“But,” the judge continued, “I don’t want to get bogged down in all those details. Did your client, or did he not, confess to the murder of, uh…” He flailed around at the papers in front of him a bit, then looked to Brunelle.
“Amy Corrigan,” Brunelle was glad to supply the victim’s name.
“Yes, Amy, uh, Corrigan,” Carlisle repeated. “Did your client admit to murdering Ms. Corrigan?”
Edwards stood stock still for a moment. “That’s what the state alleges.”
A lawyer’s response. And worth exactly that much.
“Okay,” the judge acknowledged both the response and the emptiness of it.
“But they have no body,” Edwards continued. “So his confession is irrelevant.”
Carlisle raised an eyebrow, “How can a confession be irrelevant?”
“When they can’t prove the underlying crime without it,” Edwards practically scolded. She was right, technically. But it was a lawyer’s position. Overly analyzed and difficult to explain, let alone justify.
Carlisle pursed his lips and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “How am I supposed to decide what to do when there’s no body but there is a confession?”
Now it was time to offer Carlisle his way out. “I have a suggestion, Your Honor,” Brunelle interposed.
Judge Carlisle looked down from the ceiling. “What is it?”
Brunelle manufactured his most sincere, ‘regular guy’ shrug. “Don’t.”
Carlisle cocked his head at him. “Don’t?”
“Don’t decide,” Brunelle repeated. Then he added just the slightest assertive edge to his posture and voice. “Let the jury decide. That’s their job. Deny this premature motion to dismiss and let the jury decide if we’ve proven the charge beyond a reasonable doubt. They’ll hear there’s no body, and they’ll hear the defendant confessed. And they’ll hear a lot more on top of all that. And then they can decide. Not you. Them.”
Judges didn’t become judges to make decisions. They became judges to get a state pension and have everyone stand up when they walked in a room. For a few of them it was about justice, but for most of them it was about money and status—just like everyone else in the world. Making decisions was hard, especially big important decisions between throwing out murder cases or violating defendants’ Constitutional rights. If such a decision could be avoided while keeping the pension and admiration, all the better.
Edwards started to protest, “But Your Honor, that’s the whole point of this motion. A jury shouldn’t be allowed to hear it because it would be—“
But Carlisle interrupted. “I have to agree with Mr. Brunelle. An issue as important as this should be decided by a jury.”
“An issue as important as this should never get to a jury,” Edwards protested. She pointed at Brunelle. “They don’t have a body!”
Carlisle nodded, nonplussed by Edwards’ raised voice. “Then I imagine the jury might well acquit your client. But I’m going to decline to do so for you in advance. I’m denying the motion to dismiss and confirming the matter for trial.”
Carlisle hurried off the bench before Edwards could argue any more. Brunelle smiled and started to collect his things.
“That was total B.S.,” Edwards stormed over to say. “That’s not the law.”
Brunelle shrugged and offered a boyish smile. “I’m not so sure, but it’s the ruling. I get my trial after all.”
His smile faded as he considered how much work he had to do to get ready for that trial. If Carlisle had thrown out the case, Brunelle could have blamed him, and the appellate courts, and Edwards, and everyone else under the sun. But now if he lost the trial, everyone would blame him.
“You sure do, Dave.” Edwards offered her own, predatory smile. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Chapter 26
Whatever joy there had been in leveraging Carlisle’s simplicity against him was reasonably short-lived. Two weeks before trial, the case was assigned back to Judge Grissom. The next day, Edwards filed her motions in limine—all the things she wanted suppressed and excluded during the trial. Motions in limine were usually pretty predictable and didn’t require much argument. Not like the motions to dismiss Brunelle had managed to fend off. Just procedural things, like excluding witnesses from the courtroom during other witnesses’ testimony, and mutually agreeable things, like no hearsay without first laying the foundation for a hearsay exception.
Brunelle had been reading Edwards’ standard motion in limine brief for so many years that he almost didn’t bother thumbing through this one to see if she’d made any changes. Usually the only interesting thing was to see if she’d remembered to change all the references to her client to ‘Mr. Brown’ from whichever defendant she’d last filed the motions for. It was always fun to imagine a defendant reading a pleading filed on his behalf and coming across an instance of someone else’s name, just in case the defendant wasn’t already dubious of his representation from the oft-called ‘public pretender.’
