The Law of Second Chances jt-2

by James Sheehan

  “No further questions, your honor.”

  “Redirect, Mr. Taylor?”

  “No, your honor.” Spencer still felt he had won this round and that Jack had essentially scored a meaningless point.

  “Call your next witness, Counselor,” the judge told Spencer. The express train was rolling again.

  As expected, Spencer called Paul Frazier and then David Cook, the eyewitnesses who lived in Angie’s building. He painstakingly took them, one at a time, through the night of the murder, their visit to the police station, their assistance in helping the police artist come up with a composite sketch, and their ultimate selection of Benny in the lineup-all setting the stage for the dramatic courtroom identification.

  “Is the man you saw the night of the murder leaning over the deceased in the courtroom today?”

  Each man when he was on the stand answered yes.

  “Would you point him out for the jury?” Both men had pointed directly at Benny, who remained stoically upright and facing directly ahead each time.

  Jack had the same cross-examination questions for both men and received almost identical answers.

  “How much time elapsed between your hearing the shot and going to the window?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure,” Paul replied. “We were watching television. I don’t know what the show was-something makes me want to say it was NYPD Blue but again I can’t say for sure. We didn’t rush because frankly we didn’t know it was a gun that went off. I’d estimate it was about ten to twenty seconds.”

  David’s estimate was “about a half a minute or so.”

  “When you saw this individual you have identified as the defendant leaning over the deceased, did you see him take anything?”

  Both men had the same answer: “No.”

  “How far away were you when you first saw the defendant?”

  They both said close to thirty feet.

  “And he came toward you and then he saw you looking at him and took off, is that accurate?”

  Again they agreed.

  “How far away was he right before he took off?”

  Paul’s estimate was five feet and David’s six to eight feet.

  “At any time while you were observing the accused on that night, did you see him with a gun?”

  Neither said they had.

  “Were both his hands visible?”

  Paul was definite that they were. David said, “I think so, but I couldn’t say for certain.”

  When Jack finished his cross-examination of David Cook it was four o’clock in the afternoon. The judge noticed that the jury was tired and decided to recess for the day.

  “The court will reconvene at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. The jurors will follow Mr. Jennings, the bailiff, who will lead you out and show you where to meet tomorrow so you can avoid the crowds in front of the courthouse. Remember my admonitions to you. Do not talk to anyone, including family members, about this case. Do not read the newspaper or watch the news on television. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  After the judge left the courtroom, Jack approached the court reporter and asked her to transcribe his cross-examination of all three witnesses, as well as the sidebar discussion and the judge’s ruling. “I’ll need it by tomorrow,” he told her.

  Jack went directly to Mike McDermott’s office to prepare for the next day’s proceedings. First he called the company that had shipped Dr. Wong’s exhibits from San Francisco and made sure they would deliver them to Langford Middleton’s courtroom before nine o’clock the next morning. A little after six, he called Charlie.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, dreading the response.

  “Nothing yet,” Charlie replied. “I’m still wading through crap. How’s the trial going?”

  “Fast. Do you think you’ll have anything by tomorrow night?”

  “No, absolutely not. It would be more than a miracle if I did.”

  “Okay, I understand. Go ahead and book a flight for Sunday night. We won’t plan on using you until Monday.”

  “What if he finishes up tomorrow?”

  “I’ll do something. I’ve got a motion for acquittal to argue. Maybe Henry will have something for me by then.”

  About half an hour later Henry called to give Jack a blow-by-blow of his meeting with Valentine Busby, starting with the shooting. He told Jack that Leonard Woods was dead, that he had been killed the morning after Carl’s murder by a hit-and-run driver, and that Valentine Busby was certain he had been murdered, although the local police had not ruled it a homicide. It was a lot of information for Jack to synthesize after a long day of trial. Henry wasn’t finished yet.

  “There’s more. Leonard and Carl definitely knew each other. Carl actually visited once. Valentine says that they were working on something, but he doesn’t know what. Leonard was a professor of microbiology at the University of Florida in Gainesville.”

  “So that call Carl got at Angie’s apartment was from Leonard, which explains the word Gainesville on the message pad. But what was the breakthrough? What were they working on?”

  “I haven’t a clue, Jack. Valentine says there is a guy up in Wisconsin, another professor named Milton Jeffries, who probably knows. I called his number but it’s been disconnected. I’ve got his address, so Valentine and I are flying up there tomorrow. It’s the soonest we could get a flight. Valentine’s a little out there, but he’s not a bad guy. He really wants to find out who killed Leonard.”

  “All right, keep me posted. I’m starting to get more than a little paranoid, especially after all this new information you’ve given me. From now on, let’s keep the substance of our phone conversations to a minimum. We’ll talk about when you’re coming and things like that, but no specifics, got it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you think you can be back here by Friday? I may not have a witness to put on if the prosecutor rests tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will, Henry. Call me tomorrow at the same time.”

  “Will do. Good luck in court. I wish I had some answers for you.”

