Defending Turquoise (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 5)

by John Ellsworth

  52

  They resumed trial in State v. Turquoise Begay on June 15.

  Turquoise attended court in the uniform Katy had selected for her: gray pleated skirt, white blouse and red cross tie, navy blazer with red pocket square, gold buttons. A chic turquoise necklace was the only jewelry she wore, compliments of Thaddeus, by way of Katy, who found it in Phoenix on 24th Street and Camelback. “Your namesake,” Katy told her. “Your amulet. Your protector from Earth Mother. Wear it in peace and prosperity.”

  Judge Trautman welcomed the jury back. He acknowledged on the record the presence of the Honorable Irl Kampbell, retired judge of the Arizona Court of Appeals. He gave the new prosecutor the opportunity to introduce himself. He was new since Wrasslin had been replaced when Thaddeus had threatened to call her as a witness at the first day of trial. The new man’s name was Peter Redwash and he was fresh out of prosecutor’s school and this was his first felony trial. Why had Wrasslin opted for such a young man of little experience to replace her? Thaddeus knew the answer to that as soon as he laid eyes: Navajo. The young prosecutor was Navajo and maybe ten years older than the defendant Turquoise. So they were both youthful, both of Navajo descent, and both attractive enough to pose a difficult choice for a jury’s natural inclination to prefer the most attractive people in the courtroom. A good choice, thought Thaddeus.

  Special Agent Stall Worthy was again seated at the prosecutor’s table. He had been in charge of the investigation surrounding the murder of Randy Begay. It was his testimony that had ground the first trial to a halt when he mentioned that Turquoise had given certain statements in the presence of Roslin Russell, the DA. Thaddeus had asked to call Wrasslin at that moment for voir dire on the issue of voluntariness of the defendant’s statement. Argument had erupted, the DA had refused to testify, and the court had continued the case for her to replace herself and then make herself available as a witness. Stall Worthy was dressed in the dark gray suit required of all Special Agents by FBI mandate.

  The judge reminded the jury that they had gone on hiatus due to a scheduling problem for a critical witness. That witness was available now, he told them, and so trial could reconvene. He reminded counsel that Thaddeus had just asked to call Roslin Russell on voir dire when trial was continued last spring. Thaddeus acknowledged that and so did ADA Redwash.

  “Are you ready to proceed, Counsel? Have you subpoenaed Ms. Russell for trial today?”

  Thaddeus said he had, and he called Roslin Russell to the stand. She was seated and Thaddeus immediately launched into the situation and physical environment that existed when Turquoise made her statements in response to questions being asked by Special Agent Worthy.

  “Mrs. Russell, Special Agent Worthy testified last time that my client told you that she wasn’t being forced to have sex with her uncle. Do you recall him saying that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was present when she made that statement?”

  “I believe just me and Agent Worthy.”

  “You believe? Aren’t you sure?”

  “Counsel, I hear so many statements from so many people, it’s difficult—”

  “It’s difficult to remember what was said?”

  She shook her head. “No, I was going to say it’s difficult to remember who all was present, or where, or what time of day it was, or what I was wearing, what your client had to eat for lunch that day—you get my drift.”

  “I do. So let me ask again. Who was present when my client supposedly made that statement?”

  “My best recall is that I was there and Agent Worthy was there. No one else.”

  “Had she been given the Miranda warning at that time?”

  “I assume so. The statement wasn’t recorded, so that little detail eludes me. I know it would be our normal practice to give Miranda before ever questioning a witness. So yes, I would have to say it was given. She had been told she had the right to remain silent and have a lawyer present.”

  “How old was she then?”

  “Fifteen. Maybe sixteen.”

  “Did she know what you meant when you said she had the right to have a lawyer?”

  “What do you mean? I said it in English and she speaks English, so yes.”

  “My point is, this little girl attends reservation school and had never talked to a lawyer in her life. Probably had never seen one. So for you to be telling her she had the right to have one present, I must question whether she understood why she might want to exercise that right. My point is, her statement probably was not voluntary even though you gave Miranda to her.”

  She gave him a sarcastic smile. “Is there a question pending?”

  “Did you ask her if she understood her rights?”

  “I didn’t. I assume Agent Worthy did.”

  “Please don’t assume. Did he or didn’t he, to your knowledge, ask if she understood her rights?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s all pretty much a blur right now. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Thaddeus nodded slowly. “If it’s a blur, then yes, I needed to hear it’s a blur. That’s all I have, Your Honor.”

  Trautman peered over his glasses at ADA Redwash. “Counsel?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “For this witness?”

  “Yes, for this witness.”

  “I don’t—I don’t think so.”

  At which point the witness shook her head no.

  “No, I don’t.”

  At which point the jury smiled and acknowledged they had a newbie on their hands. This should be interesting, their half-smiles said.

