“This is preposterous,” Slocum loudly proclaimed, trying to assert his authority.
“This is my courtroom, Mr. Slocum. You will speak only when I want you to. Mr. Harris represents the state here, not you,” Koch admonished him.
Slocum owed her an apology but his ego would not allow it. Instead, he stood silently at the gate glaring back at the impertinent judge.
Ignoring him, Judge Koch rapped her gavel and said, “Recess. I’ll see counsel in chambers.” As she stood she indicated to the court reporter that he was to attend also. Slocum began to come through the gate to follow the lawyers into chambers. Koch was on her feet and saw him. “Have a seat, Mr. Slocum,” she said indicating a chair behind the prosecution table. Slocum grumbled under his breath as he sat down.
Once the reporter was set up and ready, Koch began by asking Marc, “Okay, Mr. Kadella, what are you up to?” Koch was seated at her desk still in her robes, the lawyers arrayed in the chairs before her. Harris was obviously still steaming and Marc inwardly smiling.
“Your Honor,” Marc began, “my client is fighting for his life. I have reason to believe that the county attorney has abused his authority in an effort to circumvent justice and…”
“That’s a lie!” Harris burst out.
“That’s an accusation you had better be prepared to back up with evidence, Mr. Harris,” an angry Judge Koch said staring harshly at him. “Do you have such evidence?”
“I’m sorry, your Honor,” Harris meekly said. “I apologize to both the Court and Mr. Kadella.”
For the next several minutes Koch heard the lawyers, in turn, make their arguments for and against allowing the county attorney to testify. When they were done Koch sat silently for a full minute. Her hands were together as if in prayer on which she lightly rested her chin. She looked past the silent lawyers apparently thinking over her decision.
The judge put her hands down. Looked at Marc and said, “I’ll allow this but you’d better have something. Do I make myself clear?”
“Your Honor!” Harris tried to protest but was cutoff when Koch held up a hand to stop him.
“Yes, your Honor,” Marc replied.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.
As the lawyers were filing out of the judge’s chambers, Marc whispered to Harris, “What’s the matter Tommy, got something to hide?”
Slocum was sworn in and took the witness stand. No longer angry, his arrogance took over. Dressed in a two-thousand dollar three piece suit, he fiddled with the knot on his hand-painted silk tie while smugly waiting for Marc to begin, all the while allowing himself to believe that he would make a fool out of Kadella.
“Please state your name and occupation,” Koch told him.
“Craig T. Slocum. I am the duly elected county attorney for Hennepin County, Minnesota,” he said.
“You may begin,” Koch told Marc.
“Mr. Slocum,” Marc politely began, “As the county attorney you are the chief law enforcement officer for Hennepin County are you not?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You must have at least a hundred lawyers working for you in the various departments, don’t you?”
“Objection, relevance, your honor,” Harris said.
“Overruled.”
“More than that, actually,” Slocum replied.
“How many cases do you personally try each year?”
“Well, my duties are such that…”
“Nonresponsive,” Marc said to Judge Koch.
“Answer the question,” Koch said. “How many cases do you try yourself each year?”
“None lately,” he admitted.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Slocum, you have not tried a single case since you personally tried the case of The State of Minnesota vs. Carl Fornich, several years ago?”
“Objection, relevance,” Harris said again.
“I’m getting there, your Honor,” Marc told her.
“Very well, overruled for now.”
“Mr. Slocum?” Marc said.
“Yes, that’s true,” Slocum admitted.
“That was a highly publicized murder case concerning a serial killer similar to this case wasn’t it?”
Slocum hesitated for a moment then admitted it was.
“And you tried that case yourself because you believed it would be a slam dunk easy win and the publicity would do wonders for your political career, isn’t that true?”
“That’s absurd,” Slocum said as he shifted in his seat.
“Mr. Slocum,” Marc said staring straight at him. “I am prepared to subpoena at least twenty people in your office who know that to be true. I’ll put them on that witness stand and force them to testify. You’re under oath. Would you like to change your answer now?”
This was almost certainly a bluff. It was highly unlikely that, because of attorney-client privilege, any of them would be allowed to testify. But no one, not Tommy Harris, Craig Slocum or even Judge Koch thought of it or knew it for sure.
Slocum’s eyes narrowed, he drew a deep breath then said, “All right. Yes, I suppose that’s correct. I have political ambitions. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“In fact, you were going to run for governor, isn’t that true?”
“Oh, I’m not sure, maybe I had thought about it,” Slocum tried to hedge.
“Mr. Slocum, you’re still under oath in front of a jury. Should I ask it again?”
“All right, yes. I was going to run for governor after that case. So what?”
“Your dream of becoming governor went up in smoke after you lost the case, didn’t it?”
Once again, Slocum’s eyes narrowed, he uncrossed and re-crossed his legs and his face became visibly red.
“It was a setback,” Slocum said.
“It was more than a setback,” Marc said. “The Democratic Party told you to forget it, did they not? You’re still under oath and I can find witnesses,” Marc continued.
“Your Honor! This is absurd. Where is the relevance?” Harris said.
“I’m almost there, your Honor,” Marc replied without taking his eyes off Slocum.
