Marc held up a knife, received permission to approach the witness and gave it to Briggs. A couple of quick questions and he identified it as the knife he tested that matched the garage rope.
“Is it possible the river rope could have been cut from the garage rope with a different knife or scissors than the one you found?”
“Of course,” Briggs answered. “It seems a little odd…”
“Objection, speculation,” Hart said.
“He’s been qualified as an expert, your Honor,” Marc said.
“Yeah, but, he’s straying a little far off here. I’m going to sustain.”
Having scored about all he could with the rope, Marc moved on to the trunk of Brittany’s car. Briggs main point was to let the jury know because of how much cinderblock residue there was in the trunk and that it was spread throughout, there had to be several blocks in there and not just one. He had to admit that there could have been several in the trunk some time before and then a single one later.
The most damaging testimony by the defense expert was regarding Becky’s blanket, pajamas and the river rope. There was absolutely no residue of any of these items in Brittany’s trunk. Briggs was absolutely adamant that there would be. Maybe not all three but at least one of them.
“Why didn’t you have an autopsy performed, Dr. Briggs?”
“Autopsies aren’t cheap. They will run at least five thousand dollars. Given the condition of the remains and the fact the state’s medical examiner was unable to determine a cause of death, it seemed unlikely that a second autopsy would be very helpful.”
They took the morning break and then Hart conducted the state’s cross exam of Briggs. Hart was very thorough and did an excellent job of going over, in great detail, every possible negative admission to be made of Briggs testimony. The problem she had was that there was really nothing new to bring out. No surprises for the jury. Everything she went over had already been testified to during his direct exam. When she finished, Marc didn’t bother to re-direct.
Marc’s next three witnesses, in order were Brittany’s aunt and uncle, Charlotte and John Daniels and her brother Timothy Riley. None of them had anything to offer regarding the question of guilt or innocence. None had anything to say about any evidence or exhibits. What they did offer was more testimony about the police and prosecutor’s investigation.
Each of them had been brought into the sheriff’s department at least twice for an interview. They all testified that, as with everyone the sheriff’s department interviewed, it was obvious what they were seeking. They were determined to find people who knew Brittany to testify that she was a bad mother.
Both of the Daniels testified that the police were almost obsessed by it. No matter how many times they told the detectives that they had never seen anything to indicate Brittany was a bad parent, the police would not let it alone. John Daniels even testified he became so tired of it that, on one occasion, he finally just got up and left.
With the Daniels, Hart made a little bit of a score by getting them to admit they did not see Brittany very often to underscore that their knowledge of Brittany as a parent was somewhat limited. It sounded a little weak, even to Hart.
Tim Riley went over the same basic theme during his direct exam also. Tim should have been more credible since he personally saw his sister and niece several times a week, except Tim had a more difficult time with Vanderbeck’s cross exam. Even though Marc had anticipated it and brought it out on direct, Tim still spent a long half hour being humiliated with his drug abuse history. Marc objected several times and Connors finally called a halt to it. But, again, the state was unable to elicit any damaging testimony about Brittany as a mother.
The remainder of the day was taken up by Floyd and Barbara Riley. They too had been hounded by the investigators attempts to have them make claims that Brittany was a bad mother. Both of them had been interviewed multiple times allegedly for various things but the discussion always came back to Brittany’s parenting.
Marc also had Floyd testify about the cinderblocks and rope. He could not recall where the rope came from or why he had it. Like almost every garage in America, there are any number of things in them that the owner could not recall where they came from or how they ended up in the garage.
Floyd did remember the cinderblocks. He specifically remembered buying them at a local large box hardware-type store, Menard’s. He was even able to remember the approximate date when they were purchased and testified he had to make two separate purchases of them. He also specifically remembered buying several extra ones in case they were needed. When Marc asked him why he didn’t return them, he merely shrugged and told the jury it wasn’t worth the bother. They weren’t very expensive and he kept them in case he might need them for repairs to the wall he built around the patio.
The most significant and helpful part of Barbara’s testimony was her admission that the life insurance policy taken out on Becky was Barbara’s idea. The premiums, including the investment portion were barely eighty dollars a month. It could be used for college or whatever Becky wanted. If she wanted to keep it, the premium would never increase and she would have a couple of million dollars to retire on at age sixty five. It was an excellent investment. While explaining to the jury that the insurance policy was for her granddaughter’s future, Barbara had to stop three or four times to maintain her composure and not break down.
It was Hart’s job to cross examine them. Since the cross is supposed to be limited to what was brought out during the direct exam, and the fact that Barbara had testified for the state already, there wasn’t much that would be helpful to the prosecution.
SIXTY FOUR
When Marc arrived for court on Monday morning, the prosecution team was already there. Seeing a prosecutor in court this early made Marc’s mental alarm bell go off. Something was up and it wasn’t likely a good thing. Before Marc could place his briefcase on the table, Vanderbeck was next to him.
