Until Proven Innocent

by Gene Grossman

  This time there’s more than a whispering in the courtroom. It’s loud conversation, and it seems like everyone there is talking to the people seated nearby, discussing the validity of what Suzi just testified to. Myra is talking to her trial deputy, and even the judge is having a brief discussion with one of the bailiffs. Everyone knows that the other shoe might drop pretty soon, so without any banging of the gavel, the room slowly comes back to order. When I hear the commotion die down, I look up at the judge, and he signals for me to continue. By this time, Suzi and I are on the same page.

  “Suzi, did you inspect all of the empty shell casings that were in the Defendant’s brass basket when he returned from the practice range that day?”

  “Yes I did. Whenever a bullet is fired in a gun, the same force that pushes the bullet head out of the front of the gun pushes the shell casing back to the rear of the gun at the same time. This causes what we call recoil, but at the same time it leaves distinguishing marks on the rear face of the shell casing. By carefully examining every one of the one hundred empty shells in the brass basket, I was able to separate out the only one that did not have the same firing pin indentation as the other ninety nine shells.”

  At this time she reaches into her pocket and holds up a small plastic baggie that contains an empty shell casing.

  Another outburst takes place in the courtroom. Myra tells one of the bailiffs to go over and take the shell from Suzi. The Bailiff refuses to make a move until the judge tells him to. When the noise subsides, I go on with my questioning.

  “Did you have any way to find out which, or whose weapon fired the questioned shell?

  “Yes, I did. I had Detective Sid and Detective Frank, two friends of mine, go out to the practice range in plain clothes. They spent several days out there firing, and with a brass basket full of Detective Tony’s empty shells. Every time they saw someone with the same kind of big pistol as Detective Tony’s, they managed to pick up a spent shell and replace it with one of Detective Tony’s old ones. This way, they were able to bring back a bunch of samples to compare with the one I found in the brass basket.”

  This is the first time I’ve heard any of the things she’s done on this investigation, and I have to admit that she’s really done a great job. I don’t know what the rest of her answers are going to be, but I can’t wait to find out.

  “Suzi, were you able to make a match to any of the casings that your detective friends brought back from the firing range?”

  “Yes, I was. One of the weapons used at the range gave us an identical ballistics fingerprint match to the other shell.”

  This is it. The other shoe is ready to drop. I can’t believe that this is actually happening, but I think that the kid is getting ready to identify the real killer. There is a flurry of scribbling and laptop usage. Looking back to the rear doors of the courtroom, I see that the bailiffs are having a hard time keeping more members of the press out. They have now allowed sitting room on the floors of the aisles, so another twenty reporters are now crowded in. I might as well go for it now.

  “Suzi, after you made the match you told us about, did you have any way to know what gun it came from or who fired it?”

  “Yes Peter, because I had the detectives provide me with a license plate to go along with each shell they brought back. I had them run all of the plates through DMV before giving me the shells to compare, so I know what car the shooter drove, but the detectives don’t know yet.”

  This time the courtroom erupts into a cheering session, like one of those television dramas where they finally remove the puppy from the well, and everyone cries and hugs the person they’re standing next to. The judge doesn’t even try to quiet them down. We all just wait patiently, because we know that everyone realizes the sooner they quiet down, the sooner Suzi will finish her testimony and name the killer. Most embarrassed of all is Myra’s trial deputy, who now realizes what a fool she made out of herself when first trying to explain to this innocent little girl what a fingerprint is. With some order restored, I forge ahead.

  “Suzi, would you please tell the court who, in your opinion, is the real killer of Joseph Caulfield?”

  Suzi doesn’t answer. Instead, she climbs up in the witness chair and motions for the judge to come close because she wants to communicate with him privately. Any other witness who tries a stunt like this is immediately dragged out of the courtroom by the bailiffs, but this is no ordinary witness, so the judge leans over to let her whisper in his ear. A dead silence falls over the courtroom, with everyone trying to hear what she’s saying. The judge nods an acknowledgement of her little secret and speaks to us. “I’d like both counsel to approach the bench, please.”

  Myra and I both exchange shrugs with each other and walk into the well towards the bench. When we get there, the judge has a strange request that he whispers to us.

  “I know that both of you are sworn officers of the court, so I hope I’ll get some cooperation from you. The witness has made a special request that I can’t refuse. She tells me that she won’t name the shooting suspect in this case unless you both agree to her demand.”

  Myra and I both look at each other. If it wasn’t for the fact that we were in this crowded courtroom with television covering our every move, there’s no doubt in my mind at all that we would be in a knocked-down dragged-out argument about whose fault this is. I try to quietly tell her that she should have never subpoenaed the kid, and she blames me for not knowing what the kid was planning on doing here today. This slightly heated discussion is being conducted in hoarse whispers, as we stand in front of the judge. He interrupts us with his own whisper.

  “Counsel, please. This is a criminal court, not divorce court. I can see a slight disagreement the two of you are having about child raising. If you would have stayed married, you could have had this discussion outside of the courtroom. However, you’re not still married, and this isn’t divorce or domestic relations court, so I’m going to have to stop you for a minute to give me a chance to tell you what this child wants.”

