“Mr. Jamison.” It was important that she didn’t slip and call him Matt during the trial. He had emphasized that. “As I said before, we met when I was in high school. I broke it off because it was wrong. It was out of control. I was out of control.”
“Out of control how? You’ve used that term before. Was there something unusual about your relationship, something, well, different?”
“It was my first time with a man. I didn’t know what to do. Alex—”
“Beth,” Jamison interrupted, “I know it’s normal for you to call him that but it personalizes him in front of the jury. Be sure to call him ‘the defendant.’ Avoid calling him by his first name.”
“I’m sorry. After we broke up, the defendant asked to meet with me and that’s when he took me to Los Angeles. He took me to a motel. I’ve tried but I can’t remember the name of it. The next day he said we were going to run away, maybe to Mexico. Then he stopped at a light and I got away. I ran to a house and pounded on the door. A woman answered, and she called the police. My parents came and took me home and Alex—I mean the defendant—was arrested.”
“At the motel you had sexual intercourse with him?” Jamison hesitated. “St. Claire’s attorney will ask you if you consented. He is going to imply that you went willingly to Los Angeles and that any sexual activity was consensual.”
The tone of her response was edged with anger. “He made me go with him. I didn’t consent. I didn’t have a choice. I told you, he had a knife. I don’t know what else to say.” Jamison noticed that she didn’t directly answer his question about sexual activity, but when she said she didn’t consent to going with him it was emphatic.
He changed the subject. “I have the police report from LA. The woman, a Mrs. Mary Saxelby, said it was midafternoon and that you ran up to her door crying and hysterical. LA didn’t do much of a report, even though you were seventeen, a minor, because you said nothing happened and claimed it was all a misunderstanding. They simply turned their reports over to the police here. Why is that?”
“My parents. I know I should have told my parents and the police, but it was my fault. I should never have gotten in the car with him. I didn’t want my parents to know what I’d done. I was seventeen.” She looked at him for understanding. Jamison had seen it before—that look that said sometimes people just do stupid things.
He tried one last time with as much emphasis as he could manage without sounding doubtful or intimidating. “Look, Beth, when I walk into that courtroom I need to know everything. It may be embarrassing. It may be something you’ve never told anybody, but I need to know. I can’t afford to hear it in court for the first time. Think carefully. Is there anything about your relationship with Alex St. Claire that can come out in that courtroom that differs from what you’ve told me?”
The look on her face made him stop. He could see it in her eyes, pleading with him. When her eyes began to brim with tears he stopped. “Okay, Beth. I’ll be there for you. I will do everything I can to make sure that Alex St. Claire never comes near you or anybody else.”
Beth sat there for a moment. Jamison could tell she wanted to say something more. He waited. “Mr. Jamison, the newspapers, my parents, everyone keeps saying that you’re investigating Alex about murder, the murders of those women. Is that true?”
“I can’t talk to you about that, Beth. But it is true that your kidnapping and the pattern with those murders have remarkable similarity. I just can’t discuss it unless there’s something you haven’t told me that St. Claire said to you or makes you suspicious. Is there?”
“No, Alex never said anything to me. I don’t know. I just don’t think he would do something like that.”
“Think about what he did to you. If he could do that, there’s no telling what he is really capable of.”
“But you don’t know—you don’t know if he murdered those women?”
“I don’t know enough—yet. Right now we need to get through your case. If you are worried about St. Claire coming back for you, I don’t think he would be that stupid but please tell me if you see or hear anything. Alex St. Claire is unpredictable and unpredictable people can do stupid and dangerous things. Is there anything, anything at all that you can tell me that might help prove St. Claire had something to do with those crimes?”
“No, I’ve told you everything.”
Jamison focused on Beth’s eyes. He sensed that he still hadn’t heard everything but there was no point in asking Beth to go over her history with St. Claire again. If there was something else, it would be a horrible mistake for her not to tell him, and he had tried to make that clear. But maybe there just wasn’t anything else. Maybe he was seeing shadows that weren’t there.
With insecurity borne of experience, he watched her walk out of the office. If she was holding anything back, then Jamison knew that a jury would see it also under the unrelenting cross-examination of a defense attorney who, if she was hiding anything at all, had the advantage of knowing what it was. And Jamison knew Tom McGuiness would ruthlessly use every advantage available to him. He picked up his file to head down to court to confirm the trial was going forward.
The Friday trial confirmation conference, a routine procedure meant to address last-minute trial details with the trial judge, Judge Wallace, did nothing to assuage his concerns.
Jamison had estimated the trial would take three to four court days.
Wallace had looked over at McGuiness and asked whether he had anything to add to that. McGuiness had said, “Your Honor, with all due respect to Mr. Jamison, we believe the trial will be more complicated than his estimate allows. Our estimate is not less than seven to ten days of trial.”
Wallace had caught the prosecutor’s slightly raised eyebrows as Jamison slowly turned his body to face McGuiness. “Mr. Jamison. It appears there has been a communication gap. Have you and Mr. McGuiness discussed this case?”
