by Diana Saco
“She is as of this weekend, yes. I guess that was another one of those ‘startling developments.’ ”
I heard laughter and an “atta girl” from somewhere in the courtroom. It sounded suspiciously like Farm. Ota rapped his gavel as I checked the jury box for reactions. No hateful stares, but Juror No. 3 looked disappointed. I watched his eyes glance behind me and turned to find the judge giving me a rather tired look.
“Ms. Braco, did you know that I had been thinking about retiring next year?” Ota asked.
“No, Your Honor, I didn’t. Have I done something to change your mind?”
“Yes, I’m now thinking about retiring next week.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Doesn’t your firm have rules against becoming involved with clients?” Ota asked.
“Um, it hasn’t really come up before, Your Honor. And we’re what you might call ‘flexible’?” I suggested, turning it into a question. I glanced at the gallery and spotted Al dropping his face in his hands as if he couldn’t believe I had just said that. I decided I should edit my answer. “That is to say, I’m flexible, and my partner is, um, understanding.”
Ota frowned.
Oh, boy! I thought. Then an idea popped into my head.
“Also, Your Honor, since you suspended my license, she’s not technically my client anymore,” I said carefully.
Ota rubbed his face but didn’t comment further. “Mr. Bingham, please continue,” he said.
“Your Honor, in light of Ms. Braco’s personal relationship with the defendant, I’d like permission to treat her as a hostile witness.”
“I object, Judge,” Mason said. “Ms. Braco’s personal life has no bearing on this case.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Judge Ota countered.
“No, Judge, I’m quite serious. Despite certain liberties Ms. Braco has taken, her motivation has been first and foremost about uncovering the truth. If she’s protecting the defendant, it’s because she genuinely believes her to be innocent.”
“Your Honor,” Loyal interjected, “I’m not questioning the witness’s integrity, just her judgment. I’m simply saying her relationship may be coloring her perspective. I’m asking for some latitude in questioning her so that I can get past the murky film of rose-colored glasses, as it were.”
“That’s downright poetic, Mr. Bingham. Mr. Tidwell, while I’m swayed by your argument that Ms. Braco’s motives are defensible, I am more persuaded by the prosecution’s argument that her emotions are clouding her judgment. And let’s face it, there’s ample evidence of that,” he added with a stern look in my direction. “So your objection is overruled. Mr. Bingham, fire at will.”
Ota was just giving Loyal permission to treat me as a hostile witness, but his phrasing gave us all pause. I did a double-take and then noticed both Loyal and Mason looking at Ota curiously before moving on.
“Ms. Braco, didn’t you discover that the bakery refrigerator at the Munch house had video surveillance on it?”
“Yes.”
“When did you make this discovery?”
“The night I broke into the house. I noticed a Snakstr sticker on the side of the fridge.”
“What is Snakstr?”
“It’s a social network for people who want to avoid overeating. It discourages their going to the refrigerator or cupboard for snacks.”
“How does it work?” Loyal asked.
“After subscribing to the network, the account holder is sent several webcams for their refrigerator or a pantry or cupboard. They can rig the cameras themselves or schedule a home visit by a Snakstr installation tech to have the cameras set up. The webcams have a triggering mechanism. They record your activities whenever you open the refrigerator or pantry where they’re mounted. Those images are then posted on the Snakstr network. The point is to deter people from cheating on their diets by having a system in place that can automatically share every time they go for a snack.”
“Are all Snakstr video captures posted to the network?”
“No, the account holder can opt to keep them private. In that event, Snakstr functions less as a social network for dieters and more like a personal surveillance system.”
“It’s this latter function that the Snakstr system served for Mrs. Munch, is it not?” Loyal asked.
“Yes, that’s our assumption. The videos weren’t posted. They appear to have been intended by Mrs. Munch to spy on Mr. Munch.”
That disclosure got a laugh from everyone in the courtroom. I realized this wasn’t a good way to curry favor with Maxi, so I amended my answer.
