by Parnell Hall
Dirkson turned, pointed to the defense table, where Amy Dearborn sat beside Steve Winslow. “Amy Dearborn killed Frank Fletcher to rob him and to exact revenge. Revenge for what? For accusing her of a crime. Frank Fletcher was her employer, and he had fired her for stealing. More than that, he had actually had her arrested for the crime. She had been tried and acquitted that very afternoon.”
Dirkson paused, let that sink in. Then he shifted gears, became crisp and businesslike. “We expect to show, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that that night, following the conclusion of the trial, the defendant went out to dinner, returned home to her apartment and found a message from Frank Fletcher on her answering machine. And what was the gist of that message? Telling her that he was working at the office and suggesting that she stop by and work things out.
“Well, Amy worked things out all right. She went down to the office, shot him and killed him.
“Why? Revenge.
“First motive.
“And what did she do then? She robbed the place. She cleaned out the petty cash drawer.
“Second motive.
“Just like that. In one fell swoop.
“Robbery and revenge.
“And what was the crime Frank Fletcher had accused her of? The crime she was arrested for? The charge for which she enacted her revenge?”
Dirkson paused, shrugged, smiled.
“Stealing the company’s petty cash.”
Dirkson nodded in agreement with himself, inviting the jury to agree too. “When you hear the evidence, ladies and gentlemen, you will see how well it all fits. We expect to show that in addition to the business relationship, Amy Dearborn had dated Frank Fletcher at one time. Until he dropped her. So it wasn’t just the accusation of theft. You also have to factor in the concept of a woman scorned. Imagine the defendant carrying all that around inside her. And then going through the emotional turmoil of a jury trial. Consider the relief she must have felt when that trial ended favorably. She goes home, she makes a date, she goes out to dinner. For once, she hasn’t a care in the world.
“And what happens then? She returns home, and on her answering machine is the voice of the man who used her, abused her, and accused her.”
Dirkson paused, smiled at his own rhyme. Was gratified when some of the jurors smiled back.
“Yes,” Dirkson said, “it’s not hard to see how that would be the last straw, pushing this woman over the edge.” He paused, raised his finger. “Though that is no excuse for what she did. What she did was a cold-blooded, premeditated murder. She went out, she hailed a taxi and went down to the office. She let herself in with a key she retained from when she worked there, a key she had never surrendered. She let herself in, closing the door quietly behind her. She tiptoed across the floor, surprised Frank Fletcher in his office, pulled out a gun and shot him.
“When did she do this, ladies and gentlemen? Right around eight o’clock. The report of the medical examiner will show that the decedent met his death sometime between the hours of seven-thirty and eight-thirty that night. We can place Amy Dearborn’s arrival at the office at approximately eight o’clock.
“All these facts are entirely consistent with her guilt. She arrived at eight o’clock, let herself in, and killed him.
“And what did she do then? She robbed the petty cash drawer. Why? Well, the obvious reason is to get the money. The other reason is to cover up the crime. To make Frank Fletcher’s death look like a robbery and murder.
“Well, it was. But the other way around.” Dirkson frowned. “What I mean is, Frank Fletcher was not murdered for the money. That was the way the defendant wanted it to appear. No, she murdered him, and, as an afterthought, she stole the money. First, because she wanted the money, and, second, to make it look like that was the reason for the crime.”
Dirkson held up one finger. “Can we prove Amy Dearborn took the money?” He nodded. “Yes, we can. By her very own actions and her very own words.”
Dirkson smiled. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you what Amy Dearborn did then. She’d killed Frank Fletcher and taken the petty cash, leaving the petty cash box and the petty cash drawer open to make it look like robbery was the motive for the crime. What did she do then? She left the office. Why? For several reasons. One, to get rid of the money. Two, to get rid of the gun.”
Dirkson stopped, held up his hand. “Now, I have to warn you. The defense attorney is going to make a big deal over the fact we haven’t recovered the gun. You’ll see him up here, striding up and down, saying, Where’s the murder weapon? How can they prove their case when they haven’t got the means?” Dirkson shook his head. “Well, if you fall for that, ladies and gentlemen, it’s because you’ve been seduced by television. The shows on TV, they always have the gun.
“Real life is different. In a large percentage of murder cases, the weapon is never recovered. Why? Because the murderer gets rid of it. Why? Well, sometimes because it can link the murderer to the crime. But not always. Sometimes the murderer will kill someone, and then take the gun with them when they try to escape. Hang onto it in case they encounter resistance, perhaps have to shoot their way out. They dispose of it later, as soon as they feel safe, as soon as they’re away from the scene of the crime.
“Which is what happened in this case. The defendant took the murder weapon away with her and disposed of it. And why haven’t we found it? Because she didn’t want it found. It’s a big city. She drops it down a sewer, throws it in a dumpster, in the East River for all we know. Chances are that gun will never be found.
“I don’t want you to get hung up on that point. If the rest of the circumstantial evidence indicates the defendant committed the crime, we don’t need the murder weapon to establish her guilt.
