“What was Mr. Wakefield’s demeanor that evening?” Pratt asked White.
“He was real pleasant. He was just like a regular ol’ customer that night even though he’s a real big star.”
“Thank you.” Pratt concluded. As Todd White exited the courtroom, he leaned over to shake Jake’s hand. Candace objected and Judge Robles directed White to exit the courtroom, but the damage had been done. Courtroom decorum was out the window and Prosecution witnesses were fawning over Jake’s autographs. This wasn’t a trial, it was a three-ring circus.
Candace had been on the fence about calling the Wakefields’ housekeeper to testify. On the one hand, Teresita had discovered the body. Candace also suspected Teresita had witnessed Jake abuse Liz, verbally and physically. And Teresita has been close to Liz. On the other hand, Jake paid Teresita a generous salary, which she stood to lose if Jake went to prison. Candace elected to roll the dice and call her.
Teresita cried throughout the entire direct examination. It was difficult enough to understand Teresita’s accented English under normal circumstances, but when she was crying, it was practically impossible. Teresita appeared to be exaggerating her accent to avoid answering Candace’s questions. If so, it was effective. Her testimony was painfully slow to elicit. Still, she described entering the Wakefield home very early on Sunday, July twenty-fourth. She had been going about her cleaning when she discovered Liz lying dead on the master bedroom floor in a pool of blood. She had dialed 911 and awaited the arrival of the responding officers.
“Did you ever hear the Wakefields argue?”
“No.”
Candace rolled her eyes. “You worked full-time for the Wakefields for three years?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You spent a lot of time in the Wakefields’ house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you never saw or heard the Wakefields argue with each other?”
“No. Never.”
Candace nodded incredulously. “Did you ever see Jake Wakefield physically abuse Elizabeth Wakefield in any way to include hitting, punching, grabbing, biting, kicking, or restraining her?”
“Never, never! Mr. Jake is a very good man. He is very good to me.”
Teresita composed herself for cross-examination, appearing anxious to do a good job for the Defense. She glanced at Jake frequently and he nodded at her in encouragement. She proceeded to answer all of Pratt’s questions with what a ‘good man’ Jake was.
“Ms. Gomez,” Pratt asked gently, “you had a lot of opportunity to observe Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield interact with one another, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And would you say Jake Wakefield was a good husband to his wife?”
“Oh, yes sir. Mr. Jake is a very good provider.”
That much was true, Lauren thought ruefully. Teresita had been raised in a shack in Central Mexico with dirt floors and no indoor plumbing. Maybe she couldn’t distinguish between a good provider and a good husband.
When Pratt had no more questions, Judge Robles recessed court for the day.
“That filthy little liar,” Candace fumed as the courtroom emptied. “Jake and Liz never had so much as an argument? I never should have called her to the stand.”
Lauren countered, “That’s the very beauty of her testimony. Any juror on the panel who has ever been in a relationship, let alone married, isn’t going to believe her. They are going to know she lied about that, so they will assume she also lied about the domestic violence.”
“Don’t be so sure. The jury themselves are a bunch of liars, remember?”
“Yes,” Lauren agreed, “and liars recognize other liars.”
Chapter Forty-one
(Friday, September 8–Monday, September 11)
Washington D.C. detective, Vincent Castiglione, was next to testify. At Wallace’s request, Castiglione had provided a courtesy death notification to Jake at the St. Regis Hotel in D.C. According to Castiglione, Jake had not seemed surprised at the news of his wife’s death, his tears had appeared feigned, and he had forgotten to ask how his wife had died until several minutes had passed. When Castiglione had offered to drive Jake to the airport, Jake required no time to pack up. Castiglione said it was as if Jake had been awaiting his arrival. The Defense objected to this as speculative and had it stricken from the record. Still, the image of Jake, bags packed, just sitting and awaiting notification made an impression. Maybe he had even rehearsed his tearful response.
Next, the Wakefield life insurance agent testified that Liz had come in alone to change her beneficiary from Jake to Lauren a few days before her death. Liz had offered no explanation for the beneficiary change and the agent had not asked for one.
The next witness, Sonia Jamison, worked for the twenty-four-hour insurance claim line. She testified a male had called to inquire about a life insurance payout at about six-thirty a.m. Phoenix time on July twenty-fourth. The caller had identified himself as Jacob Wakefield and indicated his wife had died. Ms. Jamison had advised the caller that information about the life insurance benefit could only be released to the designated beneficiary, who was not listed as him. The caller had become angry and belligerent, demanding to know when the beneficiary had been changed. The call had ended with the caller threatening, “You can expect to hear from my attorney.”
During cross-examination, Jamison admitted that she couldn’t be sure the caller had really been Jake Wakefield. Candace whispered something to Ryan who quietly exited the courtroom.
“In fact, the caller could have been any number of people, right?” Pratt asked.
“Whoever called knew Elizabeth Wakefield’s social security number,” Jamison hedged.
“The caller could have been a news reporter trying to get information about this case, isn’t that right?”
