Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  Nolan paused, apparently searching for something additional to say. His extended silence gave Jennifer time to wonder why the other witnesses were not present. Nolan had said he would be meeting with the witnesses—plural—at seven.

  To remedy the awkward silence, she said, “The other witnesses... who will be coming?”

  “There was a mix-up. But I’m pleased you are here. I’ll meet with the others later. How do you like the office?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Jennifer responded. But she was wondering about the “mix-up.” It had been clear to her that the meeting was at seven.

  “Don’t worry; it’s not from tuition money.” Nolan gave a light chuckle. “I decided that this would be my home for a while. I had a little extra money and brought in a professional decorator. I’m glad you like it.”

  Again, an uncomfortable silence. Maybe, Jennifer thought, he expected her to take charge of the conversation.

  “How long have you been at Savannah Law, Professor?” She already knew the answer, but it was a safe question.

  “I was one of the original faculty members. Came down from Chicago, where I was practicing. Interviewed for the real property slot, accepted it, and have been here since. But how about you, Jennifer? Tell me about yourself.”

  Jennifer proceeded with a brief sketch of her family and undergraduate studies and threw in the story of her trip to Springfield that led to her interest in the law. The professor leaned forward in his chair to listen. When she had finished, he had more questions: Was she enjoying law school? Was she in a study group? What was her “lifestyle” like now? How did she spend her leisure time?

  She still held in her lap the envelope with the case file he had given her. Surely he had noticed it, she thought. But she had been there a half-hour or more, and he had said nothing about the case file, her witness role, or the purpose of the visit. Perhaps she should broach the topic.

  “I brought the file, but I’m not sure of my witness assignment,” she finally said.

  “Have you had time to read through it?”

  “I did, but I’m afraid my reading was not very thorough. There are a lot of details in that first statement that were not clear. I kept flipping back to the deposition.”

  “You are ahead of me. I really haven’t read any of it yet. I will this weekend.”

  Again there was a long pause, but Jennifer decided to let Nolan take charge of the conversation. He was still leaning forward in his chair, gazing straight at her, but perhaps he was preoccupied with something else. He appeared to be struggling to find something to keep the conversation moving but couldn’t.

  Nolan put his left hand to his temple and began to rub it vigorously. “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but I feel a headache coming on. I can usually ward it off with an aspirin. Excuse me, I have some over at my desk.”

  Nolan went to his desk. He opened a drawer and removed a small tin box. He quickly opened it, removed a large, white tablet and placed it in his mouth. He then opened a bottle of Aquafina, took a few sips, and returned to his seat in the leather chair.

  “I think that will work,” Nolan said and smiled at Jennifer.

  It was obvious to Jennifer that it was not aspirin that he took from the tin box.

  The phone rang. Nolan jumped as if startled and went back to his desk to answer it. There was a short conversation, and Nolan returned to his chair.

  “That was Nate. Said he will be in court all week but will try to have a complete schedule by Friday. He’s working with the student advocates on case analysis this weekend. He doesn’t expect to need witnesses until sometime next week.”

  Jennifer was relieved not to have to dive immediately into practice. She needed some time to catch up with her missed classes.

  “Then I’ll be going, Professor.” She stood. “Time to hit the books. But I do want to compliment you again on your beautiful office.”

  “Thanks, Jennifer, but, please, you don’t have to leave. I’m really not busy tonight.”

  “I really must be going, Professor. Thursday is another busy day for me, and another R & W paper is due. Thanks for your help.” Jennifer walked to the door, opened it herself, and walked out.

  In the hallway, she laughed to herself at her parting words, “Thanks for your help.” What help? Just what was that “meeting” about anyway? Strange, very strange, she thought.

