by Parnell Hall
He started off with Rose Tindel, who identified a glossy eight-by-ten as being a blowup of a picture she herself had taken of Jack Walsh. With that in evidence, Dirkson, in rapid succession, called three Teaneck High students, all of whom identified the man in the photograph as the man they had seen hanging around the corridors of the high school on February 26th.
Dirkson then called Officer Hambrick of the Jersey police, who testified to being one of the officers who arrested Jeremy Dawson at his high school on February 27th.
“Now,” Dirkson said, “aside from the arrest warrant, did you have any other warrant with you at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What was that?”
“I had a search warrant for Jeremy Dawson’s locker.”
“Did you serve that warrant?”
“Yes, I did.”
“On whom did you serve it?”
“The principal of the school.”
“And did he open the locker?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Were you present when the locker was opened?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And what did you find?”
“I found a gun.”
“What kind of gun?”
“A thirty-two-caliber automatic.”
“And would you know that gun if you saw it again?”
“Yes, I would.”
“How would you identify it?”
“I copied down the serial number.”
In short order, the gun was produced, marked for identification, and introduced into evidence.
When that was completed, Dirkson said, “And did you find anything else in the locker?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what was that?”
Officer Hambrick raised his voice. “I found seventeen vials of crack.”
Dirkson expected an objection at that point. Officer Hambrick couldn’t know that the vials contained crack. That was purely a conclusion on his part. At best, he could testify that they contained a white, crystalline substance. Dirkson was of course prepared with a lab analysis to prove that it was indeed crack, but expected Winslow would fight to keep that testimony from getting in.
Steve didn’t, however. Even though he could see the jurors’ faces growing hard at the mention of drugs, Steve knew better than to make a fight at this point. Just let it pass.
The lack of an objection threw Dirkson’s timing off. He had not prepared his next question, since he had not expected to be given a chance to ask it. There was a pause, and Judge Grimes had to say, “Are you finished with the witness, Mr. Dirkson?”
“No, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Now, Officer Hambrick, were you present when Jeremy Dawson was taken into custody?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And were you present when he surrendered his personal belongings?”
“Yes, I was.”
“At the time, did Jeremy Dawson have anything in his possession which you considered significant?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And what was that?”
“It was a folded sheet of paper, purporting to be the last will and testament of Jack Walsh.”
“And would you recognize that document if you saw it again?”
“Yes, I would.”
“And how would you recognize it?”
“I wrote my initials on the back.”
After the will had been produced, marked for identification and introduced into evidence, Dirkson said, “Your witness.”
Steve rose. “Officer Hambrick, can you identify the young man that you arrested on February 27th?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Is he in the courtroom today?”
“Yes, sir. He is the defendant, Jeremy Dawson.”
“I see,” Steve said. “Tell me something. When you arrested him, did he look the same as he does today?”
Officer Hambrick smiled. “He most certainly did not.”
“Oh? And how was he different?”
“He had green hair.”
“Green hair?”
“Yes, sir. His hair was cut in a green mohawk.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
When Steve sat down, Jeremy Dawson leaned in. “I don’t get it. You’re trying to mix him up, right? You’re trying to make him think it wasn’t me?”
“Not at all,” Steve said.
After that Dirkson picked up speed. He called a handwriting expert who testified that the will was indeed in the handwriting of Jack Walsh. He called the ballistics expert who testified that test bullets fired from the gun found in Jeremy Dawson’s locker matched absolutely with the fatal bullet taken from the body of the decedent. He called an expert from the crime lab, who testified that a series of tests performed on samples of the charred remains of the clothing found in the subway station indicated that they had indeed been drenched with gasoline and then set on fire.
Steve Winslow did not cross-examine any of these witnesses.
And the faces of the jurors became grimmer and grimmer.
At that point, Dirkson recalled Carl Jenson to the stand.
Once Judge Grimes had reminded Jenson that he was still under oath, Dirkson rose and said, “Now, Mr. Jenson. Referring to the date, February 26th, the day of the murder, did you see the defendant, Jeremy Dawson, at any time on that day?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And when was that?”
“It was approximately five-thirty in the afternoon.”
“And where did you see him?”
“At home. At our house, in Teaneck.”
“You and the defendant both live there?”
“That’s right.”
“And what happened on this occasion?”
“Well, I was in the kitchen making myself a sandwich. I heard the front door open. I went out to see who it was and it was him.”
“By him, you mean …?”
“The defendant. Jeremy Dawson.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was coming in the front door.”
“Did you talk with him at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I asked him where he’d been.”
