by Kenneth Eade
“It is received.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Detective, upon determining that the defendant was a person of interest, what did you do next?”
“Since we had the restraining order, we went to the defendant’s house to investigate. Upon arrival, the defendant made a spontaneous admission that made me determine that I should arrest him.”
“Objection and move to strike legal characterization of ‘spontaneous admission.”
“Sustained.”
It probably would have been better for Brent to let it go, but the statement would have come out anyway.
“What did he tell you?”
“In response to our question of whether he was armed with a weapon, he said, “I did it and God will forgive me.”
“And was it based upon that statement that you arrested him?”
“Yes. I told him not to make any further statements until I had advised him of his rights.”
Brent trained his eyes on Tomassi, and his peripherals were on the jury. Tomassi was a good witness. You’re leaving a lot of things out, but I’ll get you on cross.
“And did you then Mirandize the defendant?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you took him into custody?”
“Yes.”
“What happened after you took the defendant into custody?”
“The defendant was arraigned in court. Upon being transported from his arraignment, a hit and run tow truck hit the Sheriff’s bus and the defendant escaped from custody.”
Tomassi described the manhunt for Banks, up to the point that he turned himself in.
“When the defendant was recaptured, he was wearing bloody clothes. We had the clothes tested and they came up positive for the DNA of both Ronald and James Bennett. It was their blood.”
The jurors’ mouths seemed to drop, and they hung on every word.
“Showing you what has been marked collectively as People’s Exhibit number 46, can you identify these, Detective?”
“Yes, these are the bloody clothes that the defendant was wearing when we took him back into custody.”
***
Jack knocked on the door of apartment 216 in the Simi Valley Flats building. He heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door.
“Who’s there?”
“Detective Ruder, please open the door.”
“Let me see your badge.”
Jack showed his LEOSA card from the FBI, the ID which allowed him to carry a weapon as a retired agent, conveniently covering the word “retired” with his finger, and the door opened. Standing before Jack was a tower of a man in a jeans jumpsuit with a white tank top which exposed huge tattooed biceps. Jack had to look up to see his face.
“Are you Dusty Clairborne?”
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“I’d like to talk to you about your employment with J.C. Riley and Sons. May I come in?”
The man hesitated, then stepped aside.
“Sure.”
Jack’s observant eyes roamed all over the immediate area as the man showed him to a chair in his living room. The walls were adorned with various crosses and prints of religious paintings. There was a large bible on the coffee table that had hundreds of paper bookmarks in it; some of which had yellowed with age.
“I see you’re an art collector.”
“What’s this all about?”
“A vehicle was reported stolen from J.C. Riley back in May.”
“Yeah. The cops already talked to me about that. I had nothing to do with it.”
“We just wanted to know if you knew anything about it.”
“What would I know?”
“There have been several violent crimes against gays recently.
“So? What does that have to do with me?”
“Maybe nothing, sir. Our information indicates that you don’t take too kindly to gays.”
“Their sinful lives are their own business.”
“So you think that all gays are sinners?”
“Not me. God.”
“Do you think that gay men should be put to death?”
“I don’t think it, Detective. It’s in the Bible. It’s God’s word.”
Jack knew he was pushing Clairborne’s buttons, and that the man was getting agitated.
“So, was it you who killed James and Ronald Bennett?”
“Who are you talking about? Get out of my house!”
“Are you attempting to hide evidence from us, Mr. Clairborne?”
“Get out! I know my rights.” Clairborne stood up, his face reddened and fists clenched. Jack rose and took his leave.
“I’ll be back.”
“Not without a warrant.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jack found a place on the street to park and observe Clairborne’s apartment building. It would be a long day and night, but he had no other leads to follow. He pulled out his cell to call Brent.
“Brent, it’s Jack. How’s the trial going?”
“Getting killed. How about you?”
“I might be on to something. I’m staking out Dusty Clairborne’s apartment. I’ll keep you up to date.”
“No pressure, Jack. All we need is a miracle.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVE N
The jurors filed into court and took their assigned seats, after having had a chance for Susan Fredericks’s and Detective Tomassi’s damaging testimonies to sink in. Brent would now have the opportunity to cross-examine Tomassi. With that task, he would be walking a very thin line. He needed to point out discrepancies in Tomassi’s testimony which lead to reasonable doubt. In Tomassi’s case, what he had left out would be more important than what he had said. Brent knew that, in every case, the police routinely either lie or leave out essential details. He had to coax these details out of Tomassi without looking like he was trying to be tricky or deceptive. Joshua Banks sat next to Brent at the counsel table. He had been given a mild sedative, so he looked a little out of it. Brent glanced at him. Better than the alternative. At least he’s quiet. Then Brent rose and confronted Tomassi.