  CHAPTER 28

  Thursday, August 31

  Jennifer was up early Thursday morning. She had quite a bit of reading to do, plus a couple of cases to brief before her first class. She reflected on the meeting the previous evening. It was uneventful yet a bit unsettling. Maybe it was, as he said, just to get to know the students who would be helping as witnesses. Students, plural. But she was the only student. And she thought about his questions concerning her “lifestyle” and “leisure time.” She had never thought about her “lifestyle.” That seemed to be an odd question for a professor to ask a new student. She was glad she had simply ignored the question. And leisure time? So far, she had found very little.

  Jennifer made a pot of coffee and some toast. Then she sat down at her dining table with her case book and began to read. She had a couple of hours to study before her first class.

  At 8:30 a.m., she put her books and papers into her backpack and walked to the front door to leave. There, placed just inside the screen door, was a large sealed manila envelope. Apparently, Nicole or one of the other study-group members had left some material for her. She had not heard the door bell. Perhaps they were in a hurry and knew she would find it when she left for school. She put her backpack down and opened the envelope. There were no papers in the envelope, only a piece of cloth.

  As Jennifer looked more closely at the contents, she saw that it was a black head scarf with white crosses, and it was covered with dark red stains. She knew immediately who had left it there.

  • • •

  Scott was in Judge Vesely’s courtroom by 8:15 a.m. on Thursday. He did not get much sleep Wednesday night. Yes, he was nervous, but he took some comfort in Grady’s advice that this was actually good. Even experienced attorneys are nervous before the start of a jury trial. It means that the adrenaline is pumping; the mind is in a heightened state of alertness.

  Richard Evans, the DA investigator, arrived at 8:30 a.m. He brought with him the photos, diagrams, and charts that Scott would use as exhibits. Just a few minutes later, Grady arrived. The three were reviewing the prosecution plan one last time when the defense team of Jeff Swenson and Charlie Roberts, along with the defendant, entered and took seats at the defense table.

  At 9 a.m., Judge Vesely entered from a side door. The bailiff delivered three sharp raps with the tall wooden staff and called, “All rise!”

  Counsel and spectators were quickly on their feet. The judge took her seat, motioned for those now standing to be seated, and called the court to order. Scott stood and announced that the prosecution was ready; Jeff did the same for the defense. The trial of Charles Vandera for burglary of the CVS store was officially underway.

  Scott was surprised that the defense had no additional pretrial motions. He had anticipated motions attacking the second indictment process and the pretrial discovery. He also expected a motion—he wasn’t sure what form it would take—regarding Mary Vandera, who was listed as a prosecution witness. But there were none, other than a request that she be exempted from the sequestration motion and allowed to remain in the courtroom during the trial. The trial quickly moved to jury selection.

  Jury selection was the part of the trial that Scott knew was his weakest. His trial competition experience had given him practice in all phases of a criminal trial except jury selection. Just how do you peer into the mind of a juror to really determine fairness and impartiality? And did he really want a “fair and impartial” jury? The defense surely did not. They wanted every juror to be slanted toward the defense. Should the prosecution team seek a jury favorable to the prosecution?

  Scott wasn’t going to
debate with himself whether he ethically could seek a jury skewed to the prosecution side of this case. Even if he were so inclined, the defense had plenty of tools to ensure his failure. This was an adversarial process. The defense could ask almost any questions to explore the mind of every juror. Afterwards, they would have unlimited challenges to strike from the panel anyone shown to be unfair or partial. And on top of that, they had nine peremptory challenges—challenges to exercise as they chose against any juror, no reason needed. Scott’s job was just to ensure that the jury did not end up as a “defense jury.” He may not have a “law and order” jury, but he would do his best not to end up with a jury that would convict only if they had fingerprint or DNA evidence, or a sworn confession. He knew that television programs such as CSI had accustomed the public to expect forensic evidence at a criminal trial, and he had none to present.

