“Very good. Mr. Malloy, you may proceed.”
At that, Vince stood up and walked over to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You are here today because a man of God, a man of the cloth, was brutally murdered. Father Kennedy was a good man, a great man, a man that only served God and he served Him faithfully. He was a part of the community – he worked at soup kitchens and animal shelters and he was actively involved in working with high-risk youths. His entire life was devoted to service to others and service to God. If there was a man in this world who did not deserve his fate, it was Father Kennedy.”
He paced back and forth in front of the jury, addressing them one by one. “On April 19 of this year, that life was cruelly snuffed out. Cruelly. You will hear evidence that the defendant, Jack Calhoun, was found at the rectory with the Father, who was brutally slain and lying at the defendant’s feet. You will hear evidence that the murder weapon, which was a hunting knife, was recovered at the scene. You will hear evidence that this murder weapon was in the hands of the defendant at the time he was arrested. You will hear evidence that this murder weapon had only one pair of fingerprints on it, and those fingerprints belonged to the defendant. Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen.”
I was cheered, somewhat, that Vince couldn’t really establish motive. Father Mathews had told me that Father Kennedy was afraid of Jack, but he couldn’t really testify to that, because that would be hearsay – Father Mathews was only aware of Father Kennedy’s fear because Father Kennedy had expressed in words that he was afraid.
Still, just with the facts, the prosecutor had enough to convict. That much was clear.
I stood up and cleared my throat. I closed my eyes for three seconds and then straightened my spine. I knew that I had to go at that jury with a forceful voice, presence and confidence that told them that I knew that I had the winning hand. Intangibles like that – tone of voice, posture and body language – were vital. I was always confident, no matter what. Even in those trials where I knew that my case was crap, I was able to sell it to the jury just by sheer will.
But this was different. This was my Uncle Jack, and I couldn’t get out of my head.
I soon got it together.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you heard the prosecutor’s opening statement. I’m not going to try to argue with the facts. Yes, it is true that my client was arrested in the rectory of Father Kennedy. Yes, it is true that the murder weapon was in his hands and only his fingerprints were on it. All this is true. But I’ll tell you what is not true – it’s not true that anybody actually saw my client enter that rectory. Nobody actually saw my client kill Father Kennedy. But somebody did call the police. Somebody did. Why this person called the police is an open question, but I submit to you that the person who called the police was the person who was the actual perpetrator of this murder.”
I did the same thing as Vince – I leaned on the railing and looked every last juror in the eye. “Think about it, ladies and gentlemen. Father Kennedy and my client, Mr. Calhoun, were in that rectory for a counseling session. They were in there for a counseling session when an anonymous phone call came through stating that there should be a welfare check on Father Kennedy. A welfare check. Why would there be a reason for a welfare check? There was no indication that Father Kennedy was unwell. Doesn’t that sound just a tad suspicious?”
I paced back and forth, turned my back and then turned back around and faced them again. “Just a tad suspicious that somebody would call the police for a welfare check when Father Kennedy was presumably minding his own business and counseling a client. You will hear evidence about this welfare check. You will also hear evidence that a different individual had motive for killing Father Kennedy. That evidence will show that Father Kennedy heard the confessions of a mass killer, a serial killer, back in 1972, and did not report it due to confessional privilege. You will hear evidence that this other individual, whose name is Raymond Mathews, lost his identical twin to this serial killer back in 1972. You will hear evidence that Mr. Mathews blamed Father Kennedy for the death of his identical twin brother because Father Kennedy did not alert authorities to the possibility that a serial killer was in the area. You will hear further evidence that will establish that Mr. Mathews also blamed my client, Jack Calhoun, because Jack was also a victim of this serial killer and Jack, aged 11, helped find victims for this killer. These two aspects combined in the mind of an unstable individual who was determined that both Father Kennedy and my client would pay for the crime perpetrated on his identical twin.”
I nodded my head, finally feeling my sea legs. I was looking at the faces of the jury, and I realized that they were listening to me and they didn’t look skeptical. I felt like I was winning them over, one by one.
I continued on. “You will also hear evidence that this man’s brother is Father Mathews, who is the current priest at Guardian Angels, having taken over for Father Kennedy.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t necessarily know where to go from there. I really had no idea how Raymond Mathews found out from Father Mathews that Father Kennedy confessed to him. I really didn’t even know for sure if this confession happened. Truth be told, I was telling the jury a story that I didn’t know would come true. It was a story that was only going to be told if I could call Raymond Mathews to the stand, treat him as hostile, and break him down.
“So, you see, ladies and gentlemen – my client was framed. I submit to you that Mr. Raymond Mathews went into the rectory, murdered Father Kennedy, did something to make my client lose consciousness, and put that hunting knife in my client’s hand. That is why my client was passed out with the murder weapon in his hand. I will further submit to you that Mr. Mathews was the individual who called the police and asked for a welfare check. Mr. Mathews thought that he was committing the perfect crime, one that would exact his revenge on the two people he held responsible for the death of his identical twin all those years ago. Please don’t let him get away with it. Thank you.”