Fortunately, it was this one small joy that enticed Brunelle to flip through the dozen-page document, and discover the motion buried second-to-last. Putting it last would have made it more likely to be discovered. He dropped the pleading and picked up the phone.
“Jessica Edwards,” she answered in her calm, confident voice.
“Jess, it’s Dave.” Then right to it. “What the hell is this motion in limine you filed?”
A slight pause. Long enough to smile, Brunelle knew, even if he couldn’t see it. “Which one?” she asked sweetly.
“You know damn well which one,” Brunelle replied, definitely not smiling. “The one to exclude any mention of Brown being a pimp or Amy being one of his hookers.”
“Oh, right. That one.”
Brunelle waited but she didn’t say any more. So he did.
“That’s total crap, Jess. You know this case only makes sense if the jury knows he was her pimp.”
Edwards gave a concerned click of the tongue. “Golly, Dave, I hadn’t thought of that. I was just concerned with my client receiving a fair trial. And, you know, the evidence rules are pretty clear: other bad acts aren’t generally admissible. A jury might convict him just because they think he’s a bad person. The fact that it makes your case incoherent is just a bonus.”
“It’s not a bonus, it’s bullshit. You don’t get to gut my case.”
“I get to enforce the evidence rules, Dave,” Edwards replied, an edge added to her otherwise amiable tone. “And I’m going to advocate on behalf of my client. The jury might make adverse inferences against my client if they know about his other, unrelated criminal activities.”
“They’re not unrelated, Jess. They’re the core of his relationship to the victim.”
“Alleged victim,” Edwards shot back. “That’s motion in limine number twelve. You shouldn’t get to say ‘victim’; you should have to say ‘alleged victim.’”
“God, you filed that old motion, too?” Brunelle huffed. “I hate that one. The judges never grant it.”
“Grissom might,” Edwards replied. “And if she does, you better hope none of your cops slip up and say ‘victim’ or I’m gonna object and the judge is going to tell the jury that Amy Corrigan is only an ‘alleged victim.’ Nothing like having the judge broadcast reasonable doubt to the jury.”
“Which is why she should deny the motion,” Brunelle said. “And the one about Brown being a pimp.”
“Look, I bet he’d plead to pimping if you dump the murder charge. You want him to be a pimp, then let’s do that and we can both forget about having to try this stupid case.”
“It’s not a stupid case, Jess.”
“You don’t have a body, Dave. It’s the definition of reasonable doubt.” She mocked her closing argument voice, “The judge has instructed you that a reasonable doubt is a doubt for which there is a reason. Ladies and gentleman, what more reason do you need to doubt than the fact that you don’t know if Amy Corrigan is even dead?’ See, Dave? Stupid.”
; “She’s dead, Jess,” Brunelle insisted. “And she’s dead because Brown was her pimp and she defied him. The jury needs to know that.”
“I agree, Dave,” Edwards replied, the overly sweet voice returning. “They will need to know that to convict. That’s why I’m going to convince Judge Grissom to exclude it. And you’re going to lose.”
“We’ll see,” Brunelle replied. A lame response, he knew, but the first one that came to mind. “I get a chance to argue, too.”
“Of course you do, Dave,” Edwards almost laughed. “So by all means, tell it to the judge. Judge Grissom, that is.”
Brunelle closed his eyes and felt his heart burn as he began imagining Grissom’s likely ruling.
“Good bye, Dave,” Edwards finished their conversation. “See you in court.”
Brunelle didn’t reply. He just listened to the click on the other end of the line, then pressed the receiver against his forehead.
“Damn it.”
Chapter 27
One week before trial, Brunelle walked into Judge Grissom’s courtroom for the hearing on Edwards’ motions in limine. It was also a general status conference to confirm everyone’s readiness for trial, and Brunelle had his own motions in limine as well, of course, but the thing that really mattered was Edwards’ motions. And, specifically, the motion to scrub his case clean of the one thing that allowed it all to make sense.