“What I mean is that Mr. Munch appears to have a sweet tooth. We believe Mrs. Munch had the Snakstr system installed to dissuade her husband from overindulging on the treats in her bakery refrigerator. Because she cared about his health.” I glanced at Maxi, who smirked back at me.
“And this account remained active even after Mrs. Munch’s death?” Loyal asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“And it was capturing and storing surveillance video in the days leading up to the bake-off. Is that correct?”
“Yes, including July twelfth and thirteenth,” I said deliberately.
I noticed Loyal’s eye twitch at the mention of the July twelfth video. Mason had directed me to try mentioning it during my testimony for Loyal so that he could get me to elaborate on that video in his cross. I hoped that was enough because I doubted Loyal’s subsequent questions would be as open-ended.
“What event prompted your decision to review the Snakstr videos on Mrs. Munch’s account?”
“Mr. Munch’s poisoning prompted it.”
“And how did you gain access to them so quickly?” he asked.
“E.F. Armsby and Robert Lumski co-founded Snakstr, and they also co-own Steamy’s Tavern. I went to Steamy’s Saturday afternoon to see Mr. Armsby, a good friend of mine, on a different matter. Mr. Lumski was there, too. I told them what had just happened to Mr. Munch and that I suspected the sugar because I had gotten sick, too. And that’s when I remembered the Snakstr sticker on the bakery refrigerator and realized that there might be video surveillance that would help us determine who poisoned the sugar. Since I knew all the parties wanted to find out who had poisoned the sugar, I asked Mr. Lumski, a computer forensics expert himself, to help me review the videos.”
“What was significant about the videos you found for July thirteenth?” Loyal asked, emphasizing the date.
Mason had coached me not to hesitate in the least in disclosing that it was Chloe on that video. He said the jury would take cues from how I delivered this testimony. If I hesitated, it would suggest that we regarded the video as damaging, and we wanted to convey the opposite point—that the video proved Chloe’s innocence. So when Loyal asked me the question I’d been expecting, I turned to the jury and replied in a way that made it sound as though our discovery was the most normal thing in the world.
“We found a video from that afternoon that clearly shows the defendant, Chloe Owens holding her phone up to her ear, obviously talking to somebody, while putting a container into the refrigerator—the container that we now know had tainted sugar in it.”
Loyal smirked at me, apparently miffed that I had emphasized the phone. I’m sure he wanted the jury’s attention on a different set of clues—namely, that it was Ms. Owens in the bakery refrigerator with the poisoned sugar.
“I’d like to direct everyone’s attention to the monitors,” he said.
I watched the short segment of the video that Gizmo’s search engine had found for us on Saturday. By now, of course, I’d seen it at least thirty-six times. I had no expectation that the thirty-seventh time would be lucky for me.
“Ms. Braco, is this the video you discovered?”
“It is,” I said.
“Your Honor, I’d like the video along with Mr. Lumski’s report on its procurement to be entered into evidence as Commonwealth’s Exhibits F and G.”
“Noted,” Ota confirmed.
“Now, let’s be clear on something here, Ms. Braco,” Loyal continued. “You wanted to see the Snakstr videos from Mrs. Munch’s refrigerator because you were hoping to discover who poisoned the sugar, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you did, indeed, discover that it was the defendant, Chloe Owens, who poisoned the sugar, didn’t you?”
“No, I did not.”
“Come now, Ms. Braco. Doesn’t it stand to reason that the person who placed the sugar in the refrigerator was the one who poisoned the sugar?”
“Only if it had been Monica,” I said.
“It sounds like you’re trying to convince the jury that a video supporting your theory is true, but that one clearly showing the defendant leaving poisoned sugar in the victim’s home is false. Do you think the men and women of this jury are that gullible?”
“No, of course not. I’m just saying that a video showing Chloe putting the tainted sugar away raises more questions than it answers.”
“Don’t you agree it answers one important question?” Loyal addressed his next point to the jury. “Doesn’t it show us beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant was trying to poison Monica Munch?”