“I suppose so.”
Ryan returned to court just as Pratt was wrapping up his cross-examination, slipping some documents to Candace before resuming his front-row seat next to Lauren. Candace reviewed the document and turned around to reward Ryan with one of her hundred-kilowatt smiles.
When Jamison had been excused, Candace jumped up and asked to be heard on a motion.
Judge Robles recessed for lunch, but asked the attorneys to stay back so he could hear the motion. “What’s that all about?” Lauren asked Ryan as they headed to the war room for lunch.
He grinned. “I tracked down the phone records for the insurance company on the morning of July twenty-fourth.”
“And?”
“There was only one incoming call to the claims office between the hours of six and seven that morning. It came in at 6:27 a.m. Want to guess where the call came from?”
“Jake’s cell phone?”
“Not quite, but almost as good.”
Lauren shook her head. “I give up.”
“A pay phone at Washington National airport in D.C. The first thing the grieving widower did was call about the insurance payout.”
“Why would he use a pay phone, but identify himself by name to the insurance clerk?”
“Why does anybody ever use a pay phone? Because they don’t want the call traced back to them.”
Lauren thought about the recent occasions on which she had used a pay phone and nodded in agreement.
Ryan continued. “He wanted to conceal the fact that he called the insurance company right away so he took the extra precaution of using a pay phone. That would give him plausible deniability later if he needed it. The phone company employee I spoke to this morning is on standby. Candace is probably petitioning for permission to call her this afternoon.”
Lauren heard a commotion in the hallway outside. Candace and Kyle arrived like the victors of war.
“Pratt is fit to be tied,” Candace crowed. “He’s been whining to the judge about not having enough time to prepare
on such short notice, but Robles ruled in our favor anyways. We get to call the phone company rep this afternoon. Robles allowed an extra hour for lunch so the Defense can prepare their big cross. What a joke. There’s nothing to cross.”
This reality didn’t prevent Pratt from trying. After the heavyset woman from the phone company testified the only incoming phone call that morning had been initiated from a pay phone at Washington National airport, Pratt jumped up to vigorously cross-examine the poor woman, who had awakened that morning with no clue she would be at the center of a public spectacle this afternoon.
“Ms. Hanford, does Qwest have any way of determining which individual might have initiated a particular phone call?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question.”
“Allow me to simplify it. You can tell what phone line a call came from, but you can’t tell who dialed that phone, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The phone call in question came from a pay phone at Washington National Airport, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any way of knowing who initiated that phone call?”
“No, I couldn’t know that.”
“It could have been any one of thousands of people at that airport that morning, could it not?”
“Yes.”
“And if we called that number right now, would you have any way of knowing who would pick up the phone?”
“Of course not.”
“Indeed, why don’t we find out? Permission to have the witness call the phone number, Your Honor?”
“Objection, Defense counsel is grandstanding for the jury,” Candace charged.
“Overruled. I’ve allowed you some leniency today, Ms. Keene, and I will allow this.”
The rattled witness was handed a speakerphone. “Ms. Hanford, please dial the number for the pay phone we have been discussing,” Pratt directed.
Court spectators could hear the phone ringing through the microphone on the witness stand. One ring, three rings, five rings.
Somebody answered after nine rings. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Richard Pratt calling from the Arizona Superior Court.”
“Right, and I’m Judge Robles,” said the voice. Then the line went dead.
The court exploded in laughter. But Pratt had managed to make his point. Anybody could have initiated the call from that phone.
Several people went to the press the following day claiming to be the “mystery phone witness” in the Wakefield murder trial.
Chapter Forty-two
(Tuesday, September 12–Friday, September 15)
The following morning, Candace called the medical examiner to the stand. Dr. Brian Gunther had thick gray hair, wire-framed glasses, and a meek demeanor. He spoke in medical jargon such that Candace had to ask him to explain his testimony in layman’s terms on several occasions. His testimony was explicit. Candace had given Lauren permission to excuse herself if necessary, but Lauren felt compelled to hear the details as if it would somehow force the truth to sink in. However, she could not bear to view the photos as they were projected onto a large screen each time one was introduced into evidence. Although she didn’t look, Lauren could hear Dr. Gunther discussing the extent of the injuries in minute detail. It was not unlike many of the graphic lectures Lauren had endured in medical school, but something altogether different when depicting the anatomical damages to somebody you loved.
Jake stared dispassionately as Dr. Gunther described Liz’s horrifying injuries. Thirteen of the twenty-two bones in Liz’s skull had been broken, with three of her teeth dislodged. She also had fractures in both arms, defensive wounds acquired as Liz had used her arms to shield her head. Dr. Gunther estimated Liz was hit with a solid object similar in size and shape to a two-by-four plank of wood at least twice. Lauren’s stomach churned. Jake now buried his face in his hands as if he was crying, but no tears fell.
Given the trajectory path of the blows, Dr. Gunther opined that the assailant was likely left-handed. This revelation caused a stir in the courtroom as people stared at the famous southpaw pitcher at the Defense table.