“We need to see the judge,” Vanderbeck said.
“What about?”
Vanderbeck looked quickly at Hart who flipped a hand at Vanderbeck and said, “Tell him. He has every right to know.”
“We’re going to ask the judge to allow us to reopen our case. He’s waiting for us,” Vanderbeck curtly said as he walked off toward the door to the back hallway.
Marc and Danica Hart walked together trailing Vanderbeck. Marc asked her, “What’s this about?”
A clearly frustrated Hart said, “It’s not my idea. Talk to him.”
All three lawyers stood in front of Judge Connors desk while Vanderbeck began. “Your Honor, the state requests that we be allowed to reopen our case in chief.”
Before Marc could object, Connors held up a hand to him and politely said, “Let’s hear him out first, Marc.”
“Judge, it is obvious she must have had an accomplice, someone to help her dispose of the body. We believe we should be entitled to a recess and an opportunity to reopen our case to pursue this theory. It was the defense that rushed this case to trial. We believe if we had been given adequate time to investigate we would have found him or her.”
“You didn’t find Bob Olson but you believe you would have found this mysterious accomplice?” Marc asked.
“There is no Bob Olson. That’s a lie and you know it,” Vanderbeck hotly said while Hart’s eyes narrowed. Marc’s brow furrowed and he took on a clearly angered expression. With this response from Marc, Vanderbeck took a step back realizing he had gone too far.
Marc, thoroughly fed up with the arrogant assistant Attorney General, took a step toward Vanderbeck and snarled, “You’re accusing me of suborning perjury? You might want to be a little careful here, buster.”
“I didn’t mean that…” Vanderbeck stammered looking at Connors for help.
“All right you two. Lowell, he has a point. Be careful who you accuse of something that serious.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean that.”
“Do you have any
evidence, anything at all, pointing to a specific person who may have been involved?” Connors asked.
“Not at this time, but…”
“Then there will be no mention, not a word about it in front of that jury. Am I understood?”
“Your Honor,” Vanderbeck began. “She had to have had help. That is the only rational explanation…”
“You had your chance. You had the same opportunity to investigate that he did. Allowing you to reopen now would be reversible error and I won’t do it. End of discussion.”
As the three lawyers were leaving the judge’s chambers, Vanderbeck in the lead, Marc gently took Hart’s arm and whispered, “What the hell was that all about? He had to know it would be denied.”
“I don’t know,” Hart replied. “He told me about it this morning, too. I told him it was bullshit but he didn’t care.”
“Why do I get the feeling I don’t trust him?”
“No comment,” Hart said.
“The defense calls Cory Graham,” Marc said.
A young man, in his mid-twenties, took the stand wearing a short sleeve white shirt buttoned to the throat and khaki slacks. The only thing missing to complete the picture was a plastic pen holder in his shirt pocket.
He croaked out his name and occupation, a techie in the IT department at Menards.
“You seem a little nervous,” Marc said. “Have you ever testified in a trial before?”
“Um, no sir. I ah, have not,” he replied.
“Relax,” Marc said. “Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine. We just need a little information from you okay?”
“Yes,” he said feeling a little better.
“Menards was served with a subpoena requesting some records you have, is that correct?” This is a leading question but before Vanderbeck could stand to object, Hart grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Yes. I was told by my boss to find any receipts we had for purchases of cinderblocks by a customer, Floyd Riley.”
“Did you find any?”
“Yes, two.”
Marc received permission to approach and carried two clear plastic evidence bags, each with a single slip of paper in them, to the witness. He went through the routine of having him identify them and testify to their contents. One was a receipt for the purchase of one hundred sixty cinderblocks and the second one was dated three weeks later for an additional twenty six for a total of one hundred and eighty six. He then testified he did a search of every purchase made on the Rileys’ credit card and found no other purchases for cinderblocks.
Hart, speaking for the state, had no questions. A greatly relieved Cory Graham fled as quickly as he could.
Marc called the Rileys’ neighbor, Marty Wilson. He took the stand, gave his name, address and occupation; retired, and explained he and his wife lived next door to the Rileys. Marc took some time hearing him explain his relationship with the Rileys, especially Brittany. Since their own four children were all grown and gone, they had become close to both the Riley children, especially Brittany.
He testified about being interviewed by the investigators and that they were mostly interested in Brittany as a mother. Like everyone else called to testify, Wilson had nothing but positive things to say about Brittany and her relationship with Becky.
“In your heart of hearts, Mr. Wilson, having known Brittany Riley since she was a small child,” Marc placed his left hand on Brittany’s right arm, “do you believe she could have done this?”
“Objection,” Hart said standing. “This witness is hardly qualified to give such an opinion.”
“He’s known her almost her entire life…” Marc began.
“Overruled. The witness can answer and the jury can give it whatever weight they want. You may answer, sir.”
“Not in a million years could I believe that.”
“Have you ever helped Floyd Riley with any projects around his house?”
