Violence

by Timothy McDougall

  “May we approach?” Calcote wearily asked Judge Marr who motioned them to a sidebar.

  Henklin knew she was going against the current. Only a few States, through their rape shield statutes, even addressed the inadmissibility of what a victim was wearing in a sexual assault case. The judge had the discretion here and judges like to adhere to the basic rule that all relevant evidence is admissible. A judge usually wants to rule to admit clothing or lack thereof into evidence because its likelihood to be of probative value to the defendant outweighs any prejudicial affect it may have on the victim.

  Calcote argued that “what someone is wearing conveys a certain attitude and possible intent which could be relevant to the issue of consent.”

  Judge Marr agreed and “overruled” Ms. Henklin’s objection.

  When Calcote continued, he picked up where he left off and asked again what “Mrs. Anderson was wearing” and Phipps answered that she had on “a bathing suit.”

  “You’re sure of this?” Calcote asked emphatically.

  “Oh yes.” Phipps answered, the alacrity of his response embarrassing him. He obviously still had the image in his mind.

  “And was it a two piece bathing suit or a one-piece?” Calcote queried.

  “A one-piece.” Phipps tersely replied.

  “And when the defendants arrived…” Calcote went on. “…Mrs. Anderson did not go running into the house to change into something more… or let’s say, something less revealing?”

  “Not that I saw.” Phipps recollected.

  “And isn’t it a fact, based on your witness statement…” Calcote set his jaw as he spoke. “…you saw Mrs. Anderson and the defendant, Mr. Derek Lysander, acting pretty friendly that morning?”

  “I don’t know… ‘friendly’?” Phipps wavered slightly, thinking back.

  “You said they were standing together for some time-” Calcote challenged him.

  “Objection!” Henklin interrupted Phipps’ testimony. “The witness has already testified that it was only a brief time he saw the decedent with the defendants at all that morning.”

  “Overruled.” Judge Marr bellowed but Henklin had made her point to the jury.

  “They were standing together for some period of time…” Calcote continued. “…and Mrs. Anderson appeared to be comfortable just being there in her bathing suit?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Phipps conceded.

  “And Mr. Gabriel Lysander and Mr. Ruben Roney…” Calcote pointed to them at the defense table as he questioned Phipps. “…the two other men working at the house that day, I assume they were also about while Mrs. Anderson was in her bathing suit?”

  “Yes, sir.” Phipps answered forcefully but the truth was he didn’t really remember, and he also didn’t want to admit that fact.

  All memories, no matter what age you are, decay over time. Karen had indeed run in immediately and grabbed a cover-up after Derek surprised her in the backyard, but that was forgotten or never registered by Phipps. Also unmentioned, by both Phipps and the prosecution, in addition to the not small detail that she was in her own backyard by her own swimming pool, was the fact that there were also tall thick bushes on both properties that Karen believed afforded her some privacy.

  Additionally, Mrs. Phipps, if she had ever been asked to testify, might have shed some better light on these not mundane details. But then again, maybe not.

  In any event, the damage was done.

  Ward tried again at the lunch recess to get in contact with Anderson but was unsuccessful.

  By the time the subcontractor Tom Granger was sworn in after the lunch break it was a fait accompli that Judge Marr was going to let the jury consider lesser charges. Marr had flicked looks in Henklin’s direction all morning that on a sensory and telepathic level were letting her know (what she already knew) that he felt things were not going along swimmingly for the prosecution. They’d worked together many times before and Henklin knew that, while a judge is always fearful of a hung jury and far too often the knee-jerk reaction is for them to take the easy approach in letting the jury consider reduced charges, this time she had to admit Judge Marr might be right.

  Henklin had Granger give details on how he had only recently hired the defendants that spring and further had him make clear that they were not model workers. That is they were “not hard workers.” He also had to admit they were not completely ineffective. They were “adequate.”

  Henklin also made sure he recounted his reason for going to the Anderson residence.

  “I was told they were looking in the windows, peeping tom at clients…” Granger related. “…and when I hear something like that, well, you can’t have that, you just have to take care of it, address the matter.”

  “And what happened when you confronted them?” Henklin asked.

  Granger told the jury how violent their response was when the defendants were told to leave the Anderson residence. “It was wild.” Granger elaborated, recalling as best he could. “There were swear words used like… is it ok if I use the actual words?”

  “Yes, of course.” Henklin assured him.

  “Well, there were swear words like ‘fuck you’…” Granger continued. “…and one of them, I think it was Derek Lysander had a shovel and was acting like he was going to use it on one of us. I was glad I brought some other guys who work for me along just in case there was a problem like that.”

  “So based on that profanity laced outburst…” Henklin inquired. “…and their threat of physical violence you decided to terminate them on the spot?”

  “Yes, I had to.” Granger answered resolutely.

  Henklin then went on to ask Granger how long he had been doing sub-contracting landscaping work for Mr. Anderson’s construction company.

  “More than ten years.” Granger responded.

  “Did you ever have any other incidents like this?” Henklin asked.

