Jessie Black Box Set 2

by Larry A Winters

  He used the burner phone and called the caregiver’s number.

  She answered on the first ring. “Who is this?”

  Apparently she’d come home and discovered someone had been inside her house. Coakley could hear the fear in her voice. So fun.

  “Missing someone?” he said.

  “Who…. Who is this?”

  “The man who has your kitty cat.”

  Coakley put down his beer and clicked a few buttons on his keyboard. Then he held his burner phone close to the computer’s speaker as he played a YouTube video of a cat meowing. Then he brought the phone to his face again. “Your kitty cat is okay for now, but she won’t be for long. Unless you do exactly as I say. Do you understand, Angelica?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Good.”

  25

  Jessie approached the witness stand, where a rail-thin man, with pasty skin and jet black hair, watched her warily.

  “What is it you do for a living, Mr. Frias?” Jessie asked.

  “I own several convenience stores in the Philadelphia area.” His voice had a strange inflection, barely noticeable, maybe a regional accent. He shot the jury furtive glances as he spoke, and bubbles of sweat dotted his forehead. Not a great witness.

  Luckily, Jessie didn’t need him to do any heavy lifting. All she needed from him was to authenticate the security video captured by the camera attached to his store. A relatively routine and simple legal process.

  “One of your stores is located in the Northern Liberties neighborhood?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Do you have security cameras installed at that location?”

  “Yes. Two in the store and one outside.”

  Jessie walked to the prosecution table and found a street-view photograph of Frias’s store, taken in preparation of trial. She handed copies of the photo to the Nolans and Judge Carabotta. Then, using the courtroom’s audiovisual equipment, she put the photo up on a screen for Frias and the jury to see. “This is a photograph of your store, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you show us where the outside video camera is located?”

  The witness pointed to the spot just under the roof of the convenience store. “Right there. You can see it.”

  “This camera is part of a store security system?”

  “Yes.”

  “How does the security system work?”

  “Well, the camera records all the time. The footage goes to a hard drive in my office and is backed up in the cloud. If anything happens—someone tries to steal from me, for example—I can go to the video.”

  “Has that happened?”

  “Objection.” Hal stood. “While mildly interesting, Mr. Frias’s adventures in theft protection are hardly relevant.”

  “Your Honor, I’m establishing the reliability of the witness’s equipment.”

  Judge Carabotta glowered. “I’ll allow it, but pick up the pace.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Frias, can you answer the question, please?”

  “You’re asking if I ever had to use the video footage? Yes. Last year, a guy came into the store and tried to sneak out without paying. I ran outside to stop him, but he was already gone. I called the police and gave them the video footage. They caught the guy.”

  “The video image was clear enough to enable them to identify the thief?” Jessie said.

  “Objection,” Hal said.

  “Sustained. Let’s move on.” There was a note of warning in the judge’s voice.

  “Yes, Your Honor. Let’s talk about your more recent interactions with the police. On the night of May 16, did the police ask you about your camera?”

  “Yes. They said they were investigating a crime in the area and asked if they could review the footage. They watched it. Then they took the hard drive.”

  “Thank you. With the court’s permission, I would like to play some of that security footage now.”

  “Any objection?” The judge said, turning her frown onto the Nolans.

  “No, Your Honor,” Hal said. “We have nothing to hide.”

  “Go ahead,” the judge said.

  Jessie dismissed the store photograph from the screen and brought up a video player. There was no audio, and the courtroom went silent as everyone present leaned forward to watch. The image was high-definition and almost shockingly clear, especially considering that the recording had been made at night. Oscar Hazenberg walked into the frame.

  Jessie paused the video, catching Hazenberg mid-stride. There was no mistaking him.

  “This is right in front of your store?”

  “Yes,” Frias said.

  “And in which direction is the defendant walking?”

  “It looks like he was walking in a northeast direction.”

  Jessie minimized the video and brought up Google Maps in a Web browser. “I’m going to show you the locations of your store and the house of the victim, Kent Edley.”

  Hal Nolan started to rise.

  Before he could get his objection out, Jessie said, “By the way, the defense has already stipulated that these addresses are correct.”

  Hal sat down.

  “Mr. Frias, would you agree that the defendant, as seen in the video footage, was walking toward Kent Edley’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessie flipped back to the video player. “I’m going to skip forward now.”

  The video jumped to a later point in time. Hazenberg appeared in the frame, this time walking in the opposite direction, this time wearing different clothing.

  “This is still in front of your store?”

  “Yes.”

  “This time the defendant is walking in the other direction—southwest. Away from Kent Edley’s house, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And according to the timestamp, how much later is this than the earlier footage?”

  “One hour and fifty-three minutes,” Frias said. “Simple math.”

  “Thank you. I have no further questions.”

  Hal Nolan rose from his seat for cross-examination. Jessie watched him approach the same audiovisual equipment she had just used.

  “I’m going to refer to the map of the neighborhood that the prosecution was kind enough to provide, and then I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?”

  Frias peered at the defense attorney with suspicion. “Yes?”

