Wall of Silence

by Dorey Whittaker

  As he had planned, Judge Kirkley interrupted him as he was about to ask his last question, to suggest they break for lunch. Mr. Gordon politely nodded agreement, returned to his seat, and announced that he was finished with this witness. Judge Kirkley again admonished the jury not to discuss the case and ordered everyone to return promptly at one-thirty. The bailiff then ordered everyone to stand as Judge Kirkley removed himself from the bench. The bailiff then opened the side door, allowing the jurors to exit as everyone else stood at attention until the jury was removed.

  Duncan had dozens of pages of notes he needed to review during the lunch break. He needed to have his questions clearly organized so he would be ready to cross-examine Detective Westland. He reviewed his notes while he ate a bite of lunch. There weren’t any surprises here, for which he was grateful. But almost three months of investigation and studying the evidence still left some unanswered questions. Westland’s testimony bothered him. Gordon’s running a smoke screen. He knows I can handle the gun and fingerprints issue. He probably knows I can explain almost everything about that night except the head injury. No matter how many times I re-enact Lisa’s account, I cannot come up with a rational explanation for how it happened.

  Duncan studied the outline of the courthouse across the street. He had been looking out this window for fourteen years now, and still the view excited him. As if speaking to some invisible audience in his office, Duncan pondered, “The courtroom is still the best thing this country has ever produced. Even with all the lawyer jokes, being able to stand in that courtroom and protect someone’s right to a fair trial is the most wonderful job on this earth. But in doing so, you must be careful. Never ever ask a question to which you do not have the answer. I have to make the head injury a non-issue. Since I can’t explain it, I must treat it as an unexplained trauma that happened somehow, during the life and death scuffle. Hopefully, by the time I discredit Westland and Gordon for their underhanded maneuvers, the jury will consider the head injury an unimportant piece of the puzzle; at least I sure hope so.”

  Chapter 29

  Back at the courthouse, Officer Jackson moved Lisa to a large conference room adjacent to the courtroom. As they reached the door, he turned back to Scott and said, “She’ll be having her lunch in here every day. If you would like to grab a sandwich from the lunch cart in the courtyard, you’re welcome to eat your lunch with her.”

  “Thank you, we’d love to.” Scott then turned to the others and said, “Why don’t you go in with Lisa? I’ll run out to the lunch cart and get us something.”

  A few minutes later Scott knocked on the door and was allowed to enter. They all sat quietly for several minutes, concentrating more acutely on their lunches than any of the sandwiches merited. Sitting there, trying to keep a light conversation going, none of them could believe how exhausted they felt. The tension of sitting in that courtroom, listening to all the information being covered, was tiring. Right or wrong, it was tiring. They all agreed they were too exhausted to sit and rehash the morning’s testimony, but finding themselves unable to concentrate on anything else made conversation difficult.

  As was customary, the bailiff relieved Officer Jackson for a thirty-minute break. When he returned, he picked up his lunch tray and sat at a small table stationed by the door.

  Everyone was emotionally drained, and no one knew exactly what to say. Without thinking, Officer Jackson spoke up. “I think Mr. Duncan did a great job with his opening statement, Lisa. It was very powerful, and I think several of the jurors responded positively to him.” Then, suddenly realizing how inappropriate his outburst was, Jackson quickly turned back to his lunch.

  Lisa gave an embarrassed little giggle and responded, “I do, too, Ben. But Mr. Duncan said his hardest job would be to win over the judge. He said if Judge Kirkley thinks you’re a pest, he can make your job really tough; but, on the other hand, if he sees an attorney fighting hard, using the law to fight back, he tends to lighten up. It’s way too early to tell, but I feel Mr. Duncan knows what he’s doing.”

  Aunt Gladys shot a quick glance toward Susan. Neither of them missed the fact that Lisa had just called Officer Jackson by his first name, but now was not the time to touch that subject, so the two women simply smiled and tucked this knowledge away for a later conversation.