“Did you have a reason for asking that?”
“Yes, I did.”
Dirkson nodded. “Fine, Mr. Jenson. Now listen carefully, because we are getting into an area where we have to be careful about the rules regarding hearsay evidence. So try to answer my questions carefully, and answer only what is asked, and try to avoid telling us what some other person, other than the defendant, may have told you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. With that in mind, let me ask you this. During the course of the afternoon, were you in communication with anyone from Jeremy Dawson’s high school?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Good. Now, you say you asked Jeremy Dawson where he’d been?”
“That’s right.”
“And what did he say?”
“He shrugged, and said, ‘Out.’”
“What did you say then?”
“I told him I’d been on the phone with his high school, and asked him why he cut his afternoon classes.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer. He just made a rude remark.”
“Was that the extent of the conversation?”
“No, it wasn’t. I asked him if he’d seen Jack Walsh.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He laughed and said, Where the hell would I see him?’”
“What happened then?”
“I kept pressing him, asking him questions. Finally he turned on me and he grinned and he said, ‘You’re really stupid, Carl. You think you’re ever gonna see any of Uncle Jack’s money? You better think again.’”
“I want to be clear on this. This was five-thirty on the afternoon of the day of the murder. Jeremy Dawson laughed at you and made
a remark about Jack Walsh’s money and your chances of ever getting it?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened then?”
“I asked him what the hell he meant by that and he just laughed and went upstairs.”
“And then what?”
“He just went upstairs, took a shower and changed his clothes.”
“What did you do?”
“I hung around, waited for him to come down.”
“Why?”
“I was upset. It bothered me, what he’d said. Particularly with what was going on, or with what I thought was going on. I wanted to talk with him some more.”
“And did you?”
“I tried, but he wouldn’t talk. He came downstairs a half hour later, all showered and changed. I asked him what he meant by what he said, and what was going on. But he wouldn’t answer. He just made some rude remarks and went out the door.”
“Did you ask him where he was going?”
“Yes, I did, but he wouldn’t say. He just made comments I would not repeat in court.”
“Did he say anything else that you can repeat?”
“Yeah. Last thing he said before he went out the door.”
“And what was that?”
“He turned around, he pointed his finger in my face, and he said, ‘You be nice to me, Carl, ’cause I’m gonna be rich.’”
Dirkson paused and let that sink in. “And that was approximately at what time?”
“Between six and six-thirty.”
“On the evening of February 26th?”
“That’s right.”
“That was the last time you saw Jeremy Dawson that night?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jenson. That’s all.”
Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Winslow?”
Steve rose, crossed in to the witness.
Carl Jenson eyed him warily. After Winslow’s previous cross-examination of him, Jenson was bracing himself for the anticipated attack.
It didn’t come. Steve’s manner was not adversarial. It was polite and conversational, even friendly.
Steve smiled, held up his hand and said, “Now, Mr. Jenson. Mr. Dirkson has been scrupulously careful about the phone call you had from the school, but I think there’s no need to be over technical here. The fact is, the school called and told you Jeremy Dawson had cut his afternoon classes, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Tell me, did that surprise you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, was this a novel occurrence, something new and unexpected, something you’d never dealt with before?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Jeremy Dawson had cut his classes before?”
“Yes, he had.”
“On more than one occasion?”
“That’s right.”
“And had the school called before with regard to Jeremy cutting his classes?”
“Yes, it had.”
“And on those occasions, when Jeremy Dawson got home, did you ask him where he’d been?”
Jenson frowned, hesitated a moment. “I can’t remember.”
Dirkson came to his rescue. “I think it’s incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial, Your Honor.”
“On the contrary, Your Honor,” Steve said. “This witness has testified as to remarks Jeremy Dawson made to him on this occasion regarding Jack Walsh and his money. It’s entirely relevant whether those remarks were special to this occasion, or whether this was something Jeremy Dawson taunted Carl Jenson with all the time.”
Judge Grimes frowned. “I will allow this line of questioning.”
“You say on those occasions you can’t remember if you asked him where he’d been. Can you remember if on those occasions you asked him anything about Jack Walsh?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You’re not sure if you asked him where he’d been, but you are sure you didn’t ask him about Jack Walsh?”
“That’s right.”
“How can you be sure about that?”
“On those other occasions there was no reason to ask him about Jack Walsh.”
“Oh, so you’re saying on this occasion there was?”
“Yes, there was.”
“And what was that?”