“Anyway, the defendant left the office to dispose of the money and the gun. But she had a third reason for doing so. To build up an alibi for herself. She went back to her own neighborhood, hailed a taxi and had it take her to the office. She went in, pretended to find the body, and called the police. They arrived minutes later and she told them her story.”
Dirkson held up one finger. “That story is false. We can prove that by her own words.” He smiled. “Because the defendant was very unlucky. Something happened which she could not have foreseen. Between the time she left the office to dispose of the money and the gun and the time she returned to pretend to find the body and call the cops, a chambermaid came by to clean the office. She found the petty cash box and the petty cash drawer open.
“And she closed them.”
Dirkson smiled. “But the defendant didn’t notice. She came back to the office, called the cops, and when they arrived, told them she’d just gotten there and found Frank Fletcher dead and the office robbed. According to her, she’d found the petty cash drawer and the petty cash box open and the petty cash gone.”
Dirkson shrugged. “Well, the money was gone all right. But the petty cash box and the petty cash drawer were shut.”
Dirkson shook his head, chuckled. “How damning is that? Well, I ask you to consider the defendant’s own evaluation. When confronted with that fact, the defendant offered no explanation whatsoever. On the contrary, she refused to answer questions, and from that point on she has not said another word.”
On the bench Judge Wylie glanced over at the defense table. A seasoned jurist, Wylie would have expected an objection-Dirkson’s comment was clearly improper. But Amy Dearborn’s longhaired, casually dressed, young lawyer just sat there calmly looking slightly bored.
Judge Wylie frowned. He looked over at Dirkson to find the prosecutor had paused, either in anticipation of an objection, or merely to let the significance of his statements sink in.
Whichever, Judge Wylie felt somewhat irritated. “Does that conclude your opening statement, Mr. Dirkson?”
“No, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Though there isn’t much more to tell. This is a very simple, straightforward case.”
Dirkson turned back to the jur
y. “We expect to prove that Amy Dearborn first arrived at the office of F. L. Jewelry, not at ten o’clock as she would have us believe, but much earlier, at eight o’clock. We shall prove this both by circumstantial evidence and by eyewitness testimony. You will hear two separate eyewitness accounts placing her at the scene of the crime. You will hear the actual tape recorded message from Frank Fletcher, the message he left on her answering machine asking her to come meet him. You will hear the testimony of the medical examiner to the fact that the decedent, Frank Fletcher, was killed at exactly the time the eyewitnesses place her on the scene.”
Dirkson held up one finger again. “No one saw her fire the shot. Which is not unusual. Most murderers don’t commit their crimes with someone watching. It simply isn’t done.
“That is why this case, like most murder cases, is a case of circumstantial evidence. That, as I say, is not unusual. It is only unusual in that it happens to be a particularly strong one. The facts will show that the defendant, and only the defendant, could have committed this crime. We will lay these facts before you and we will expect a verdict of guilty at your hands.”
30
Steve Winslow stood before the jury in his corduroy jacket and jeans. He shook his head, chuckled. His long brown hair fell over his face. He pushed it back, raised his head, looked at the jury.
“A particularly strong one?” he said. “Did you hear what the District Attorney said? A particularly strong one.” Steve smiled at the jury. “I have to tell you, I was worried going into this case. Just this morning, I was sitting here at the defense table, thinking, what’s the District Attorney got? Then I heard that, and suddenly I’m not worried anymore.
“A particularly strong one?” Without taking his eyes off the jury, Steve pointed in the direction of the District Attorney. “If his case were a particularly strong one, he wouldn’t have to say it. It would be obvious. The fact he has to say it, indicates that it’s not.
“Oh boy, is it not. From what I see, the man has no case at all.”
Steve smiled. “Now Mr. Dirkson told you I’m going to make a big deal about the gun. I’m not. So they didn’t find the gun? Big deal. Some gun shot him. Some person shot him. They haven’t found the person, what’s the big deal if they haven’t found the gun? The medical examiner will say he was shot with a gun. We concede he was shot with a gun. There’s no problem proving the corpus delicti here. We’ve got a dead man who was shot with a gun.”
Steve spread his hands. “What we don’t have, is one shred of evidence connecting this particular defendant to the crime. The District Attorney says he has eyewitnesses who will place the defendant at the scene of the crime, well, I say bring ’em on. Let’s hear what they have to say. Just between you on me, I don’t think they can prove a thing.
“But it’s not up to me. That’s up to you. You listen to their testimony and you listen to the cross-examination, and then you make a determination how much these people actually know. I think you’ll find it adds up to nothing at all.
“No, when you come right down to it, I think you’ll find the District Attorney’s whole case turns on the fact Amy Dearborn said the petty cash drawer was open and the cops found it shut.”
Steve spread his arms. “That’s all he’s got. I know that’s all his got, because I saw what lengths he went through to make sure you understood he had it. You will recall he emphasized that when confronted with the shut drawer, Amy Dearborn did not say a thing. I could have objected there, and that objection would have been sustained. Because, under law, a District Attorney has no right to infer guilt from a defendant’s refusal to explain.