  After lunch, they took turns using the restroom and were sitting around chatting when the bailiff came to get them. Scott, Susan, Caroline, Aunt Gladys, and Mrs. Bascom each gave Lisa a kiss and then went out to take their seats.

  A few minutes later, Officer Jackson brought Lisa back into the courtroom. When everyone was present, the clerk called the courtroom to order, and Judge Kirkley entered and took his seat. After acknowledging everyone, Judge Kirkley ordered the clerk to re-seat Detective Westland and then turned him over to the defense. Mr. Duncan had decided he would remain seated next to his client as he cross-examined the detective. He wanted the jury to see Lisa every time their eyes came back to him as he asked a question.

  Duncan also decided he was not going to address the witness by his title. He wanted the jury to see this person sitting in the witness box as a man, not a detective.

  “Mr. Westland, let’s go over your previous testimony, item by item, shall we? You stated you were the third officer to enter that alley. Is that correct?”

  The prosecutor had reminded him to keep his responses as brief as possible, and he intended to do just that. “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Westland, you stated my client was standing over Charles Miller. Is that correct?” Duncan had no intention of calling him the victim. He wanted the jury to remember the body was Charles Miller, not some victim.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can you be more specific, Mr. Westland? Was Lisa straddling the body?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Was she standing over his head by any chance?”

  “No. No, she wasn’t.”

  “Well, Mr. Westland, if she wasn’t straddling the body, and she wasn’t standing over his head, where was she, if you said she was standing over the body?”

  Westland gave a quick glance over to Gordon and then looked back at Duncan. Because of where Duncan had seated himself, Westland couldn’t direct his answers to the jury. “Well, she was leaning against the back door.”

  “I see. And where exactly was the body in relation to Lisa Miller?”

  “Well, his feet were about two feet from hers, I guess.”

  “You guess? Mr. Westland, didn’t the department take photos and markings of the crime scene?”

  A flat yes was Westland’s only retort, so Duncan stood up, walked over to the same table from which Mr. Gordon had taken the gun, picked up a cardboard sheet with ten to twelve photos on it, and handed it to Westland. He then returned to his seat. “Mr. Westland, do you recognize those photos, marked exhibit seven?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re the police photos of the scene.” As he answered, he noticed Mr. Gordon lean forward in his chair. He knew better than to offer any information that was not directly asked for, and he shot a glance at Gordon and then back at Duncan.

  “That’s right. Now, using those photos to refresh your memory, how far away from Charles Miller’s body was Lisa Miller standing when you entered that alley?”

  Westland studied the pictures for several seconds and then laid them on the rail in front of him. He looked over at Duncan. “She was about three feet away from him.”

  “So, let’s clear this up for the record. You now say she was not standing over Charles Miller, but rather, she was approximately three feet away. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Westland had warned Gordon about trying a stunt like this, and he was angry that he was the one sitting up on the stand looking foolish.

  “Now, Mr. Westland, you also stated that you had to yell at my client three times before she would drop the gun she was holding. Is that also true?”

  “Yes. I had to yell at her three times before she would drop the gun.”

  T
he smug look on Westland’s face as he gave this answer made Duncan’s blood boil. He was going to have fun wiping it off. “Now, tell me, Mr. Westland, exactly when did one of the officers order the alarm company to shut off the burglar alarm?”

  “I don’t know. Actually, I think Officer Swanson directed Ms. Miller to turn it off.”

  “Exactly. And when did Officer Swanson direct Lisa Miller to shut off the alarm?”

  “As soon as we had control of the crime scene.”

  “Now, Mr. Westland, would you say you would be in control of the crime scene while a suspect is still in possession of a gun?”

  Westland knew where this was going and again looked over at Gordon, who did not look up. “No, sir.”

  Duncan was enjoying this. “So, Lisa Miller must have dropped the gun before she was allowed to shut off the alarm. Isn’t that correct, Mr. Westland?”