  Scott had prepared a jury profile of the good and the bad jurors from the prosecution perspective. It was subjective and unscientific, and Grady had warned him not to put much faith in categorizing jurors by demographics. But he had to start somewhere. Good jurors would be business owners; professionals such as dentists, insurance brokers, and accountants; former military and law enforcement personnel; single mothers; mainstream Protestants; northern Europeans; government employees; handicapped persons; and anyone over sixty. Bad jurors would be mothers of teenage boys and young men; musicians—especially rock musicians; artists—especially tattoo artists; anyone with multiple tattoos; motorcyclists—especially tattooed motorcyclists; dancers—especially exotic dancers; anyone with a prior criminal record; and any recent college graduate with a degree in sociology. This last “bad juror” resulted from a warning he had heard from an experienced prosecutor: “Never accept a college grad with a sociology major. Don’t ask why. Just don’t do it.”

  Scott looked at his jury profile of the good and bad jurors one last time. He wanted to remind himself of various elements in the profile. But just what was he to do with the musician who was also ex-military? The former policeman with multiple tattoos? Or perhaps the handicapped insurance broker with a degree in sociology?

  He did not have an answer for these questions, and when the voir dire was over, he discarded his list of good and bad jurors and exercised his challenges the same way most experienced attorneys do: by a simple subjective appraisal. Do I like this juror? Am I comfortable with this juror? And does this juror appear comfortable with me? In the final analysis, occupation, marital state, or handicap status did not enter the equation at all. Scott exercised six challenges, the defense eight, and then the jury panel to hear the case of State of Georgia versus Charles Vandera was sworn.

  Judge Vesely gave the newly sworn jurors preliminary instructions and looked toward the prosecution table. “You may make your opening statement.”

  Scott walked to the lectern and placed his notes on top. Then he moved directly in front of the lectern. He would not need notes.

  “Members of the jury,” he began, “the state has charged this defendant with the offense of burglary. Judge Vesely will instruct you later that burglary is an unlawful entry into a building with intent to commit a felony or theft. In this case, it is a burglary that took place at the CVS Pharmacy, 1128 East Grissom Avenue, right here in the city of Savannah. It occurred in the early morning hours of April twenty-fourth of this year, when most of the workers at that pharmacy were safely sleeping in their homes. There was one employee who was not at home asleep but, instead, was out prowling the city.” Scott paused, turned to look at the defense table, and pointed directly at the defendant. “That employee is seated at that table. His name is Charles Vandera. Let me outline for you just how the defendant prepared for and committed this crime.

  “It is after midnight. The pharmacy is quiet inside—not a sound—and it’s been that way since the night manager locked up and departed shortly after 11 p.m. But had you been nearby, outside, you might have heard the slight scraping sound made as Charles Vandera placed an aluminum ladder against the building. But maybe not; this was a quiet, stealthy crime, carefully planned.

  “It is a strong and tall ladder. It has to be, because Charles Vandera plans to get to the very top and onto the roof of the building. As he climbs that ladder, he has a lightweight but strong rope with him. It is a solid braided polyester rope, thirty feet in length, with knots tied at intervals along the way. He has a chisel, a small crowbar, and a small flashlight. And he has something else: a pair of latex gloves on his hands.

  “He completes his climb, and once on the roof, he walks over to the area where there is an air-conditioning unit. This unit is near a glass skylight with an acrylic covering—a safety measure to protect the glass beneath it. He must remove, or at least breach, that outer cover and then break the glass beneath. He chisels. He stops, and he listens. He’s careful to make as little noise as possible. At this time of night, traffic is light, and there is no other noise to muffle his crime. He breaks through the acrylic cover. So far, so good. Now, the skylight glass is all that is left.