  “No, never.” Granger related, confessing, “I feel so responsible. I should have looked into their backgrounds more-”

  “Objection!” Calcote almost shouted as he sprang to his feet. “Impermissible to suggest propensity!”

  “Sustained.” Judge Marr ruled.

  Granger, like the jury, didn’t understand what had just happened except that he knew, like every witness, that he was to stop speaking immediately whenever the Judge spoke or an objection was raised.

  What just happened was Granger was being stopped from talking about their backgrounds as Granger had found out after the fact that they had served time. Of course, Derek and the others had lied on their applications but that was of no consequence here.

  When Calcote finally had his chance at Granger on cross-examination he made sure he challenged him on the “intimidating force” Granger felt compelled to bring to bear on Derek and the others.

  “These ‘other guys’ you brought to the Anderson residence…” Calcote asked. “…I would imagine, since your business would require a lot of manual labor, they were large men, with obvious physical attributes, muscular, powerfully built let’s say?”

  “Yes.” Granger answered.

  “And don’t you think…” Calcote aggressively pointed his finger at Granger. “…even you might feel threatened if you were confronted in such a manner?”

  “It could have gotten ugly there, so-” Granger started to answer.

  “It requires a yes or no answer.” Calcote stopped him.

  “It’s not that simple-” Granger protested.

  “Your Honor, the witness is not answering the question.” Calcote complained.

  “Sir, please just answer counsel’s question.” Judge Marr calmly instructed Granger.

  “Wouldn’t you feel threatened if you were confronted in such a way?” Calcote continued.

  “Not necessarily.” Granger responded evenly, defiantly.

  “You don’t think you were trying to intimidate…” Calcote disputed his contention. “…and send a message, go nose to nose?”

  �
��I was trying to not have an incident.” Granger insisted.

  Calcote let Granger have this one. He had already accomplished his task of tenderizing Granger for the real grilling. Calcote pensively paced in front of the witness box and went on, asking Granger, “Over the years Mr. Anderson has employed you for quite a bit of sub-contracting work, correct?”

  “Yes…” Granger agreed. “…some times are more busy than others, but it’s been pretty steady.”

  “It would be fair to say you want to please him?” Calcote surmised.

  “I always want to do a good job with every client.” Granger declared.

  “Did you know Mrs. Anderson?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long? Weeks, months…?”

  “Oh years.” Granger figured. “Probably over ten years, the same time I’ve known Mr. Anderson.”

  “And how would you usually come in contact with Mrs. Anderson?” Calcote casually queried.

  “There were some company picnics.” Granger searched his memory. “She would visit a work site once in awhile…”

  “So you had talked to her face to face?” Calcote asked straightforwardly.

  “Sure, quite a few times.” Granger nodded.

  “Are you married?” Calcote threw the question out like an accusation.

  “Yes.” Granger responded guardedly, off-balance again from the disjointed nature of the questioning.

  “Did you and your wife ever go out socially with Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?” Calcote inquired.

  “’Socially’?” Granger relaxed. “Not that I can recall.”

  “But you knew Mrs. Anderson well enough…” Calcote continued. “…that if you bumped into her on the street she would know you and you could have a conversation?”

  “Oh sure.” Granger acknowledged.

  “But you didn’t know the Andersons beyond your professional relationship, correct?” Calcote looked for confirmation.

  “Correct.” Granger agreed.

  “You said earlier you were called to the Anderson residence that day because there was a complaint that these men…” Calcote pointed at the penitent faces of Derek, Gabriel and Ruben at the defense table again. “…were looking in the windows at Mrs. Anderson.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Mrs. Anderson told you this?”

  “No, Mr. Anderson did.”

  “’Mr. Anderson’.” Calcote repeated and paused for a moment. “Didn’t you think to ask Mrs. Anderson about her complaint? How could you know if these accusations were true?”

  “I trust Mr. Anderson.” Granger firmly responded.

  “But you only knew Mr. Anderson in a professional sense.” Calcote reminded Granger. “Didn’t it occur to you that you just might be dealing with a jealous husband who thought these men were looking at his wife?”

  Henklin jumped in with an objection citing the immaterial and inflammatory nature of the questioning but Calcote had achieved his goal. When Noel Anderson would take the stand as the last witness of the day the jurors weren’t going to look at him as a victim whose life was torn apart but rather the question in their minds would be “is Anderson possibly this neglectful jealous monster of a husband who didn’t even know his wife?”

  Henklin’s objection was sustained and Calcote asked a couple more insignificant questions before Granger was excused. Granger left looking treacherous and smug.

  Ward, for his part sitting in the gallery, could barely stand to watch when the next witness, “Mr. Noel Raymond Anderson” was called.

  Anderson’s middle name of Raymond came from the surname of the doctor who delivered him at the hospital. Its etymology suggests it originated from the Middle Ages and was borne by many saints. Raymond means “wise protection” and “protecting hands,” among other things. Anderson could have used that protection now.

  When Anderson had arrived early in the day, he took the stairs to get down from the 3rd floor of the multi-story above ground parking garage outside. This was because the elevator smelled like shit and it looked like there were actual finger-streaks of feces on the floor selection panel. It was in the same condition when he got there during the first two days of the trial.