  “I would suppose so. Yes.”

  “So, since Lisa had to drop the gun before she could shut off the alarm, can I assume that the alarm was blasting while you were ordering my client to drop the gun?”

  Westland’s smirk was totally gone. “Yes.”

  “Can I also assume that the reason you had to yell at my client three times was not because she refused to obey, but rather that she could not hear you yelling your command?”

  By now Detective Westland was keeping his eyes on the prosecutor. He was obviously upset with him, and the jury knew it. “Yah, that’s possible.”

  Duncan then left his seat and went over to the exhibit table. He picked up the gun, walked over, and handed it to the witness. Knowing what his next few questions were going to be, Mr. Duncan took the photos and laid them back on the evidence desk. He intended to be very dramatic in a moment or two.

  “Now, Mr. Westland, is that the same gun, exhibit three, that you held this morning?”

  “Yes.” This time the gun remained in his lap. He did not hold it up.

  “You testified, did you not, that the only fingerprints on that gun belonged to my client, Lisa Miller’s,?”

  “Yes. That’s what the lab report said.”

  Duncan stood very still for several seconds, staring at the witness. Then, as if disgusted, he returned to the evidence desk, retrieved the photos again, and handed them to the witness.

  With all the disgust he could put in his voice, Mr. Duncan turned to the witness and said, “Now, Mr. Westland, will you please look at exhibit seven again, specifically the photo marked ‘D’. Is it not the only photo that shows Charles Miller’s hand?”

  Westland shot a glance toward Gordon. They both had made certain that particular photo was removed before turning them over to Duncan. How did he get his hands on it?

  Westland nodded yes, whereupon Judge Kirkley interjected, “Detective Westland, the court recorder cannot record head movements. Please put your response into words.”

  “Yes,” was Westland’s only response.

  Stepping over so he was standing directly in front of the witness box, Duncan asked, “Mr. Westland, looking at the photo, can you tell the jury what is on that one exposed hand of Charles Miller?”

  Westland took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He did not look up, but rather, with his head down, looking at the photo, said very quietly, “Glove.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Westland, I don’t think the court heard that. What did you say?”

  Westland lifted his head, looked over at Duncan with a blank face, and calmly repeated a little louder, “Glove.”

  By now, Duncan had returned to his table and was sitting on the front edge, leaning forward so the jury could be sure to see Lisa sitting behind him. “So the reason there were no fingerprints on the gun belonging to Charles Miller, Mr. Westland, was because Charles Miller had gloves on at the time. Is that a more accurate testimony, Mr. Westland?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, can we also assume that the gunpowder test on Charles Miller was negative for the same reason, Mr. Westland?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, Mr. Westland, did the department do a gunpowder test on those gloves?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not? Whatever were you thinking? Did anyone suggest testing those gloves, Mr. Westland? I would be very careful how I answered that question if I were you.”

  Westland pondered for a moment, trying to decide how he was going to play this. Was Duncan playing poker, or had someone talked to him? He’d gotten his hands on that photo. That wasn’t a bluff. Westland’s partner, Detective Swanson, had stabbed him in the back before. Swanson always refused to go along.

  Deciding he was not going to perjure himself for Gordon, Westland looked up and said, “Yah, Swanson did, but the lab test was canceled later.”

  Moving next to Prosecutor Gordon’s table, Duncan asked his next question. “Do you know who gave that cancellation order?”

  Westland looked from Duncan to Gordon and then back to Duncan. “Gordon did. He said it wasn’t necessary and asked us to pull the lab order after the medical report came back about the head injury.”

  “Is it normal for the prosecutor to control what lab work is done by the police department, Mr. Westland?”

  “It is around here when it’s one of Gordon’s cases,” sneered Westland.