“Detective Tomassi, yesterday you testified about the stab wounds you observed on the victims. Isn’t it true that you never found the knife that you suspected made those stab wounds?”
“Yes, that’s true. We never found the knife.”
“In fact, you never found any knife which could have been used to make the wounds you observed, isn’t that correct?”
“That is correct.”
Tomassi still wore his poker face, but Brent was just getting started.
“Detective Tomassi, you testified that when you first confronted Mr. Banks, he told you that he did it and God would forgive him. Didn’t he tell you in the same conversation that he threw the stone?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And when you told him he was under arrest for murder, he acted surprised, didn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You were asking him about the murder but he responded to you about throwing the stone through the window, isn’t that correct?”
“He did talk about throwing the stone through the window, yes.”
Come on, just say it, man!
“And that act of throwing the stone was the subject of the restraining order, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And when you told him he was under arrest for murder, he asked who had accused him of this act, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And he also asked you who the victims of the murder were?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s obvious, Detective, isn’t it; that Mr. Banks knew the victims - isn’t that correct?”
Chernow leaped from his chair. “Objection, argumentative!”
“Overruled.”
“I would say so, yes.”
“So, wouldn’t you say, then, that when Mr. Banks told you he did it, this it he was talking about was throwing the stone through the window,
not the murder?”
“Objection! Argumentative.” Tomassi sat mute.
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”
Too late, they’ve already heard it.
“Detective Tomassi, isn’t it true that Mr. Banks turned himself in to the Sheriff’s Department?”
“I think you turned him in.”
“But he wasn’t captured, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“You testified yesterday that Mr. Banks escaped from custody after a hit and run incident with the Sheriff’s bus, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you discover, through investigation, that the bus was hit by a large tow truck?”
“Yes, we did.”
“And did you discover that this tow truck had been stolen?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do after you discovered that the tow truck had been stolen?”
“Turned it over to the detectives in our department who handle stolen vehicles.”
“Did they have a suspect named Dusty Clairborne?”
“Yes, but he checked out.”
“He checked out, meaning that he was eliminated as a suspect in the tow truck theft and hit and run?”
“That’s right.”
“But not by you, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Who is the detective in charge of that investigation?”
“Detective Maloney; but the case is closed.”
“There were no latent fingerprints found on the bus, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And the suspect, Dusty Clairborne, was an employee at the towing company, J.C. Riley and Sons, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, he was.”
“You never questioned the suspect, did you?”
“There was no need.”
Brent moved closer to the witness stand, but not close enough to fall into the “well” - the designated “no man’s land” he was not allowed to step into without court permission.
“Because you already had Mr. Banks as a suspect and were focusing only on him in the murder investigation, isn’t that correct, Detective?”
“Objection! Argumentative!”
Tomassi’s face turned red and he tightened his chin and clenched his teeth to restrain his anger.
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”
“Mr. Banks was handcuffed in the jail bus, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t know if he was or not.”
“Detective, surely you know the procedures for transporting prisoners from court to the jail, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And one of those procedures is that the prisoners must be restrained by handcuffs, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then, there is no doubt in your mind that he was handcuffed at the time?”
“He most likely was.”
“And shackled?”
“Yes.”
“The shackling consists of the handcuffs and a black box covering a chain between the two handcuffs, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And a chain connected to the black box went around his torso, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And one of his legs was shackled to the bus, is that correct?”
“That is the procedure.”
“And the bus contained three deputies from the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s Department, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And all of them were armed with handguns?”
“Yes, they were.”
“Is it your opinion that Mr. Banks was able to escape his restraints of handcuffs and a black box padlocked to a body chain around his torso, and one of his legs chained to the bus, and overpower three armed deputies in order to escape?”
“Objection, Your Honor! Compound and argumentative.”
“The detective is capable of expressing such an opinion, Your Honor.”
“I don’t have an opinion. I just know that he did it.”
“You know that he did it. He’s quite the Houdini, isn’t he, detective?”
“Objection! Argumentative!" Chernow was red in the face.
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”
“Isn’t it true, Detective Tomassi, that you are investigating several murders that are similar to the Bennet murders?”
“Yes.”
