Defending Turquoise (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 5)

by John Ellsworth

  He forced a laugh at the prosecutor’s suggestion.

  “Please. Get real, Jimmy. Bit herself? Be serious, man!”

  “I have proof that might be the case.”

  Again, the cold chill.

  “What proof might that be?”

  “We’ll get into that at trial.”

  “Now hold on. Is there evidence you’re not turning over to me?”

  The AG’s delicate hands riffled the several pages of the M.E. report. “Let’s just say the evidence is in plain view but you aren’t seeing it. Or you’re not admitting you’re seeing it. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. Welcome to the big leagues, Mr. Murfee. We’ve got your client dead-to-rights.”

  “Is there a rebuttal witness you’re not telling me about?”

  “Warm and getting warmer. I’m not required by law to reveal rebuttal witnesses and I’m not going to. You’re stuck with that. All I can say is, you would be wise to proceed very carefully at trial. Your girl is not all that innocent as she wants everyone to believe.”

  Thaddeus was suddenly frightened and confused. Was the AG just bluffing, hoping for a last-minute plea? It didn’t feel that way; so far, no plea offers had been made. Which was itself unusual. And he didn’t feel like suggesting a plea, because he thought that a sign of weakness. He would just have to let it play out. And pray. Lots of prayer was called for.

  And he wasn’t a praying man.

  He forced another laugh and shook it off.

  “Right,” he said. “You’ve got an eyewitness to the whole thing. Nice try.”

  The AG pursed his lips. “Let me just say this. This biting thing isn’t the first time this has happened. You should ask your girl about this. There’s a definite history there.”

  “What?”

  The diminutive man shrugged. “That’s as far as I’m willing to go. Now we’ll see just how good your investigative techniques are. Good luck, Mr. Murfee. You’re definitely going to need it.”

  Less than an hour later, Thaddeus had his client in his office, ready to grill her.

  “So I met with the AG and he says the biting thing has happened before. Would you care to enlighten me?”

  Angelina smiled and Thaddeus had the awful sense she had just slipped into her Blanche role. “It was awful, the biting thing, as you put it. It happened before when Hammy was in the fourth grade and we were visiting Disneyland. At the Disneyland hotel.”

  “Tell me exactly what happened. Christine is going to record this.”

  Christine flicked on the recorder. “Rolling.”

  “Nothing much to it. Hammy was asleep in her own room in the hotel suite. John came on too strong and bit me. It bled and I went to the ER. I was scared and told them what happened.”

  “So there’s a record of all this.”

  “Yes.”

  Thaddeus slammed his hand flat on the desk. “Damn, woman! Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  She actually managed to look both surprised and off-put, attacked. “You didn’t ask me!”

  “You’re sure it was John who did this? What kind of records were left?”

  “I don’t remember. A nurse and a doctor talked to me. Tetanus shot. Maybe a picture.”

  Thaddeus sat bolt upright. “Pictures? Of the bite marks?”

  “Maybe. It’s been so long I don’t remember clearly.”

  “Oh my God. This is Friday, jury selection begins Monday. I don’t have time to get the records.”

  “Unless we get them faxed,” Christine said. “I’ll get right on it. Why don’t you come into my office, Mrs. Steinmar. I’ll get the particulars and get right on it.”

  “Thanks,” said Thaddeus. He waved the client off dismissively, a flick of the hand as if she were a bothersome fly flitting about. Swatting gnats, he thought. A bad, very bad, feeling came over him. He crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed out at the San Francisco Peaks. He wished he were anywhere but here. Two hours ago he was chomping at the bit to take the case to trial. Two hours later and he was frightened to death. It had happened before, criminal clients withholding important information. He had thought with Angelina that she was too knowledgeable, too sophisticated in the ways of the judicial process to withhold information from her attorney, but evidently not. He felt the floor shift under his feet and reached out and touched the window. For a moment he had felt like he was falling. But nothing had actually moved. Only the reality in his mind. Like a seam opening along a fault line, the truth had surfaced.

  No one was more surprised at what had been revealed than Thaddeus himself.

  No one.

  He thumped the glass and went back to his desk. He buzzed Christine.

