The afternoon was taken up with Jefferson’s testimony of the murder of Jimmy Oliver. As they had done with all of the victims, one of the first things Harris did was to get the photo of Oliver’s body as it was found on the TV screen. And as they had done with the previous victims, the photo stayed up on the screen throughout Jefferson’s testimony.
When the picture of Jimmy’s bloody corpse nailed to the fence in the alley went on the screen, Marc was closely watching the jury. He saw a subtle but noticeable change in their demeanor.
They had clearly demonstrated shock and obvious revulsion with the very first photo, the one of Rhea Watson displayed in her basement. With each subsequent one, the jurors became less and less disturbed by the image. Jimmy Oliver’s bloody body barely created a stir. Most of the jurors looked at it with an almost indifferent, impassive expression. Very likely each of them had seen much worse images on TV and in the movies many times.
Jefferson’s testimony of the Jimmy Oliver murder was the longest and most detailed of all. He very thoroughly described all of it including timing his walk from Tooley’s to Howie Traynor’s apartment. He admitted the surveillance team at Howie’s apartment had checked and found Howie home. But he emphasized how easily he made it from Tooley’s to Howie’s implying Howie could have done it himself no problem.
Jefferson also spent quite a bit of time detailing the relationship between the two men. He made a special effort to tell the jury that it was the confession of Jimmy Oliver that led to the arrest of Howie Traynor for the murder of Lucille Benson and how frightened of Howie Jimmy Oliver had been because of it. Harris had decided not to have Jefferson testify about the meeting the two former burglary partners had during which Howie assured Jimmy he forgave him for giving him up to the police for the Benson murder. Even though this conversation between Jimmy and Howie was clearly exculpatory and should have been given to Marc, Slocum had ordered Harris to withhold it. Harris did not believe that Marc could know this and did not want to give it to him to use.
Jefferson finished his testimony regarding Jimmy Oliver with the discovery of the three hairs on Oliver’s body. Once again the lawyers were called to the bench and Koch again warned Harris not to bring up any test results.
Harris finished his direct-exam of the detective shortly before five o’clock. Koch called the lawyers to the bench and asked Marc if he wanted to start his cross-examination. Marc would have liked to do so. It would have been a good idea to leave the jury with some points from the defense to consider that evening. The judge made it clear she wanted to adjourn and start in the morning and Marc reluctantly agreed.
FIFTY-ONE
Madeline Rivers parked her Audi in the restaurant lot. Marc had sent her a text asking her to meet him and suggested this faux French Bistro in Edina. While driving into the parking area she had seen Marc’s SUV. Now she sat staring through the window thinking about their relationship.
Maddy had known Marc since shortly after arriving in Minneapolis from Chicago. Their mutual friend, Tony Carvelli, had introduced them and Maddy worked for Marc on several cases since then and developed a deep, almost loving friendship. In fact, Maddy did love Marc in the same way she would a close, older brother. And she knew he felt the same way toward her.
Something in the back of her mind was telling her this meeting was a problem. Maddy knew what was bothering her and she felt rotten about it. For the first time the two of them were on opposite sides of a case. Because of her involvement with the surveillance of Howie Traynor, Maddy had a conflict of interest and could not work for Marc. If she had known helping Carvelli was going to cause this, she certainly would have declined, she believed. On the other hand turning Tony and Vivian Donahue down would have been difficult, to say the least.
Maddy entered through the front door and before the hostess got to her, she saw Marc. He was seated in a booth at the far end of the crowded bar waiting for her. He waved at her and a few seconds later she sat down opposite him.
“Hi,” he smiled, “how are you?”
“I’m good,” she answered a bit cautiously. “How’s the trial?”
“Just starting,” he answered.
“Marc, I’m so sorry I can’t…”
“Stop. We’ve been through this. It’s okay.”
The waiter arrived and Maddy ordered a glass of house wine. Marc declined, still sipping a small glass of beer.
“It’s getting late,” Marc said after looking at his watch. “After nine and I need to get home and get a good night’s sleep.”
The waiter reappeared with Maddy’s drink. Despite the obvious age difference, the young man hovered around her a lot longer than was necessary.
“That’s why I wanted to see you,” Marc said when the young man left. “I have to cross-examine Owen Jefferson tomorrow and your name is going to come up. It can’t be avoided.”
When he said this, Maddy’s shoulders visibly slumped, her heart sank a bit and she swallowed a large gulp of wine.
“I figured something like that,” she said.
“Madeline, I’ll do everything I can to protect you but I have to defend my client.”
“Marc,” she leaned forward and whispered, “I told you what I did in confidence. Now you’re going to use it?”
“Maddy, I wasn’t your lawyer,” Marc defensively answered her. “I’m Howie’s lawyer and yes, I have to use it.”
“It sucks,” she said as she sulkily sat back.
The unspoken between them was the fact that Maddy had committed a felony going into Howie’s apartment. If it came to light, she could go to jail for it and would certainly lose her P.I. license.
An awkward minute of silence passed between them. Maddy glared at Marc while he fidgeted with his almost empty glass.