“And a task force has been formed to investigate these murders, including the Bennet murders?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“During the course of the investigation by the task force, one of the members of your team, Detective Salas, was attacked by the suspect, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“She was attacked in her bed while she was sleeping, by a man with a knife, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And she gave a description of her attacker, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did.”
“She said that her attacker was about six foot five or six, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And very strong?”
“Yes.”
“This doesn’t fit the description of Joshua Banks, does it?”
“Objection, calls for speculation and a legal conclusion.”
“Your Honor, this man is a trained police officer. It is certainly an observation within his expertise.”
“Overruled.”
“The physical description she gave varies.”
“Mr. Banks is about five-eight, isn’t he?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why don’t you refer to your report? He’s about five-eight, correct?”
Tomassi looked at his police report.
“That’s what it says.”
Good, it sounds like he’s being evasive.
“Detective Tomassi, isn’t it true that Detective Salas was describing a person drastically different in physical characteristics than Joshua Banks?”
“Objection: calls for speculation, opinion.”
“Your Honor, this witness is qualified to express such an opinion.”
“Overruled. You may answer the question.”
“You’ll have to ask Salas.”
“I will. Move to strike as non-responsive, Your Honor.”
The judge turned toward Tomassi, perturbed. “Detective, is the description of the suspect who attacked Detective Salas drastically different than Mr. Banks, or not?”
“In height. But there’s an explanation for that.”
“Move to strike after in height, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard everything after in height.”
“You remember the bloody clothes that Mr. Banks was wearing when he turned himself in to the Sheriff’s station, don’t you, Detective?”
“Yes.”
“These clothes, marked as People’s Exhibit 46?”
Brent held up the clothes.
“This is an extra-large black sweatshirt and black jeans, sized 38 waist and 36 inseam, correct?”
“If you say so.”
“Look in your report, Detective.”
Tomassi flipped through the pages of his report impatiently, until he came to the correct section.
“Yes, that size is correct.”
“Detective Tomassi, isn’t it true that ever since you zeroed in on Joshua Banks as a suspect, your investigation has focused on gathering evidence against him and nobody else?”
“He is the primary suspect.”
Brent turned to look at the jury, sweeping the box to make eye contact, then back to Tomassi.
“He’s your only suspect, isn’t he, detective?”
“Yes.”
Brent turned to look at the jury.
“And he’s always been your only suspect.”
“Yes.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Brent turned aw
ay from Tomassi, dismissing him respectfully as he took his seat at counsel table, next to the near catatonic Joshua Banks.
That was a nice injection of reasonable doubt.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGH T
Jack watched through binoculars as Dusty Clairborne carried boxes to his car. He’s on the move. Dusty finally came out with the last load –a small tent, a sleeping bag and camping equipment. He’s going camping? Dusty slammed his trunk, got in the car – a 70’s era AMC Pacer - and fired it up. I’d love to get a look at what’s in there. Jack set the binoculars down on the passenger’s seat and started his car, preparing to follow him.
Dusty pulled out onto Los Angeles Avenue and turned left on Erringer. He’s headed for the freeway. As the Pacer chugged up the onramp, Jack ran through his options. He whipped out his cell phone and called 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“This is Jack Ruder. I’m a retired FBI agent. I’m driving behind a guy on the northbound 118 who is under the influence of alcohol. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt somebody.”
“What is your location, sir?”
“About half a mile west of the Tapo Canyon exit. It is a Blue AMC Pacer, California license 365 Adam Tom X-ray.”
“Thank you for your call, sir. We will call an officer to respond.”
“Should I stay on the line?”
“No, sir. We’ll take it from here.”
Jack fell back so Clairborne could not see he was being tailed, and waited for the CHP to respond. Take your time, guys. It’s just a serial killer.
Finally, when Clairborne had just passed Stearns Street, a black and white CHP unit passed Jack and fell in behind the Pacer. After following him for the next mile, the red lights went on. Jack pulled off the freeway a good distance behind to observe.
The officer approached the driver’s side window, looking into the fish bowl interior of the Pacer. The officer stood next to the window as Clairborne rolled it down.
“Hello, sir. May I have your license and registration, please?”
“What’s this about, Officer?”
“We had a report that you were seen driving erratically. Have you been drinking, sir?”
“No.”
“License and registration, please.”
Clairborne provided his license and registration.
“Would you step out of the car please, sir?”
The officer moved back a few steps and Clairborne got out of the car. Then the officer administered several field sobriety tests.