  “Anything?”

  “She’s signing a medical release and I’m going to fax it over. Give me about an hour.”

  “Done.”

  45

  On Monday morning, Court TV had erected a tent and commentary platform on the sidewalk outside the courthouse. CNN’s TV crew was set up in the crowded hallway outside Judge Gerhardt’s courtroom, along with KTVK out of Phoenix and KTLA out of Los Angeles. Halogen TV lights flooded the stark corridor, contributing a heavenly glow to the otherwise energy-, dim surroundings. Everyone who was anyone was there, including writers from Salon, New York Magazine, The Atlantic, and Phoenix Magazine. Outside the courtroom, TV personalities were confronting anyone dressed in a suit or propped up on high heels. Even sheriff’s deputies were boldly confronted and asked whether they would be giving testimony.

  Thaddeus arrived with Angelina at his side, Christine Sussman bringing up the rear. He was wearing a three-piece navy suit with blue button-down shirt and regimental-stripe tie. Angelina looked stunning in an expensive gray suit from Scottsdale’s Fashion Square, mid-height heels, and a silver belt buckle that matched the silver pin on her left chest. Her hair had grown out and was arranged in a bun with the front pulled across her forehead and sprayed in place. She still wore her wedding ring and on her right middle finger a turquoise stone inset in highly polished sterling silver—another treasure scored in Scottsdale, and definitely not on the reservation. Christine wore a navy pantsuit and white shirt, with a red crossover tie. Her thick shoulders bulged as she moved her arms and her erect bearing bore testament to her tours of duty in the Army.

  A mike was shoved in front of Thaddeus’ face and CNN asked about the theory of defense. Mikes from KTLA and KTVK swung in front of his face when he paused to answer. Thaddeus smiled and said simply, “Our theory is that defendant, Mrs. Steinmar, is not guilty. Excuse me, but I’m sure the Attorney General will be much more cooperative as he tries to influence the jury panel.”

  Judge William Gerhardt had a rule reserving the front row of spectator seats for the press. He also allowed one camera, jury view of the courtroom, which included counsel table and judge’s bench and witness stand, and he allowed one artist, no still photographs inside the courtroom doors. If one was caught filming or recording with a smartphone, it would be confiscated and destroyed.

  They entered the courtroom and Angelina turned to him. “That’s all you could come up with, that I’m not guilty? How about telling them that I’m innocent? What happened to innocent?”

  Her voice was slightly elevated, which irritated Thaddeus and he leaned to her ear and whispered, “Not here, not now. We’re going to do this my way or you’re looking for another lawyer. Leave it alone!” She gave him an angry look then suddenly turned and smiled in the direction of the press. Actress, indeed, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be the last time the thought passed through his mind, either.

  Thaddeus found all press seats taken and noisy conversations underway, drowning out all else in the courtroom. The courtroom TV crew was running a test picture of the Great Seal of the State of Arizona, directly behind and above the judge’s heavy chair. With obvious suspicion, the bailiff was eyeing everyone coming in, while armed deputies were massed off to one side, exchanging notes about fishing for trout.

 
; Making their way down front, Angelina again smiled at the reporters, whose conversation buckled when they spied her. Several asked for a comment but she turned and looked up front as they made their way through the bar and on up to counsel table. Thaddeus and Christine unloaded three CPA cases containing iPads, books, yellow pads, exhibit labels, Magic Markers, and a variety of pens, some colored, mostly black. He arranged the items on his table just as he liked, and about that time Jimmy Moroney from the AG’s office swept in with two assistants and silently followed suit. Also accompanying the AG was the chief investigator on the case, Art Handelman. Art had an MS in Forensic Science and was known far and wide as the best investigator with the district attorney’s office. He was actually a member of the sheriff’s department but his permanent assignment was Chief, District Attorney Investigations. He was a thin man, medium height, with a brush of silvery gray hair that he had worn in a flattop since 1972 when he was two years old. He had a way of sonorously putting suspects to sleep when they were brought in for questioning and leading them through recorded statements. He would then pounce suddenly and destroy their innocence with short, staccato questions. More often than not his style resulted in admissions of guilt or incriminating statements from which they would never recover. Art was a pro and he was dressed in dark gray slacks, blue blazer, and white shirt with thin blue stripes. He was slowly munching on a stick of Juicy Fruit, as was his custom, and keeping his eyes to himself. Thaddeus knew he was a force to be reckoned with and the plan was to give him wide berth because he was known to sink many a defense from the witness stand.

