Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series: Box Set Two

by Kenneth Eade

  Police photographers under Antonio’s control took detailed photographs of Brent, his bloody clothing, the bloody knife, and the gory scene where the body of David Marsen lay dead. Grisly photographs of the body and Brent in clothes covered with blood were paraded before the eyes of the jury and admitted into evidence. The women on the jury grimaced at the horror, while the men averted their eyes from the carnage. Brednick brandished the murder weapon in front of the jury box as it was identified by Antonio. Everything was done by the book. It was an open and shut case until Richard Hannaford opened his mouth on cross-examination.

  “Detective Antonio, you were not there at the scene of the killing when it actually occurred, were you?”

  “No, I was not.”

  “Then, you cannot tell us whether it was Brent Marks or an unknown assailant who killed Mr. Marsen, can you?”

  “I know that the fingerprints…” Antonio began, cut off by Hannaford’s slashing objection.

  “Objection, Your Honor! Lack of foundation!”

  “Counsel to sidebar,” directed the judge.

  At sidebar, Hannaford argued: “Your Honor, this witness is not competent to testify as to the fingerprints found on the knife and, since he did not actually see the murder, he is incompetent to form an opinion as to who did commit the act.”

  “Your Honor, it is obvious who did it. This man comes on the scene, Marks is covered with blood, and the knife is in his immediate control,” contended Brednick.

  “Yes, and that evidence is in. This is cross-examination, Mr. Brednick, and I agree with Mr. Hannaford.”

  Hannaford smiled an ear-to-ear smile, as he confidently went back to counsel table. He looked like the “Joker” from Batman.

  “Your Honor, if it pleases the Court, I will rephrase the question. Detective Antonio,” said Hannaford, looking first at the jury, then directly into the detective’s eyes. “You cannot tell us whether it was Brent Marks or an unknown assailant who killed Mr. Marsen, can you?”

  Antonio, with a look on his face that indicated he had just been forced to swallow a worm, said, “No.”

  Hannaford turned to the jury and looked at them for reinforcement, repeating Antonio’s answer: “No. Thank you, Detective. No further questions, Your Honor,” said Hannaford, and sat down.

  Brednick next called the eyewitnesses: an elderly lady from Des Moines, Iowa, and a family of Italian tourists, who each testified that they had seen Brent standing over the bloody corpse of David Marsen. Hannaford grilled each one of them in true “smoke blowing” fashion.

  “The People call Samuel Martin.”

  Samuel Martin was a 42-year-old tourist from New Jersey who had been on vacation with his family and had witnessed the horrible aftermath of the murder of David Marsen. He was both sincere and credible.

  “Mr. Martin,” asked Brednick. “Can you please describe what you saw and heard on the day in question?”

  “Yes. I had just bought the kids some jumping beans from a local souvenir stand when I heard some commotion coming from the alley next door. I told my wife to watch the kids and ran over.”

  “And what did you see when you got there?”

  “I saw that man,” he said, pointing his finger at Brent. “He was standing over the bloody body of a man who looked dead, and he was holding a knife in his hand.”

  “Are you sure that it was this man, Mr. Brent Marks?” asked Brednick, pointing to Brent.

  “Yes, I was only about five yards away from him.”

  Brednick went to the evidence table and picked up the knife.

  “Does this appear to be the knife you saw?”

  “Yes, but it when I saw it, it was covered with blood.”

  “Covered with blood,” repeated Brednick, looking at the jurors, who had all eyes fixed on the witness. None of this testimony had escaped any of them.

  Judge Renfrew had had enough trial for one day and declared, “Gentlemen, it is now five minutes to five, and I intend to adjourn for the day.”

  Brednick had excellent timing. He had called his witnesses out of order, and this would be the horror story that the jurors would not be able to get off their minds as they tossed and turned in their beds.

  Hannaford, not wanting Brednick or this witness to have the last word, insisted: “Your Honor, I have but one question on cross-examination.”

  “Then you may proceed, Mr. Hannaford.”

  “Mr. Martin, isn’t it true that you did not see Mr. Marks, the defendant, stab the victim?”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  The point of Hannaford’s question should have been clear, but the only image the jury would be taking home with them from the day would only be Brent Marks, in bloody clothes, standing over a bloody corpse with a knife that was also dripping in blood. Even Clarence Darrow could not have explained that away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Thomas Albertson, Brent’s opposing counsel in the federal case, was called, and testified that Brent had noticed someone in the back of courtroom and had run out after him. On cross-examination, Hannaford pursued one line of questioning with blinders on.

  “Mr. Albertson, do you often have occasion to appear in the federal court at 210 Spring Street in Los Angeles?”

  “Well, yes, I do.”

  “About how many times per year would you estimate that you appear in that courthouse?”

  “Oh, I’d say about once a week; no less than that.”