“No, I—”
“That’s okay, Ms. Braco,” Loyal interrupted. “We see it even if you can’t,” he said, patting my hand. “No further questions, Your Honor. Your witness,” he added with a nod to Mason.
16. An Unexpected Ingredient
I poured myself a glass of water and drank it as Mason scrolled through some notes on his tablet before approaching.
“Good morning, Ms. Braco.”
“Good morning,” I replied, already feeling calmer.
“Do you feel okay today? I know we rushed through that part of your testimony, but you were poisoned, too, on Friday. Is that right?”
Finally, a little T.L.C! I thought.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said aloud. “The symptoms lasted only a day, so I feel fine now. Thank you for asking.”
“Were you angry about being poisoned?”
Mason’s question took me off guard. It wasn’t one he had coached me on, so I just answered it honestly. “No, I—well, I guess I felt I deserved it. I used the ruse of wanting to borrow a cup of sugar as my cover story so that Maxi wouldn’t know that I’d just broken into her brother-in-law’s house to spy on them. I figured I had been hoisted by my own petard, if you know what I mean.”
“So you’re not mad at the person who poisoned the sugar?”
“No,” I said.
“And who do you think poisoned the sugar?” he asked.
“Monica Munch.”
Marvin hopped up to his feet in protest. “That’s a lie! My wife did no such thing!”
“Order!” Judge Ota called out, rapping hard on his gavel. “Mr. Munch, I appreciate that you’ve been through a lot, but I won’t tolerate any outbursts today. One more, and I’ll put you back in lockup like I did last Friday.”
Marvin plopped down dejectedly.
I felt compelled to soften my response, so I looked at him and said, “I mean no disrespect to her memory. And I don’t blame Monica for any of this, I really don’t. I think she just wanted to win,” I added, looking at Mason.
“Ms. Braco, you’ve been investigating this case from the beginning. You interviewed the defendant Chloe Owens as a person of interest, and you conducted surveillance on Mrs. Munch’s husband and sister. You’ve argued that none of these three individuals is responsible for Mrs. Munch’s death and Mr. Kirkland’s poisoning. Could you please explain to the jury why you now believe Mrs. Munch herself poisoned the rhubarb that killed her and that put Mr. Kirkland in a coma?”
“Objection, exceeds the scope of my direct,” Loyal said.
“I’m simply trying to determine whether Ms. Braco’s judgment is clouded, as my esteemed colleague argued in his direct examination of this witness,” Mason countered.
“Overruled,” Ota said.
“Based on my investigation, I believe it all started with the cooking diaries that Dr. Moffit mentioned in her testimony. She said they had been a long-standing tradition among the Moffit women who cooked. Monica inherited a collection of journals from her aunt, Charity-Grace Banks, nearly thirty years ago. I saw them at the Munch house the night I broke in.”
“Objection, Your Honor. Evidence obtained during the commission of an illegal act is inadmis . . .” Loyal broke off with an almost pained expression on his face, obviously realizing his mistake.
“Sit down, Mr. Bingham,” Ota said, waving his hand at Loyal. “As you no doubt just remembered, that ship sailed when you agreed not to file charges against Ms. Braco.”
“Judge,” Mason continued, “at this time, I’d like to submit—as Defense Exhibit A—this copy of pages from one of the diaries. Ms. Braco, are these images you captured on your smartphone that night?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you think they were relevant?”
Loyal stood up again. “Objection, Your Honor—at this point, Mr. Tidwell’s cross is well and truly beyond the scope of my examination.”
“As I recall,” Ota began, “you granted Ms. Braco immunity on the break-in because you wanted to hear the results of her investigation. Now’s your chance, Mr. Bingham. Overruled.” The judge turned to me. “You can answer the question, Ms. Braco.”
“I considered the diaries relevant because of the information they contained about rhubarb in a section called ‘Tasty but Deadly.’ Monica’s paternal grandmother, Enid Moffit, wrote those diaries in the early part of the last century. She documented that during “the Great War” (World War I, to us), several American soldiers died from eating salads made from rhubarb leaves. One page was folded over, and I noticed that the words ‘oxalic acid’ had been written in the margin by Monica.”
