“Then months later he asked to meet with me one more time. I agreed, and then he forced me to get in the car and go with him to Los Angeles. I didn’t want to go,” she said, turning her face back toward the window. Jamison waited for more but she was silent. The almost sterile description of the relationship was in sharp contrast to the tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.
There was obviously more, a lot more, but she wasn’t elaborating and he wasn’t ready to press her for the details of the relationship. “Why didn’t you cooperate with the authorities when he was arrested for what happened in Los Angeles?”
She stared at Jamison for several seconds. Her voice was as soft as a baby’s breath. “I was in high school and thought I was in love. I had slept with him willingly before we broke up. If charges were pressed, it would have all come out. My parents wouldn’t have understood.” She was pleading with him. “You have to understand. In some ways I felt like it was my fault too. I never saw him again after the charges were dropped.”
Beth’s eyes searched his face, entreating him for understanding. Jamison nodded. Maybe that was what Ernie had noticed. Jamison didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you, Beth.” He knew she was waiting for him to say the words all rape victims want to hear. Her head settled back against the pillow as he said them. “I believe you.”
It was what she needed. “We’ll be over to see you again after you get out of the hospital. St. Claire has a lawyer and I’m sure he’s going to have an investigator come by to talk to you. Whether you want to talk to him or not is up to you, but you need to remember that whatever you say is going to be recorded or written down. You don’t have to talk to anybody if you don’t want to.”
As he stood back from the hospital bed, preparing to leave, she was watching him carefully as if trying to measure her words. “I don’t intend to talk to anybody except you and your investigators,” she finally said. Then she turned toward Ernie. “Thank you isn’t enough. I’m not sure what else I can say. Thank you.”
Once they were outside the hospital, O’Hara shoved an unlit cigar in his mouth and talked through clenched teeth. “Have you decided now what you think happened?”
Jamison’s response came out more abruptly than he intended. “If we hadn’t gone in there she’d be dead. But there’s something she isn’t saying and I damn well hope that it isn’t going to bite us in the ass. Get everything we can get on that old case.”
Chapter 16
The forensic tests came back negative. There were no signs of semen or prostatic fluids from the swabs taken from Garrett or the bed, or anywhere else. That didn’t mean St. Claire didn’t intend to rape Garrett. But without that proof there was no other physical evidence of sexual assault, like bruising or other trauma on her body.
On the positive side, they had found some hair in St. Claire’s Lexus that they could identify as belonging to Garrett. Each piece of evidence pushed the finger of guilt one way or the other, but forensics had come up with nothing else in the car.
The circumstances alone were enough to create a suspicion of St. Claire’s intent to sexually assault. Jamison made the decision after quick deliberation. He would file charges of kidnap, assault, and attempted rape. Just how long St. Claire would remain in custody after the arraignment would depend on the judge and McGuiness’s machinations.
There was more disappointing news. No evidence linking St. Claire to the three other victims could be found in the house or the car. No hair, no fiber, and worse, no positive results yet for DNA. The crucial DNA tests, as always, would take longer than the others.
Juries had undergone a transformation in recent years—spoon-fed on forensic television shows that used simplistic explanations and contrived situations that made it look as if DNA and other evidence was plastered all over crime scenes with blinking fluorescent signs. True reality was mostly hard-nosed detective work with a smattering of plain luck. Sometimes there was simply nothing. And if there was DNA evidence, it often took weeks of laborious, time-consuming, complex testing and retesting to locate it.
So if any of the other victims had been at St. Claire’s house or in his car, his investigators had, so far, nothing to make a case. A similar pattern of criminal activity might raise suspicion, but without physical evidence of some kind, any kind, Jamison knew they had nothing and were nowhere.