Jenson hesitated, took a breath. “Well, recently the family had been very concerned about Jack. He’d been acting irrationally. He’d been confined in Bellevue. He’d been released just the day before. So naturally it was on my mind.”
“Yes, but what made you think Jeremy Dawson might have seen him?”
“Well, there was the phone call from the school.”
“Ah, yes,” Steve said. “The phone call from the school. I was wondering about that. Is it possible that when the school called to tell you Jeremy Dawson had cut his classes, they also mentioned that he had been seen with a rather disreputable looking older gentleman?”
“Yes, they did.”
“You didn’t mention this on direct examination.”
“Objection,” Dirkson said.
Judge Grimes frowned. “Objection to what?”
“Objection to that statement. Counsel is trying to make it appear there was something sinister about the witness not mentioning that fact on direct examination. When in point of fact, the only reason he didn’t mention it is because it’s hearsay and inadmissible.”
Judge Grimes smiled. “Are you objecting on the grounds it’s hearsay and inadmissible?”
“Not at all,” Dirkson said. “I’m happy to have it in the record.”
“Then we have no problem. Proceed, Mr. Winslow.”
“At any rate, Mr. Jenson, that is why you questioned Jeremy Dawson about Jack Walsh at this particular time?”
“That’s right.”
“Now, referring to those previous occasions on which the school called you about Jeremy Dawson, did he ever make any remarks to you about Jack Walsh’s money?”
“No, he did not.”
“The subject never came up?”
“No, it did not.”
“But you do recall other occasions when Jeremy Dawson cut classes and you were called by the school?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Tell me something. Was Jeremy Dawson ever suspended from school?”
“Yes, he was. But that wasn’t for cutting classes. That was for selling crack.”
There was a murmur in the courtroom. Dirkson grinned.
Steve frowned. “For selling crack, you say?”
“That’s right.”
“Now look here, Mr. Jenson, you don’t know for a fact that Jeremy Dawson was selling crack, do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“How do you know that?”
“The school caught him at it.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Jenson. You didn’t catch him at it, did you?”
“No, the school did.”
“And you only know that because you were told that, right?”
“That’s right.”
“But that’s hearsay, Mr. Jenson. You can’t testify to that.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jenson said. “I’m not a lawyer. You asked me so I told you.”
That sally drew a laugh from spectators in the courtroom. Dirkson grinned broadly, and some of the jurors smiled.
Judge Grimes frowned. “Are you asking that answer be stricken from the record, Mr. Winslow?”
“No, I’m not, Your Honor. I’d like to cross-examine the witness on it.”
“It’s plainly hearsay, Mr. Winslow.”
“It goes to the bias of the witness, Your Honor. This witness has given material evidence on statements my client made on the day of the murder. I’m interested in any factors that might have colored his judgment.”
“Very well. Proceed.”
“Mr. Jenson, you don’t know of your own knowledge that Jeremy Dawson is a crack dealer, do
you?”
Jenson hesitated. “You mean aside from what someone told me?”
“That’s right.”
“No, I do not.”
“Well, tell me something. When Jeremy Dawson was suspended for selling crack, how did you feel about that?”
“How did I feel?”
“Yes.”
“I was furious, of course.”
“At the school, or at Jeremy Dawson?”
“At Jeremy Dawson.”
“Why?”
“Why? Are you kidding me? I suppose you approve of selling crack.”
“No, I don’t, Mr. Jenson. And I’m sure you don’t either. So you were outraged, is that right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You say you don’t know of your own knowledge he was selling crack. Then let me ask you this. Did you try to find out for sure if he was selling crack?”
Jenson frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After the school told you that, did you make any investigation of your own? In particular, did you search Jeremy Dawson’s room?”
Jenson hesitated.
“Well, Mr. Jenson?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“Why?”
“Why? Come on, I was living in that same house. If he had drugs in the house, he was endangering us all.”
“I see. So you searched his room?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And did you find any drugs?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And did that make you think maybe the school was wrong?”
“No. Because he didn’t have them at home. He had them at school. He was selling drugs out of his locker.”
“You know that now because of what the police found in his locker, but you didn’t know it then.”
“Yes, I did.”
“How?”
Jenson hesitated, bit his lip.
“How, Mr. Jenson?”
“I don’t know. I just knew.”
“How did you know?”
“Well, it stood to reason.”
“Yes, it did, Mr. Jenson,” Steve said dryly. “And it certainly stands to reason much more now after the police found vials of crack in his locker. Just as it stands to reason now that Jeremy Dawson must have been taunting you about Uncle Jack’s money since the police found a will in his possession leaving all that money to him.”
