The buzzer rang and the clerk ordered everyone to rise. Judge Kirkley entered and took his seat without looking around. The clerk ordered everyone to be seated, and after the clerk read the charges, the judge addressed the jury. “Having heard the charges, it is not your place to speculate as to anyone’s intentions in this case. It is your job to listen only to the facts as they are presented to you and to base your verdict on those facts alone. You are not to be swayed by emotional pleas but rather to confine yourself to evidence placed before you in this courtroom.”
Leaning forward, as if to emphasize the importance of his next few statements, Judge Kirkley perused the jury. “As you know, this is a murder case, with serious consequences. I do not want the court’s time wasted because one of you jurors disobeys these instructions. During the jury selection, each of you was questioned about the numerous articles in the local paper regarding this case. I expect you to continue avoiding any outside sources while you sit on this jury. You are not to talk about this case amongst yourselves until the case has been handed to you, and you are not to discuss this case with anyone else until a verdict has been reached. Any misconduct on your part will be severely dealt with by this court. I hope you understand this.”
Having sat on the bench in this small southern town for almost thirty years, Kirkley prided himself as a no-nonsense, total-control judge. He considered it his personal mission to protect the integrity of the legal system he loved dearly, and he was respected and feared by prosecutors and defense attorneys alike. He was not someone you wanted to rub the wrong way. He was proud that he came from the old school of law and took pleasure in making life difficult for any attorney who was obviously ill-prepared when he or she entered his courtroom.
Turning to the prosecutor, Kirkley took note of the new suit Gordon was wearing. The shine on those new wing-tips could blind an elephant. Having been forced to socialize with prosecutor Gordon at different political events over the past ten years, it seemed that Judge Kirkley never particularly liked him. Gordon’s curt New Jersey attitude had done little to ingratiate himself to anyone in this town. Observing his behavior over the past three months as Gordon turned this case into a small-town circus had only increased Kirkley’s contempt for him. It had been obvious to many that Gordon was parlaying this case into political fodder for his personal career goals. However, as long as Gordon remained within the legal boundaries, Kirkley would allow him to keep flying high, even though it disgusted him. With a formal smile, Kirkley addressed Gordon. “Are you ready for your opening statement?”
Responding in kind, Gordon nodded and smiled as he rose to his feet and took the floor. Prosecutor Gordon could be described only as a climber. His every move was carefully planned to enhance his career. Having come to Jefferson some ten years earlier, he had had to fight against the “outsider” attitude of this small community from the get-go. For ten years he had been shunned and ignored, making his roots of bitterness and resentment toward this town run very deep. Having lost his bid for district attorney two years earlier, he knew he needed a splashy case to break into this town’s protected inner circle, and Lisa’s case offered just that. For the past three months he had become the toast of Jefferson, being asked to speak at the local men’s service club, a club he had been denied entry into for five years.
For months, with the help of an editor friend, he had been planting stories in the local paper about Lisa’s past. The daily editorials read like a dime-store novel, and people were buzzing about the upcoming murder trial. His plan was to make the citizens of Jefferson believe that he, and he alone, stood between this wanton woman and their young sons. Gordon knew that in a small town like Jefferson, a titillating murder trial does not often come along. He intended to make the best of this opportunity, and he had. This normally half-empty courtroom was now filled with curious spectators.
After a quick sweep of the room, Gordon turned to the bench and responded, “Yes, Your Honor, the state is indeed ready with opening statements.”
Walking toward the jury box with an almost theatrical demeanor, Gordon began his opening statement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the state intends to prove that Ms. Miller, a known prostitute and drug abuser, did shoot and kill Mr. Charles Miller, her father. We intend to show how Mr. Miller, trying to reason with his daughter to change her ways, admittedly lost control of himself and beat her, causing some serious injuries to Ms. Miller. Mr. Miller was wrong, but you will learn what Mr. Miller knew. He had a daughter who was out of control and living a shameful lifestyle, and he was desperate. For this he was prosecuted and served time in prison.
“After Mr. Miller paid his debt to society, we contend that he was simply trying to contact his daughter, hoping to find out if she was well and healthy, like any caring father would do. We will show that Ms. Miller, reminded of the severe beating she had received at his hand, took this opportunity to extract the revenge that had been seething within her for more than ten years, and she shot and killed him.
“We will also offer into evidence volumes of court records outlining Ms. Miller’s bawdy lifestyle and allow you to see what Mr. Charles Miller saw: a woman in desperate need of correction, yet a woman who had no intention of listening to her father. We will offer into evidence the autopsy reports, which prove that Mr. Miller was struck in the head with an unknown object before being shot. These findings prove that he was not, as Ms. Miller claims, the aggressor in this case, but rather that he was waylaid from behind and then shot.
“We believe, after you study this evidence, you will conclude, as we have, that Ms. Miller’s account of that night could not possibly have happened. We will show that she deliberately intended to shoot and kill her father that night.”
With his opening statement completed, Mr. Gordon smirked at Lisa as he returned to his seat. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his fingers. With his index fingers pressed against his mouth, he ran his eyes across the jury trying to evaluate the effects of what he had just said. He was counting on the fact that most people, once they knew Lisa’s history, would understand how little her word could be trusted. Besides, the facts simply did not match her account of that night.