  Once Anderson was inside the Criminal Courts Building, the other elevator he eventually took to his fifth floor courtroom was imposing, rickety and well-worn, similar to everything else in the complex. He likened it to going further and further into a darkening, squalid labyrinth even though he was technically rising. Every breath became shallower with each advance because of the poorly ventilated, dank, fetid air, and you were always checking for exits, signs of the outside, sky, sunlight, because your thoughts were increasingly preoccupied on wanting to make a mad dash to somewhere else, anywhere else.

  But Anderson had waited for this day. He wanted to again see the animals who tore his wife and daughter, and ultimately his life, from him. The prosecutors earlier asked him about his emotions and not so subtly warned him to just answer the questions when he got on the witness stand. He was going to see this through, follow their instructions, and do what they told him was the proper procedure for getting his justice.

  Anderson was the first one every day to check in at his courtroom and then he got lost. He didn’t want to run into any of the other witnesses, especially Joyce, Granger or his neighbor. He didn’t want to be accused of tainting their testimony. Luckily, he found a place to loiter around the corner where there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic.

  A courtroom deputy finally summoned Anderson who at once felt all his energy drain away as he stepped foot for the first time in the courtroom. Anderson had already experienced a sickening looming pall all the way in from the parking lot but if there was an actual black hole, a place where not even light escapes at the singularity and everything is sucked into nothingness, then this was it.

  Anderson looked at the jurors first but they didn’t want to look at him. One woman seemed to show some pity but then looked down in what Anderson thought was shame.

  Anderson chose to focus on the impassive Judge Marr while he was sworn in and didn’t look at Derek, Gabriel and Ruben until he took his seat in the witness stand. That was where Anderson had imagined he wanted to be for these many months and years, finally facing the perpetrators, seated among those other members of the tribe entrusted with dispensing justice who were eager to uphold their portion of the social contract. But it just didn’t feel right.

  Derek and the others were careful. They didn’t look at Anderson. They stared straight ahead, not as though they were ashamed to look at the man whose life they ruined, but more an indignant expression of abhorrence, as if they rightfully shouldn’t set their eyes on the bastard who had wrongfully dragged them here.

  Damn. It was a good tactic, Anderson thought. Derek and his cohorts must have been coached. It would be Anderson’s last sane reflection until he left.

  The whole courtroom had that crazy planet feel. Anderson was used to feeling shunned, but this was different. It was like everything had gone nuts, and reason was on holiday. He didn’t even feel as if he were a part of the human race. Anderson remembered an Army colonel telling him following boot camp, (this after Anderson had let him know he was from Chicago, which was where the colonel was from), that we’re all part of the same family. The colonel related how he recalled being a kid in the 60’s and how he saw in the newspaper a story about a guy who had raped, tortured and killed eight nurses. The colonel said it made him sick to think about it because he felt he was a part of it. He was a member of the human race and so was this killer, so in some distant way they were related, the colonel’s thinking went. The colonel then said he remembered how thrilled he felt a few years later when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, and he could look up at the moon and see it happening right on TV at the same time and he could say he was a part of that historic event, even if only for the same reason as being a member of the same species. The colonel said his purpose here on Earth from that point forward was, if he couldn’t himself
actually do moon landings, at least he could help or inspire others to do the same, so at last he urged Anderson to “make us all proud.”

  Right now Anderson felt like the nurse killer was loose. Anderson suddenly remembered having this overarching sense of treachery when he was reading some of the online newspaper items about his case and made the mistake of scrolling to the bottom of the story where “comments” from the public could be entered. Yes, there were sympathizers, people whose hearts went out to Karen, Tristan and also to him among the remarks. But a good half of the responders, usually more, expressed suspicion and anger towards him! Some of the negative postings included commentary like, “Hmmm, wife and daughter are gone! Anyone think to ask if Mr. Anderson was in on the killing? Got life insurance?” Another commenter said, “No one is just playing cards at a club. He had to be stepping out on his wife. Someone should follow him around to get the real story. Maybe he hired these guys to do it? Ya think?” Yet another poster responded with, “Does anybody really believe things like this just happen? The good builder probably pissed someone off and got what he deserved!” Still another remarked, “Think I care about this rich @%&hole. There’s worse murders on the south and west side every day and no one is shedding any tears! Who cares!”

  When Anderson caught a glimpse of Al Ward’s intense stare through the glass partition it was the only anchor of sanity in the roiling sea of a courtroom.

  Henklin did her job of questioning and detailing how Anderson’s life was ripped from him, but Anderson, being the stoic, self-reliant man that he is, didn’t fall apart weeping in the recounting so when Calcote took over on cross-examination it was easier to be aggressive.

  In Anderson’s defense, though, Henklin was trying to rush through his testimony. It should have been a triumphant peak to have the sole surviving member of the family there for the jury to finally see with their own eyes, but the prosecutor naturally must have felt like she let him down and guiltily just wanted to be done with it.

  Calcote didn’t go right at Anderson, but rather asked some benign questions that made it appear he wasn’t going for the jugular, so to speak, when in actuality, that was his every intention.