“You know you’re on both witness lists, don’t you?”
“I am?” she asked genuinely surprised.
“Have you been served a subpoena by the prosecution?”
“No.”
“Well, you’ll love this,” Marc said as he reached inside his suit coat and removed a single page of paper. It was folded in thirds and he placed it on the table. With a single finger he slid it across the table to her.
“Madeline Rivers, you’ve just been served by the defendant. Keep yourself available.”
Maddy stared at it without speaking or touching it for almost thirty seconds. Finally, she picked it up, unfolded it and read it over.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked as she refolded it and placed it in her shoulder bag.
“I hope not... yes,” Marc quietly said.
“I have to go, I have to go,” she said as she swallowed what was left of her wine, grabbed her bag and stood up.
While he watched her hurry through the crowd, ignoring the gawking men, Marc quietly said to himself, “Sometimes I really hate this goddamn job.”
The waiter reappeared and Marc told him he did not want anything else. Just as the young man was leaving, Marc stopped him and ordered a shot of Jack Daniels and a beer chaser.
On his way out of the office for the evening, Craig Slocum stopped at Tommy Harris’ door and went in without knocking. Harris was at his desk working but set aside what he was doing when Slocum sat down.
“How did things go today?” Slocum asked.
“Good,” Harris replied. “I finished my direct of Jefferson. We got in everything we could from him. The judge wouldn’t let him testify about the hair samples but I expected that.”
“She wouldn’t let him talk about them at all?” Slocum asked.
“No, no. He testified about them being found on Meyers and Oliver and that he took them to the BCA. She wouldn’t let him tell the jury what the test results were.”
“Oh, okay, sure,” Slocum said.
“The jury got it, though. They know what the DNA results were. Plus, I told them about it in my opening statement. They know. We’ll get a couple of the techs to testify.”
“Did Jefferson testify about the
doctored DNA test that was used to help convict Traynor thirteen years ago?”
“Sure, we need it for motive, remember?” Harris said.
“What about the evidence found in Traynor’s apartment?” Slocum asked.
“Jefferson identified all of it. He even told the jury that he was there and saw the cop use that board walkway to cross from Traynor’s building to the next one. The jury now knows Traynor could have easily evaded the surveillance.”
Slocum sat quietly for a moment staring at Harris’ vanity wall behind his desk. The wall had his diplomas and admission to the bar proudly displayed.
“What about the ex-cop, Carvelli and the female P.I. Madeline Rivers?” he asked. “Are you planning on calling them?”
“No, I agree with you. We can’t call them. It will look like we sent them into Traynor’s building to find evidence for us. Let Kadella bring it up. Jefferson will deny it. He’s a highly decorated police officer and he did a great job. He makes an excellent witness.”
“And if Kadella puts them on the stand?”
“Then they go to jail for breaking and entering. But we can legitimately claim they did it on their own, that the cops didn’t put them up to it and it doesn’t hurt our case.”
After dinner, such as it is in jail, Howie Traynor settled into a chair to watch a rerun of Melinda Pace’s show. It was being repeated following the six o’clock news. When it came on one of the other guests of Hennepin County stood up to change the channel.
“We already watched this bitch this afternoon,” the bald man said as he reached a tattoo covered arm toward the TV.
“Leave it,” Howie quietly, firmly commanded. Howie was seated in the middle of the third row of chairs. None of the other inmates were sitting within four chairs of him. He was watching Melinda do her intro and ignored the beefy, bald man.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man said to Howie as he turned toward him. Before Howie could answer, another inmate, a friend of the tattoo covered troublemaker, stood and whispered something in the man’s ear. When he finished, the man grunted, sneered at Howie and said, “Whatever.” Then he sat down in the front row.
The entire twenty-two minutes of airtime of Melinda’s show was devoted to Jefferson’s testimony. Locally the media had labeled this the most recent Trial of the Century and it garnered significant national attention as well.
Seated next to Melinda for the first half of the show was Gabriella Shriqui. Being the professional that she was, Gabriella completely suppressed her total contempt for the show’s host. To watch the two of them interact would lead you to believe they were good friends.
When Gabriella’s presence was initially televised, the crowd in the county jail, being the PC sensitive types they were, let forth with a number of lewd comments. The one with the biggest, most foul-mouth was the one who had tried to change the channel.
Because Gabriella had been in the courtroom for Jefferson’s testimony, she would serve as a substitute camera to explain in detail the day’s events. During their discussion, an artist’s rendition of the scene was put up on the screen for three different parts of the testimony.
During the second half of the show, Melinda had a former prosecuting attorney on the air. Her name was Denise Flagler. Melinda did everything she could to get Flagler to say Howie was guilty but she refused to go there. Instead, she reminded Melinda and her audience that the trial had a long way to go.
Later that night, a few minutes before lights out, Howie went into the bathroom to prepare for bed. The gorilla who had wanted to change the channel on the television saw him and followed him. There were three other men in there who scurried out as quickly as they could. Less than two minutes later, Howie laid down on his cot and within minutes he was sound asleep. The tattoo-covered moron was found by a deputy and spent the next three days handcuffed to a bed at the Hennepin County Medical center. None of the inmates would testify to anything.
