It was almost noon when Ernie called Jamison’s office. He had already had several visits from other prosecutors asking him if he could show them how to throw up on demand. There were suggestions about him being the entertainment at the next office party. He knew this was going to be a running joke for a long time. Jamison answered on the first ring. Before he could say anything, Ernie began, “First off, amigo, I want a raise because you owe me.”
“I owe you for what?”
“The guy found the cash register tape. He had to look through piles of stacked boxes but he found the tape. It’s got mouse shit on it and it isn’t real clear, but guess what?”
“Come on, Ernie. Just give.”
“Okay, like I said yesterday, the ticket was for only one person. Even better, it was purchased right before six p.m. The manager knows because the next ticket was for six people, and then the cash register was cleared. He bought the ticket after Garrett jumped out of the car at two or two thirty in the afternoon. He’s lying and we can prove it.”
Chapter 30
By late afternoon Jamison’s phone rang. It was McGuiness. The first thing he mentioned was that Jamison was already the talk of the local bar association about his ability to vomit on demand. Jamison didn’t reply to the jibe. “What can I do for you, Tom?”
“You said yesterday that you had witnesses that weren’t on the list you gave me. What witnesses and what reports do you have? I have a discovery order and Wallace isn’t going to let you get away with not giving me the information.”
“Yeah, yeah, it isn’t a two-way street. I have two witnesses.”
“And who are these people?”
Jamison hesitated before answering. “Robert Marchand is the manager of the wax museum on the Queen Mary and Shirley Peterson manages the children’s clothing section of the Sears store in Torrance.”
“And they are going to say what?” McGuiness could feel a sense of dread building.
“Marchand is going to say that your client is lying when he says that Elizabeth Garrett was with him at the Queen Mary wax museum and Peterson is going to testify that the clothing your client says he and Elizabeth bought was not something that would have been purchased for a baby due in the summer.”
Feeling a flood of relief, McGuiness laughed. “This Marchand is going to say that Dr. St. Claire is lying? From ten years ago he remembers that Elizabeth Garrett wasn’t with St. Claire?”
“No, he’s going to testify that receipt you threw in my face in court was not for two tickets but one.” He stretched out the pause. “And it was purchased right before six p.m., several hours after Elizabeth Garrett fled your client. Your client perjured himself and I can prove it. See you tomorrow.”
McGuiness held the phone in his hand, the dial tone a flat buzzing after Jamison hung up. He slammed the phone back down on the cradle. He understood what Jamison was going to do. McGuiness had built his entire case around the credibility of Alex St. Claire. The receipt, the baby clothes, all of it undermined Garrett’s credibility with unimpeachable physical evidence. But now Jamison had something showing clearly that St. Claire was lying about that evidence and from that Jamison would argue that he was lying also about the rest. McGuiness needed to think.
O’Hara woke Jamison at five the next morning. It took him a moment to register what O’Hara was saying. “We got something! We’ve got some hairs and fiber in the coroner van that can be identified as coming from Symes and from Ventana.”
They agreed to meet at the office in forty-five minutes. O’Hara was waiting for him when he walked in. But the look on Jamison’s face wasn’t the smile O’Hara had expected.
“What’s the problem? I told you we have hairs from two of the victims in the van. Think about it.”
“Yeah, I am thinking about it. But you think about it. I’m not surprised that we have hair and carpet fiber from Symes and Ventana. They were both picked up at the crime scene using that van. McGuiness will have an easy explanation for that.” His voice was rising, but Jamison couldn’t help himself. The frustration was getting to all of them.
O’Hara thought about it for a moment, rubbing his mustache several times. “Matt, they vacuum that van fairly frequently. We were lucky to find what we found. If he used the coroner’s truck to move the victims, then even if we found some hair or carpet in it, what you’re saying is we wouldn’t be able to prove anything because it was used to transport the bodies of those same victims from the crime scenes.”