  H. Ivan Trautman told the witness she could step down, which she did, and took a seat behind the bar, in the front row, next to one of four reporters present. It wasn’t a highly attended trial as the defendant was a nobody. Few spectators were there, with the exception of Katy, who was keeping a close watch over things.

  The judge continued, “Counsel, you asked for voir dire during Agent Worthy’s cross-examination by you. Did you want to conclude that cross? Or is it concluded? Why don’t you tell me where we’re at with that?”

  “Where we are? Defendant has no other questions for Agent Worthy.”

  “All that just for that?” the judge remarked.

  “Yes,” said Thaddeus. “All that just for that. We just proved the witness didn’t give that statement voluntarily so defendant moves that the last statement given by the FBI agent concerning the uncle’s not sexually abusing her be stricken from the record and the jury instructed to disregard.”

  “I disagree. I don’t think you’ve proven that at all, Counsel. I think you’ve adduced testimony that is inconclusive. The testimony will be allowed to stand. Now, are you finished in your cross-examination of Agent Worthy, yes or no?”

  Thaddeus glared at the little potentate. He hated the man—no, loathed him. If there was any way he could help put Turquoise behind bars, so be it. He would help in a flash. And he had his henchman Irl Kampbell in tow just to make sure the natives didn’t fight back except appropriately. Whatever the hell that meant.

  “The state will call its next witness.”

  “State calls Dr. Kewae N. Horne, Medical Examiner of Coconino County.”

  Dr. Horne testified that the cause of death was gunshot wound to the head and the manner of death was homicide. There was no gunshot residue found on the decedent, angles of entry and size of exit wound were recited, and the doctor proved yet again that medical examiners are loathe to give precise angles of entry of bullet wounds, preferring instead, “downward angle” to “forty-five degrees,” even though Thaddeus, on cross-examination tried to pin him down to an exact numerical value. Even when prodded and pushed, he refused to budge, so “downward angle,” it was.

  Next up came the crime scene investigator responsible for photography, scale drawing, and fingerprints/DNA. Then Thaddeus had her on cross-examination.

  “Did you search the room for gunshot residue?”


  “I did.”

  “Did you find any?”

  “No.”

  “Did you examine the door frame?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “In case the shooter used the door frame to steady his aim.”

  “It wasn’t my impression that the shooter used the door frame to steady her aim.”

  “You use the pronoun ‘her.’ Are you sure the shooter was a woman?”

  “No.”

  “Then why use ‘her’?”

  “Because a female is on trial. I believe she is guilty.”

  “Whoa! You believe she is guilty? Is that how you approach your job as a scientist whose job is to find scientific facts at a crime scene?”

  The CSI smiled. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to have an opinion just because I’m a scientist doing a scientific job?”

  “No, I’m asking whether you approached your job with a preconceived notion of guilt.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Thaddeus turned and retrieved a bottle of water from counsel table before resuming. An idea had formed in his mind while he had traded barbs with the witness. He took a swig of water and swallowed hard.

  “Ms. Evans, if I told you I had hired a firearms expert who did, in fact, examine the door frame for gunshot residue, would you be surprised?”

  It was a setup. It didn’t matter whether she was surprised or not. He was simply laying foundation.

  “No, I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re entitled to spend your money however you see fit.”

  “And if I told you my expert found gunshot residue on the door frame would that surprise you?”

  “No.” Less enthusiastic now.

  “And if I told you that gunshot residue was found at a height of five feet ten inches, would that surprise you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “Because your client, according to the reports, is short. About five-two, I believe. It would be very unusual for her to have had the gun at five feet nine inches when she fired. I can only conclude that the residue was from another gunshot.”

  “And you can also conclude that someone much taller than my client fired the shot that killed Randy Begay, yes?”

  “I could make that conclusion, yes.”

  “In fact, that conclusion would be just as valid as the one you mentioned, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Which raises a great deal of doubt about the shooter’s identity, correct?”

  Thaddeus waited for the DA to explode with a very justified objection to the question.

  However...there was no objection. The new ADA was busy making notes as the cross progressed. Evidently he saw nothing wrong with the argumentative and conclusory nature of the question.

  “It would raise doubt, yes,” said the witness, once it was clear the ADA wasn’t going to jump in with an objection to save her.

  “In fact, it would raise a reasonable doubt, wouldn’t it?”

  Again, no objection.

  Then the Special Agent leaned and whispered in Mr. Redwash’s ear. Whereupon the young DA jumped to his feet and shouted, “Objection!”

  “Basis?” said Judge Trautman.

  “Attempts to invade the province of the jury.”

  “Yes, something like that,” said Trautman. “Sustained. Counsel, you know better.”

  “That is all I have for this witness,” Thaddeus replied.

  He took his seat, happy beyond all hope with the help this witness had been. She was just a sounding board for him to prove his points through a series of questions. Cross-examination 101.

  The young DA’s ears burned bright red even through his brown skin.

  He had been schooled.