  “So in the approximately 52 times you show up at that courthouse, every time, no matter in which courtroom, you must first pass a security checkpoint at the main entrance which is monitored by the U.S. Marshal: is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And at this security checkpoint, you take off your belt, your shoes, and your jacket, and place all of that in a receptacle for X-ray screening: is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you empty your pockets and place all of the contents in a container for screening: is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you remove all electronic devices of any kind from your briefcase and put them in a receptacle as well: is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your briefcase, as well as all the other items I have asked you about, go through an X-ray screening by an officer who sits in front of the X-ray machine: is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a wonder they don’t ask you to take off all your clothes and walk through those things naked, isn’t it, Mr. Albertson?”

  There were some chuckles from the jury. Albertson wrinkled his forehead and looked puzzled. Brednick objected to the question as argumentative.

  “Withdraw the question, Your Honor.”

  Hannaford walked over to the evidence table and picked up the knife, holding it up for the jury and the witness.

  “You would never have been able to walk through the security checkpoint with this, would you, Mr. Albertson?”

  “Objection! Calls for speculation! Argumentative!” exclaimed Brednick.

  “I think not!” Hannaford replied.

  “I’ll overrule the objection, but I think you’ve made your point, Mr. Hannaford. Let’s move along,” said the judge.

  “That’s all, Your Honor. No further questions.”

  The Medical Examiner, Dr. Elias Hale, was called to the witness stand, and there were no surprises. He testified that the cause of death was a stabbing in the back which had penetrated the renal artery. He testified that the wound was approximately six inches long. When asked to compare the knife with the wound, he testified that the wound was consistent with that which could have been made by this knife.

  “Dr. Hale, is it your testimony that you cannot conclude, within a degree of medical certainty, comparing the blade of this knife to the wound, that it was this knife that caused the fatal wound?” asked Hannaford, holding up the knife.

  “From the fact that the victim’s blood was on the knife, I concluded that it was this kn
ife which caused the fatal injuries."

  “Move to strike as non-responsive, Your Honor. This is a question for the jury.”

  “The answer is stricken. The jury will disregard it. Please answer the question, doctor.”

  “I cannot say from my examination of the wound and the blade of this knife that it was this knife that caused the fatal wound, although the injuries are consistent with trauma that would be caused by a knife of this type.”

  “Thank you, doctor. So you did not match the wounds to the blade of the knife with any type of medical imagery, such as a CT scan or MRI?”

  “No, I did not. There was no reason to.”

  “Move to strike after ‘No I did not,’ Your Honor.”

  “Granted. The answer will stand as ‘No I did not,’ and the jury will disregard everything after it.”

  “Doctor, from your inspection of the wound, wouldn’t you say that, in your opinion, the trajectory of the weapon which caused the fatality was vertical and upward?”

  “I would.”

  “Then it would be consistent that the withdrawal of the weapon would have been a vertical, downward motion; isn’t that correct?”

  The doctor thought for a moment, then responded, “Yes.”

  Brednick next called Norman Jacobson, a forensic lab technician for the County of Los Angeles, who testified that the fingerprints on the knife which were taken after his arrest matched those of Brent Marks and also those on file with the California State Bar. He also testified that the blood on the knife, as well as Brent’s clothing, matched that of the victim.

  “Mr. Jacobson,” asked Hannaford. “You did not compare the knife itself with the fatal wound, isn’t that correct?”

  “That is correct, I did not.”

  “And, from your examination of the fingerprints on this knife, you cannot say whether they were caused by the knife being plunged into the victim or being withdrawn; is that correct?”

  Albertson placed his fingers together and touched his chin.

  “No, I cannot say whether the fingerprints were from the knife being plunged into the victim, withdrawn, or both,” replied Albertson. Hannaford looked at Brent and smiled.

  Brednick called John Slevish (the CEO of Hotstocks.co and Attorney.net) to the stand, and he testified that Marsen had posted on both sites under the anonymous handle of “Flusher,” and admitted into evidence every libelous piece of garbage he had ever posted about Brent.

  Shyster Marks loses lawsuit. Bigger one to come.

  Brent Marks is a lowlife, scamming, unethical lawyer. Oh, did I mention that he is also a crook? Just my humble opinion, JMHO.

  Brent hung his head down. He couldn’t bear to listen or see it all again in real time.

  “Head up, boy,” whispered Hannaford. “Look proud, look innocent.”

  Marks is a thief.

  After the character assassination, the judge asked, “Mr. Hannaford, cross-examination?”

  “No questions, Your Honor.”

  Hannaford did not want to burn the testimony into the brains of the jurors.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  At the end of the third day of trial, Brednick had delivered on all of the promises he had made to the jury. The People had demonstrated that the evidence pointed to nobody other than Brent as the killer. The prosecutor had satisfied his burden of proof and there was nothing left for the jury to do but to watch the show that was to be put on by Richard Hannaford and, when that show was over, to convict Brent Marks of murder.

  “The People rest, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Hannaford, you may call your first witness.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. The defense calls Retired FBI Agent Jack Ruder.”

  Jack, in his traditional grey detective suit, took the oath and then the witness chair. Hannaford introduced him to the jury as an ex-LAPD officer and career FBI agent.