“I’ll give you a little more, Mr. Kadella, but you’d better get there soon.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Slocum, your dream of becoming governor crashed after losing that case?” Marc repeated insistently.
Slocum hesitated, clearly aggravated then said, “All right, yes, it did.”
“And who was the lawyer for the defense in that trial?”
Again Slocum hesitated then finally admitted, “You were.”
Most of the media in attendance knew this but none of the jurors did. When they all heard this there was a slight shifting in their seats as they looked back and forth at the two antagonists.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Slocum, you have harbored a deep, personal animus toward me ever since?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Slocum said although his expression noticeably belied his words.
“You’re still under oath,” Marc quietly reminded him. “You want to try again?”
“Argumentative, your Honor,” Harris said.
“Sustained,” Koch ruled.
“I can still get those subpoenas served,” Marc said virtually ignoring Koch’s ruling.
“All right, yes. I admit I find you to be a loathsome defense lawyer like…”
“Isn’t it true,” Marc jumped in cutting him off from embellishing his answer. “You originally assigned this case to your head felony litigator, Steven Gondeck?”
Annoyed at being cut off Slocum reluctantly said, “Yes.”
“Isn’t it also true you replaced Mr. Gondeck with Mr. Harris because you believed Mr. Gondeck and I got along too well? That we were too friendly with one another?”
“That’s none of your business. I…”
“Why are you trying so desperately to keep information from this jury?” Marc asked.
“The answer to your question is no that is not why I replaced Steve Gondeck w
ith Tommy Harris,” Slocum haughtily said to a skeptical courtroom.
“Mr. Slocum, does the name Eugene Parlow sound familiar?” Marc asked abruptly changing the subject.
Slocum shifted slightly again in his seat and his tongue flicked briefly across his lips. “Yes, I think so.”
“Isn’t it true he was one of the men the police suspected of committing these murders?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“He was found murdered in an alley in south Minneapolis?”
“Yes.”
Marc hit a couple a keys on his laptop and an image appeared on the TV screen. It was the picture of the bag found near Parlow’s body.
“The canvas bag being shown on the television now was found near his body, was it not?”
“I don’t think it was near the body…” Slocum began.
“It was less than twenty feet away,” Marc said.
“Okay, yes, I suppose that was near the body.”
For each of the next few questions Marc displayed a photo of each of the items found in the bag. He elicited a positive response that these items were, in fact, found in the bag.
“Isn’t it true that it was solely your decision to withhold the discovery of these items from the defense?”
“Objection,” Harris said as he started to stand.
“Overruled,” Koch abruptly told him. “The witness will answer.”
“Um, yes. I didn’t…”
“Nonresponsive, your Honor,” Marc said cutting off Slocum’s explanation.
“Answer only the question,” Koch reminded him.
Marc asked for and was granted permission to approach the witness. He stopped at the exhibit table and picked up several items. Marc placed them on the rail in front of Slocum then walked over to the back of the jury box and stood there while Slocum looked at the exhibits.
“Mr. Slocum, I have given you the items found in Howie Traynor’s apartment; the barbed wire, wire cutter and gloves. When the police found them you were told about it, were you not?”
“Yes,” Slocum admitted.
“Yet, when these exact same items were found by the body of Eugene Parlow, you decided that was not relevant, isn’t that true?”
Slocum paused for a moment and started to say something. Instead, his shoulders slumped and he quietly said, “Yes.”
“Mr. Slocum, was it you that had someone plant these items in Howie Traynor’s apartment?”
“Objection!” Harris exploded jumping to his feet.
“Overruled,” Koch quickly said, “The witness will answer.”
Marc was stunned that the judge did not chastise him for asking such an inflammatory question. Overruling Harris’ objection sent a clear message to the jury that it might be true.
“Absolutely not,” Slocum indignantly replied.
Marc walked back to the exhibit table and picked up a clear plastic evidence bag. In it were the three cigarette butts found with Howie’s DNA. He handed the bag to Slocum and resumed his position standing by the jury box.
“Mr. Slocum, you are holding the three cigarette butts found on the roof of the building next to Howie Traynor’s apartment. These items were found a few days after he was arrested, is that correct?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Slocum answered.
“And they were sent to the BCA lab in St. Paul for analysis the next day, isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
The entire courtroom was as quiet as a funeral. The only sound being the exchange taking place between these two antagonists. The two men themselves seemed totally oblivious to it but the tension in the air was rising with each moment, each question, each answer. Everyone seemed to instinctively realize the trial had reached its make or break moment for both sides.
“And the result of that analysis was not received until last week, more than two months after these items were sent to the BCA?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Slocum shrugged. “I don’t run the BCA lab,” Slocum continued with a haughty smile.
“Really? Mr. Slocum, did you use your influence on the BCA lab to slow down and delay the report on the cigarette butts so they could be used as a dramatic surprise during the trial?”
“No, of course not,” Slocum answered but with noticeably less arrogance.
“Mr. Slocum, let me remind you that you are under oath and I have subpoenaed a man by the name of Richard Fletcher, who is currently in the hall waiting to testify. Isn’t it true he is the head of the BCA lab whose son is currently awaiting trial in Hennepin County on drug charges and did you use this to influence him to delay the analysis of the cigarette butts?”
