SW01 - The Baxter Trust

by Parnell Hall

  “That’s all,” Dirkson said.

  Carla Finley got up to leave the stand.

  Steve rose to his feet. “I have a few questions on cross-examination,” he said. He crossed to the witness stand. “Now. Miss Finley, you say you recognized the body as that of Robert Greely?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long had you known Mr. Greely?”

  “About five years.”

  “Did you meet him through your work?”

  Dirkson was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. This witness was called for a limited purpose, that of identifying the body. Let counsel confine his questions to that. These matters he is touching on are incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

  Judge Crandell leaned over the bench. “I think the objection is well taken. The witness was called for a limited purpose.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Identifying the body. Which is what I’m going into. Surely the accuracy of her identification of the dead man will depend on how well she knew him. Which is what I’m going into.”

  Judge Crandell narrowed his eyes. “You’re questioning the matter of identity?”

  “I don’t know, Your Honor, because I haven’t asked my questions yet. But I certainly intend to ask them. So far, all we have in evidence here is the fact this witness claims the dead man was Robert Greely. I certainly intend to find out on what grounds she bases her claim.”

  “Very well. The witness will answer the question.”

  “The question,” Steve said, “was did you meet him through your work?”

  “Yes.”

  “What were you wearing at the time?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Crandell ruled.

  “May I be heard, Your Honor?”

  Judge Crandell shook his head. “The question is clearly improper.”

  “Very well.” Steve turned back to the witness. “Then let me ask you this—were you wearing anything at the time you met Robert Greely?”

  Dirkson was on his feet shouting. “Your Honor! Your Honor! Objection. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. Your Honor has already ruled.”

  “Mr. Winslow,” Judge Crandell said sternly. “I believe the prosecutor is correct. Your question borders seriously on misconduct. I may have to find you in contempt of court. Before I do, do you have any explanation to make for asking such a question?”

  “I do, Your Honor.”

  “Then would you please explain?”

  “Certainly, Your Honor. I am trying to find out the basis for Miss Finley’s identification of the dead man. She has testified that she met him through her employment. It happens that Miss Finley is employed as a nude dancer in a peep show on Forty-second Street. I am attempting to find out if Mr. Greely was merely a customer in that establishment, for surely the identification of someone who was a longtime friend of the decedent will be more forceful than that of a nude model who knew him only as a customer who used to ogle her naked body in a peep show.”

  Dirkson was on his feet to object, but Carla Finley beat him to it. “You son of a bitch!” she shrieked from the witness stand. Her demure manner was completely gone and her eyes were blazing.

  The court burst into an uproar. It took Judge Crandell five bangs of the gavel to quiet it.

  “That will do,” Judge Crandell said. “Mr. Prosecutor, please be quiet. I will handle this. Now then, Mr. Winslow,” Crandell went on, “have you any reason at all, however remote, why I should not consider the statement you have just made contempt of court?”

  “Certainly, Your Honor.”

  Crandell gawked at him. “You do?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. I made that statement in response to a direct question by you, asking me to explain my reasons for asking the witness if she was wearing anything at the time she met Robert Greely. I had no choice but to make it, since the question was a directive from the court. In fact, had I not made that statement, I would be in contempt of court.

  “If I am in error, I would like to apologize to the court and to the prosecutor. And as far as the question itself goes, I will not pursue this any further, I will withdraw it. And I have no further questions of this witness.”

  Dirkson started to say something, thought better of it and held his tongue.

  Crandell glared down at Winslow, trying to think of the proper rebuke. None came to mind.

  “Very well,” Crandell said. “I am holding the matters of misconduct and contempt of court under advisement. I shall rule on them at a future time. For the time being, the question is withdrawn. The witness is excused.”

  Steve bowed to the judge and returned to his table. As he sat down, Sheila leaned over and said, “Why did you do that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That didn’t accomplish anything. That poor woman. What difference does it make what she does for a living? She loved that man and she’s upset. Why did you have to do that?”

  “The prosecutor was trying to play on the sympathies of the jury. So they dress her in black and play her up as the bereaved. I had to counteract that. I did it.”

  “It wasn’t right.”

  “Your displeasure is noted.”

  Judge Crandell banged his gavel somewhat irritably. “Call your next witness.”

  Dirkson recalled Reginald Steele. This time the prosecutor took pains to qualify him as an expert, asking for his education, training and experience as a police technician.

  Steele gave them with some pleasure. He was a tall, thin man with a sort of squashed-in-looking face, that still managed to have that aloof quality of some expert technicians. He had been somewhat uncomfortable during the knife-identification sequence, but in giving his qualifications he was smug.

  “Now Mr. Steele,” Dirkson said, after he had qualified the witness, “you testified that you developed fingerprints on the murder weapon, People’s Exhibit number one?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And did you subsequently identify those prints?”