“You got it. When you think about it, St. Claire had access to that van, and a body moved from a crime scene might have evidence drop on the floor of the van. If St. Claire used the van to dump a body and the same van was used to remove that body from the crime scene, we couldn’t say when any hair or fiber got in that van. St. Claire would know that too. McGuiness would just say the victim’s hair and the carpet fiber got in the van when the coroner picked up the body. And if he used a body bag, then he could move his victims to where he dumped their bodies, pull off the bag, and any forensic evidence would be on the bag that would get burned. What makes everything work at this point is the hair and fiber T. J. says he found in St. Claire’s car.” The tone of Jamison’s voice made it clear to O’Hara that he had an issue with T. J.’s discovery.
“Says he found?” O’Hara was incredulous. “Now you have a problem with that, Matt?”
“Yeah, I have a problem with that. As much as I want to believe it, the more I thought about it, the more concerns I had. You think McGuiness is going to overlook the fact that everybody missed it, and then all of a sudden one of our boys turns up some hair that ties St. Claire to the three murders?”
O’Hara took a deep breath. “Matt, you need to back off on T. J. He found that evidence and you know as well as I do that St. Claire did this. Nothing we’ve found contradicts that.”
“Nothing we’ve found yet. I’m not saying St. Claire’s innocent. I’m saying that I need to prove he’s guilty and all McGuiness has to do is find one hole in this and we have a major problem. Any word on the succinylcholine results?”
“Gupta said he has been calling but we aren’t likely to know anything for maybe another two days at best.”
“We don’t have two days. I have to be in court by nine.”
McGuiness was waiting for Jamison as he walked into court. There was nothing pleasant about the expression on his face. “We need to talk to Judge Wallace.”
“Why? I gave you my witnesses.”
“We need to talk to Judge Wallace. I’m going back to his chambers now.”
The door to Wallace’s chambers was open. McGuiness knocked and Wallace waved the two of them in. He smiled at Jamison. “Feeling better today, Matt? I’m guessing you felt a lot better when I gave you some time away from this courtroom. I was once a trial lawyer too.” He laughed at his own observation.
“Your Honor, I do feel better this morning, thank you.” Jamison could feel his face turning red.
“So what can I do for the two of you? I’d like to get started.”
“With the court’s permission, Your Honor,” McGuiness said, “I want to re-open my defense case. I want to put Dr. St. Claire back on the stand before the prosecutor begins his rebuttal case.”
“Wait a minute”—Jamison flushed with anger—“you rested your case and I have witnesses ready to go from out of town.”
Wallace’s face wrinkled in frustration. “What’s this about, Mr. McGuiness?”
“Your Honor, the prosecutor has some evidence that maybe my client wasn’t completely candid about.”
“Candid about?” Jamison was so angry he was sputtering. “Your client lied and he got caught.”
Wallace raised his hand and faced Jamison. “What witnesses do you have? What are they going to say?”
Before responding, Jamison took a deep breath to calm himself. “Your Honor, I have two witnesses that will prove that Dr. St. Claire perjured himself regarding what happened when he and Ms. Garrett were in Los Angeles.�
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Wallace drew his fingertips together and thought for a moment. “Sometimes clients don’t tell their lawyers all the truth. When I was a trial lawyer it happened to me more times than I like to remember. If I let Mr. McGuiness put his client back on before you bring in these witnesses, can’t you just cross-examine him?”
“I could, Your Honor, but what Mr. McGuiness really wants is to take the sting out of his client’s perjury before I can put my witnesses on. I wasn’t the one that put on perjured testimony.”
McGuiness interrupted. “You put on Elizabeth Garrett, didn’t you? She’s lied throughout this case.”
“Enough. I’ve heard enough.” Wallace stood up. “Mr. McGuiness I’m going to let you put your client back on.” The judge looked over at Jamison before he could say anything further. “I appreciate your anger over this, Mr. Jamison, and if you had actually started your case I wouldn’t allow it. I’ll give you ample latitude in your cross-examination. That’s it. Now let’s call the jury.”