  Myra and I take his advice and cool down for a second, to give the judge a chance to continue.

  “Suzi tells me that she’ll give you the name of the person who owns the car that the shooter was driving, if the two of you will take her out to dinner tonight at some Mexican restaurant you’ve all been to before. And, as an extra bonus, if the two of you will try to spend the entire evening together without fighting, she also promises to testify about some additional evidence she has that may even name the shooter for you.”

  Myra and I both turn to glare at the witness, who is doing her best ‘little angel’ impression during this whole discussion. We tell the judge that we’ll agree to her terms and return to our respective seats at the counsel tables. I continue with my questioning.

  “Suzi, just before this last break, I asked if you have an opinion of who the real killer is. Will you please tell us your opinion now if you have one?”

  “Yes, I do have one. In addition to the license plates that my friends ran, they also checked gun sales throughout Southern California and background checks made for those purchases. They concentrated only on the same .50 caliber weapon like Detective Tony has. When all the results came back in, there was a match. We saw only one name that appeared as registered owner of a car at the practice range who also had a background check conducted for the purchase of a .50 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver like Detective Tony’s.”

  A slight commotion is taking place, and a few reporters walk out of the courtroom, to be ready to get to their satellite vans in time to be first to broadcast the name of the killer. All of the other reporters in the courtroom are frantically dialing their cell phones, trying to get connected to their network or associate downstairs at the news van. When it gets quiet enough, Suzi continues.

  “The name that turned up as a match all over was David Miller, and I believe that he was the one who had the same gun as Tony, was at the practice range that day, made the ammunition s
witch, called Detective Tony and told him to meet the victim at the soundstage, and then drove over there to kill the victim knowing that Detective Tony would call it in and get arrested.”

  Did I hear her right? David Miller is the name of the guy who manages the apartment building where April lives. Suzi isn’t through yet. She has another announcement to make.

  “Mister David Miller is now out in the hallway. He’s in handcuffs, waiting to be formally arrested by the District Attorney.”

  Any semblance of order is now completely out of the question. People are shouting in the courtroom, trying to get their story told by cell phone. At the same time, the doors to the hallway are jammed with people trying to get out there to see the arrestee and get a picture of him on their new picture phones. When it seems like everyone who wants to get out of the courtroom has succeeded, the judge looks down at Myra and asks her only one question. “Will you be making a motion to dismiss?”

  Myra looks up at him and nods assent. The judge looks at Tony and the jury. Detective, you’re free to go now. All charges against you have been dismissed. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I thank you for your participation in this trial and want you to know that you are also dismissed and free to go home.

  It’s only now that I realize the seats in the front row of the courtroom are empty. Snell and his men have already escorted the piracy gang out of the courtroom, and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Evelyn. Well, that’s life. During all the commotion, Suzi slipped out of the witness chair and is now out in the hallway making her press statement, which I’m sure she’s rehearsed many times over the past week. I’ll have to catch it on the news later tonight.

  Looking around, I also see that Tony is gone too. That’s strange, because I usually get a thank you after I manage to keep someone’s rear end off of death row. After a few minutes, Myra and I realize that we’re the only ones left standing. The courtroom is almost empty and all the action is now out in the hall. The judge has left the bench, so we might as well make plans for dinner now. It’s decided that Myra will ride in the car with me, so I use my cell phone to call Jack B. and tell him to bring the Hummer around. One of Tony’s detectives gives us the message that Suzi will meet us at the restaurant. She and her assistant are riding there in a caravan of police cars.

  I still can’t figure out how this David Miller fits into the puzzle, so when going out into the hallway I try to get a look at him. There’s some slight resemblance to the pony-tailed hippie I met at April’s apartment building, but the David Miller they’ve now got handcuffed here has short curly blonde hair and he’s clean-shaven. I’ll have Myra ask the kid how she made this connection. I think he was sitting in the back of the courtroom on the first day of trial too, but at that time I must have thought he was just a trial-watcher who got lucky and grabbed an empty seat. If he’s really the shooter, then he probably got spooked when Suzi said she’d give him up. He obviously snuck out with the bunch of reporters who were leaving the courtroom to file their stories.

  As we leave the courthouse and walk out to the sidewalk where Jack and the Hummer are waiting for us, we see the news crews’ camera lights in the parking lot. They’re all interviewing the new star, who is precariously standing atop two milk crates. I hope that the New York morning shows are ready to fork over extra first class tickets for her assistant and legal guardian too, because that’s the only way I’ll agree to let her appear.

  * * * * * *

  Chapter 15

  The victory party at the restaurant is pretty upbeat. When we enter Mi Ranchito we’re informed that everything has already been paid for. The entire evening is on Tony, who gave them his credit card number. I look around, but don’t see him.

  We now hear the sirens of Suzi’s escort vehicles. When two of Tony’s close cop friends come in, I inquire about Tony, and they tell me that he wasn’t feeling too good, so he went home to rest. I don’t blame him. We all went through quite a bit with this case, but he’s the only one who was in danger of going behind bars. Stress can do a lot of damage - even to a man of steel like Tony.