  Duncan took the photos back and stood there staring at them for a moment. Suddenly, he spun around as if realizing there was something terribly wrong with this picture. “Mr. Westland, if Charles Miller was just checking up on his daughter, why do you suppose he had gloves on?”

  Gordon was on his feet before Duncan even finished the question. “I object, Your Honor. It calls for speculation.”

  Duncan turned and smiled at Gordon, and before Judge Kirkley had a chance to rule, Duncan said, “I’ll rephrase it. Mr. Westland, Charles Miller did have latex gloves on that night, did he not?”

  “Yes.”

  “If my client, Lisa Miller, had been found beaten to death in that alley, would Charles Miller, having recently been released from prison, have been a primary suspect by the Jefferson Police Department?”

  Gordon was again on his feet. “Your Honor, Mr. Duncan is asking the witness to speculate. We could ‘what-if’ all day. Lisa Miller was not beaten to death. Charles Miller was murdered.”

  Duncan stepped in front of the judge’s desk to argue. “Your Honor, those gloves go to motive. There is no reasonable explanation for a convicted criminal to be wearing gloves in that alley that night unless he was intending to do something that would land him back in prison. The gloves indicate intent, Your Honor. My client did not have gloves on. Charles Miller did.”

  Judge Kirkley looked over at Gordon, who was muttering something under his breath. “I’m going to allow this line of questioning. But Mr. Duncan, I’m going to limit your questions to reasonable suppositions. Stay away from the victim’s intent, since no one here can speak to that issue.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Duncan then returned to the witness box and stood directly in front of Westland, blocking his view of Gordon. “Mr. Westland, would it be safe to say Charles Miller would have been a primary suspect of the Jefferson Police Department if Lisa Miller had been found dead.”

  “Yah, I suppose so.”

  “Mr. Westland, would the Jefferson Police Department have dusted the area for fingerprints if she had been found murdered?”

  “Yes.”

  Duncan then moved over and stood beside Gordon’s seat and asked his final question. “Mr. Westland, you were investigating a murder scene where one of the parties was a recently released convicted criminal wearing latex gloves. A powder residue test on those gloves was ordered and then canceled. Did you ever hear anyone in your department ask why?”

  Westland’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to weigh his answer against what Duncan might know. “I didn’t ask. I figured it wasn’t necessary.”

  “That’s not what I asked you, Mr. Westland. Did you ever hear anyone ask why the test was canceled?” Duncan’s eyes never lef
t Westland’s face.

  “I’m not sure; maybe.” Westland knew Duncan was probably fishing, and thought, If you knew anything, you’d have called Swanson to the stand. But then again, maybe you’re trying to trap me into perjuring myself and then you’ll call Swanson up here to contradict my testimony. Swanson’s such a twit, always running right by the book. He can’t be trusted to cover a buddy’s back; like the time I forgot to Mirandize that guy. We caught him dead to rights and the creep got to walk because Swanson wouldn’t go along with me and say I did Mirandize the jerk. It would have been our word against his, and he was guilty, so what’s the big fuss? Sometimes you gotta bend things a little to accomplish the greater good. Everyone wants us to get the bad guys off the streets; they just don’t want to know how we do it.

  Hearing Judge Kirkley addressing him, Westland realized he had not been listening and had obviously missed a question. “Excuse me, Your Honor. What was the question?”

  Judge Kirkley leaned in closer, “Detective Westland, Mr. Duncan asked you a question. Did you not hear it?”

  With a shrug, Westland turned to Judge Kirkley and said, “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.” Then, looking at Mr. Duncan, he asked, “Can you repeat the question?”

  “Certainly.” Duncan smiled. “Mr. Westland, you either have, or have not, heard someone question why the test was canceled. Which is it?”

  With a cold stare, Westland sat up in his seat. “Yes, the question was asked.”

  Duncan knew he had finally split up this duo. Westland had finally decided to break ranks and protect himself. “Mr. Westland, who asked, and to whom did he ask?”