Jamison recognized he needed to calm down. McGuiness had all night to think about how to present this. He could feel himself fuming but that wasn’t going to do any good. He had to clear his mind.
Chapter 31
The jury was completely unaware of what was coming as McGuiness called St. Claire back to the stand.
Jamison noted that St. Claire didn’t look quite as confident as he had before, but he also caught the smiles several of the jurors gave as St. Claire walked by them to the witness stand. Jamison was on the defensive. He knew the next minutes would make or break him.
“Dr. St. Claire,” McGuiness asked, “when you testified before you made some statements that you want to correct. Is that true?”
St. Claire cleared his throat, looking at the jury. “I said something that wasn’t true and I regret it. I want to be completely honest with everyone.”
“What do you want to correct?”
“The ticket to the Queen Mary wax museum—I, we, Elizabeth and I didn’t go together like I said. I bought it later after she had left. I didn’t know what to do. I was wandering around and I just went there. I really don’t remember what was in there.”
“And when did you tell me that you had not been accurate about the receipt for the Queen Mary?”
“I told you last night when you called me and said that Mr. Jamison had a witness.” Jamison could sense several of the jurors turning to look at him, then looking back at St. Claire.
“Why did you tell us that you had gone to the Queen Mary with Elizabeth if it wasn’t true?”
“Well, I was a little frightened. I’m on trial and Elizabeth has accused me of kidnapping her when we went to Los Angeles. I let my fear get in the way of better judgment. This whole thing has been a terrible nightmare for me emotionally.” St. Claire leaned over the railing in front of the witness stand, speaking softly to the jurors. “I don’t have an excuse. I can only apologize.”
Thumbing through papers on the counsel table, McGuiness slid out a sheet of paper encased in a clear plastic folder. He handed it to Jamison who examined it and handed it back. It was a letter. Jamison asked to approach the bench.
“Your Honor, I’m not sure what this letter is, but we’re now going beyond what I thought was going to be covered. I object. I don’t see the relevance of the letter. There isn’t even a front page.”
“I’m going to allow it.” Wallace waved both men back. “When you cross-examine I will give you the latitude, Mr. Jamison, that I said I would.”
“Do you recognize this?” McGuiness handed the letter to St. Claire to review.
“Yes, it’s a letter I received from Elizabeth, earlier this year, several months after I returned to the community and before she called me at the hospital.”
“Would you tell us what’s in it, please?”
“It says that she misses me and that she wants to see me as soon as possible. It’s signed, ‘Love, Beth.’”
“Why did you not discuss this letter before now?”
“There was no first page and you said that would be a problem because it didn’t show when it was written. I don’t know what happened to the first page.”
“Did you respond or write back?”
“No, I did not. I still had feelings for Elizabeth but I knew she wasn’t good for me. I should have listened to my instincts, but when she called . . . and I heard her voice . . .” He dropped his head and handed the letter back.
“Your witness.” McGuiness walked back to the counsel table.
Jamison picked up the letter. He knew he shouldn’t do it but he was tired of being at the receiving end. He was flirting with the edge in terms of misconduct, but he wanted the jury to know that it wasn’t a two-way street in terms of evidence and he was having to react to things he had not been shown.
“Your Honor, may I have a moment to read this letter since I have never seen it before today, as the court is aware. I’m not questioning Mr. McGuiness’s motives, of course, but for this to show up now . . .” Jamison waited for McGuiness to erupt.
“I object! Mr. Jamison is well aware that I am not required to disclose my client’s testimony prior to trial.”
Jamison had gotten what he wanted. He nodded his head. “Your Honor, no implication was intended. Mr. McGuiness is correct. The defense is not required to share his client’s testimony with the prosecution even though we must give all information to the defense. I certainly do not mean to imply that this letter is a fabrication like the wax museum receipt.”
