The direction of the prosecution’s strategy was made apparent when Judge Sharon White asked several questions to determine the impartiality of the jurors. Howard was sitting at a table with his attorney, looking decidedly bored as the judge reminded the prospective jurors of their duty, defined Voluntary Manslaughter, and questioned each about his or her ability to remain unbiased in such a case. She then went on to ask general and pointed questions about pornography. At which point Howard perked up and LeMay leaned in urgently for a sotto voce conference. Howard shook his head and raised his hands palms upward in an exaggerated shrug, making it abundantly clear to all in the courtroom that he was as confused as this lawyer.
Robert announced that he would take a few days off work to attend and show his support. Evelyn quickly talked him out of it. “They’re going to drag your father through the mud, and he doesn’t want you to witness it. Please respect his wishes.” After a halfhearted counterargument, Robert reluctantly conceded. Samantha’s appearance at the trial was scheduled for the second day.
The trial began the first week of February. Gerard Roper rose from the prosecution table and approached the jury box. He rested his chin on steepled fingers and looked at a spot above the jurors’ heads, letting the pause give weight to his words. Then he scanned the twelve men and women, and began.
“A young man is dead. Ramon Esposito, just twenty-nine years of age, born in Argentina, a naturalized US citizen who came here as an infant with his family seeking a better life. He excelled at school, won a scholarship to college, and started his own company. He surely had dreams. Dreams like any other man, of falling in love, of starting a family of his own, of building a business. But all of those dreams came to an end when his life was brutally taken from him. When a life is taken, it not only robs the victim of his future, it robs society of his particular contribution. We will never know what potential he may have had. He never had the chance to show it. We cannot bring him back to life, but we can seek justice.
“We don’t know all of the facts that led to his murder. The only one who knows for certain is his murderer.” Roper paused here to turn and look admonishingly at Howard for a moment before continuing. “We do know for certain that on the evening of August sixth Ramon Esposito drowned in the pool belonging to the defendant, at Eighteen Via Sueños Perdidos.”
Evelyn, who had been playing the meek and loyal wife, perked up at these words. The house does not belong to the defendant. It belongs to me, she thought.
Roper thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “So aptly named. Sueños Perdidos — Lost Dreams. Ramon Esposito lost his dream of a future that night. But was this a ghastly accident? No, this was murder. The defendant would have you believe that he returned home after a long day’s work, and found the body of the victim at the bottom of his pool. It’s true that drowning was the actual cause of death, but the prosecution will present evidence showing that Ramon Esposito was struck with a blunt instrument with enough force to fracture his skull. We will prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the defendant was present, that he had motive, and that he wielded the instrument of death.
“Motive. You heard the judge define Voluntary Manslaughter, the offense with which the defendant is charged. We believe that a worse crime may have been committed, involving premeditation, but the law requires we prove that the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. In a case where there is only one eyewitness to the crime — the murderer himself — we must make inferences from the facts that are known, and what we do know, without a doubt, is that the victim possessed the means to provoke the defendant to strike in the heat of passion. When you learn what those means were, you may find yourself sympathizing with the defendant. But remember that no man is above the law, no matter the provocation, no matter his station in life. No man has the right to take another’s life, to steal decades of experience, the promise of a life. The victim may have acted rashly, may have made errors of judgement, or even been morally reprehensible.” Roper paused to let the words sink in. “But that doesn’t justify taking his life. The defendant had recourse under the law, as he well knew. He is an officer of the court, after all. He is supposed to uphold the law. And he will be judged under the law, the same as anyone else, high or low in our society.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Despite her protestations, the first day of the trial Evelyn’s parents insisted on sitting with her to lend their emotional support. Brooke sat on her other side.
“How are you holding up?” Brooke asked.
Evelyn smiled benignly. “Fine, I’m not worried. I know he’s innocent.”
Brooke looked at her with just a hint of awe. “You’re a good person, Evelyn, a really good person.”
If only you knew, Evelyn thought, doing her best impression of Mona Lisa.
Evelyn and Brooke were the first to take the stand to establish the timeline.
As subsequent testimony unfolded, Evelyn had to suppress a smile, for despite her careful planning to establish an alibi, it was the thing she hadn’t counted on that saved her bacon. The truck blocking the drive placed her above suspicion, for it proved that Ramon had arrived after the women left for dinner at six thirty, and before Howard returned home. It was pure serendipity.
The Coroner testified, “On the night in question, the pool heater kept cycling on and off, so it’s impossible to know for certain the temperature of the water when the victim drowned, which makes estimating the time of death based solely on heat loss problematic. However, knowing that the deceased was still alive as of six thirty, and knowing that the police were called at eight thirty, combined with the body and water temperature at the time of discovery, we can extrapolate a fairly precise time of death at seven forty-five p.m., give or take forty-five minutes. So, as early as seven, or as late as eight thirty.”
He then related the findings of the autopsy, the cause of death (drowning), and the contributing factor (fractured skull).