It was now Mr. Duncan’s opportunity to address the jury. He reached over and placed his hand on Lisa’s forearm, giving her a slight squeeze. He thought about how he loved to defend an innocent client, and he had absolutely no question in his mind of Lisa’s innocence. As he rose to address the jury, he pondered the still unanswered questions in this case. Lisa, Lisa, everything about your story fits together perfectly, except the autopsy report. No matter how many times you replay that night, you can’t explain the blow to the back of his head. What is it you’re hiding? I know you’re not guilty, but I’m not so sure you’re altogether telling the truth either.
Giving Lisa a reassuring wink, he turned and walked confidently over to the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution has painted a very interesting picture of Charles Miller. He would have you believe that Charles Miller was simply a concerned, caring father, trying very hard to win back his wayward daughter. After all, if one of you had a daughter caught up in drugs and prostitution, wouldn’t you do absolutely anything in your power to get her back?”
Mr. Duncan had, at this point, positioned himself directly in front of the most elderly looking man on the jury and was looking directly at him, said, “The prosecution has made it sound like, in Mr. Miller’s overwrought condition, he simply made the mistake of taking a well-deserved spanking of his daughter a little too far. Ladies and gentlemen, that is as far from the truth as one can get. We will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Charles Miller was never a concerned father.
“We will bring several witnesses, both inside and outside this family, who will help you see Charles Miller for the monster he really was. We will produce witnesses and hospital records, for both my client and her mother, showing the extent to which Charles Miller was willing to go when angry. This man was no caring, concerned fath
er. You can be sure we will prove that to you before this trial is over.
“Secondly, the prosecution would have you believe that you are sitting here looking at a drug-using prostitute who has simply been cleaned up for this trial. That is as big a lie as the other. We will prove that my client, Lisa Miller, although she once was all those things, has for the past eleven years led an upstanding, honest, hard-working life, with many friends, fellow employees, and family willing to testify on her behalf. We will show that Lisa Miller was not, as the prosecution would have you believe, raging with anger, wanting revenge. Although after finding out what I have about Charles Miller, I would not have blamed her.
“The prosecution will show you who Lisa Miller was. I intend to show you who Lisa Miller has become. And then, ladies and gentlemen, when you understand that, you will know what the rest of us know, that Lisa Miller absolutely acted in self-defense, and you must find her not guilty.”
Mr. Duncan slowly returned to his seat and again squeezed Lisa’s arm. This was a battle he did not intend to lose.
Judge Kirkley leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat for effect. He then looked from Lisa to Mr. Duncan to Mr. Gordon and then to the jury. This was his way of reminding everyone in the room that he, and he alone, was in control of everyone in his courtroom. Slowly his eyes moved back to Mr. Gordon, and after a theatrical pause, he said, “Mr. Gordon, you may call your first witness.”
“If it please the court, I would call Detective Joseph Westland to the stand.”
The clerk called out the detective’s name and he was sworn in. After he was seated, Mr. Gordon stepped closer to the witness box. He then asked the detective if he was, as the records show, the one who had arrested Ms. Miller the night of the shooting.
“Yes, sir. I was the third officer to arrive at the scene but the first to actually approach Ms. Miller after she put down the gun.”
The detective had done this before. He was speaking directly to the jury, instead of to Mr. Gordon. They knew jurors seldom questioned the word of an officer, and he had been instructed to speak with confidence directly to them.
“Detective Westland, where was the defendant standing before she dropped the gun?” Gordon wanted the jury to form a mental picture of Lisa, holding a smoking gun, standing over a dead body.
“She was standing over the victim.” Westland’s eyes slowly swept the jury box.
“Detective Westland, was the victim still alive when you reached him?”
“No, sir. He was dead at the scene.”
Mr. Gordon moved closer to the jury box so the eyes of the jurors would tend to move from the witness to him. He did not want their eyes to focus on Lisa, or anyone else in the courtroom as he questioned the detective. “Detective Westland, how many times did you have to yell at Ms. Miller before she was willing to drop her gun?”
“Three times, sir.”
Mr. Gordon then walked over to the exhibit table, picked up a handgun, and walked to the witness stand. Handing it to the witness, Gordon asked, “Do you recognize this gun?”
“Yes, sir. This is my mark. This is the gun Ms. Miller was holding as I entered the alley.” He purposely held the gun up so the jury could have a good look. They wanted the jury to visualize this gun in Lisa’s hand.
“Tell me, Detective, has that gun been tested to determine for certain that it was the same gun that killed Charles Miller?”
“Yes, sir, it was. This is definitely the same gun that killed Charles Miller.”
“Were there any fingerprints on that gun?”
Westland had worked with Prosecutor Gordon before and knew better than to jump ahead of his questions. Gordon was a savvy prosecutor, and he loved to build the questions, pulling the jury along, until he was able to stick their noses right where he wanted them.
Westland simply answered, “Yes, sir, there were.”
“Tell us, Detective, did you find Charles Miller’s fingerprints on that gun?”