He wasn’t feeling much like small talk, so he avoided his usual nod and greeting to Edwards. His mind was too preoccupied with his upcoming argument, and his heart was too worried about the potential ruling. And if he were honest with himself, he was angry with her. He knew Edwards had to do her job, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. And sometimes he just couldn’t stuff all the emotions inside any more.
“Good morning, Dave,” Edwards tried from her spot at the defense table. Brown was there too, but, as usual, he faded into the background. Just some guy sitting there in a suit looking for all the world to be Edwards’ associate rather than a woman-beating pimp and murderer. And, if Edwards got her way, the jury would never get the see the real Kenny Brown.
Brunelle managed to look over and offer a nod in return, but he kept his words to himself and sat down at the prosecution table to arrange his books and binders and notepads.
Edwards didn’t press it and sat down as well. The two lawyers readied themselves in silence until Judge Grissom’s bailiff announced her arrival.
“All rise,” he called. “The King County Superior Court is now in session, the Honorable Helen Grissom presiding.”
Grissom ascended to the bench, and Brunelle’s heart descended to his stomach. He didn’t have a cutesy angle this time. And even if he had, Grissom wasn’t likely to be impressed twice by his boyish charm.
“Please be seated,” Grissom said as she did the same. “Are the parties ready on the matter of the State of Washington versus Kenneth Wayne Brown?”
Brunelle had remained standing, knowing he would be asked exactly that question and he would be expected to respond first. “The state is ready.”
He sat down as Edwards stood up. “The defense is ready,” she announced.
And they were off.
Grissom opened the court file before her and thumbed through the top several pages. “We are on for the status conference. Trial is in one week, so I’ll start with the obvious question.” She raised her eyes to Brunelle. “Is the state ready for trial?”
Brunelle stood again. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Grissom looked to Edwards. “Is the defense ready for trial?”
Edwards also stood to address the court. “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”
“Good,” Grissom replied. “Then I’d like to take the time to discuss how I run jury selection in my courtroom. I believe it’s the standard method, but that’s what all the judges say and we each do it a little differently. So, first, we’ll bring in a panel of seventy potential jurors—I think that’s enough to seat twelve jurors and two alternates. Next, we’ll have the first twelve sit in the jury box, then starting with number thirteen, they’ll be seated in the gallery…”
Grissom continued on with the basics of jury selection. While it was true each judge did it a little differently, the truth was they all did it basically the same with slight style differences. Brunelle had picked over a hundred juries. He could figure out Grissom’s stylistic preferences as they went along. Ordinarily, he might have been able to focus on what she was saying, but he was eager to get to the important stuff: Edwards’ motion to gut his case. He had little patience for procedural trivialities.
“Any questions about that procedure, Mr. Brunelle?” the judge asked.
Brunelle knew to look up when his name was mentioned. “No, Your Honor. No questions.”
Edwards didn’t have any questions either. She’d probably picked more juries than him.
“So, next we can discuss scheduling,” Judge Grissom suggested. “Court will begin promptly at nine a.m. every morning and run until noon. After lunch…”
Again, Brunelle found it hard to concentrate. In truth, they would routinely start late because a witness, or juror, or even attorney got caught in traffic. And they would run into the lunch hour as often as not, depending on which witness was on the stand, and whether they were almost done with their testimony, and whether they were even available to come back after lunch.
“Mr. Brunelle?” Judge Grissom was looking down at him.
He refocused his eyes and looked up at the judge. “Yes, Your Honor?”
“Will that schedule work for you?”
“Uh, yes.” Brunelle nodded. Even if he didn’t care, he should at least keep listening. “That will be fine. Whatever works for the court, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.”
Grissom frowned. She wasn’t stupid. “Is there something else you’d like to discuss, Mr. Brunelle?”
Brunelle shrugged slightly. He might as well say it, since she’d bothered to ask. “Could we move on to the motions in limine? I think Ms. Edwards and I will be able to adjust to whatever procedural and scheduling demands the court makes on us.”