  “Maybe something will still come up tomorrow.”

  “We can only hope,” Henry replied.

  Jack’s mind was churning. There was clearly a connection between Carl and Leonard’s murders, but he had no idea what that connection was or whether it was helpful to his case or not. He would just have to wait until he heard from Henry again and hope that it wasn’t too late.

  Jack worked for another hour before calling Molly.

  “I know it’s late. Do you want to meet for a drink?”

  “Sure. I’ll be at our ‘regular joint’ in fifteen minutes,” she answered. He could hear the smile in her voice.

  She was waiting for him when he got to Colin’s Place. This time she had discarded the bulky sweater for a tight-fitting turtleneck and jeans. She looked fabulous and gave him a big kiss before he sat down.

  “How’s the trial going?”

  “As good as can be expected. I got everything I thought I could get out of the prosecution’s witnesses today.”

  That was the extent of their conversation about the trial. This brief moment late in the day was Jack’s opportunity to unwind. Molly seemed to understand. She kept things light, talking about the latest celebrity sightings and even sports. She was a Yankees fan.

  Jack stayed about an hour and had a couple of beers. He could have talked to Molly all night and then gone home with her, but he had to go. Tomorrow was a huge day.

  “Molly, you know how much I’d love to spend the night with you.”

  “I know, Jack. You just do your work for now and we’ll take a little vacation afterwards.”

  He kissed her good night and left while he still had the fortitude to do so.

  61

  Thursday morning’s temperature was in the low twenties, and only the staunchest advocates on each side of the death penalty issue were outside the courthouse. Jack had a relati
vely easy time making his way inside. The transcripts he’d requested from the court reporter were waiting at his table. The reporter was already at her seat, and Jack gave her a nod of thanks. One of the court officers came over to tell him that Dr. Wong’s exhibits had arrived and were resting against the far wall behind the court personnel. Moments later, Benny was ushered in through the side door. Today he was wearing a brown suit, blue shirt, dark multicolored tie, and brown shoes. His father, who had taken his place behind Jack, was certainly going to great lengths to ensure his son made a good impression on the jury every day.

  Jack turned to Luis. “Nice job. He looks terrific.”

  Luis seemed much more relaxed. “Tomorrow he’s in charcoal gray, like the dandy wore the first day,” he said, glancing in the direction of Spencer Taylor, who was dressed in navy blue with a bright gold tie. Jack got a kick out of Luis’s moniker. Spencer was indeed a dandy.

  Spencer started the morning off with Detective Tony Severino. The testimony began with Tony’s telling the jury about his training and experience as a homicide detective. Then Spencer took him right to the murder scene.

  “What time did you arrive?”

  “I arrived at the scene at precisely 11:11 p.m.”

  “Were you the first to arrive?”

  “No. There were some uniforms there already. The coroner was there, I believe. There was a crowd, and some members of the press.”

  “Were you the first homicide detective?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do when you arrived?”

  “I went to the body and gave it a cursory inspection.”

  “What did you observe?”

  “I observed a white male, tall, probably in his late fifties or sixties-I found out later that he was actually in his seventies but he didn’t look it. He was wearing a blue suit, white shirt, and maroon tie.”

  Jack noticed a couple of the female jurors stealing a glance at Benny, who had worn the exact same outfit the day before. He wanted to whack himself in the forehead for missing that detail. It was one of those little things that might tip the balance in a close case. That was the way trials went. You couldn’t possibly think of everything. At least Benny wasn’t sitting in court today in that outfit. Then even the men would have noticed.

  Back on the stand, Tony Severino was continuing his testimony. “He had a bullet wound in his forehead.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I directed some of the uniforms to tape off the crime scene. You don’t want people walking all around there. It can contaminate the evidence.”

  “How did the police department first learn of this crime?”

  “A woman from the neighborhood called it in. Her name was Frances Holloway.”

  “What did she say?”

  Jack was on his feet. “Objection, your honor. Hearsay.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Your honor, I’d like to be heard on this,” Spencer protested. “May we approach?”

  The judge gave Spencer an annoyed look. “Come along,” he motioned to the two lawyers.

  “Mr. Taylor, when it is obviously hearsay we don’t need to come to the bench to make a record.”

  “I understand, Judge, but I’m not offering it for the truth of the matter asserted.”

  Langford Middleton rolled his eyes at that one. It was an argument every lawyer tried at one time or another, but it was rarely successful. He let Spencer continue, though. “Carry on, but make it brief.”

  “Mrs. Holloway merely reported that she heard the shot, came to her window, and saw someone kneeling over the deceased. She couldn’t identify him. This evidence was already entered through yesterday’s testimony and I don’t think counsel has disputed it. I’m only trying to create my time line without having to bring another witness in.”

  It was a clever way to put it, appealing to the judge’s desire to move things along. The judge looked at Jack. “Well, Mr. Tobin?”

  “It’s cumulative, Judge. He’s trying to get a third witness to say my client was kneeling over the deceased without bringing her in.”