Puccinelli, along with Detective T. J. Longworthy, walked the reports over to the DA’s office. The pile of paper on the three murders was being given to Jamison with no written recommendation as to the charges requested by the sheriff’s office, but the face sheet concerning potential charges did say “Kidnap, Assault with a Deadly Weapon and Murder.” After a cursory glance at the pile of reports, Jamison recognized that Bekin was putting it all on him.
If Jamison refused to file charges, the sheriff could say he sent all the information over and it was the DA who refused. If there wasn’t enough evidence, Bekin could say that it was the DA’s call, not his. Bekin might look like a Freightliner truck but there was a wolfish brain inside that massive head.
Puccinelli said very little. Most of the talking came from Detective Longworthy. The reason was fairly transparent. Even though they had the same boss, T. J. Longworthy was carrying the water for Sheriff Bekin but Pooch wasn’t. T. J.’s argument was all suspicion and assumptions based on years of experience.
Finally Jamison asked Puccinelli for his opinion. With a resigned expression, Pooch shrugged before saying, “Sheriff Bekin says it’s your call.”
Jamison took a deep breath and let it out with a show of disgust. They had to see they were going too fast. He gave the two sheriff’s detectives a choice. They could take the case back and continue to work on it or he would write NCF, no charges filed, across the request for murder charges. Hard stares, mostly from T. J., went back and forth but neither side budged.
“Okay, so that’s the way it’s going to be,” Jamison thought. He wrote “NCF” for murder and handed back the paperwork. He would go with kidnap, assault, and attempted rape. The look on Detective Longworthy’s face didn’t conceal his contempt, but as for Puccinelli, although he didn’t say a word, it was clear to Jamison that he understood. But Jamison wasn’t going to put Pooch on the spot by asking him to agree with his decision in front of an angry and unrealistic colleague.
An hour later, after he saw Jamison’s decision, District Attorney Gage didn’t ask him for an explanation. He simply said it was his case and his judgment. As rumors swirled in the courthouse community about the murders and whether Dr. St. Claire committed them, Gage handled the press inquiries by saying since it was now a formally charged case, he didn’t want to add to the publicity, or as he self-righteously put it in the sound bite, “After all, Dr. St. Claire deserves a fair trial in a courtroom and not in a newsroom.”
Jamison waited until Elizabeth Garrett returned home from the hospital the next morning before sending Ernie back to the house for another interview. But her statement remained unchanged. She didn’t remember anything except scattered images until the moment he came crashing through the window. But some bits and pieces were becoming sharper. She now remembered St. Claire putting something over her face and that it had a peculiar odor, but she had almost no memory of anything after that until she woke up tied to the bed.
They were still waiting on the results of Garrett’s blood tests but they did know there was no sign of any heroin or barbiturates, unlike the other victims whose blood had been described by a forensic technician as a “toxic stew.” And like DNA testing, the blood results might come back right after the commercial break on television shows, but in real life detectives were lucky if it took days. With the arraignment staring him in the face the following morning, Jamison didn’t have days.
He maintained contact with Garrett by phone, but left the interviews to Ernie. The more interviews they did, the more they had to turn over to the defense in terms of discovery, and this reality was always a frustration because it wasn’t a
two-way street. Jamison had to give full discovery of everything he had to the defense while the defense could bide its time until trial before making its disclosures. And for how St. Claire would testify, the defense wasn’t obligated to give any disclosure at all because of his Fifth Amendment rights under the Constitution.
At this stage he didn’t expect any surprises. Arraignment was generally a perfunctory thing. Charges were read, a plea was entered, bail was set, and a preliminary hearing was calendared. The trial would be a different matter.
St. Claire was officially represented by Tom McGuiness who, from the moment he had been hired, had cut off all questioning by Jamison’s investigators with his client. Jamison knew the arraignment of St. Claire would be a circus. McGuiness had already made the assertion in front of the cameras that all the prosecution had was an allegation by a woman who had a “history” with a respected doctor in the community. The veiled reference to an earlier relationship between the victim and St. Claire predictably whetted the appetite of the press and their readers that maybe, after all, Elizabeth Garrett wasn’t a “total” innocent, just as McGuiness intended. And the hints of the relationship to the murder cases kept the rumor mill grinding despite the fact that both Jamison and the sheriff’s office were trying to keep a lid on that investigation.