  While we’re eating, the restaurant owner tunes the numerous hanging television sets to an English-speaking channel, so we can all watch the local early evening news. The blow-dried newscaster tells us about the motion picture piracy ring bust, and the screen shows Snell being interviewed outside his office. The FBI doesn’t like to be seen on TV near a State courthouse, because that level of government is obviously beneath them. Instead, we see him outside the West Los Angeles Federal Building, and he’s managed to be interviewed in such a way that the camera can also see the building’s identification and flag waving in the background. All he needs now is brass band quietly playing some patriotic John Phillips Sousa march in the background. Stars and Stripes Forever would probably suffice.

  He owes me big time for this case, and true to his word, his little speech doesn’t mention any baloney about how the FBI conducted a lengthy investigation to track down the culprits. Naturally he takes all the credit for the arrest, but he also says that the received some helpful and important information from a private citizen, and the tip was instrumental in leading to the arrest and what will certainly result in conviction of the persons in custody. I never asked him to say anything like that, so I guess he’s getting a little soft as he ages and starting to show a little appreciation for us civvies.

  The part of the show that we’re all most interested in watching comes on screen and the newscaster is seen outside by a news van in the courthouse parking lot. He can’t stop gushing on and on about how this brilliant little girl helped crack the case and lead to the detective being cleared of all misdoings. The camera follows her to where two uniformed cops lift Suzi up and stand her on the milk cartons. She’s now almost eye-level with the reporters and the cameras, and the interview starts. I see something new added to her wardrobe: she’s wearing a baseball cap with some inscription on the front of it, and it looks like it starts out with ‘www.’ If I’m not mistaken that’s her Internet website address, and during the interview she mentions how her forensics laboratory is equipped.

  When the reporters ask her how she got all that equipment, she tells him that her legal guardian bought if for his office to use, and she learned how to run the programs, providing help to law enforcement agencies in the area. She did it again. Not only did she just advertise our law firm and its scientific capabilities, but she also managed to prove to me that the equipment was worth the money and that it is now a law firm expense, not to be deducted from her end of the profits.

  The really interesting part comes when she gets asked how she felt ‘beating’ her good friend Myra, to which her practiced reply was beautifully constructed and performed. “I didn’t beat her. There was only one loser today, and that was the man they arrested for doing the crime. Everyone else won, because the truth came out, and that’s what the District Attorney’s office wanted from the beginning. There’s no way that Attorney Myra would want to prosecute and send an innocent person to jail, so she won along with the rest of us.”

  “Well Suzi, you must think a lot of our District Attorney… and also of your legal guardian, Attorney Peter Sharp.”

  “Oh yes, I do. And when I graduate Harvard Law School and start my own law firm, I intend to hire both of them.

  *****

  At this point the news turns to more serious stuff, and both Myra and I shoot glances over to our future employer, who is surrounded by so many cops that she doesn’t notice our looking at her.

  I tell Myra to be careful. “You know something Myra? She means it. I hope I’m retired from practicing law twenty years from now, because that kid over there is what the future will be like. Would you really like to go up against her head-to-head in a trial? I know I wouldn’t, and I pity anyone who does.”

  One of the cops comes over and hands me a note, telling me that it’s from the little hero. Unfolding the napkin it’s written on, I see five words scribbled. ‘I’m tired
. Let’s go home.’

  Myra assures me that the cops will drive her home, so I signal Jack that we’ll be leaving and he goes out to get the Hummer. It’s a good thing he’s our designated driver, because he gave up his heavy drinking many years ago and is now completely clean and sober.

  When we get back to the Marina I head right for our boat without stopping to check in on Tony. The lights are all out on his boat, so he must be sleeping already.

  It probably will take another few days for me to find out the real story of how this case was solved. I still think there are plenty of things I don’t know about.

  * * * * * *

  EPILOGUE

  The following morning after our trial ended, everyone noticed that Tony’s boat was gone from its slip, but no one knew where it went. Two months later, the kid leaves a box on my desk. She says she found it sitting on the outer deck of our boat, probably left by some cop friend of Tony’s. Inside the box are two packages - one large and one small. The large one has my name on it, and the small one has Suzi’s.

  The outside of the package contains instructions that it is to be given to us two months after the trial ends. Opening up my package first, I find a beautiful rosewood case with an engraved plate attached. It has three initials in it: ‘A.C.E.,’ which I’m sure stand for Anthony C. Edwards. Inside the case is Tony’s .50 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver with a post-it note that says ‘you feel lucky Mr. Lawyer?’

  I shake the dog biscuit box and give our magically appearing messenger the small package to deliver. After finishing his biscuit, he grabs the package in his mouth and disappears into the guest stateroom below.

  A little while later I see the kid wearing a new necklace around her neck that consists of a gold chain from which is hung a leather holder with Tony’s police detective badge attached to it. I feel that a warning is in order. “Suzi, I just want you to know that if you want to wear that badge around the boat it’s okay, but please don’t wear it anywhere else, because that would be against the law.”