“Yes, I did.”
“And what did you find?”
“We found a strand of hair that belonged to Ms. Garrett.”
“No blood?”
“No.”
“Did you find any special modification of the vehicle?”
“Modification?”
“Yes, like flashing lights or a red light?”
“No, we found nothing like that.”
“But isn’t that what Ms. Garrett claimed she saw?”
“Yes, she said there were flashing lights and she thought she saw a red light. That’s why she stopped.”
“But you didn’t find anything like that in Dr. St. Claire’s vehicle, did you?”
“No.”
“Or in his home?”
“Which one? He has two.”
“In either home.”
“No.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Jamison remained seated at the counsel table. “Detective Puccinelli, is it that complicated to make a flashing red light?”
“No. All you need to do is put red cellophane over a white flasher and you have a flashing red light. Same thing people do when they break a tail-light and don’t want to pay for a new one. They just tape red cellophane or plastic over the taillight so it looks red at night or when you hit the brakes.”
Jamison looked at the jury and shrugged as if to emphasize his point that it wasn’t that hard to do. Besides, it was the only explanation he had.
“Your Honor, the People call District Attorney Investigator Ernest Garcia.”
Jamison took Ernie through the preliminary investigation leading up to the approach to St. Claire’s home. “Investigator Garcia, can you describe the situation when you approached the defendant’s home?”
“We believed that it was possible the defendant may have kidnapped Ms. Garrett and was holding her against her will in the house. If that was true, then it was clearly a very volatile situation, one with a high degree of risk to the hostage. On the other hand, it was possible that the defendant, Dr. St. Claire, was not involved in the disappearance of Ms. Garrett and we wanted to avoid any unnecessary violence.”
“So you were preparing for either situation, a hostage situation or a situation where Dr. St. Claire was simply another person to be interviewed?”
“Yes. After a situation develops it’s too late to decide what you should have done. You have to be prepared for all possibilities. That’s what we did.”
“Describe what you saw when you approached the side of the defendant’s home.”
“I crouched outside a window near the back of the house. I thought it was probably a bedroom and looked through the slightly open curtains.”
“Did you see anything?”
“Yes, I saw Ms. Garrett. She was lying on a bed. She was naked. There was a camera on a tripod at the end of the bed.”
“Could you see her face?”
“No, because of the curtain and the angle from where I was looking.”
“Was she moving at all?”
“No, she looked like she was tied in such a way that she couldn’t move much but I couldn’t tell if she was unconscious.”
“What went through your mind?”
“I could hear Investigator O’Hara’s voice at the front of the house and I could make out the voice of another man. My concern was the safety of Ms. Garrett. So I went in.”
“You mean you broke through the glass?”
“Well, yes. It was real fast. I rolled onto the floor and got away from the glass. Ms. Garrett was screaming and thrashing around, and I was yelling at O’Hara that I had her.”
“Did you hear anyone coming down the hall?”
“Honestly, all I could hear was Ms. Garrett screaming. I was trying to untie her and pull her off the bed but she was hysterical. I kept saying ‘police’ but she was pulling away.”
“Then what happened?”
“I had a knife in my pocket. I pulled it out and cut the ropes where she was tied. I only got one knot untied and I cut the rest and pulled her to the floor while I tried to cover the door to the bedroom.”
Jamison walked over to the clerk’s desk and picked up a clear plastic bag, handing it to Ernie. “Do you recognize the contents of this bag?”
“These are the ropes that were used to tie Ms. Garrett to the bed.”
“Now, you use the term ‘ropes.’ For the record, when you say ‘ropes’ can you describe what these bindings look like?”
Ernie reached inside the bag and removed a strand about two feet long. “They aren’t like regular rope, like a clothesline or twine. They are more like braided rope that looks decorative. They’re kind of a gold color.”
Jamison passed the strand to the jurors and watched while they passed it among themselves. When it was handed back to him he focused on bringing the jurors back to the events in the house. “After you came through the window, did you hear anything from the front of the house?”
“I heard O’Hara yelling, and then I heard a crash and O’Hara yelling at who I assumed was Dr. St. Claire to not resist.”
“And Ms. Garrett? What was happening?”
“I pulled off a sheet or blanket from the bed and tried to cover her. She was still kicking at me so I kind of laid on her and kept my gun up covering the doorway until O’Hara and you looked in. There was glass and a lot of blood from my coming through the window. But then she began to calm down. I think she went into shock of some kind because she just stared ahead, like she didn’t know where she was.”
“And, Investigator Garcia, would you please tell the court what happened after that?”
“Backup officers came in and then paramedics. I was pretty cut up myself. I kept talking to her but she seemed like she didn’t know what was going on. She was crying and I kept telling her it was okay and that we were the police.”
McGuiness stood back from Garcia before he began his cross-examination. “Investigator Garcia, please allow me to acknowledge your heroism in going through that window. Regardless of what may have actually happened we are all grateful that men like you are there to protect us. I don’t have many questions. When you looked through the window you did not see Dr. St. Claire, is that correct?”