And while Jamison anticipated that McGuiness would try to sow seeds of doubt in the minds of prospective jurors, as any good defense attorney would do, more importantly Jamison knew McGuiness was sure he wouldn’t respond—not that McGuiness wanted or expected him to. The defense attorney didn’t want a response.
A gauntlet of reporters and cameras confronted Jamison and O’Hara as they made their way toward the master calendar arraignment court run by Judge Frederick Kane. McGuiness was already seated in the front row of the spectator section. St. Claire sat in the “in custody” section dressed in a red jail jumpsuit. Other prisoners sat next to him, each chained to a floor bracket that couldn’t be seen from the public seating area. The rattling of the chains was background noise to the murmur of the spectators as Jamison walked toward the front of the courtroom.
McGuiness leaned over, catching Jamison’s attention as he walked by. “Matt, you are making a serious mistake, and thanks for not returning my phone calls.” McGuiness had in fact left three messages. “Which is more courtesy than you’ve shown by dragging my client down here bundled up in chains.”
“Tom, it isn’t personal and you know it. Your client wasn’t treated any differently than anybody else would be with these charges. You want to talk before the arraignment or after?”
The defense attorney replied, “I don’t want to talk at all. I want everything you’ve got and I want an honor release. And if you have any other charges I want to know. There’s no reason for him to have to post bail. He isn’t going anywhere and you know it. I want you to agree to a bail reduction. A million dollars is ridiculous.” McGuiness paused before adding, “Unless you have more charges. You don’t seriously think my client is also guilty of murder, do you?”
Jamison didn’t respond to the bait. “Send your assistant over later today and we will have copies of everything you are entitled to.”
“I’m entitled to everything.”
“You’re entitled to what I have that isn’t in the middle of being analyzed further. I’ll give you what I have, and as soon as I have more, you’ll get that too.”
“What about the honor release or the bail reduction?”
Jamison rubbed his face, shaking his head. “No honor release, Tom, and no bail reduction. Make your pitch to the judge. St. Claire posts bail or he sits in a cell just like everybody else who’s a kidnapper and a rapist.”
McGuiness took a long look at Jamison. “I’m warning you again. You’re making a mistake with this case and it’s going to be a career ender for you. Just remember when you hit the bottom of that crater you’re digging for yourself that I tried to warn you.”
McGuiness walked through the swinging gate that separated the public area from the counsel area. He looked back, raising his voice enough so that the reporters straining to hear would be able to make it out. “Just remember I tried to tell you. What happens from now on isn’t personal either.” McGuiness shook his head as if he had tried to do the right thing and failed.
Jamison had seen that disdainful expression before and heard those warnings from other lawyers in other cases. But one thing McGuiness didn’t say hadn’t escaped his attention. McGuiness hadn’t asked a single question about discussing a plea. McGuiness had something, and Matt wasn’t going to know what it was until it dropped in the courtroom right on his head. Whatever it was, Jamison had no doubt it was going to hurt.
When St. Claire’s case was called, McGuiness immediately asked for a bail hearing.
After waiting until McGuiness was through, Jamison responded, “Your Honor, the People object to a bail reduction. First thing, Your Honor, the defendant hasn’t entered a plea yet. This defendant has been charged with kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted rape. The charges qualify as violent felonies and will result in a state prison commitment when he is convicted. I don’t need to explain . . .”
A man of few words, Judge Kane interrupted. “No, you don’t need to explain. Based on the charges, the request from the defense is denied at this time, but the matter will be referred for consideration of a bail reduction or an honor release. Bail will remain at one million for the time being. After the report from the honor release officer comes back I’ll be prepared to reconsider it.”