“Did you have the handwriting analyzed?” Mason asked.
“No, but it clearly matches other samples of her writing, especially her habit of drawing smiley faces in the O’s—or in this case, a frowny face in the ‘O’ for oxalic,” I added.
A couple of the jurors chuckled.
“And what conclusion did you draw from this?”
“About the smileys?” I asked confused.
“No, about the rhubarb pages from the cooking diary?”
“Oh, that Monica was aware that rhubarb leaves were poisonous and had done enough research to learn at some point that the toxic substance was oxalic acid. I also think the diaries might have given her the idea.”
“What idea?” Mason asked.
“Well,” I began, “as Mr. Munch previously testified, early in June, Monica was at the farmers’ market at the same time as Chloe. They overheard Chloe telling Jeff Woo that she was planning to make a rhubarb dessert for the Millsferry Annual Bake-Off. And it was clear from that conversation that she was just learning about rhubarb. We surmise that by this point, Monica knew from the diaries that the leaves were poisonous. It may have also occurred to her that someone new to rhubarb might not know that the leaves were poisonous. After all, Mr. Munch said his wife was critical of Chloe for using rhubarb for the first time in a dessert she’d be presenting at the bake-off. So if you’re Monica and you want to discredit your rival, what better way to do it than by tainting the food your rival is using for the first time and which she may not know is partially poisonous. We actually have evidence suggesting that Monica obtained rhubarb leaves. We suspect she boiled them to extract the toxin she used to taint Chloe’s dessert.”
“What evidence, specifically?” Mason asked.
“Well, when we started watching the Snakstr videos, I asked Mr. Lumski to begin by reviewing videos from July 12.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Loyal interjected. “Scope.”
“Judge,” Mason countered, “the prosecution brought up the Snakstr videos. And in her testimony, Ms. Braco clearly stated that she found significant videos for both the twelfth and the thirteenth.”
“Over
ruled,” Ota declared.
Pushing his luck, Mason asked, “What was significant about the twelfth?”
“Objection. Scope,” Loyal tried again, with a little less enthusiasm.
“Latitude, Judge?” Mason requested. “The witness has already testified to the existence of an important video dated July 12. I’d like to establish a context for this video. Plus we’re still exploring the basis for Ms. Braco’s conclusions so that the jury can determine if her judgment is clouded or whether it has merit.”
“I’ll allow it,” Ota said. “Objection overruled.”
This was the opening Mason had wanted, and it was my cue to tell the jury about the rhubarb leaves Monica got from Woo.
“We had learned from Jeff Woo that, on the twelfth, someone matching Monica’s general description picked up several bags of rhubarb leaves from his truck at the farmers’ market. My partner checked parking and traffic cameras from that place and time and found an image of the person matching the description Mr. Woo provided.”
Mason pulled up the picture in question.
“Is this the image you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Judge, we’re submitting this as Defense Exhibit B. It’s a little fuzzy, Ms. Braco. Why did you decide this was Monica?”
“Well, at first we actually thought it might be Maxine Moffit. At that time, we were exploring the possibility that she was having an affair with her brother-in-law. Jeff Woo, the produce vendor with the rhubarb leaves, said he spoke with the woman, and that she had a thick southern accent, which both Monica and Maxi had, have, er . . . had and have, respectively.”
“Those verb tenses are a bear, aren’t they?” Mason quipped.
I think I blushed.
“Okay, any other reason you decided this was Monica?” Mason continued.
“Well, when we reviewed the Snakstr videos, we pulled up one from July 12, the same day this mystery person picked up the leaves. What we found was a video showing the person matching this description storing what we’ve identified as rhubarb leaves in Monica Munch’s bakery refrigerator.”
“Would you please look at your monitor and confirm that this is the video you mean?” Mason played the recording.