“Yes, he apparently was at the front door where Bill, Investigator O’Hara, was.”
“So you never saw Dr. St. Claire do anything harmful to Miss Garrett?”
“You mean other than tying her to the bed? No.”
McGuiness allowed a slight smile as he shrugged, looking over at the jury and raising his eyebrows to acknowledge what seemed obvious. “In fact, all the cuts and bruises on Miss Garrett were caused by flying glass from the window and when you tried to pull the ropes off her hands and legs?”
“Other than the cut on her neck, I can’t say for sure about the cause of other injuries.”
McGuiness stared at Ernie briefly as if slightly unsure of himself. “Yes, the scratch on her neck, but you have no personal knowledge as to how that was caused, do you?”
“Not other than what Ms. Garrett said.”
“Correct, not other than what Ms. Garrett said. And what about the ropes?”
“I can’t answer whether the ropes injured her. I pulled them off. As for the other cuts and bruises on her, I can say that some of them, maybe most or all of them, were probably caused by the flying glass and when I pulled her onto the floor where there was more glass.”
“Yes, now those ropes. Would you describe them as made from some kind of cloth?”
“They are pieces of something like cotton or silk, kind of shiny, like pieces of what you might call braid or material like that.”
“So, they aren’t ropes like you would use to bundle things, more like something decorative?”
Catching the implication, Ernie responded, “They weren’t something that a person could pull apart.”
“Were you able to remove them fairly quickly or was she tied tightly?”
“Well, she wouldn’t h
ave been able to get out of the ropes so, yes, they seemed fairly tight but I can’t say now exactly how tight. When it was over I could see ligature marks on her wrists and ankles so they had to be pretty tight.”
“Is it possible, Investigator Garcia, that when you were cutting the ropes off that you may have accidentally cut Ms. Garrett? She was thrashing around quite a bit, correct?”
“I was holding her.” Ernie shook his head emphatically. “I didn’t cut her.”
“I’m sure if you did, it was accidental. Investigator Garcia, would you explain to the jury what ligature marks are?”
“Ligature marks are the marks that are left on someone’s body where they are restrained by, for example, handcuffs or a rope that is very tight.”
“So if there were any ligature marks on Ms. Garrett from being tied, meaning marks left by the ropes being tight on her ankles or wrists, those could have been made as you frantically pulled at the ropes to try to get her free?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Thank you, Investigator Garcia. Oh, one more question. When you looked through the window, was Miss Garrett screaming at that time or only after you crashed through the window?”
“I didn’t hear any screaming until after I went through the window.”
“Thank you. Nothing further.”
Jamison looked up from his notes. “Investigator Garcia, of course Ms. Garrett had no reason to scream if she didn’t think anybody would hear her?”
“No.”
McGuiness was on his feet. “Objection. Speculation, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question and the answer. Is there anything further, Mr. Jamison?”
“No, Your Honor. The witness is excused subject to recall.”
Jamison called witnesses from the forensic bureau to identify various pieces of physical evidence that McGuiness stipulated could be received.
He had run out of witnesses that he wanted to put on before he got to Garrett. He needed time. Jamison stood up. “Your Honor, we anticipated this taking a little longer than it has. With the court’s indulgence I would ask the court to recess until tomorrow. Our next witness will be the victim in this case, Elizabeth Garrett. I would like to start with her in the morning.”
Back in his office, Jamison sat with his two investigators. As usual, O’Hara spoke first. “Look, I don’t think any jury is going to believe that girl consented to all of this. Its total bullshit and we all know it. Besides, St. Claire’s not just a kidnapper, he’s a murderer. We’ve got the hair and fiber samples in St. Claire’s car from the other victims. McGuiness doesn’t know about that.”
Jamison’s gaze moved between the two men and settled on O’Hara. “You’re right. McGuiness doesn’t know about that and I’m not ready to tell him about it until we have what we need to make a murder case. But you know as well as I do that McGuiness doesn’t have to prove St. Claire is innocent. All he has to do is raise a reasonable doubt about whether he’s guilty.
“He knows that Beth Garrett’s the key to this case so I’m guessing something is coming. Whatever it is, he has it and we don’t. And the worst of it is that we’re not going to know what it is until we hear it in court and my guess is it’s going to come from St. Claire along with some kind of evidence.”
O’Hara asked, “So you think he’s going to put St. Claire on the stand when he doesn’t have to?”
“Bill, he doesn’t have a choice. Just because a defendant has a right not to testify doesn’t mean a jury won’t wonder why he doesn’t. McGuiness can raise all the possibilities he wants, but a jury is still going to be looking to his client to personally deny that he kidnapped Garrett.
“But I think St. Claire is a cool number and I’ll need to shake him. St. Claire and McGuiness know we suspect him for those murders. They just don’t know what we’ve got. I need him thinking about that when he’s on the stand and I need to find a way to make him think about it.”
O’Hara pulled his lower lip up over the edge of his mustache. “We got the fiber and hair that T. J. found. We know he looked at those files for those women. The MO is the same. What more do we need?”