Detective Olson testified that the victim had been struck on the head with a blunt object, and that grains of soil were imbedded in the scalp, consistent with the shovel that was found not ten feet from the pool. “Based on the fact that the victim was struck twice on the crown of his head, the individual who struck the blows must have been at least six-feet tall.”
When Connie was called to the stand by the prosecution, she looked to Evelyn with a half apologetic smirk and a shrug of the shoulders that spoke volumes. Evelyn interpreted these expressions as the nonverbal equivalent of “Sorry, but if you can’t keep your man satisfied, what’d you expect? Anyway, I didn’t think I’d get caught, so it’s not like I did it to hurt you.”
Roper asked her simply, without embellishment, if Howard had been at her house that evening, and when he had left. “He was with me from five twenty, to eight.”
“How can you be so sure of the time?”
“Well, he always came after five, and he always left about eight, so he could get home by eight twenty. It’s a twenty-minute drive.”
“He was in the habit of visiting you?”
“Tuesdays and Thursdays, after work.”
Howard hung his head and seemed to shrink into his suit coat.
Brooke leaned toward Evelyn. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to tell you.”
“You called. ‘When the cat’s away’?”
“Yeah.”
Evelyn patted her on the knee. “I thought Howard was the cat.”
Meanwhile, Bill Hightower was glaring menacingly at the back of Howard’s head.
Marjorie grasped Evelyn’s right hand. “Let’s go!”
Evelyn felt that every eye in the courtroom was on her, as though she were a player in a drama. She’d been assigned the part of the wronged and suffering wife. She’d played the part privately for several months now, had been resigned to it, but she was surprised how much more it st
ung to play before an audience. Private humiliation was bad enough. Public humiliation was magnified by each pair of eyes upon her. She knew they were all judging her, comparing her to the mistress, measuring her shortcomings as a wife.
“Yes, let’s go,” she said.
Evelyn stood tight-lipped, and she and her parents walked up the aisle without looking to the left or the right as they exited the courtroom.
“Come home with us,” her mother said.
“And let him chase me from my house? No, uh uh. He can move in with his mistress.”
“Are you sure?” her father asked. “It might be good to get away.”
“Not now. Maybe later. You two go on home now. I’d like some time alone.”
In the car on the way home from court, Howard looked contrite. The guilty often look contrite when they’re caught. But the shame he felt was less for what he’d done than for being found out.
“I want you out of the house,” Evelyn said firmly.
“Is that such a good idea? What about Robbie and Sam?”
“They’re adults. They’ll understand.”
“What if I don’t want to go? I’m sorry, okay? I know I screwed up.”
“You screwed something. Somebody.”
“What can I say? I’m weak; I admit it. I apologize. Anyway, it’s over.”
“I don’t care if it’s over. It’s not about where you put your prick. It’s about trust. I can’t trust you anymore, Howard, can’t believe anything you say. You’ve been lying to me for a year. You can sleep in Robert’s old room until you find a place to stay. With any luck, the state will have a cell for you shortly.”
“Now, Evy, don’t be that way.”
“And don’t call me Evy!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After they returned home, Evelyn locked herself in her bedroom and called Samantha. “Sweetie, I have some bad news, and I don’t know how to tell you other than to just tell it like it is. I’m afraid your father has been having an affair.”
“No! Not Daddy!”
“Yes, he and Connie Katz — Connie Whitfield? The lady who’s been selling my paintings.”
“Oh, Mom, that’s just awful” There was a long silence. “I’m so sorry. How awful for you. Is there anything I can do?”
“Just send love and hugs. It’s a rotten thing, but we’ll muddle through. You’re coming to court tomorrow?”
“I have to.”
“We’ll just have to grin and bear it together.”
The next morning, Howard said, “Come on, we’ll be late for court.”
“I don’t think we should drive together. You take your car. I’ll follow later.”
“Oh, Evy — Evelyn, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Just go.”
Evelyn had dreaded the day Samantha would take the stand and the video would be revealed. For days, she’d worried over how the revelations would be handled in the press, and how it would affect Samantha. She needn’t have worried at all, as Judge Sharon White cleared the courtroom of all but the jury and witnesses. Samantha sat with Evelyn.
Detective Marks was the first to take the stand.
The prosecution passed out still photos to the judge, the jury and Marks. Roper asked, “Detective Marks, do you recognize this photo?”
“Yes, this is a still from a video we found in the victim’s apartment.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“Sure, when we searched the victim’s apartment, we found several flash drives containing...” Marks cleared his throat, “...what appear to be homemade pornographic videos.”
“Could you identify the subjects of the videos?”
“Of the four females in question, we were able to identify two. The male in each appears to be the victim, Ramon Esposito.”
“And were you able to identify the woman in this still shot?”
“That would be Constance Whitfield, also known as Constance Katz.”
Next, Connie took the stand. Roper asked if she had consented to be videoed.
“No, he used a hidden camera.”
“And did he use the video to extort money from you?”
“Well, he tried, but I…”
“Did he threaten to post the video online if you didn’t pay?”