  “I did.”

  “Whose prints were they?”

  “The prints of the defendant, Sheila Benton.”

  Dirkson nodded at Winslow. “Cross-examine.”

  Steve got to his feet, crossed to the witness and smiled.

  “You say you found the fingerprints of the defendant on the knife, Mr. Steele?”

  “That is correct.”

  “I notice the district attorney didn’t ask you if you found anyone else’s fingerprints on the knife.”

  Reginald Steele said nothing.

  “Can’t you answer that, Mr. Steele?”

  “No I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Steele smiled. “Because it isn’t a question.”

  Laughter greeted this sally. Dirkson let the jury see his broad grin.

  Steve smiled back at the witness. “You’re right. It isn’t. So let me ask you some questions. Did you find the fingerprints of anyone else on the knife?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “You found only the fingerprints of the defendant?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How many fingerprints did you find?”

  “I found four legible fingerprints. That is, four prints that were clear enough to classify and identify.”

  “And what prints were they?”

  “I found the print of the defendant’s right thumb, right index finger, right middle finger, and right ring finger.”

  “I see. Did these four prints, taken together, indicate the position of the hand gripping the knife?”

  “Yes they did. The four prints indicated that the defendant had held the knife in a firm grip.”

  Steve nodded his head. “Well, that’s mighty interesting, Mr. Steele. But you didn’t consider that particularly important, did you?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “You didn’t mention it on direct examination.”
/>   “I wasn’t asked.”

  “I noticed that. Now let me ask you this. Did you know you weren’t going to be asked on direct examination?”

  Dirkson was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. How could the witness know what he was going to be asked on direct examination? Counsel is asking for a conclusion from the witness.”

  “The witness would know if he had been told what he was going to be asked. So I would like to ask you, Mr. Steele, if you and District Attorney Dirkson discussed the manner in which you would give your testimony.”

  “Your Honor, Your Honor,” Dirkson cried. “This is beyond all bounds. Naturally a prosecutor does not go into court blind. I discuss with the witnesses what their testimony will be. But that discussion has no bearing on the case, and counsel has no right to inquire into it.”

  “It’s always proper to show bias,” Steve said.

  “What bias?” Dirkson said impatiently. “This is an expert technician giving expert testimony. The fingerprints belong to Sheila Benton. The facts are the facts. Nothing can alter them.”

  “The facts may be the facts, but the manner in which they are presented, as counsel well knows, may have a bearing on the outcome of this trial. Now, Your Honor, it is my contention that this witness had an understanding with the district attorney that it would be more damaging to the defendant’s case to have the details about the fingerprint evidence—that the only prints on the knife were those of the defendant, and that the four prints indicated where the knife had been held in a firm grip—brought out by me on cross-examination, rather than by the district attorney on direct examination. It is my contention that because of this understanding, Mr. Steele deliberately refrained from mentioning these points on direct examination, and that his doing so is an indication of his bias.”

  Dirkson was ready with an argument, but Judge Crandell cut in. “I think it is more an indication of the skill of the prosecutor than the bias of the witness. What you are describing, Mr. Winslow, is rather elemental courtroom strategy. Now if you really wish to pursue the matter under the guise of establishing bias, I suppose you have the right to do so, but I must warn you I feel you are beating a dead horse.”

  Steve smiled. “I think we can let the matter drop, Your Honor. Let’s move on to something else. Mr. Steele, in addition to developing the prints on the knife, you also developed fingerprints in the defendant’s apartment, did you not?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you examine a knife rack affixed to the wall of the defendant’s kitchen?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “How many knives were in the rack?”

  “I believe there were three.”

  “But there were spaces in the rack for four, were there not?”

  “I can’t be sure how many spaces there were in the rack.”

  “Yes, but there was one empty space in the rack, was there not? What I’m getting at is, regardless of how many knives there were in the rack, there was space for one more.”

  “That is correct.”

  “And aside from the size and shape, were the knives similar in style and design to the murder knife?”

  “Yes, sir. They were.”

  “And did you examine these knives for fingerprints?”

  “I did.”

  “And did you find any?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On all the knives?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe so.”

  “And whose fingerprints were they?”

  “The fingerprints of the defendant.”

  “So, if I understand your testimony correctly, there were at least four knives in the apartment, including the murder knife, and all of them had the defendant’s fingerprints on them.”

  “Yes, sir. That is correct.”

  “So assuming the murder weapon was a knife from the rack, you would have considered it unusual if it had not had the defendant’s fingerprints on it.”

  Dirkson leapt to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor! The question is argumentative, assuming facts not in evidence, and calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”

  “I’ll withdraw the question,” Steve said. “Now, Mr. Steele, I believe you took photographs of the prints on the murder weapon.”