“No, sir, we did not.”
Gordon slowly walked back in front of the jury box, leaned against the rail, and then looked over at Lisa. His eyes did not leave her face as he then asked his next question. “Detective, whose prints did you find on that gun?”
“Lisa Miller’s fingerprints were on this gun.” Again, he lifted it slightly for effect.
“Detective, is that a registered gun?”
“No, sir. This is commonly referred to as a Saturday Night Special. The traceable markings have been filed off. There is no way of tracing its ownership.”
“So, Detective, where might Lisa Miller have purchased this gun?”
Duncan was instantly on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Calls for speculation on the part of the witness and assumes it was Lisa Miller, and not Charles Miller who actually made the purchase.”
Gordon spun around and gave Duncan a disgusted look. “Your Honor, Detective Westland’s responsibility at the Jefferson Police Department is to track down and know where Saturday Night Specials such as this are bought and sold.”
Judge Kirkley’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked over at Mr. Gordon. “Yes, I’m sure he is quite an expert on most Saturday Night Specials. However, that does not make him an expert on that particular one, nor does it prove who might have purchased it. Objection sustained. Move on.”
Gordon lost the first tug-of-war. He knew the jury usually kept a mental note of wins and losses, so he didn’t want to appear fazed by this. “Detective Westland, is it difficult for an average person to locate and purchase one of these guns, say, here in Jefferson?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry to say it is actually quite easy. Anyone with fifty dollars can have one in two hours.”
“Thank you. Now, when you arrested the defendant, was any test ordered to prove or disprove the presence of gunpowder on Lisa Miller’s hands?”
“Yes, sir. Within thirty minutes of arriving at the station.”
“Can you tell the court the results of that test?”
“Yes, sir. Lisa Miller’s right hand had sufficient residue to indicate that she fired this gun.”
Duncan was on his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor. That test can only prove she fired a gun. It cannot prove that she fired that particular gun.”
Duncan knew this was a small point, but he could not allow Mr. Gordon’s statement to go unchallenged. It was important that the jury know that Mr. Gordon was attempting to draw a conclusion that was not supported by fact. He needed them to remember this later, when they might need to question something else Mr. Gordon might have said.
Judge Kirkley leaned forward, looked directly at the detective and then to the court clerk. “Objection sustained. The jury will disregard Detective Westland’s response. Continue, Mr. Gordon.”
“Detective, did the test indicate that Lisa Miller had fired a weapon?”
“Yes, sir, it certainly did.”
“Was a test performed on the hands of the victim as well, and if so, what were the results?”
“Yes, sir, the coroner’s report indicated that Mr. Miller had not fired a gun.”
Gordon’s questioning of Detective Westland was going exactly as he had planned. The questioning lasted for almost two hours, with Mr. Gordon going over everything from the placement of the body, the direction of the bullet’s entry, to the distance of the gun from the body when it was fired. He produced diagrams, showing the comparative heights of both the victim and the defendant, tracing the bullet angle as it entered Charles Miller.
“Detective Westland, have you had the opportunity to read the autopsy report on Mr. Miller?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Are you then aware of his findings that Mr. Miller suffered a fatal blow to the head that night?”
“Yes, sir.” Westland didn’t take his eyes off Gordon. They had played this out several times in his office, and he knew the questions that were coming.
“Let me ask another question regarding that night, Detective. Were you aware of this
blow while still at the scene that night?”
“No, sir. That evening we all thought we were dealing with only a shooting case.”
“Why is that, Detective Westland?”
“Because the head injury was not evident. The blow was at the base of the skull. There was no blood, and the skull looked normal. Besides, he had an abdominal gunshot wound that led us to believe that was the cause of death.”
“Now, Detective Westland, did you cordon off the crime scene and search the entire area?”
“Yes, sir. Every scrap of paper in that alley was studied.”
“To your knowledge, Detective Westland, was anything found in that alley that could possibly have caused that blow to Mr. Miller’s head?”
“No, sir.”
“Was he possibly slammed backward, say, during a fight, where his head could have struck something in that alley, causing this injury?”
“No, sir. We went over everything and couldn’t find anything that matched the injury.”
Gordon then questioned Detective Westland regarding the interrogation of Lisa Miller, repeating the dozen or so questions they had asked Lisa that night. “Now, Detective, I want you to look through your notes and tell me, did Ms. Miller ever mention striking her father that night?”
Westland dramatically thumbed through his notebook. He knew exactly what Gordon was doing. “No, sir.”
“Did she mention possibly pushing him backward, say against something that might have caused this injury?”
“No, sir.”
“So, let me understand you correctly. There was nothing recovered from the scene that could have produced that injury?”
“Nothing.”
Gordon continued his questioning of Detective Westland. He intended to question the witness up until the noon hour so the jury would go to lunch with all this fresh in their minds. He did not want Duncan to have an opportunity to cross-examine this witness before they had time to digest his testimony and lock it in their minds. He knew some things would be clarified under cross-examination, but he had learned that sometimes jurors can be persuaded, and then it is very hard to dissuade them, and the more time between these two, the better.
Wall of Silence Page 26