  “Here we can see your convenience store. And here is the victim’s house. As Ms. Black noted, both parties stipulated to the accuracy of these addresses. But we also stipulated to a third address.”

  Hal typed. The rapid tapping of his fingers on the keyboard filled the room.

  The map zoomed out, and another location, also north of the store, but in a neighborhood west of Northern Liberties, was highlighted.

  “This,” he said, “is Oscar Hazenberg’s house. Did you know that?”

  Frias leaned forward. “How would I?”

  “These locations—my client’s house and the victim’s house—are both north of your store, aren’t they?”

  Frias nodded. “Yes.”

  “Is it possible that my client could have been walking to his own house when he passed by your store?”

  Jessie stood up. “Objection. Calls for speculation.”

  Hal shrugged. “It sure does. Mr. Frias doesn’t know. None of us know where Oscar Hazenberg was walking when he passed by this video camera. Maybe he went home, changed his clothes, and went back out again. That wouldn’t be unusual, would it?”

  “Objection!” Jessie practically shouted.

  “That’s enough.” The judge banged her gavel. “Keep your editorializing for closing arguments only, Mr. Nolan.” She turned to the jury. “I’m going to instruct you to disregard everything Mr. Nolan just said.” Her face pinched with anger. “Mr. Nolan, do you have any actual questions for this witness?”

  “Not really,” Hal said dismissively. “I’m done.”

  Jessie cursed silently.
She had hoped to make the security camera footage seem as significant to the jury as it was to her, but Hal’s cross had undermined that.

  “Ms. Black, is the Commonwealth ready to call its next witness?”

  Jessie looked nervously down at her witness list. The next person on her list was Angelica Witherell, the caregiver who had seen Hazenberg at Edley’s door.

  “Are you ready to proceed?” Judge Carabotta said.

  Witherell was her last chance, her best evidence. If she failed to bring out the caregiver’s testimony in the most persuasive manner possible, her case would be dead in the water, and Hazenberg would walk.

  “Your Honor, the Commonwealth calls Angelica Witherell to the witness stand.”

  26

  “Hello Ms. Witherell,” Jessie said. “Thank you for coming here today to help us understand what happened to Kent Edley.”

  “It’s my duty,” Witherell said with a pleasant smile.

  Angelica Witherell had dressed for court like she might dress for church, in a plain but nice blue dress, tasteful makeup, and her hair in a bun. She looked poised and ready. Her hands were tightly gripped in front of her, a possible sign of nervousness, but were mostly hidden by the witness stand.

  Jessie walked her through the usual preliminary questions—name and occupation, how long she’d been living in the area, her family background. Then she got to the meat of it.

  “In your current role, what do you do?”

  “I’m a caregiver for a woman named Linnet Tiller. She’s a senior who needs extra help and care. Her children hired me.”

  “And where does Linnet Tiller live?”

  Witherell gave the address of the house in Northern Liberties.

  “Is that near the house of Kent Edley, the victim in this trial?”

  “Directly across the street,” Witherell said.

  “Would you say there is a good view of Mr. Edley’s house from Ms. Tiller’s house?”

  “Yes. Through Linnet’s kitchen window, I can see his front door.”

  “Nothing in between to block your view? No trees or bushes or street lamps or anything like that?”

  “Nothing. It’s an unobstructed view.”

  Jessie smiled encouragingly. “What hours do you work for Ms. Tiller?”

  “I usually arrive at her house around 6:30 AM to help her with her morning routine, and I leave around 9:30 PM after she’s gone to sleep.”

  “Those are long hours,” Jessie observed.

  Witherell nodded. “They are. I don’t mind, though. I love helping people.”

  Jessie glanced at the jury box and saw approving expressions on many of the jurors. No doubt several of the jurors approaching their own golden years hoped they might find someone like Ms. Witherell should they ever need care. Jessie also noted the silence from the defense table. Apparently Hal and Kristina did not think interrupting this witness’s testimony with objections would play well. Jessie agreed.

  “Were you working on the night of May 16?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “And did you see something that night that you think would be helpful for the jurors to know?”

  Witherell looked directly at the jury. “I saw a man walk to Mr. Edley’s door. He knocked on the door, and Mr. Edley opened it.”

  “What happened when Kent Edley opened the door?”

  “Well, I could see some surprise on Mr. Edley’s face. He looked like he didn’t expect this visitor. But the visitor pushed his way inside and the door closed.”

  “When you say he ‘pushed his way inside,’ can you please elaborate on that?”

  “The man kind of shoved Mr. Edley backward so he could walk into the house.”

  “You saw that, but you didn’t call the police?” Jessie knew the defense would raise this point, and she hoped to head it off.

  “I wish I had, believe me. But at the time, I just thought Mr. Edley’s visitor was a little rude or pushy. I didn’t know he was … you know.”

  “A killer?” Jessie said.

  “Yes.”

  “Objection.” Hal Nolan stood up.

  “Sustained.”

  “Do you remember approximately what time you saw this happen?” Jessie asked the witness.

  “It was about 9:15. I remember glancing at the clock because Linnet was already in bed and I was getting ready to leave.”