  At 8:55 a.m. all was in readiness and an anticipatory calm began settling over the crowd. It was only minutes now until the judge would arrive in his pomp and circumstance and they would be off and running. Billed as “The Trial of the Decade,” things were ready to move.

  At precisely 9 a.m., Judge Gerhardt entered in his flowing black robe and smiled at the crowd. His customary blue jeans and penny loafers could be seen protruding from the bottom of the robe, to the astute observer. “Morning,” he mouthed before taking his seat. Silence fell over the room.

  The bailiff called the court to order and Judge Gerhardt greeted everyone and asked the clerk to draw sixty names for the jury panel. Once that chore was completed, the judge set about asking the general questions intended to elicit problems and complaints and issues that might quickly disqualify a respondent from jury service. As a result, a half-dozen were sent packing and an hour later the clerk was told to draw fourteen names from the panel and seat the chosen in the jury box, twelve jurors and two alternates.

  “This is a capital murder case,” he told the jury panel, “meaning the defendant faces the execution chamber if convicted and sentenced to death. Is there anyone on the panel who, because of that fact and that fact alone cannot serve?”

  Everyone traded looks but, surprisingly, no hands went up.

  “Good enough,” the judge said, and he continued with his questions.

  Angelina leaned to Thaddeus. “Tell me I’m not being executed. Please.”

  He gave her a wry smile and shook his head. “Not a chance,” he whispered. “You’ll be heading home when the case is over.”

  Angelina helped the defense team make their picks. “That man in the coveralls. I think John prosecuted him for felony drunk driving. The name rings a bell. Get rid of him.” Thaddeus responded that that might cut two ways, that the juror might be friendly to the woman who shot the man who prosecuted him. “I can tell by the way he glares at me,” she said, her voice rising. “Get rid of him. Please! And please don’t argue with me. It’s all about instincts anyway and mine are highly sensitive.”

  Thaddeus shrugged and drew a line through the man’s name. Off to the side he wrote “Defense. Peremptory.”

  The physician’s assistant could stay as she was in general practice and knew the value of medical records such as Angelina’s case would be presenting. Again Thaddeus differed with his client to the extent of explaining that the prosecution had medical records too, and maybe the PA would give too much credence to such exhibits. Angelina shook her head violently and insisted the woman stay. Thaddeus circled her name and then, fifteen minutes later, crossed her name out when the prosecutor dismissed her anyway. Back and forth it seesawed, each side fighting to keep the jurors they wanted and dispose of the jurors they feared. Angelina was the defendant and so she was entitled to the final say-so over who stayed and who went. After the first twenty minutes, Thaddeus no longer argued with her. She was very strong-willed and some of the jurors already had given him a quizzical look when Angelina’s demeanor became overly animated when arguing a juror’s merits. So he backed off and gave her her head. By Tuesday morning a jury was seated and sworn, and the judge took a break, following which opening statements would begin.

  Fifteen minutes later Judge Gerhardt told Jimmy Moroney to please proceed with the state’s opening statement. Thaddeus felt his heart skip. It was time, blood would be drawn, the throw-down was underway at last.

  Jimmy Moroney looked like he had aged five years over the past few months. He was forty, maybe forty-two max, thin, wire spectacles, creeping bald spot, and a reputation for spotless prosecutions. After a stint with the Department of Justice in Washington as an organized crime prosecutor, he had returned to his hometown of Phoenix and hired on with the Attorney General. He pushed back in his chair and made his way to the podium. There was no wasted motion, no wasted breath, as he launched into the state’s version of the shooting.