  “I’m going to allow it. If necessary, Mr. Tobin, I’ll let you call Ms. Holloway. As it stands, Mr. Taylor has the right to establish a time line with Detective Severino. Objection overruled.”

  Spencer gave Jack another peek at his perfect teeth as they left the sidebar, smiling broadly as he gloated. Twenty years ago Jack might have gone after him right there in the courtroom, but he had learned to squelch those urges. If it was meant to be, the worm would turn eventually.

  Spencer and Tony Severino went on and on for the rest of the morning. Spencer asked Tony about his expertise with firearms. Besides his experience as a detective, Tony was a certified firearms expert, which partly explained to Jack why Spencer called him rather than Nick Walsh as a witness. Spencer might still call Nick, but if the prosecutor was looking to get this case over as soon as possible, probably not. Spencer had Tony talk about the slug that was taken out of Carl’s skull and establish the chain of custody from that moment to his appearance at trial. He then introduced the bullet into evidence. Jack had no objection. It was a bullet without a gun. Yes, it killed Carl, but who was at the other end of the gun was the issue in this case. Spencer had Tony describe the bullet in great detail.

  “It’s a nine-millimeter Parabellum, commonly known as a Luger cartridge,” Tony told him. “As you can see, it’s not in very good shape. It’s distorted. Once a slug like this hits bone, it starts to break up a little.”

  “Were you able to establish the type of gun that this bullet was fired from?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “It’s a little technical, but I’ll try to explain it as best I can. Each gun has distinctive markings in the barrel. They’re called lands and grooves. The grooves are cut into the barrel of the gun in a spiral; the lands are the spaces between those grooves. When the gun is fired, the spiral grooving makes the bullet spin so that it flies straight. The heat inside the chamber makes the slug softer and makes it conform to the spiraling and the grooves in the barrel. If the slug is not damaged too badly you can examine those impressions and determine the make and possibly the model of the gun.”

  “Was the slug that you retrieved from the deceased’s cranium in decent enough shape to make that examination?”

  “Barely.”

  “And did you make that examination?”

  “I was present when it was done. I’m no longer a full-time firearms examiner, but I was present when this examination was made.”

  “And did you determine the make and model of the gun that killed Carl Robertson?”

  “Yes. It was a Glock nine-millimeter semiautomatic weapon-probably a Glock 17. It’s a handgun manufactured by the Austrian company Glock. It has a unique barrel groove, and we could see that in this bullet even though it was distorted considerably.”

  “What does the term semiautomatic mean?”

  “It means that the gun can be fired like an automatic weapon-that is, it can fire multiple rounds rapidly-but unlike a true automatic weapon you actually have to pull the trigger each time.”

  “In this case, from the evidence presented, how many rounds were fired?”

  “One.”

  “How do you account for that with this semiautomatic weapon?”

  “The person firing only pulled the trigger once.”

  “Thank you, Detective Severino, I have no further questions.”

  “Cross-examination, Mr. Tobin?”

  “Yes, your honor.” Jack walked to the podium and looked at Tony Severino.

  Trials were often won or lost on how an attorney cross-examined key witnesses. In Jack’s mind, Tony Severino was a key witness in the case. It was very difficult to make a prosecution witness your own, especially a seasoned police detective who had hundreds of hours of courtroom testimony under his belt. One mistake and the whole process could backfire.

  Jack was not a seasoned
criminal lawyer, but he understood the art of cross-examination better than most other trial attorneys on the planet. You had to lead the witness down the road without letting him know where he was going-keep the pace up, cut off exits, until eventually he found himself on a dead-end street with no way out. He was about to try to do that with Tony Severino.

  “Detective Severino, you told Mr. Taylor that the motive for this murder was robbery, is that accurate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “We think he stole ten thousand dollars from Mr. Robertson’s inside jacket pocket.”

  “You do concede, however, do you not, that Ms. Vincent cannot say for certain whether Mr. Robertson had that money on him on September 1, 1998?”

  “Yes, she said that.”

  “And there is no other evidence to establish Mr. Robertson had that money on him that night, correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “There were three individuals who immediately went to their windows after they heard the shot and saw someone kneeling over the deceased’s body, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And two of those individuals, Mr. Cook and Mr. Frazier, identified that individual as the defendant, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Ms. Holloway could not?”

  “No, she could not.”

  “Is it also accurate that nobody saw this individual take anything from the deceased’s body?”

  “Yes, that’s accurate.” Tony was beginning to look bored. This was all set out very clearly in the police reports that were already in evidence.

  “How do you square that with what you just testified to-that he took the money out of Mr. Robertson’s inside jacket pocket?”

  “He took it before they got to the window and looked out.”

  “And nobody saw this individual carrying a gun-this Glock 17 that you just told us about, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And he certainly didn’t drop it at the scene because you didn’t find a gun at the scene, did you?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “And you never found the gun-the murder weapon, is that accurate?”