“Well, Your Honor, as usual I expect Mr. McGuiness will be producing witnesses that haven’t shown up in our investigation of the case, but he hasn’t shared those names with me. I will accept his estimate but I have a right to know his witness list and he hasn’t given me anything.” It was a common defense strategy to stonewall discovery until the last minute to keep the prosecution off-balance.
In response to the not-so-subtle implications, McGuiness shot back, “You’ll get my witness list when I know what witnesses will be called. I’m still investigating this case and so far I haven’t decided whether it is worth calling defense witnesses. I’ll decide that when I hear what you have to say.”
The judge in return had admonished both sides not to test him with theatrics that might jeopardize the trial before ordering the lawyers to be ready to begin jury selection on Monday morning.
Now, O’Hara followed Jamison back to his office. Jamison closed the door before saying a word. “What the hell? What has he got that is going to take at least seven days to put on? I’m going to have to walk into court and still not know the answer?”
The older investigator put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen a case yet where we had all the answers going in.”
“Maybe so, but when McGuiness puts on his case we’re going to have answers and right now I feel like I’m the one who won’t be able to explain.”
Chapter 23
No matter how many times he did it, walking through the courtroom doors on the first day of trial always hit Jamison with a heavy dose of reality. He didn’t feel stage fright or fear. That was long behind him. He often thought it was probably what a pitcher might feel before a big game.
Jamison stood when the case of the People versus Alex St. Claire was called. “Matthew Jamison, ready for the People, Your Honor.” At that moment all eyes were on him. The wait was over. He looked behind him at the panel of prospective jurors.
Jamison watched as the parade of jurors looked at Alex St. Claire, dressed in his meticulously tailored suit, exuding an air of confidence. No matter how skillf
ully he attempted to reveal the truth about the defendant, he knew that jurors thought doctors wore a patina of integrity, unlike people they thought of as criminals, let alone rapists and kidnappers. Still, by the end of the voir dire, a day and a half later, he had seven men and five women as jurors, with two alternates who would sit in if they lost a juror during the case. Opening statements would be in the morning.
Fourteen people fixed their eyes intently on him as Jamison rose from behind the counsel table and looked first at Judge Wallace, saying, “Your Honor,” and then at the jurors, who sat expectantly.
He walked to the well of the courtroom, the open area between the judge’s bench and the counsel table with the jury box on one side, and stood silently for a moment, allowing his mind to focus on his opening statement. Whether the jurors wanted to be there or not, one could always sense their anticipation of the first words in a case.
“Ladies and gentlemen. You have heard bits and pieces about this case during jury selection. Now is the time for me to explain what I expect the evidence to show. First I will present my case, and then Mr. McGuiness has the opportunity to present his case. This is because the People bear the burden to prove Alex St. Claire guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of the crimes of kidnapping, assault, and attempted rape.
“The defendant is a highly educated man and as a physician he is a member of one of our most revered professions. We all trust our doctors. But doctors are people, and people sometimes make mistakes, even the best and most educated of us.”
He hesitated for a few seconds and added, “And sometimes, like other human beings, they do things that are not just mistakes, they are crimes. Criminal acts, even despicable criminal acts, are not constrained by education but by morality. And, ladies and gentlemen, morality is individual to each of us and so are our deepest and darkest thoughts, which we conceal unless we act on them. The evidence will show that Alex St. Claire did act on his darkest thoughts.
“I will not refer to Alex St. Claire as Dr. St. Claire. In this courtroom he is a defendant and he is a defendant because the evidence will show that he was a man obsessed with the victim in this case, a young schoolteacher, Elizabeth Garrett. She will tell you that many years ago she had a relationship with the defendant. Then she was a young woman in high school and the defendant was in college, a gaping span of maturity. To Elizabeth Garrett, the defendant was a fascinating and irresistible older man.
“The defendant is not on trial because of that relationship. He is on trial because once it had ended he could not get over that relationship. He could not get over his feelings for Elizabeth Garrett and one day his feelings could no longer be controlled.
“One night Elizabeth was driving to her parents’ home where she lives, completely unaware that Alex St. Claire was following her. While listening to music she made a mistake, missed her turn, and ended up having to take a remote road to get home. It was a mistake that would place her in great jeopardy. To force her to stop her car, the defendant used flashing lights, pretending to be a policeman. And just as each of us would do if we thought a police officer was behind us, Elizabeth stopped, anxious and frightened, trying to figure out what she had done wrong.
“The evidence will show that the only thing Elizabeth did wrong was to stop. The defendant came up to her car and used a knife to subdue her. He cut her on the neck, and then he used some type of drug or anesthetic to kidnap her. Elizabeth will tell you she has no memory of how she got to the defendant’s house, but she will tell you that it was not by her own choosing. We don’t know what drug the defendant used to overcome Elizabeth Garrett. But you must remember, he is an anesthesiologist, a specialist in drugs that control and render people unconscious. There are many drugs he had access to that he could have used.
“You will hear investigators from the district attorney’s office and from the sheriff’s office who, on the following day after a frantic search, found Elizabeth tied naked to a bed, in a home, a home that as we will show you the defendant kept secret. And, ladies and gentlemen, the last witness I will call in this case will be Elizabeth Garrett.”
