  “Yeah, everybody’s here. The whole office except Chris. He had to leave. We just got back from court. Connie ordered up pizza. If you hurry you can get some.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t start without me.”

  When Tony arrived, the pizza delivery man was walking through the building’s back door on his way out. Tony hurried up the back stairs and went right in.

  After filling a paper plate with slices of sausage and pepperoni and opening a beer, Carvelli settled into a chair next to Marc. Everyone, including the staff, Connie and Barry Cline, another lawyer, were seated in the staff work area waiting for Tony’s news.

  “Well, what did you find out?” Marc asked.

  “How did today go?” Tony asked while setting down his beer.

  “About as expected,” Marc said after swallowing. “What?” Marc asked again.

  By now, everyone in the room was quietly eating, waiting for Carvelli’s news.

  “I had my guy do a search on Rob Judd. He called today with what he found. We owe him some money, by the way.”

  “Whatever,” Marc said. “He can get in line.”

  “What he found wasn’t much,” Tony said.

  “That’s the big news? Didn’t find much,” Marc said.

  “You don’t understand. He didn’t find much at all. Not nearly as much as you would find for someone like him. He found his securities licenses, Series Seven and a couple others but not much else. He has a degree from some small college but no résumé, very little employment history, no parents, siblings nothing.”

  “What the hell?” Barry Cline said.

  “Exactly,” Tony replied looking at Barry. “I’ve seen this before from a witness protection guy. The feds are getting lazy about the backgrounds they’re making for these guys.”

  “You think he’s a Witsec guy?” Maddy asked.

  “Don’t know, sweetheart. But I’ll find out,” Tony answered her.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Let me remind you, detective, you’re still under oath,” Judge Graham quietly reminded Owen Jefferson.

  “Yes, your Honor, I understand.”

  Gondeck picked up where he had left off on Friday afternoon. Before he started Jennifer put the photo of Maddy lying unconscious, knife in hand on Rob’s bedroom floor back up on the TV screen. Marc was on his feet in an instant objecting to it. Before he could finish, an angry Judge Graham ordered it removed. Gondeck insincerely apologized but the damage had been done.

  Jefferson’s testimony took up the entire morning session and half of the afternoon. Gondeck used him to talk about almost every piece of evidence to be introduced whether he personally gathered it or not. Marc objected to all of it and Graham made sure the jury understood that each item had to be connected by the person who obtained it. It was almost 3:30 before Gondeck finished and turned Jefferson over to Marc for cross-examination.

  Marc stared at Jefferson for several seconds all the while not a sound was heard throughout the courtroom. Normally this would likely make a novice witness nervous, waiting for the hammer to come down. Owen Jefferson was nobody’s fool and knew exactly what Marc was up to.

  “Mr. Kadella, do you have any questions for this witness,” Graham finally asked to get things moving.

  “Yes, your Honor. Detective Jefferson, did you even attempt to investigate anyone else for Robert Judd’s death, yes or no, detective?”

  “No, we did not.”

  “You knew Madeline Rivers before this case didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “When you arrived at Rob Judd’s apartment were you surprised to find her there?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Did she seem to be the same person you knew? Was she calm, collected, in control of herself?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “In fact, she looked lost, confused and not at all like the Madeline Rivers you know, isn’t that true?”

  “Yes, I would say that’s true.”

  “Isn’t it also true that your first reaction was that you did not believe she could have done something like this, yes or no detective.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Jefferson admitted.

  “Did you test her for drugs?”

  “No, we didn’t get a chance to.”

  Steve Gondeck had not asked Jefferson anything about the drugs that were found in Maddy’s system. Marc could only speculate that was because Jefferson had not investigated anything surrounding the drugs and how she may have ingested them. Gondeck did have the samples Marc had saved tested and had found the same thing Marc’s doctor had found. The lab tech who tested the samples for the prosecution would testify later.

  “As a veteran police officer and detective, would it be fair to say you are familiar with street drugs?”

  “Yes, I am,” Jefferson said.

  “Explain to the jury what roofies are, if you know detective.”

  Jefferson did as he was asked and turned to the jury for a five-minute lesson on Rohypnol and its effects. The “date rape” drug is what he called it.

  When he finished, Marc used this as an opening to go after him and try to show his investigation had not been very thorough at all. For the next twenty minutes the two of them verbally sparred about what Jefferson and his partner did not do and what he did not look into. It was weak and Marc knew it. He also knew exactly what Gondeck would do as soon as he finished.

  “Redirect, Mr. Gondeck?” Graham asked when Marc finished.

  “Briefly, your Honor,” Gondeck said. “Detective Jefferson, why didn’t you do all of the things suggested by defense counsel?” Gondeck asked.

  “There was no evidence to indicate any of that was necessary. We went where the evidence took us.”

  “Do you now believe the accused did, in fact, commit this crime?”

  “Objection…”

  “H
e opened the door, your Honor,” Gondeck quickly said.

  “Yes, you did. The witness may answer,” Graham ruled.

  “Yes, I certainly do,” Jefferson said looking directly at the jury. While he said this, Marc sat silently horrified at the mistake he had made by asking for Jefferson’s initial opinion about Maddy’s guilt.

  The elevator doors from the building’s underground parking garage opened and before Carvelli could exit, three rude people, in a hurry to get home, entered the car. At least five more were waiting to get on, forcing Carvelli to literally elbow his way past them. Quitting time at a government building was not the best time to arrive unless you wanted to be trampled. As he hurried across the building’s atrium Tony heard and felt his phone go off in his inside coat pocket.

  “Carvelli,” he said into the device as he continued toward the elevators that would take him up the court side of the building. He was in a hurry to get up to the courtroom to catch some of the proceedings before they finished for the day.

  “Mr. Carvelli?” he heard a female voice ask. “You probably don’t remember me but my name is Gloria Metcalf. I work at CAR Securities. You talked to me a couple weeks ago about Rob’s death.”

  “Actually, I do remember you, Gloria. Sandy-blonde hair, about five foot six, blue eyes, late twenties,” Tony said.

  “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

  “What can I do for you?” Tony asked. His curiosity grabbed ahold of him and Carvelli was standing still as the crowd of office workers hustled past on their way out.

  “Well, um, I, ah, I think I have some information for you. I didn’t tell you before but I think I need to. Can we meet somewhere?”