“Sure, in fact I helped him put up his cinderblock wall around his patio.”
“If you know, why were there two separate purchases of the cinderblocks?”
“We screwed up our calculations so we had to make a second purchase.”
“How were the cinderblocks delivered, do you know?”
“Sure. Menards delivered the first big batch, I forget how many. Then, to save the cost of delivery, we picked up the second batch.”
“Was Brittany’s car used?”
“Yes, we put several of the bricks in her trunk. We also used my pickup and Floyd’s van.
“Mr. Wilson, a few weeks ago, I asked you and your wife Elaine to perform a task for me. Did you do that?”
“Yes, we both did, separately just as you asked.”
“Explain to the jury what that was.”
“Well, it was simple enough. I went over to the Rileys’ and counted all of the blocks we used to put up their patio wall. I counted them twice just to be sure.”
“How many were there?”
“Both times I counted exactly one hundred and eighty.”
Marc approached him and handed him the plastic bags with the Menards receipts. He had Wilson again verify the number purchased and compared it with the number used to build the wall.
“How many cinderblocks were left over?”
“Must have been six. I remember there were a few. I helped Floyd put them in the garage.”
“To be clear,” Marc said, “there were one hundred and eighty cinderblocks used to build the wall and six left over?”
“That would be correct.” Wilson agreed.
Elaine Wilson testified next and basically parroted what her husband had said. She was also allowed to give her opinion about Brittany’s ability to kill Becky over Hart’s objection. She had counted the cinderblocks twice herself and came up with the same number as her husband.
On cross exam, Hart tried to get both of them to admit they loved Brittany Riley as a daughter to which they both agreed. Then she tried to get them to admit they would say anything to protect her. Again, they both agreed they likely would.
Marc had prepared them for this and on re-direct, he had them testify that even though they would help her, they were telling the truth.
When the court broke for lunch, Hart stepped over to Marc and said, “We’re going to go count those bricks on that wall.”
Marc smiled and said, “I knew you would. That’s why I counted them myself. One eighty it is.”
“Shit,” a disappointed Hart muttered.
The entire afternoon session was taken up by Brittany’s treating psychiatrist, Dr. Lorraine McDowell. They went through the usual routine of placing her credentials on the record and before the jury then moved into the substance of her testimony. The doctor spent a good deal of time rebutting the state’s expert regarding PTSD.
“She’s not suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder,” McDowell stated. “She is suffering from depression due to the death of her child. Also, the media, both locally and nationally have basically labeled her a monster for committing infanticide.”
“In your opinion, how is she holding up?” Marc asked.
“Pretty well, all things considered. Between the depression and the fear, stress and anxiety she’s dealing with, she’s doing well. I see these same symptoms in cancer patients, to give you some idea of what it’s like.”
“Objection, your Honor. Relevance,” Vanderbeck said.
“Overruled but move it along Mr. Kadella.”
“During the course of your treatment of Brittany Riley, did the two of you discuss the ten day period when Becky was missing and her failure to report it?”
“Yes, we did, at length.”
“And, doctor, did you form a professional opinion about why she failed to report her daughter’s abduction?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Explain to the jury what your opinion is.”
“To be blunt, she’s terrified of her mother, Barbara.”
With little prompting from Marc, McDowell spent almost an
hour going over the history of the Riley family. McDowell gave the jury a full and complete picture of the dysfunctional Rileys and Barbara’s treatment of Brittany since childhood. Brittany was simply afraid to disappoint her mother. Having known ahead of time what was coming, Marc had warned Barbara not to be in court, to which she had reluctantly agreed.
Marc then walked her through the events of those ten days. It was McDowell’s opinion that Brittany was simply lying to keep Becky’s abduction from Barbara and was in fact, trying to find her daughter and get her back. The socializing with her friends was all part of her attempt to convince her family, her friends and even herself that everything was fine and Becky would be home and no one would be the wiser.
Vanderbeck handled the cross exam and he was going to try to diminish her and prop up his own psychiatric expert, especially regarding PTSD. Marc had anticipated this and had set up Vanderbeck knowing his arrogance would get in his way.
“So, you don’t believe the defendant snapped because of PTSD, doctor?”
“I don’t believe she killed her daughter at all.”
“You don’t believe she was suffering from PTSD, isn’t that true?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Have you taught any courses or written any papers on PTSD, doctor?”
“No, I have not.”
“You’re not an expert on PTSD, are you doctor?”
“Well,” she started out slowly, “I have treated almost two hundred patients with PTSD…”
“Nonresponsive,” an almost panicky Vanderbeck said to Judge Connors.
“You opened the door. You may as well finish your answer, doctor.”
“As I was saying. I work with the VA hospital in Minneapolis and have treated almost two hundred PTSD patients, some going back to the Viet Nam war. I may not have written any papers but I do have a bit of experience with PTSD patients.”
Media Justice Page 41