Dr. Gunther asserted the injuries were consistent with an assailant taller than the victim because the blows were executed in a downward fashion. He guessed the assailant to be male based upon the force of delivery.
As expected, Dr. Gunther estimated time of death to be between the hours of seven p.m. and eleven p.m. on the evening of July twenty-third.
The Defense didn’t spend much time on cross-examination. Medical examination was a relatively straightforward science. The cause of death was not under dispute. Pratt did manage to get Gunther to admit it was possible that the blows had been delivered by a physically fit female. Gunther also conceded the assailant may not have been taller than Liz, especially if Liz had been hunkered down to protect herself.
The next Prosecution witness was the state criminalist. Dr. Lantu Wong, an Asian American woman with a Ph.D. in microbiology, was employed as a senior supervisor at the Scottsdale Police Department crime lab. A seasoned expert witness, Dr. Wong clearly summarized the findings in the Wakefield case. The only fingerprints found at the scene belonged to Liz, Jake, and Teresita. The only hairs recovered at the scene were consistent with those of Jake and Liz Wakefield. Blood spatter patterns confirmed the killer was left-handed. There was less than a one in 21,257,984,722 chance that the DNA found under Liz’s fingernails belonged to anyone other than Jake. No other DNA was found at the scene. The presence of significant blood in the master bedroom shower drain suggested the killer had cleaned up in there, which would be strange behavior for a burglar.
“Dr. Wong, did you find any evidence suggesting Lauren Rose was involved in this crime?”
“None whatsoever.”
Pratt was unable to do much to mitigate the power of Dr. Wong’s scientific testimony on cross-examination. The jury would have the whole weekend to contemplate the CSI findings. Candace was in a celebratory mood and invited the others out for an early dinner.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lauren hesitated, glancing sidelong at Ryan, who was her ride home.
“Come on,” he urged. “What else are you going to do? Start work early?”
“No,” she said with mock indignation. “I was planning to do a little leisure reading and finish Gray’s Anatomy. The textbook, not the show.”
They were the last people left in the otherwise empty courtroom. Candace and Kyle took a side exit to drop paperwork at their offices before heading to the restaurant. Lauren and Ryan moved toward the courtroom doors. They were chatting as Ryan pushed the heavy door open and Lauren rounded the corner. Slamming into somebody standing in the hallway, she lost her balance. Ryan grasped her left elbow to prevent her from tumbling to the floor. Reflexively, Lauren reached out and grabbed hold of somebody with her right hand before regaining her footing. “Oops, sorry,” she apologized to the person she had nearly tackled.
It was Jake. He stared at Lauren coldly as he wrenched his arm free from her hand, thrusting her backward roughly. If not for Ryan’s grip on her other elbow, he would have sent her sprawling on the floor.
His ocean-blue eyes were stormy. Lauren knew it was childish, but she did not want to look away first. He held her gaze for a few long moments before turning on his heel and catching up with his legal team who were already outside on the front steps. The television cameras rushed Jake. He was one of the most newsworthy faces on the planet these days.
Ryan continued to hold Lauren’s arm gingerly as he led her out the side door of the lobby. The courthouse reporters were so preoccupied with Jake that Lauren and Ryan slipped away unnoticed.
“What a jerk,” Ryan seethed.
Lauren nodded, dark ideas invading her thoughts. As Liz took her last breaths, had she known she was about to die at the hands of the man who had promised to l
ove, cherish, and honor her?
Majerle’s was a nearby sports bar where prosecutors often convened after work. Candace was entertaining a small crowd of admirers with ribald jokes when Lauren and Ryan arrived.
Kyle casually touched Candace’s back as he steered her into the dark leather booth and Lauren wondered if the two were more than colleagues. Kyle was more than ten years younger than Candace, but they were both single and consenting. Lauren found herself hoping they were blowing off a little steam together on the side. It must be hard for them to make any time for themselves in the midst of this madness.
Lauren found herself musing again about Ryan’s personal life. Despite the time they spent together, she knew little about his time away from work. Like the others at the table, this trial had been consuming his life. She stole a glance at him. His thick dark lashes framed his aqua eyes, which crinkled as he laughed at one of Candace’s inappropriate jokes. He was a good-looking decent man; of course he probably had a woman in his life.
Kyle gestured at the television. Coverage of the trial was the top story on the news nearly every night. The restaurant crowd hushed as the television anchor began discussing the case. There was grainy coverage of Lauren stumbling into Jake in the courthouse lobby and Jake shoving her roughly away. A news photographer had captured the incident through a dirty window.
Candace grinned. “This is priceless. Jake’s true colors shining through. I’m sure every juror has already heard about it, even though they’re ‘sequestered.’” She used her fingers to put air quotes around the word. Candace remained skeptical about the objectivity of the jury members. Rumor had it that Juror Number Six was already writing a book.
Candace raised her glass to Lauren. “To your killer heels. That little stumble of yours may have just won us this entire case.”
The Perfect Game Page 16