Grissom’s frown softened slightly. She was an experienced judge. Brunelle and Edwards were experienced attorneys. The day-to-day details would work themselves out. What really mattered right then was what the judge’s legal rulings would be. Brunelle could easily show up to Grissom’s courtroom at 9:00 a.m. every day. What he really cared about was what he was going to be allowed to talk about when he got there.
“Okay, Mr. Brunelle,” the judge replied. She looked to the defense table. “Are you ready to address the motions in limine, Ms. Edwards?”
Edwards nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. Whatever the court wants to do.”
Grissom nodded. “Fine. Shall we start with the state’s motions?”
It was normal practice to start everything with the prosecution’s side of the argument. That whole presumption of innocence, burden of proof thing. But Brunelle wasn’t sure he could make it through his own formulaic motions to exclude witnesses from the courtroom during other witnesses’ testimony, etc. “Could we start with the defense motions, Your Honor?” he suggested. “I think they’re more… substantial.”
Grissom smiled slightly at Brunelle. A knowing smile. Unlike Judge Carlisle, she had undoubtedly read all of the pleadings. And having done so, she would have known what Brunelle was most concerned about. Brunelle realized the discussion about jury selection procedures and lunch times may have been a bit of Grissom toying with him—like a cat with an injured bird.
“I assume you don’t mean Ms. Edwards’ motion to prevent your witnesses from using the word ‘victim’?” she ventured.
Brunelle grimaced. “I do want to be heard on that motion too, Your Honor. But no. I’m chiefly concerned with her motion in limine number seventeen, asking the court to exclude any mention of the defendant’s criminal activities in promoting prostitution.”
Grissom’s cat-like smile broadened just a bit. She
looked to Edwards. “Are you ready to argue that motion right now, counsel?”
Edwards smiled as well. Brunelle felt like the guy in the room who wasn’t in on the joke. “Yes, Your Honor. Whatever you say.”
Grissom leaned back slightly. She exchanged the smile for a thoughtful expression and clasped her hands in front of her. “This is your motion, Ms. Edwards. You may begin.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Edwards replied.
Brunelle, who had been standing to address the court, sat down again and listened intently to Edwards, pen in his hand to write down her major points—and the responses he would offer when it was his turn to speak.
“The defense asks the court to exclude any allegation, argument, testimony, or other mention that Mr. Brown has ever engaged in the crime of promoting prostitution. The motion is made pursuant to evidence rules 403, 404, and 609. As the court is aware, Rule 404(b) states clearly that,” Edwards looked down to her rule book to quote verbatim, “’Evidence of other crimes, wrongs, or acts is not admissible to prove the character of a person in order to show action in conformity therewith.’ Here, the state would be introducing the evidence to argue that Mr. Brown is a pimp and this is the sort of things pimps do.”
Brunelle frowned. That wasn’t exactly what he would be arguing. But he knew not to interrupt.
“In addition,” Edwards continued, “evidence rule 609 limits evidence of criminal activity to crimes of dishonesty, like perjury. It states, in pertinent part, ‘For the purpose of attacking the credibility of a witness in a criminal or civil case, evidence that the witness has been convicted of a crime shall be admitted … but only if the crime … involved dishonesty or false statement.’ Here, the allegations of pimping are not crimes of dishonesty and so should be excluded.”
Brunelle suppressed a shake of his head. That was for using old convictions to suggest a witness was a liar, not new criminal activity that was relevant to the current charges.
So, likely knowing what Brunelle would argue, Edwards finished with, “And even if the court thinks there may be some minimal relevance of the pimping allegations, evidence rule 403 clearly states, ‘Although relevant, evidence may be excluded if its probative value is substantially outweighed by the danger of unfair prejudice, confusion of the issues, or misleading the jury.’ Here, there would be a great danger that the jury, hearing that Mr. Brown may have acted as a pimp to some women who worked as prostitutes, would label him as simply a ‘bad man’ and convict him because of that label, even if the evidence is insufficient to establish his guilt beyond a reasonable doubt as to the crime charged. This is especially true in a case such as this where the state insists on pressing forward with a circumstantial case, not even having proof that the victim is actually dead.”
Corpus Delicti (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Book 6) Page 11