“Objection,” Harris tried to say.
“Overruled and sit down,” Koch ordered him.
Time froze in the courtroom. Slocum sat in the chair, leaning forward, his eyes shifting about the room. A bead of sweat broke out on his upper lip and he noticeably licked it.
What seemed like an hour but was barely a half a minute went by in total silence. Everyone in the courtroom, especially the jury, knew what the answer was but waited for it anyway.
“I’ll wait all day,” Marc quietly said.
“All right, yes, I did,” Slocum finally admitted, the arrogance having returned.
“Did you order someone to take those cigarette butts from the ashtray in Howie Traynor’s car and plant them on the roof?”
Harris started to stand but Koch stopped him with a stern look.
“No, I did not,” Slocum denied but it sounded weak and uncertain.
Immediately Marc slapped his left hand down hard on the rail in front of the jury box. The sharp, loud crack startled the jurors and caused both Judge Koch and Slocum to sit up.
“Isn’t it true,” Marc practically yelled, “all of this was done because you wanted to get even with me, personally? Don’t look at him,” Marc yelled at Slocum when Slocum shifted his eyes to Tommy Harris. “Answer me and tell this jury the truth!” Marc angrily almost screamed and slapped his hand on the railing again.
“All right, yes, goddamnit. I’ll get you, you sonofabitch!” Slocum snarled back at Marc.
The entire courtroom inhaled and froze, especially Marc Kadella. No one breathed, no one moved, no one even blinked. After a stunned moment, Marc thought, Holy shit! He admitted it! Another second passed as the image of Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson in the movie A Few Good Men flashed through his mind.
“I have no further questions, your Honor,” Marc quickly said as he retreated to the defense table. When he got there, he remained standing and continued, “Your Honor, the defense moves for immediate dismissal of all charges due to obvious prosecutorial misconduct.”
Before Marc finished saying this Tommy Harris was on his feet. “Objection, your Honor. The defense badgered the witness into making an obviously false statement in an excited response.”
“Overruled,” Koch said to Harris. “Recess,” she said then continued by saying, “I’ll see counsel in chambers now. Mr. Slocum, you stay right where you are.”
While the three lawyers followed the judge out of the courtroom, the gallery broke out in a stunned discussion. Howie Traynor leaned back in his chair, smiled and inwardly laughed at the spectacle.
“Your Honor, we demand a mistrial,” Harris said before anyone even had a chance to sit down.
“Absolutely not,” Marc countered. “They want a chance to clean their mess up and make another run at my client. That’s reversible error.”
“He’s right, Mr. Harris. There will be no mistrial,” Koch said.
For the next ten minutes, Koch sat back and listened to the lawyers make their respective arguments. When they finished, she said, “Thank you, gentlemen. Let me think about it. I’ll be out in a few minutes to make my ruling.”
Less than ten minutes later, Judge Koch came back out to the bench. No one had left even for a quick trip to the restroom. Apparently everyone lucky enough to be there did not want to chance missing a single word.
Th
e first thing Judge Koch said was, “I want absolute silence in this courtroom while I make my decision and afterwards. If anyone interrupts me or causes a commotion, they will go to jail.”
She took a moment to gather her thoughts then started by saying, “I have three choices. One, I can declare a mistrial. That I will not do. I will not start this over. Two, I can let the case continue and go to the jury or, three, dismiss the charges in the interest of justice.
“After careful consideration, I cannot, in good conscience, hide my responsibility as a judge and drop this in the jury’s lap for them to decide. I cannot allow this travesty to continue. Therefore, I am dismissing all charges contained in the indictment due to the misconduct and abuse of power by the county attorney.”
She turned to the jury and said, “I want to sincerely thank you, the members of the jury. My decision is in no way a reflection of you. It is part of my responsibility and I bear it alone.
“Mr. Slocum,” she continued staring down at the shriveled sight of the man in the witness stand. “I will be sending a full and complete report of your conduct and the transcript of your testimony to the Office of Professional Responsibility. You, sir, have some serious explaining to do.
“Mr. Traynor,” she said looking at the defense table, “you are free to go. Case dismissed, with prejudice.” Judge Koch hammered her gavel once, rose and quickly fled.
Bedlam erupted as she went through the door.
SIXTY-ONE
Marc heard his neighbor across the hall from his apartment close his door to leave for work. He was sitting in the dark on his couch, his feet on the coffee table, the television off. The front door was locked and a chair jammed under the doorknob. The digital read from the small clock by the TV glowed with the numbers 6:47. This early in the morning in December, it was still quite dark outside as the new day began.
Marc had been sitting like this the entire night with a couple of bathroom breaks his only disturbance. He was still dressed in the same clothes he wore to court the day before except for the coat and tie. They were removed and carelessly tossed on his bed.
Up until midnight his phone had rung with at least twenty calls from various people, including Margaret Tennant. Not in the mood to speak to anyone and knowing Margaret was safe, Marc ignored the calls and let them go to voicemail.
Certain Justice Page 39