“He tried, but I called his bluff. I mean…there are worse things than being called a cougar. Anyway, he didn’t do himself any favors in that video. It was very short, if you know what I mean,” she said, winking at the prosecutor.
“By short, you mean…?”
“In length.” There was tittering among the jurors, and she realized her error. “I mean it didn’t last long.”
Evelyn thought, Is this the same stud we’re talking about? Short? She must be a witch in bed.
“Did he say what he wanted money for?”
“He had some business scheme he wanted me to invest in.”
Samantha listened with dawning horror as Connie testified. Now she knew why she’d been called. She hung her head and hid behind a veil of hair, feeling utter humiliation. “Oh god, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
The prosecutor introduced more photos and another flash drive with video into evidence and called Samantha to the stand. She testified that yes, she was the woman in the still shots taken from that video. No, she had not consented to being videoed. No, he had not tried to extort money from her using the video as leverage.
Evelyn was grateful for a female judge, who had enough discretion to resist playing the entire video in court.
Despite the introduction of a motive, there was no obvious connection — no smoking gun, no demand for blackmail, no phone calls, no money trail connecting Howard to Ramon. No gun as she’d planned. It was all supposition. If Ramon had shown Howard the video, or if he somehow knew of Howard’s dalliance with Connie and if he had demanded blackmail as a result, only then could a motive be established, and there was no proof of either. Evelyn didn’t see how they could convict him on the evidence.
That is, until the shovel was brought into the picture. The forensic pathologist testified that grains of soil had been forced into the scalp as the victim was struck twice with a blunt instrument that conformed to the shovel found at the scene of the murder. He’d been struck with enough force to fracture the skull. Could the blow have killed him? Possibly. And it would have contributed to the victim drowning.
Moreover, he’d been struck on the crown of the head, indicating that the assailant must have been a tall man. Evelyn saw how the pathologist could come to that conclusion. It made sense if Ramon had been standing, though she knew he’d been kneeling at the edge of the pool, head tilted back to view a beaker of water against the sky.
Furthermore, the pathologist went on, the defendant had left patent fingerprints in his own blood on the shaft of the shovel. At this revelation, Evelyn sat up at attention. Howard looked aghast at his lawyer. Evelyn was completely alert and more than a little perplexed. That her own fingerprints had not been found was no surprise, as she’d been wearing gardening gloves. But how the devil did Howard’s prints get on the shovel? And in his own blood. She couldn’t imagine. Two months would pass before she remembered the incident of the previous spring, when Howard had pricked his fingers on the rosebush on the day of her first murder.
The prosecutor’s closing statement was short and to the point, and it might have been true. He laid out the salient facts as they were known through testimony and forensic evidence. They knew, by the testimonies of Mrs. Marsh and Ms. Bass, that Ramon had not yet arrived by the time they left for the restaurant at approximately 6:40 p.m. Ramon’s truck was blocking the driveway when Mr. Marsh returned home at approximately 8:20 p.m. Curiously, though evidence suggested he had been testing the water shortly before the assault (paraphernali
a was found in the pool, and his kit was nearby), Ramon’s dress was more in keeping with a business meeting. The only fingerprints on Ramon’s smartphone were those of the defendant.
“He would have you believe he just happened to pick it up at the scene before he found the body.”
The prosecutor then went on to recount that the phone contained pornographic videos, including one of the defendant’s mistress. This, along with a flash drive in the victim’s possession that contained a compromising video of the defendant’s daughter, and the fact that the victim had previously tried to extort money from the defendant’s mistress, suggested that the victim may have shown the defendant such a video in an attempt at extortion, giving the defendant more than enough motive to lash out in anger.
“We contend that confronted with this material, Howard Marsh flew into a rage, grabbed the nearest weapon, a shovel, and twice hit Ramon Esposito with enough force to fracture his skull. Whether the victim fell into the pool or was pushed may be inconclusive, but there is no doubt that Ramon Esposito then drowned.”
Evelyn nodded. Yes, that was the most plausible conclusion.
“No man, not even an officer of the court, is above the law. Therefore, we ask this jury to return a verdict of guilty as charged.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The jury took nearly two hours to deliberate, implying there was some dissension, but in the end the foreman handed down a guilty verdict. Howard turned to his attorney, loudly protesting, “But I didn’t do it!” Donald LeMay patted Howard on the back, shook his head, and shrugged. Howard, humiliated and chastened by all that had happened, gave only a furtive glance in Evelyn’s direction before the bailiff led him out of the courtroom by a side door.
Evelyn considered his situation. She had only done what he should have done to protect their daughter, and if one of them had to pay, it was only right that that person should be Howard. She didn’t feel she owed him any loyalty, given the circumstances. Her only regret was the effect it would have on Sam. Poor Sam. Evelyn turned on her phone and texted: “Dearest Sam, so sorry to report your father was found guilty today. Sentencing is next Wednesday. Be brave. Don’t let this deter you from your studies.”
Evelyn Marsh Page 16