  “The glass is not thick; it’s no match for his crowbar. It shatters, and most of the glass crashes to the floor below. But not all. There are still a few jagged edges along the sides. With the entry hole now made, it’s time to secure the rope. The air-conditioner unit is only five feet away. He ties one end of the rope securely around the unit. He then drops the other end through the hole, and then the crowbar and the chisel. Now he has to drop his five-foot, nine-inch frame through the hole while holding onto the rope. Not a difficult job for a young man, but there is danger—the jagged edges of glass around the sides. It is dark, and although he has a flashlight, he must be careful. A light on top of a roof well after midnight would be suspicious. Into the hole he goes. It’s not far to the bottom, and the knots on the rope give him support for both his feet and his hands. All is going as planned, except he cuts his forearm on the jagged glass.

  “Charles Vandera is now in the pharmacy. Shelves upon shelves and cabinets and drawers surround him. Wooden shelves with small hinges and small locks. He pulls on the cabinet doors, grasping the bottoms or the tops, wherever he can get leverage. Some pop off immediately. Some require the crowbar. Before him now are all sorts of medicines and drugs in all types of containers. But as he looks through the piles of drugs he has uncovered, he is puzzled.”

  Scott held out his hands, palms up, and looked slowly from one side of the jury to the other before continuing.

  “Where is the good stuff—the stuff he came for? The stuff that would cause him to crash through a skylight and burglarize a pharmacy in the middle of the night? Then he saw it: the big safe— the seven hundred-pound, solid-steel safe with the electronic lock— the size of a small bank vault. Attack it with a chisel and crowbar? No way. For Charles Vandera, the evening is over. He has no use for the beta blockers, diuretics, asthma inhalers, and antibiotics that he found. What he wanted—the real drugs—are safely locked in that big seven hundred-pound vault. With no chance of breaking into that safe, he turns to his escape route, which he had planned as carefully as his entry. As an employee, he knows the security system, and it takes only a moment to disarm it. That done, he’s out the front door.

  “What has he accomplished? Substantial damage to a pharmacy. Cuts on his forearm. And the loss of his burglary tools— the thirty-foot rope, an eight-inch chisel, and a crowbar. But there was something else he lost, something much more valuable. Something he left on the pharmacy counter... a tool that silently says, ‘This crime was committed by Charles Vandera.’”

  Scott stopped. He wanted to see the reaction from the defense table. Glancing ever so slightly to his left, he got it: a puzzled look from both defense counsel—a look of “what the hell is he talking about?” Scott knew then that Charles Vandera had made the same mistake that had damned so many criminal defendants over the years: he had lied to his counsel. Scott continued with his opening statement.

  “That, members of the jury, is how Charles Vander
a committed the crime of burglary of the CVS Pharmacy at 1128 East Grissom Avenue, here in Savannah, on April twenty-fourth of this year. Now let’s turn to the investigation of this crime and the evidence.”

  Scott began to describe the discovery of the break-in, the arrival of the detectives and the forensic team, and the taking of statements. He then turned his attention to the day the defendant first reported back to work, two days after the burglary with visible cuts on his arm.

  “Charles Vandera was not arrested that day. The detectives had other evidence to examine and other leads to follow. It was not fingerprints that led to his arrest. There were none. Latex gloves don’t leave finger prints. You will learn that Charles Vandera left behind on the pharmacy counter something more revealing, more incriminating, than fingerprints. And you will be convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that Charles Vandera is guilty of this crime as charged.”

  Scott took his seat, and as he did so, he received a thumbs up from Grady discretely out of the jury’s view. Whatever the state of Scott’s nerves when the trial started, they were now settled and calm. He was going to enjoy this trial.

  Judge Vesely looked at the defense table and asked if the defense wished to make an opening statement. “We would like to reserve our opening until the prosecution has presented its evidence,” responded Jeff.

  “The state may call its first witness,” said Judge Vesely.

  Scott’s first witness was the night manager, who testified to setting the alarm system and locking the store for the evening. The store manager and the morning pharmacist were next. Their testimony concerned their observations upon arrival at the store in the morning and the absence of the defendant from work for two days. There was little cross-examination. It was now past noon. Judge Vesely recessed the court for lunch and ordered the trial to reconvene at 2 p.m.