  Jessie nodded. “A moment ago, you testified about the expression on Kent Edley’s face. How were you able to see him so clearly at night from across the street?” She was again anticipating Hal Nolan’s cross-examination.

  “Mr. Edley’s house was brightly lit on the inside. As soon as he opened the door, light flooded out and lit up his face and also lit up his visitor.”

  “So you saw the man who visited Kent Edley that night and pushed his way into his house?”

  “Yes I did. I saw him clearly.”

  Jessie turned slightly, so that her shoulder tilted toward the defense table where Oscar Hazenberg sat—a subtle gesture to direct the attention of the jury. “Do you see that man in the courtroom today?”

  A hush fell over the room, and the jurors leaned forward in their seats.

  “No,” Witherell said.

  “And—” Jessie stammered for a second. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no.”

  “I think maybe you didn’t hear my question. I asked if the man who visited Kent Edley that night is sitting in the courtroom right now.”

  “I heard the question. That man is not in the courtroom.”

  Jessie hesitated. Gathered her thoughts. She glanced at the defense table. The Nolans looked as surprised by this testimony as she was. Oscar Hazenberg, sitting between them, gazed back at her. He did not look surprised.

  Jessie took a breath. Fought a feeling of rising panic.

  She pointed at the defendant. “Ms. Witherell, did you see this man, Oscar Hazenberg, at Kent Edley’s door on the night he was murdered?”

  Now Hal and Kristina Nolan jumped to their feet. “Objection, Your Honor,” Kristina said. “The question has been asked and answered. Ms. Black is clearly leading the witness. Not only that, she’s badgering her.”

  Judge Carabotta glared at Jessie. “Sustained. The witness answered your question.”

  Something had gone wrong. Either Jessie had been set up somehow, or her witness had been compromised.

  “Ms. Black,” Judge Carabotta said. “Perhaps this is a good time to end your direct examination?”

  Jessie stared at Hal and Kristina, looking for some indication of guilt in their expressions, but if they had tampered with the woman, they were hiding it well.

  “Ms. Black?” the judge prompted again. Impatience edged her voice.

  Jessie’s star witness had just become a star witness for the defense. She could not just end the direct examination, not now. She needed to fix this.

  “Permission to treat the witness as hostile,” Jessie said.

  She heard gasps from the gallery and the jury box.

  “Your Honor, that’s completely inappropriate,” Hal Nolan said.

  “The testimony Ms. Witherell is giving right now is inconsistent with her prior statements and I would like to impeach her,” Jessie said.

  Judge Carabotta frowned as she appeared to consider the request. “Go ahead.”

  Jessie took a steadying breath. She fixed her gaze on Witherell’s eyes, but she could read nothing there. The urge to attack the woman was suddenly very strong—fueled by anger and a feeling of betrayal—but Jessie resisted it. Bullying a mild-mannered woman who had just testified about how much she loves caring for other people would not play well for the jury, and she couldn’t afford to alienate the jurors any more than she already had.

  Jessie walked to the prosecution table, searched quickly through her file, and found Witherell’s statement. She carried it to the witness stand. “Did you speak with police detectives Emily Graham and Tobias Novak?”

  “Yes. They were very friendly.” Witherell sm
iled pleasantly. Jessie did not smile back.

  “Did you tell those detectives that you clearly saw the man who visited Kent Edly?”

  “Yes, that’s what I told them.”

  “And did you tell Detectives Graham and Novak that the man was Oscar Hazenberg?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have your police statement right here. You can look at it if you need to refresh your memory.”

  “I don’t need to refresh my memory.”

  “So I don’t understand. Why are you now changing your testimony?”

  “I’m not. When Detectives Graham and Novak visited me, I thought I recognized the man I’d seen as the same man whose picture they were showing on the news. Mr. Hazenberg. But now that I’m here and I see the accused man in person, I know it wasn’t him. It’s definitely not him. I made a mistake. I just didn’t realize it until I saw him in person today.” Witherell did not break eye contact with Jessie.

  Stop, she told herself. You’re not fixing this. You’re only making it worse.

  “Ms. Witherell, have you been contacted by anyone working for the defense?”

  “Objection!” Hal said.

  “No,” Witherell said.

  “Has anyone threatened you?”

  “No.”

  Jessie watched the woman closely. She thought she saw a flicker of hesitation in the woman’s eyes, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

  “Are you sure? No one threatened you so that you would not identify Mr. Hazenberg today?”

  “Objection, Your Honor!” Hal said.

  “Sustained,” the judge said. “Ms. Black—”

  “No further questions,” Jessie said.

  She sat down at the prosecution table. Her mind was racing. She felt a coldness spread through her body.

  Hal Nolan stood from his chair to address the witness. “So let me understand this. When you talked with the detectives, you were positive that the man you saw across the street was my client, Oscar Hazenberg. But today, looking at my client, you are equally positive it wasn’t him.”

  Witherell straightened her back. “That’s right.”

  “Thank you.” Hal sat down again, and the witness was dismissed.

  At that moment, it became clear to Jessie that she had no chance of winning this trial.