Wallace halted any response from McGuiness. “Mr. Jamison, you’ve made your point. Please proceed without further editorial comment.”
“Of course, Your Honor. Thank you.” Jamison turned to McGuiness. “I apologize if I offended you. I assure you and the court it was not intentional.” Jamison could see the veins bulging in McGuiness’s neck. He walked closer to St. Claire. “Dr. St. Claire, let us make something very clear. When you testified before that you and Elizabeth Garrett went to the Queen Mary wax museum you were under oath?
“Yes, but I—”
Putting a steel edge into his voice, Jamison said, “I didn’t ask for your explanation, Dr. St. Claire. I asked whether you understood you were under oath. You’ve answered that question. Now, you come to this jury and you are still under oath but you have a different answer? Is that correct?”
“It isn’t a different answer. I was scared. I admit that what I said was wrong.”
Feeling his anger taking hold, Jamison pushed it back, trying to take control of himself. “So when you testified before, you lied to this jury? Yes or no, Dr. St. Claire?
“I did not tell the truth.”
“You lied, didn’t you?” Jamison’s voice snapped back at St. Claire.
“Yes, but like I said—”
Cutting St. Claire off, Jamison’s voice resonated with contempt. “You’ve answered my question, Dr. St. Claire. You also lied about Elizabeth being with you when you bought the baby clothes, isn’t that true?”
“No, I was telling the truth. We bought them together.”
“You didn’t tell Mr. McGuiness that you had lied until he informed you that my investigators found a witness who could tell us that receipt for the wax museum was not purchased when you said it was, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, but as I said—”
“Did he also tell you that the baby clothing was for a child born in the winter?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Elizabeth picked them out. I don’t know anything about baby clothes.”
Jamison walked over, grabbed the Sears bag and poured its contents over the counsel table. “Isn’t it true, Dr. St. Claire, that you bought those clothes without Elizabeth Garrett and you didn’t realize they were winter clothes? Isn’t that the truth?”
“No, Mr. Jamison. Elizabeth told me she was pregnant. I believed her.”
“You believed her? Isn’t it true that you were perfectly willing to sit in court and let the ju
ry believe she was lying when she said you took her to Los Angeles against her will, forcing her to escape? You wanted it to look like you both were wandering around and that she could have left at any time. Isn’t that what you wanted the jury to believe? You knew she was telling the truth and yet you wanted the jury to believe she was lying. Isn’t that the truth, Dr. St. Claire?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
Placing both hands flat on the counsel table, Jamison leaned forward, the words coming out with measured disdain. “I’m sure you wouldn’t put it that way, Dr. St. Claire. But you knew she never went to the wax museum. Isn’t that the truth?”
“Yes, about that, but—”
Jamison held up his hand before St. Claire could continue. “And you wanted the jury to believe she was lying when you knew she was telling the truth, isn’t that true?”
“I said I panicked.”
“So when you get caught in a lie you admit that you made a mistake, but if there is no witness but Elizabeth to contradict you, then we’re supposed to believe you?”
McGuiness was shouting, “I object, the question is argumentative.”
“Your Honor, I withdraw the question. Now, Dr. St. Claire, that photograph that you said you took when you and Elizabeth left the shopping mall that afternoon after you say she called you.” Jamison held it up. “Isn’t it true that you took this photograph but from a considerable distance away? You used a telephoto lens, didn’t you, Dr. St. Claire? Elizabeth Garrett had no idea you were taking her picture, did she?”
“I took it just as I said I did. I don’t know what you are talking about. I didn’t use any special lens. It was her camera. She asked me to take her picture.”
Jamison held the picture out directly in front of St. Claire. “Dr. St. Claire, if I was to tell you that an expert could look at this photograph and tell whether a regular or telephoto lens was used, would that surprise you?”
Fractured Justice Page 27