During the exchange between the lawyers, St. Claire was standing in the custody area, a belly chain draped around his waist and legs, his hands manacled with cuffs that ran through the belly chain. His face showed no reaction to the mention of prison but St. Claire’s expression remained oddly inquisitive, as if he were taking in a play performed in front of him.
Kane turned his attention to Jamison. “Anything further before we finish the arraignment?”
“Yes, Your Honor. We recognize the court’s heavy calendar but we will request this case be set for preliminary hearing as quickly as possible.”
Usually the defense would request an extension to drag out the proceedings and get as much information from the prosecution as possible. Jamison wanted the judge to know that he wasn’t going to agree to a long extension of time prior to the preliminary hearing.
Before the court had the opportunity to inquire as to the reason for Jamison’s position, the defense attorney spoke up. “Your Honor, I am, of course, disappointed by the district attorney’s decision to charge Dr. St. Claire, as well as the speed by which the State wishes to—”McGuiness looked over at Jamison, infusing his voice with as much disdain as he could muster—“rush to injustice. It is a move obviously intended to prejudice my client’s case further, just as parading Dr. St. Claire into the courtroom in custody was designed to prejudice his case.
“However”—again McGuiness looked directly at Jamison—“in the district attorney’s request for a speedy preliminary hearing, I concur. Dr. St. Claire also requests to have this matter settled as quickly as possible. He wishes to clear his reputation and is confident, as I am, that this case will result in the charges being dismissed either because they should never have been brought in the first place, or my client being rightfully acquitted.
“Dr. St. Claire has nothing further to say except for entering his plea and he will not be requesting an extension or waiving time for the preliminary hearing. We request that the preliminary be held within the statutory time and want the court to know that if it was possible to proceed today we would be ready.”
Jamison’s instincts had already prepared him to expect the unexpected, but for McGuiness not to seek more time was a surprising response.
Judge Kane had a bemused expression as he watched the prosecutor and defense attorney circle each other like two dogs getting ready to fight. “I appreciate your fervor, Mr. McGuiness, but we will not have a prelimina
ry today. I will set it for a week from Monday, which is within the defendant’s statutory time.”
The judge turned to Jamison. “Acceptable to the People?”
He hadn’t expected the quick setting but Jamison was in no position to object, and now Alex St. Claire himself spoke up.
“Your Honor, am I permitted to speak?” he asked as McGuiness moved next to his client, holding his palm out, signaling that St. Claire should not say anything further. St. Claire continued to look at the judge waiting for his response.
Jamison knew that a highly experienced trial judge such as Kane would view this as a potential problem no matter what he did. “Dr. St. Claire, you have a right to speak, but I advise you that you should not do so until you have spoken to your attorney. It’s not in your best interest to make statements at this time.”
St. Claire lowered his head and raised his manacled hands in acknowledgment. “Your Honor, I appreciate the court’s solicitude. I would simply like the court to know that I am innocent of these charges. Mr. Jamison’s conduct in charging me is a shameful miscarriage of justice, and I am disappointed that I am being treated like a common criminal.” St. Claire looked at the other inmates chained next to him. “No offense intended, gentlemen.”
One of the defendants seated with St. Claire in the in-custody area laughed. “No offense taken, Doc. I’m innocent too.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the other in-custody defendants as Kane rapped his gavel on the bench.
In an orchestrated display of concern for the rights of his client in front of the members of the press who were present, McGuiness turned toward Jamison and asked, “What hard evidence do they have other than this one woman’s word against my client’s?”
Before Jamison could do anything more than open his mouth to protest, the judge held up his hand. He was used to posturing from attorneys. With a resigned expression, Judge Kane said, “Mr. McGuiness, your comments are noted, but are more appropriately addressed to a jury than to me. A plea of not guilty will be entered to each charge. Anything else from either counsel?”
Fractured Justice Page 13