Jamison had made the strategic decision that he would lay out all the evidence that pointed irrefutably toward a forcible abduction and a sexual motivation before he put Elizabeth Garrett on the stand. He would build the drama of the case, and then put her before the jury with the credibility of the physical evidence already reinforcing her.
Jamison stood for a moment in front of the jury before he approached Alex St. Claire, seated behind the defense table. His words resonated in the silent courtroom. “You will hear about what those officers saw when they rescued Elizabeth from the defendant.” Jamison paused and let the word “defendant” settle on St. Claire before finishing his sentence.
“And at the end of this case, as hard as it may be for many of you to believe that an educated man, a doctor who has sworn to do no harm, could abduct, terrorize, and brutalize a young woman, the evidence will show that is exactly what he did.” Jamison raised his hand and pointed. “And you will conclude that Alex St. Claire is guilty.”
“Mr. McGuiness.” Judge Wallace leaned forward in his chair. “Do you wish to make an opening statement or reserve your statement until the conclusion of the People’s case?” Wallace usually gave defense attorneys a moment to gather their thoughts after the prosecution made their opening statement. It was not unusual for a defense attorney to wait until after the prosecution presented their entire case before they made an opening statement. Defense attorneys preferred to see what the prosecution would actually be able to prove before deciding what to explain to the jury about their defense. “Would you like a brief recess?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. A recess will not be necessary. I will make an opening statement and it will be very brief.” He walked from behind the counsel table and stood a few feet from the jury box, close enough so that he would fill their field of vision and far enough back that he would not appear threatening.
“Ladies and gentlemen. First, on behalf of my client, Dr. Alex St. Claire, I would like to thank you for your time and willingness to be here. Mr. Jamison has given you one perspective of what he believes the evidence will show. There is another perspective and it is quite different. Dr. St. Claire is a brilliant man, a highly regarded physician, an anesthesiologist. Mr. Jamison is right about one thing. You would not expect a man like Dr. St. Claire to do what he has been accused of.
“And your assumption would be correct. The evidence will show that he did not do what he has been accused of. When we get to the end of Mr. Jamison’s case you will have heard one side, but I believe you will have begun to wonder whether there is another side, another explanation. I assure you that there is another side, another explanation, and you will hear it from us.
“No, Dr. St. Claire may not have used the best judgment and perhaps he was the victim of his deep feelings for Elizabeth Garrett. If there is one thing that human experience has shown it is that love and passion take many forms and frequently can lead to poor judgment.
“But at the end of this case, regardless of whether you find the explanation to be one of passion or poor judgment, the final explanation and the only reasonable conclusion will be one of total innocence of any crime except, perhaps, the crime of loving too deeply and trusting too much. On behalf of Dr. St. Claire, I ask, we ask, that you keep an open mind as you have promised to do.”
McGuiness walked past his client, momentarily placing his hand on Alex St. Claire’s shoulder before turning back to the court. “Thank you, Your Honor. My client is prepared to proceed.”
Jamison leaned over to O’Hara, seated next to him at the counsel table as his chief investigator. “He’s going all in with the consent defense,” he whispered, “but he wouldn’t have made that opening statement if he was just going to rely on his client. God only knows what it is because I sure as hell don’t.”
The first witness for the State was the Garrett’s neighbor, Ron Costa, who testified he saw the car
abandoned by the side of the road as he drove home and became concerned. He had parked behind what he recognized as Elizabeth’s car, walked over, and found there was no one inside the vehicle. He had run his hand over the engine compartment but it was barely warm, so he knew the car had been sitting for a while. The door was unlocked and he had looked inside. As soon as he opened the door, the interior light came on and he saw what looked like a smear of blood on the driver’s seat. Then he immediately called her father.
Cross-examination by McGuiness was brief. An accomplished trial lawyer, McGuiness knew that effective cross-examination only highlighted the point you wanted the jury to remember. Simply asking questions, allowing a witness to repeat what had been said in direct, accomplished nothing except to emphasize detrimental testimony. He moved quickly to the point he wanted.
“Mr. Costa, you live near the Garrett family, correct?”
“Yes, for many years. I’ve known Elizabeth since she was a little girl.”
McGuiness made a show of flipping through his notes as if he was searching to make sure he asked all of his questions. Jamison watched, knowing that McGuiness had every question firmly in his mind and the show of looking at his notes was simply to diminish any impression that the defense was a well-oiled machine with every question planned in advance.
“Mr. Costa, when you walked up to Ms. Garrett’s car was the door open?”
“No. I opened it. But it wasn’t open when I first saw the car.”
“So did you leave it open?”
“When I opened it the interior light came on. As I said, I saw what looked like blood on the seat. I don’t know if I shut the door. Like I told the detectives, I may have left it open. I don’t remember. I was in a hurry to call Elizabeth’s father.”
“At the time of night that you saw Ms. Garrett’s car were you coming home from someplace specific?”
Fractured Justice Page 17