  “I directed such pictures to be taken. My assistant was the one who actually took them.”

  “Would you produce them, please?”

  “Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Those photographs are a part of the prosecution’s case. I intend to introduce them into evidence at a later time.”

  “And I’d like to introduce them now,” Steve said. “Because I intend to cross-examine this witness on them. Now I could simply delay my cross-examination and recall Mr. Steele at a later time, but in the interest of expediency I don’t see why we can’t introduce them now.”

  “But Mr. Steele didn’t take the pictures.”

  “Well, the defense will stipulate that his assistant did, and that the pictures you are producing are those pictures that he took.”

  “I prefer to put on my own case in my own way, Your Honor.”

  “I understand,” Crandell said. “But the stipulation would save time. And I take it there is no dispute as to the accuracy of the pictures.”

  “No, Your Honor. Very well, I stipulate the pictures may be produced in evidence.”

  The pictures were produced and marked by the clerk, People’s Exhibit number two, A through K.

  Steve examined the pictures. He chose one, and approached the witness.

  “Now, Mr. Steele, I hand you a photo, People’s Exhibit number two-D, and ask you what it shows.”

  Steele examined the photo. “That is a picture of the handle of the knife. The large print that you see is the imprint of the defendant’s thumb. The smaller prints, which are only partly visible on the bottom edge of the handle, are the defendant’s first, middle and ring fingers.”

  “I hand you another photo, People’s Exhibit two-E.”

  “That is another angle on the knife handle, showing the prints of the fingers more clearly.”

  “Very good,” Steve said. He crossed to the defense table, reached in his briefcase and took out a roll of masking tape, then crossed to the clerk and picked up the knife. He crossed back again to the witness.

  “Now, Mr. Steele, I hand you the knife, People’s Exhibit number 1, and this roll of masking tape, and I ask you to take this tape, and referring to the photographs, mark on the knife handle where the defendant’s fingerprints are.”

  “Mark them how?”

  “Here’s a pen. Just affix a piece of tape to the handle where each print is, and sketch in the direction of the finger.”

  The witness took the masking tape and affixed four short strips to the knife handle. Then he took the pen and drew in the fingers.

  Steve took the knife and looked at it. “Thank you, Mr. Steele. Now let me ask you this. Having examined the fingerprint evidence in this case, have you reached an expert opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant?”

  Dirkson started to stand up, then slowly sat down again. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening, but he wasn’t about to stop it.

  “I have,” Steele said, grimly.

  “And what is your expert opinion?”

  Judge Crandell leaned forward. “One moment, here. Before the witness answers the question. Mr. Winslow, although it is not my position to presume what this witness’s answer may be, I must point out to you that the answer that you are calling for might be one that is highly detrimental to your client. I have no wish to let the record of this trial be blemished in any way so that it could be claimed that the defendant did not have adequate representation. So I ask you to reconsider your question.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I don’t wish to do that.”

  Judge Crandell’s lips clamped together. “Very well. Miss Benton.”

  Sheila, startled at being addressed, said, “What?”

  “Have you heard what your attorney
asked the witness?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Call me Your Honor.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you object to what your attorney is doing?”

  Sheila looked sideways up at Steve. He looked down at her. His face was neutral, like that of a poker player running a bluff. She couldn’t read it at all.

  She looked back at the judge. “No, Your Honor.”

  Judge Crandell looked greatly displeased. “Very well,” he said. “The witness will answer the question. Court reporter will read the question.”

  The reporter pawed through his paper tapes. “Question: ‘Having examined the fingerprint evidence in this case, have you reached an expert opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant?’ Answer: ‘I have.’ Question: ‘And what is your expert opinion?’”

  Steele took a breath. “It is my expert opinion,” he said, “that the defendant, Sheila Benton, stabbed the decedent, Robert Greely, with the knife.”

  A gasp went up from the audience in the courtroom, followed by a loud murmur.

  District Attorney Dirkson grinned broadly.

  Judge Crandell frowned, and banged for silence.

  Steve smiled and held up his hand.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Steele. Now then, you have testified that in your expert opinion, Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with this knife. You base your opinion on her fingerprints, which you have marked on the handle of the knife with masking tape and pen. Now, I am going to ask you to take hold of the handle of the knife in your right hand, and place your fingers in the positions of the prints which you have marked on the handle.”

  Steele took the knife and positioned it in his hand, lining up the finger marks.

  Steve looked at him and smiled. “That’s what I thought, Mr. Steele.”

  Steele looked at him. “What?”

  “When you put your hand on the knife in the position you claim the defendant held it, you’re holding it like a sword, out in front of you. Your thumb is on the part of the handle closest to the blade of the knife, and your fingers are curled around the handle behind it. Now is that not the position in which you would hold the knife to carve a roast?”