  “Agent Ruder, can you please describe the work you performed for the FBI?”

  “Objection, Your Honor, to the characterization of this witness as an agent of the FBI.”

  “Sustained.”

  Hannaford feigned outrage.

  “Retired FBI Agent Ruder, can you please describe the work you performed for the FBI?”

  “Certainly. I spent 21 years as a Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Los Angeles office; the last ten of those in the Violent Crime Division.”

  “And what type of work did you do in the violent crime division?”

  “As the name implies, I investigated all types of violent crimes. I also served on several serial killer task forces, including the Night Stalker case.”

  “So this is not the first murder case you have been called upon to testify in, is it?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “How many murder cases would you say you have investigated?”

  “Many. It has to be in the hundreds.”

  “And did you investigate the death of David Marsen, the victim in this case?”

  “I did.”

  “Please summarize the findings of your investigation.”

  “Our investigation focused on all the possible suspects who had the motive to kill Mr. Marsen. These included Myron Talbot, who also posted on Attorneys.net and Hotstocks.co under the alias of ‘Truth Seeker,’ and Jeremy Williams, who posted on the same sites under the alias of ‘Stock Sleuth.’”

  Jack identified the postings of Talbot and Williams, as well as the interactive postings between them and Marsen.

  “Working with LAPD detectives, I also assisted in the investigation of a murder-for-hire conspiracy scheme in which the victim was a suspect, as well as Talbot and Williams. The hard drives of Talbot and Williams were confiscated by the FBI in conjunction with a search warrant and turned over to the LAPD, who allowed our computer expert, Timothy Jones, to examine them.”

  “Did you walk the distance from the federal courthouse at 312 N. Spring Street to Olvera Street where Mr. Marsen’s body was found?”

  “I did.”

  “About how long a distance is that?”

  “With a Garmin 301 GPS device, I measured the distance at .4 miles.”

  “How long did it take you to walk it?”

  “At an average pace, it took approximately seven minutes.”

  “And did you calculate the distance while running?”

  “I also jogged the distance in just under five minutes.”

  “So, if you were chasing a subject, running, would you have time to stop along the way - at your car - for example, pick up a knife, and then continue to run after the subject?”

  “Objection! Calls for speculation!”

  “Withdraw the question, Your Honor. Retired Agent Ruder, did you investigate the suspected co-conspirators of Mr. Marsen in the murder-for-hire scheme that you have described?”

  “I did.”

  Jack went on to describe the murder-for-hire investigation of Talbot and Williams, the site, Erasure.onion, and the infamous “Ghost.”

  “And as part of this investigation, did you interview the suspect, Jeremy Williams?”

  “I did.”

  “What were the results of your investigation of Mr. Williams?”

  “Mr. Williams implicated Mr. Marsen, Gerald Finegan, and Myron Talbot in the murder-for-hire scheme.”

  “Objection: hearsay!”

  “Your Honor, may we approach?” asked Hannaford, and both Brednick and Hannaford met the judge at his sidebar.

  “Mr. Hannaford, this is hearsay.”

  “Your Honor, under Evidence Code section 1350, I don’t think there can be any dispute that the victim is an unavailable witness.”

  “Maybe not, but you yourself indicated that you intended to call Mr. Williams as a witness, did you not?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Then I am going to sustain the objection, unless you can present evidence that Mr. Williams is also unavailable.”

  “Your Honor, Mr. Williams' attorney, in response to the subpoena, indic
ated that he would not be appearing, and is claiming his Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination.”

  “In that case, the objection is overruled.”

  When both counsel had returned, Jack presented the recording he had made of the Williams interview, wherein Williams had spilled his guts.

  Jeremy Williams suddenly awoke and looked at his clock. “3:40 a.m.! Oh brother!” he said to himself. The room was icy cold, as if someone had turned on the air conditioning. “That’s impossible! Judy and the kids are at their mother’s.”

  “Hello, Mr. Williams.” A strange voice, cloaked in darkness, emanated from the corner of the bedroom.

  Several of the jurors reacted to the eerie voice as if they were watching a scary movie.

  Williams jumped up in bed, his heart pounding. “Who’s there? I’ve pushed the alarm!”

  “Come on now, Mr. Williams. You don’t think I know how to disarm such a simple system?”

  Williams reached for the light on the nightstand.

  “No lights, Mr. Williams. I can’t be seen by anyone.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You don’t know?”

  Williams thought for a second, then realized who it could be.

  “Are you…?”

  “Yes, Mr. Williams. Everything must be kept extremely secret. This is how we insure secrecy. I must never be seen. That’s the main rule.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  “First, I have to determine if I’m taking this case. I’ve never had a group of clients before, and no special requests like the one you and your friends want. If I decide to accept you, I will be in touch with further instructions. The cost, by the way, is $40,000. I added an extra 10 in for your request, even though it sounded like fun.”

  “How will I know if you accept the case?” Williams asked, but there was no response – only silence. He waited in fear, not daring to move from his bed for a full fifteen minutes, until he was sure that he was, again, alone.