“That isn’t going to make this case.” Jamison snorted derisively. “I told you that. And it isn’t going to convince Wallace to let me put the murders into evidence to help prove he kidnapped Garrett. Ernie, I want you to call Gupta and pin down those blood samples. Something’s wrong here. I can feel it.”
The next morning Jamison glanced impatiently at his watch. He hadn’t heard back yet from Ernie about the blood samples but, other than taking one less thing off his mind, whatever the blood might show it wasn’t going to help him with what he had to face now. He had a half hour before Elizabeth’s examination was going to start.
He needed a few minutes to clear his mind. Then as he was putting papers into his briefcase, Ernie arrived.
The news raised more questions than answers. Ernie said that Gupta found no trace of heroin or barbiturates in the liver of any of the victims and that they didn’t die as a result of overdose. Gupta wasn’t sure what killed them. He was sending his tissue samples to the FBI to get something more definitive.
“But there’s more. You were right, amigo. Gupta says that the blood samples that were examined after the autopsies didn’t come from the victims. Nobody bothered to do separate tests to see if the blood actually came from the victims because there was no reason to.”
Jamison was used to Ernie stringing out a story but his patience was thin. “C’mon, Ernie, bottom line, what did they find?” Ernie’s smile told him that there was some good news.
“Apparently Gupta was able to do some kind of enzyme comparison between the fluid in the livers of the victims and the blood samples. The blood types in the vials matched the blood types of the victims, but the blood in the vials came from somebody else who had toxic levels of drugs in their blood.
“St. Claire switched them.” Ernie’s face took on a colder expression. “The blood probably came from a junkie. All St. Claire had to do was find somebody with the same blood type that overdosed on that shit that is hitting the streets and then put that blood into the vials marked as for the victims. He knew nobody would have reason to check to confirm if it was actually the blood of the victims.”
Excited about the possible explanations, Jamison’s mind began to race. He could feel the noose of guilt beginning to close in on St. Claire. “We need to check with Gupta and see how many of these OD autopsies he’s done on junkies recently. See if any blood types match with the victims, and then see if we can get a match on the blood we have. Then, we’ll find out if St. Claire had any access to the blood or to those dead junkies.”
He pushed down on the pencil, breaking the lead. “We need to find that shit, Ernie. It’s there somewhere. You meet me in the courtroom as soon as you talk to Gupta.”
“Okay, patron, but this time I get to snap the cuffs on Dr. St. Claire.”
Chapter 24
Your Honor, the People call Ms. Elizabeth Garrett.” Elizabeth entered the courtroom doors and walked hesitantly across the well of the courtroom, stopping when Wallace asked her to be sworn in.
The witness chair sat almost directly in front of the jury. She looked like an animal on display in the zoo being observed by strangers—the jury, the judge to her right, the prosecutor, and the defense attorney in the center of the courtroom were protected by massive tables.
So that his voice would come from the side rather than from him standing in front of the jury, Jamison walked behind the corner of the jury box. He wanted the jury’s attention only to be drawn to his witness. She was dressed in a simple navy blue suit with pearls around her neck. Her light brown hair framed her face and fell around her shoulders.
Jamison watched as Elizabeth’s gaze moved across the counsel tables and stopped at Alex St. Claire. The prosecutor glanced over at the defendant. St. Claire’s finely drawn features betrayed nothing as he stared back at her. The image
flashed through Jamison’s mind of Elizabeth’s description of St. Claire standing in the bedroom in front of her, controlling her.
It was apparent to everyone in the courtroom that Elizabeth’s eyes were riveted on St. Claire. It seemed to Jamison that of all the people in the courtroom, in some incomprehensible way St. Claire was the one to whom she felt the greatest connection. He wondered at the feeling of vulnerability that must have given her.
Jamison had decided he needed to bring the previous relationship with St. Claire out into the open. He knew McGuiness was going to bring it up anyway. Remaining at the far corner of the jury box, he quickly moved directly to the issue. “Ms. Garrett, how long have you known the defendant, Alex St. Claire?”
St. Claire watched Elizabeth intently as she answered. “I’ve known him for over ten years. We met when I was sixteen, almost seventeen. He was twenty-one.”
“Did you have a relationship with the defendant while you were in high school?” Jamison kept his voice softly modulated.
“Yes, at first we would just talk. He would come by a small store where I worked on weekends and after a while he started to wait for me. We would go for coffee and it went from there.”
“Did your parents approve of him?”
“I didn’t tell my parents at first. He was older. When I did tell them, they didn’t want me to see him anymore.”
So far Jamison’s questions were designed to fill in the details about their relationship before turning to the question about why she kept seeing St. Claire after her parents had forbidden it.
“You kept seeing him even after your parents told you not to?”
“Yes, we saw each other in secret. Looking back I know how it sounds but I was young and I thought I loved him.”
“I realize this is very difficult for you to talk about in front of strangers, but were you intimate with him?”
Beth’s face reddened. The jurors’ eyes were fixed on her and her eyes were fixed on her mother, who was sitting in the front row. “Yes. I had never been with a man before.”
Fractured Justice Page 19