“What happened was simple. Amy Dearborn was telling her story to the police. Cooperating fully. She had phoned them, reported a crime, waited for them to arrive, and was in the process of telling them all she knew. At which point she was suddenly confronted with a closed drawer.”
Steve paused, raised one finger in the air. “The fact is, the defendant had no idea how that drawer came to be closed. And yet, the officer was asking her to explain.
“And by asking her to explain, he was doing something else.
“He was suspecting her of a crime.
“He showed her that closed drawer in an attempt to contradict her story. In an attempt to get her to make an admission. He was, at that point in time, suspecting her of a crime. Not only was the defendant under no obligation to explain, but at that point in time, the officer was under obligation to inform her of her constitutional rights, to inform her that she was under no obligation to explain.”
Steve stopped, spread his hands wide. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, that is all the defendant in this case is actually guilty of. Of exercising her constitutional rights. Confronted with this accusation by this police officer, all the defendant said was, I would like to consult a lawyer.”
Winslow pointed again. “The District Attorney would like you to take that as an admission of guilt. It isn’t. It cannot be used in that manner. That’s the law.
“That’s the law, and he knows it. He’s the District Attorney. He knows it, yet he tried to do it anyway. When I heard that, that’s when I realized the man hasn’t got a case.
“Even so, Dirkson’s going to argue, she said the drawer was open, it was closed, she can’t explain it, she must be guilty. If that’s his whole case, let’s dispose of it now.
“The District Attorney has pointed out that this is a case of circumstantial evidence. The judge will inform you that in any case involving circumstantial evidence, if the circumstances can be explained by any reasonable hypothesis other than the guilt of the defendant, than you must find the defendant not guilty. That is the doctrine of reasonable doubt.
“The circumstantial evidence in this case is that the defendant said that drawer was open when it was actually shut. Can we come up with any reasonable hypothesis other than the fact that she’s guilty? I should think so. How about this? She arrives at the office, finds the cash drawer robbed. Goes into Fletcher’s office, finds him dead. She runs back into the outer office and calls the police. And where is the phone she calls the cops from? On the same desk where the drawer was robbed. The defendant’s hysterical, she’s just had a huge emotional shock. And while she’s calling the cops, she unconsciously and automatically closes the drawer and doesn’t remember doing that.
“You think that’s farfetched? Remember, this was the defendant’s own desk. The one she used to work at. When making a phone call from her own desk, you think setting that desk in order wouldn’t be automatic, practically a reflex action?
“If you don’t like that, try this. While she’s being questioned in the other room, cops are searching the office. A rookie who doesn’t know any better happens to close the drawer.”
Steve Winslow shrugged, shook his head, pointed again. “Now I’m sure the D. A. will argue, oh no, the cops are pros, they’d never do that. Maybe not. But impossible? I don’t think so. I think it’s entirely possible.
“And if it’s possible, we have to assume it happened. Any reasonable hypothesis other than guilt.”
Steve stopped, waved his hand. “I could go on, but I don’t want to take up your time. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long case. You know why? Because it’s so weak. If the prosecutor had a strong, convicting case, he’d put it on bang, bang, bang, and be done with it. If it’s weak they drag it out, try to make the points seem more important by making them take more time.
“Don’t fall for it.
“One more point before I go. The D. A. also sought to emphasize the fact that Amy Dearborn had previously been accused of petty theft. He slipped that in by making it part of the motive, her desire for revenge. Well, that’s well and good. But he also sought to emphasize the fact that the crime was stealing petty cash from this very petty cash drawer. Damning as the District Attorney would like to make that seem, the simple fact is, Amy Dearborn didn’t take that money. For the record, it took a jury of her peers less than fifteen minutes to deter
mine that fact.
“She was innocent of that crime, just as she is innocent of this one.”
Steve smiled. “And I expect to hear you say so.”
31
For his first witness, Dirkson called Marvin Lowery, who gave his name and stated that he was a partner in F. L. Jewelry.
“Now then, Mr. Lowery,” Dirkson said. “Directing your attention to the evening of June tenth, did you have occasion to go to your office at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Was that at someone’s request?”
“Yes. At the request of the police.”
“And for what purpose did they ask you to your office?”
“To identify a body.”
“And were you able to identify this body?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And who was it whose body you identified?”
“The body of my partner, Frank Fletcher.”
“That is your partner in F. L. Jewelry?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you certain of your identification?”
“Absolutely. We’ve been partners for eight years.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
As Marvin Lowery started to leave the stand, Steve Winslow stood up. “One moment, Mr. Lowery. I have a few questions.”
“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “I called this witness for a limited purpose. Merely to identify the body. I intend to recall him later on.”
“That may well be,” Judge Wylie said, “but the defense certainly has the right to cross-examine.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Steve Winslow said. “Mr. Lowery, I believe you said you and the decedent had been business partners for several years?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you partners with him in having the defendant arrested and charged with petty theft?”
“Objection,” Dirkson said. “Not proper cross-examination.”
“Oh no?” Steve said. “I can’t imagine a clearer indication of bias.”