  He went over what the defendant had originally told the police about the shooting. He urged the jurors to listen for variations in her testimony from what he was telling them from the police reports. He explained those variations would be from midcourse corrections made in her story by her attorneys. Next up, bite marks. He launched into a discussion of forensic photography. He told the jury that bite marks are found many times in sexual assaults and can be matched back to the individual who did the biting. He laid some groundwork. The bite marks should be photographed using an ABFO No. 2 Scale with normal lighting conditions, side lighting, UV light, and alternate light sources. Color as well as black and white shots should be used. The more photographs under a variety of conditions, the better. Older bite marks, which are no longer visible on the skin, may sometimes be visualized and photographed using UV light and alternate light sources. If the bite mark has left an impression then maybe a cast can be made of it. Casts and photographs of the suspect’s teeth and maybe the victim’s teeth marks will be needed for comparison. One of the state’s key witnesses would be a forensic odontologist, who would make sense of all this.

  Then he stunned Thaddeus. “During our investigation we learned the defendant had accused John Steinmar of biting her at least once before. This was in Anaheim, California, some ten years earlier. She had gone to the ER complaining assault and biting by her husband. Unfortunately for her, the ER was staffed by a fine young physician named Walter Joneth, who had called in a police photographer to take the kind of photos I talked about. Over thirty photos were taken. We have obtained those photos from ten years ago and we have compared them to John Steinmar’s bite from the autopsy. Guess what? She had been bitten ten years ago, all right. But the bite marks weren’t from John Steinmar. She was lying then. We believe the evidence will show she is lying now, as well. That will be for you to decide.”

  He looked over the jury then continued. Pens were flying over notepad pages. He had them in his palm, one and all.

  “When you are done I have no doubt you will convict Mrs. Steinmar of first-degree murder. Her execution will follow, as it should, because her crime was coldly plotted, dramatized, and acted out by the great actress she is. We will tell you all about her dramatic skills, as well, so please don’t be swayed by her histrionics. She is a cold, calculating woman who murdered her husband in cold blood and then made up a huge story, complete with forensics, to prove it. Don’t believe her lies. I will prove all this to you far, f
ar beyond a reasonable doubt. Thank you.”

  Judge Gerhardt immediately turned to Thaddeus. “Counsel, your turn.”

  Shaken from head to toe, Thaddeus slowly took to his feet. He hoped all the color hadn’t drained from his face, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had. His hand shook as he unfurled the yellow pad before him at the podium. He jammed the hand in his pocket and prayed no one had noticed.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he weakly began, and went on to describe how the defense had no burden of proof, how it was all on the state to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. He made sure they understood that the defendant didn’t even have to testify if she chose to remain silent. He described the defense exhibits—consisting primarily of the photographs Shep had had made at the hospital. But even as he was talking he wasn’t sure those photographs would end up freeing his client or convicting her, or what. He became angry the further he went. Angry that she hadn’t told him about the incident in California. Angry that the AG had obtained the ten-year-old photographs and was now going to use them to convict her of lying ten years later. For if the state did that, nothing she could say would help her. Especially—heaven forbid—if they came through on their promise and somehow proved the current bite marks weren’t from her husband. If that were the case he would have an execution to attend. By the time he sat down his head was spinning and he knew he had been faltering, disjointed, and sounded totally unconvinced himself of the lines he had delivered by reflex.

  “Thank you, Counsel,” Judge Gerhardt said. “Is the state ready to proceed?”

  Jimmy Moroney nodded. “Ready, Your Honor.”

  First witness up was Dr. Kewae N. Horne, Medical Examiner. His pathological diagnosis was of gunshot wound, entrance top of head, indeterminate range. He explained the autopsy, what they were looking for, how it proceeded and what they did, and their findings and pathologic diagnoses. There was a perforation of the inferior skull base, anterior fossa, and facial skeleton. Wound was right to left and downward. Cause of death was gunshot wound, and manner was homicide. Death was immediate, there was an exit hole on the right lower jaw, portions of right jaw severely fractured and early decomposition to body. The testimony was harmless enough in that it didn’t tend to implicate Angelina by its measure, so Thaddeus left him alone on cross-examination. He posited a few questions and merely went back over the approximate time of death and confirmed that the doctor had no opinion of gunshot distances and angles. All in all the witness was believable and didn’t point any fingers at Angelina.