FIFTY-TWO
Marc knocked softly on the conference room door, quietly opened it and looked inside. A deputy told him Howie and the priest were inside waiting for him. Realizing they might be privately conferring, Marc did not want to unnecessarily disrupt or startle them. He found the two men seated at the small round table.
“Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession,” Marc heard Howie say. “I feel better already.”
Father John placed his right hand gently on Howie’s shoulder and said, “Confession is always good for the soul,” the priest replied.
Hearing the word “confession” being used, the lawyer in Marc quickly went on alert. Even though the priest could not be forced to testify about anything a penitent confessed to him, confession was not a word a defense lawyer ever wanted to hear.
“Good morning, Marc,” Father John amiably said. He stood up, shook hands with Marc and continued, “I’ll leave you two alone to converse.”
The priest left and Marc closed the door behind him. He pulled out the chair opposite Howie and said, “Should I ask what it was you confessed to?”
Howie hesitated for a moment then sheepishly turned his head away from his lawyer and said, “I, ah, got in a fight, um, last night. One of the other inmates came after me in the bathroom.”
Relieved, Marc said, “So you defended yourself…”
“Yes, I couldn’t escape,” Howie quickly agreed. “The old me took over and I hurt the man. He’s in the hospital. I didn’t mean to, I just…”
“Did the guards talk to you?”
“No, this man is a troublemaker and I don’t think anyone really cares what happened.”
“Okay,” Marc said. “Keep quiet about it and let’s move on.”
The morning session would be starting shortly. Marc went over what was coming up and reminded Howie to remain calm and maintain an impassive look and demeanor.
Owen Jefferson sat down on the witness stand and Judge Koch politely reminded him he was still under oath. Tommy Harris had completed his questioning of the detective yesterday afternoon. It was now Marc’s turn.
Before he asked his first question, Marc requested and was granted, permission to approach the witness. On his way to the witness stand Marc dropped a document in front of Harris. He then handed a copy to Jefferson and one to Judge Koch. By the time Marc returned to his chair, Harris was on his feet.
“Your Honor, we object to this document being admitted into evidence as irrelevant and immaterial.”
“May we approach, your Honor?” Marc asked.
“Yes,” Koch said waving them to come forward while she reviewed the document. When the three lawyers assembled in front of her she hit the white noise privacy button and asked Marc, “What is this?”
“It’s the autopsy report of Judge Robert Smith, murdered up by Bemidji,” Marc replied.
“He’s not charged with this crime,” Harris interjected.
“Judge, their case hinges on the defendant evading their surveillance by somehow escaping from his building across the roof. I have the right to try to poke some holes in that theory. The murder of Judge Smith is relevant for that purpose. Plus, they opened the door when the witness testified about the method and cause of death being the same.”
Koch considered it for a moment then said, “All right, I’ll let you question the witness abut Judge Smith for that purpose only.”
The lawyers retreated to their respective tables and Koch overruled the prosecution’s objection.
“Detective Jefferson,” Marc began, “I have given you an autopsy report from Beltrami County. Do you recognize this document?”
“Yes, I have seen it before,” Jefferson answered.
“It is the autopsy report of the murder of Judge Robert Smith at his lake home outside Bemidji, isn’t it?” Marc asked.
“Yes, it appears to be,” Jefferson agreed.
“On the front page, I have highlighted the date of his death. Please read that to the jury.”
Jefferson told the jury what it was.
“Th
at was before Rhea Watson, the first murder my client is charged with, is it not?”
“Yes,” Jefferson agreed.
“You personally received a copy of this report along with a copy of the police report of Judge Smith’s murder the day after it happened did you not?”
“Yes.”
“And you read through it that day?” Marc knew this because Tony Carvelli had told him this.
“Yes.”
“Judge Smith, according to these reports, was found seated between two trees, his arms extended, his hands nailed to those trees and his fingers and toes were crushed, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And his killer had planted a crown of barbed wire thorns on his head?”
“Objection,” Harris said. “This witness has no personal knowledge of who placed the barbed wire on this victim’s head.” It was a foolish objection and Marc had to suppress a smile.
“Sustained,” Koch ruled.
“I’ll rephrase, your Honor,” Marc said. “Isn’t it true that according to the report you read, Judge Smith had a barbed wire crown of thorns on his head when his body was found?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Without getting into the technical medical terms, isn’t it true that the cause of death was loss of blood due to his throat being slit from ear-to-ear?”
“Yes, that’s also true.”
“When you arrived at the scene of Rhea Watson’s death, isn’t it true you saw her body in her basement, sitting with her back to the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Her arms were spread, her hands nailed to the wall, her body covered in blood, her fingers and toes crushed and a barbed wire crown of thorns on her head exactly like Judge Smith?”
“Yes, she was,” Jefferson agreed.
“And Detective Jefferson,” Marc began more softly, “isn’t it also true that the moment you saw her you thought of the report you had read about Judge Smith?”
“Well maybe not the instant I saw her but it did occur to me.”
Certain Justice Page 32