I took a deep breath and sat down.
Mick put his hand on mine. “That was really good,” he said. “Now if you can just prove all the things that you told the jury you were going to prove, we’re going to be okay.”
I smiled wanly. “A tall order.”
A tall order, indeed.
“Call your first witness,” Judge Greene said that Vince after I was finished with my opening statement.
“The state calls Officer Brown,” he said.
Officer Brown was summoned from outside the courtroom and he made his way to the witness stand. He sat down, was sworn in, and waited for Vince to begin his questions.
“Could you please state your name for the record?” Vince asked.
“Officer Larry Brown,” he said.
“Officer Brown,” Vince said. “What is your relation to this case?”
“I was the first officer at the crime scene and I was also the arresting officer.”
“You were the officer who was called to Guardian Angels on the evening of April 19, 2017, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Could you please tell the jury why you were called to that scene?”
He cleared his throat. “I was patrolling the area when I got a call about conducting a welfare check at the rectory at Guardian Angels Catholic Church. I was with my partner, Officer Maddox. I arrived at the scene, knocked and announced, and I did not get an answer. I was able to peek through the curtains, as it was still fairly early – it was only 18:20, so it was still light out. I peeked through the curtains and I saw Father Kennedy lying on the floor. I also saw the back of somebody’s head sitting on the couch. I was unable to identify the person who was sitting on the couch. Because I was able to clearly see Father Kennedy lying on the floor, it gave me probable cause to enter the premises, which I did. I kicked in the door and I went into the premises along with Officer Maddox.”
“And what did you see when you went into the rectory?”
“I saw Father Kennedy ly
ing on the floor, having been stabbed in the heart with a hunting knife. I checked for a pulse and found that he was deceased. I also saw the defendant, Mr. Jack Calhoun, sitting on the couch above Father Kennedy. Mr. Calhoun was unconscious and he had a hunting knife in his hand. He wasn’t gripping the knife, as he was unconscious, but the knife was cradled loosely in his hand.”
At that, Vince got out four pictures which were blown up. I didn’t object, because the pictures weren’t particularly gruesome. Because Father Kennedy was stabbed in the heart, his blood stopped pumping immediately. Therefore, there was very little blood, and what little blood there was didn’t show up particularly well against Father Kennedy’s black robe.
The pictures showed the Father lying on the ground. His right arm was raised behind him, and his left arm was at his side. His eyes were open, and there was a small amount of visible blood in the chest area of his robe.
Other pictures showed close-ups of Father Kennedy’s stunned expression. His blue eyes looked like he had suffered a severe shock and his mouth was open. There was another close up of the chest area of his robe, where the blood had pooled. Still other pictures showed Jack sitting on the couch. His head was bowed, and, in his right hand, which was open loosely, was a knife.
“Do these pictures accurately depict the scene at the rectory of Guardian Angels Catholic Church on the evening of April 19, 2017, at approximately 6:20 PM?”
“Yes.”
“Did you arrest the defendant at the scene?”
“Yes.”
“Did he regain consciousness?”
“He did.”
“When did he regain consciousness?”
“In the squad car on the way over to the jail.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked where he was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that he was being arrested for the murder of Father Kennedy in the rectory.”
“And what did he reply?”
“He said that he didn’t remember ever being in the rectory. And then he shook his head, as if he was kind of stunned. But he didn’t say another word.”
“What happened when he was taken to the station?”
“He was processed in. He didn’t speak anymore, however, to us. To any of us. At all.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I have nothing further for this witness.”
Judge Greene looked at me. “Ms. Ross, do you have any questions for this witness?”
“Yes, your honor.”
I stood up and approached him. “Officer Brown, you indicated that you went to the rectory because you received a welfare check. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“What time did that call come in?”
“It was right before I arrived at the scene, so it was between 18:00 and 18:05.”
“I see. Do you know who called about this?”
“No. It was an anonymous call.”
“Is it unusual to received anonymous calls regarding welfare checks?”
He cleared his throat. “It is unusual, but it’s not unheard of.”
“Why do you suppose that it is unusual to receive an anonymous call about a welfare check?”
“Objection, calls for speculation.” Vince was on his feet.
“Please rephrase the question, Ms. Ross,” Judge Greene said.
I nodded my head and decided to move on. I thought that the jury got the point – that the call wouldn’t be anonymous unless the person was worried about retribution. Of course, that’s not necessarily true – there was always the chance that somebody could make an anonymous call because they didn’t want to get involved. But I wanted that question out there.
I paced around slightly. “Now, I assume that you got the autopsy report. What did that report indicate about the time of death?”
“Father Kennedy expired at 17:30, according to the autopsy report.”
“And Mr. Calhoun woke up in the squad car on the way over to the station?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have the approximate time that Mr. Calhoun woke up?”