  Another CSI testified about the evidence tagged and bagged at the scene, the chain of evidence underlying admission of the rifle, the bullet, and other items taken from the room. And again, Thaddeus went over the same gunshot residue questions and elicited pretty much the same answers as before. He was rubbing it in, making sure no one on the jury had missed a bit of it.

  Recess was taken for the night.

  53

  Tuesday dawned dark and gloomy, heavy rain starting at six o’clock, Katy muttering for Thaddeus to make sure Sarai’s window was closed and to please be quiet when he dressed. Thaddeus kissing her neck and cheek and copping a feel of a bare breast before his hand was roughly pushed away and her smiling face said No.

  On the drive into town, Turquoise at his side, they discussed the business of rap music. Turquoise didn’t understand how the hot rappers managed to live in mansions and drive Ferraris and jet around the world on their own private jets. She didn’t understand the economics and Thaddeus tried his best to explain it to her. She asked how much money he thought they earned and he managed a wild guesstimate. She then allowed that she might like to take up rap music as an artist and be the first female Native American rap goddess—her words. He laughed and pulled through Starbucks. Katy ordered a lemon bread and tea, Thaddeus had his usual venti bold and sausage muffin.

  The state rested its case right out of the gate.

  Thaddeus suddenly needed a witness. He had waiting in the wings Lance Myer-Rothstein.

  “Dr. Myer-Rothstein,” he began, “you are available for consultation in homicide cases, including shooting scene reconstruction, crime scene evidence evaluation, bloodstain pattern analysis, and crime scene reconstruction, correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  Thaddeus proceeded to take the witness through his credentials, papers, notable trials and testimony, and his workup in the Turquoise Begay case. He testified about the characteristics of the .30-.30 caliber bullet, its impact mechanics, and what happened with the single round fired in this case. The testimony took the better part of an hour, at which time Judge Trautman sent the jury out on its first recess of the day.

  They resumed fifteen minutes later.

  “Now, Dr. Myer-Rothstein. You also examined the scene of the shooting, did you not?”

  “I did.”

  “When was that?”

  He gave the date, several months ago, and the jury made its notes. Thaddeus was pleased to see that they had been attentive and following right along on all of the expert’s testimony. There had been no objections and the witness was easily qualified as an expert who would be allowed to give opinion testimony within his field of expertise. Which was very broad, it turned out.

  “What did you do at the scene?”

  “Examined the damage the bullet made to the trailer wall. Examined the carpet in the room for any gunshot residue, unburnt powder, lead riflings, things of that nature.”

  “How about the walls? Examine those?”

  “I did. And I examined the door frame.”

  “Describe that, please.”

  “Well, the room is ten by ten with a single doorway. The frame of the door is metal and wood. It occurred to me from the angle of entry of the bullet and the distance from which the bullet had to have been fired to leave no GSR, that the shooter might very well have steadied the shot by using the door frame to press against with the gun.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “I learned to rely on my instincts. I had learned that years ago. This was just a refresher.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “I found gunshot residue on the door frame.”

  “Describe that.”

  “At the height of five feet nine inches, right side of door frame as one looks into the room, there was a very distinct shadow of gunshot residue some three inches by one-point-five inches. Presumably the smaller width measurement would have been as large as three inches too, but there wasn’t enough doorframe depth-wise to accommodate much more than about an inch and a half. The walls are very thin in that trailer. It’s a nineteen seventy-six Trailmaster Luxottica, by the way. Made in Iowa and sold out of Utah.”

  “You learned those facts
about the house trailer itself?”

  “I try to be very thorough.”

  “I see that. Were you able to connect the gunshot residue from the door to the rifle that fired the shot that killed Randy Begay?”

  “I was.”

  “How so?”

  “The powder characteristics were exactly the same.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning the same material found in the cartridge casing was found on the door frame. Same shot.”

  “How certain are you of that, one to ten?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Fair enough. Now does the fact that the gunshot residue was found on the right side of the frame as one looks into the room—does that fact tell you anything in your role as a crime scene investigator and firearms expert?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us what that tells you.”

  “Simple. The shooter was right-handed. Or at least shot right-handed.”

  “So our shooter is right-handed and his eye level is at five feet nine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you compare that shooter’s characteristics to those of Turquoise Begay?”

  “I did.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Made her stand against the wall in your library and measured her height.”

  “And you found her to be?”

  “Five-two.”

  “Five feet two inches?”

  “Correct.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, I took a handwriting sample from her.”

  “Why handwriting sample? You’re definitely not a handwriting expert.”

  “I wanted to see which hand she wrote with. That would tell me which hand she would shoot with.”

  “Which hand did she write with?”

  “Left hand.”

  “Which told you what about how she would shoot a rifle?”

  “That she would shoot left-handed. If she had shot the gun then I would have found the gunshot residue on the left side of the door frame approximately nine inches lower than actual.”