“Yes. We arrived at the scene at 18:20, determined that Father Kennedy was deceased, so we then called the coroner to come to the scene and transport Father Kennedy to the morgue. We waited for the coroner, who arrived at 18:35, we cordoned off the scene and then we transported Mr. Calhoun to the station. He woke up in the squad car at approximately 18:50.”
“And what time did you take blood from Mr. Calhoun for his toxicology screening?”
“When we got to the station, which was at 19:02.”
I paced around, trying to get the timeline correct for the jury. Vince didn’t have anybody lined up to state that he or she saw what time Jack went into the rectory, because that was unknown. Jack himself didn’t know when he went in there, and there wasn’t anybody around to see him go in.
“So, the time of death for Father Kennedy was 5:30 PM and you got the anonymous phone call about a welfare check about a half-hour after Father Kennedy breathed his last. Do I have that correct?”
He nodded.
“Please answer verbally for the record.”
“Yes,” he said into the microphone. “You do have that timeline correct.”
I was satisfied with that. I could do something with that in my closing statement – that the anonymous phone call came in just a half hour after the Father was killed. That timing seemed suspicious to me, and I hoped that I could make it seem equally suspicious to the jury. There was no explanation, that I could see, for why anybody would think that Father Kennedy was in danger.
The one thing that nagged at me, though, was that I didn’t know how long Jack had been in that rectory with the Father before the Father was killed. Maybe he had been in there for a short time, or maybe it had been hours. Nobody saw him go in there. Plus, Father Mathews had indicated that Father Kennedy felt threatened by Jack. Not that this testimony could come in, because that was clear hearsay, but I wondered if Vince was going to be able to introduce that testimony in the back door somehow, someway. If he could, then that might negate my timeline defense, because there might have been a clear concern for Father Kennedy’s safety if he had been in that rectory alone with Jack for a long time.
But I was going to present that to the jury as very suspicious timing. I hoped that I succeeded on that point.
“Nothing further.” I sat down and winked at Mick, who smiled and winked back.
“Mr. Malloy, call your next witness,” Judge Greene intoned from the bench.
“The state calls Tyrrell Young.”
Dr. Young was the person on the police force who was the go-to forensic expert on DNA and fingerprinting. He was called when the prosecutor wanted to bring out the big-guns. I knew that he was going to be difficult to shake. I was also somewhat concerned that no other hairs had shown up at the murder scene. Dr. Young was called in to detail the crime scene for hair, saliva and skin that might have been left behind at the murder scene. I got his report and I knew that he had indicated that the only hairs he found belonged to Jack and that the fingerprints on the knife belonged only to Jack.
Not that I thought that this was entirely fatal. There was the chance that the killer shaved his head before he went to the scene and could also have shaved his forearms. I did notice that Raymond Mathews, like Father Mathews, had hairless arms. This told me that they were probably part Asian, because many Asians do not have hair on their arms. I always observed that in my clients who were from the Pacific Rim.
So, Raymond Mathews, if he did it, might have shaved his head and, since he cannot grow hair on his arms, he most likely wasn’t going to shed any hair body hair on the crime scene, either. So, even though only Jack’s hair was found at the scene, didn’t mean that there wasn’t anybody else there.
Dr. Young went through his credentials, which were impressive – a master’s degree in forensic technology a
t Berkeley, and he was currently an MD at Menorah Hospital in Leawood. He wasn’t a part of the police department, but he was brought in on special cases. He testified just like I knew that he would about Jack’s hair being found, and that it was Jack’s fingerprints on the knife.
Vince finished his questioning of Dr. Young, and I approached.
“Dr. Young, you testified that you found hair that you sourced to my client, Mr. Calhoun. And that this was the only hair that was found at the scene, except for, of course, the hair of the victim, Father Kennedy. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“And you found this hair on the sofa, where Mr. Calhoun was found unconscious. Is that also correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Do you believe that it is unusual that a rectory would not have other hairs that might be found? After all, the Father had counseled many other individuals in this rectory.”
“Objection, calls for speculation,” Vince said, standing up.
“It goes to how thorough Dr. Young examined the crime scene, your honor.”
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Greene said. “You may answer that question, Dr. Young.”
“No,” he said. “That would not be that unusual. Other individuals might have been in that rectory, but not everyone sheds their hair and, from my understanding, the cleaning lady had been in that rectory that very morning.”
I bit my lower lip, not wanting to ask more about the cleaning lady. She was on Vance’s witness list, though, so I knew that I was going to be hearing from her more.
I paced around a little. “Now, if an individual was in that rectory, and his individual had a shaved head and no hair on his arms whatsoever, is it possible that this individual would be able to get into that rectory and out of it without leaving behind DNA evidence?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “If the individual was only in the rectory for a short period of time.”
“So, it is possible, then, for an individual to slip into that rectory, kill Father Kennedy and slip out without leaving behind DNA evidence that he or she was in there? Assuming that this person shaved his head and did not grow hair on his arms?”
Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Page 88
