Lethal Defense

by Michael Stagg

  “The boots?”

  “They were these awesome vintage drifters, heavy black boots with buckles, mid-calf high. They were Dillon’s. Then I knew it was him.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I freaked out. I start yelling at Hank and yelling for security but I can’t move because I’m holding Lizzy with both hands, so I start screaming that she’s okay. And Hank just goes kind of still and he stands there for a second and then he goes and sits on a chair in the corner, hands on his knees, straight up and down, as if he’s not covered in blood and brains. I keep screaming at him and he ignores me and a few seconds later Reynolds runs in and says he’s called the cops and he looks around and he can’t believe it and the two of us agree we have to get Lizzy out of there.”

  “You took her out of the room?”

  Jared nodded. “No way I was going to have her wake up and see that.”

  “You just left Mr. Braggi there?”

  “He didn’t seem to be going anywhere. And Reynolds was with him.”

  “Did you eventually talk to Detective Pearson that night?”

  “Detective Pearson?”

  “The police officer in charge of the investigation. He would have been wearing a suit.”

  “Oh yeah, big guy? Square jaw like the Tick?”

  He had been trying before but that one did get a laugh from the jury. They’d seen Pearson.

  “That's the guy,” said Jeff. “Did you speak to him?”

  “I did.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much what I just told you.”

  “Your testimony is very similar to the statement he took from you that night. Is there anything else you'd like to add?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did you continue to keep an eye on Ms. Saint?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you see her talk to Detective Pearson?”

  “I didn't but there were times when I had to talk to management or the crew to figure out where we were gonna stay and what we were gonna do. This pretty much derailed our travel for the next couple of days so we had some arrangements to make.”

  “That's all I have, Mr. Smoke. Thank you.”

  Judge Gallon nodded to me. As I walked to the podium, I said, “Your legal name is Gerald Winkson, isn't it?”

  Smoke stiffened. “I go by Jared Smoke.”

  “I understand that Mr. Winkson but I didn't ask you what you go by. I asked what your legal name is. Your legal name is Gerald Winkson, isn't it?”

  “I sign everything Jared Smoke just like Lizzy signs everything Lizzy Saint.”

  “Well, Ms. Saint has already testified that she’s legally changed her name to Lizzy Saint so that’s her name. You haven’t legally changed your name to Jared Smoke, have you?”

  “No.”

  “So, to be accurate, the record should reflect that Gerald Winkson is testifying here today, right?”

  His jaw twitched. “If that makes you happy.”

  “Are you more comfortable with your assumed name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Earlier, Mr. Hanson asked if you found a syringe on the floor next to Lizzy Saint. Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You said you didn't find one, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn't look for one, did you?”

  “Well, I saw the floor around her.”

  “Mr. Smoke, I'm going to hand you what's been marked as State’s Exhibit 48.” I put the plastic bag marked with a “48” on the witness stand in front of Smoke. “That's a syringe, isn't it?”

  “It is.”

  “An officer has already testified that he found this syringe the hotel suite that night. Are you saying that's untrue?”

  “I'm not.”

  “You just didn’t see it, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Mr. Hanson also asked you if you saw rubber tubing or string or a belt on Ms. Saint, didn't he?”

  “He did.”

  “You said you did not, true?”

  “True.”

  “I'm going to hand you what's been marked as State’s Exhibit 49.” I put another baggie on the witness stand. “That's rubber tubing, isn’t it?”

  He glanced forward and slouched back. “Yes.”

  “An officer already testified that he found this rubber tubing on the suite floor. Do you have any reason to doubt that?”

  “Not really.”

  “Just because you didn’t see it doesn't mean it wasn't there, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, there’s no reason to guess Mr. Smoke, is there? The tubing’s right there on the witness stand in front of you.”

  “It is.”

  “You said you didn't see a needle in Ms. Saint’s arm, correct?”

  “I didn't.”

  “You said you didn't see rubber tubing on her arm, correct?”

  “I didn't.”

  “Now, Mr. Smoke, at some point your group was running low on beer, true?”

  Smoke nodded. “And whiskey.”

  “And you sent Mr. Purcell and Mr. Whitsel to get more, right?”

  “I thought it was their idea.”

  “You told them where to get it though, right?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “But they definitely left to get the beer, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And while Mr. Purcell and Mr. Whitsel were getting beer, there was a time when you went to the bathroom and were not with Ms. Saint, true?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “—but nothing, Mr. Smoke. My question was simply that there was a time when you were in the bathroom and not with Ms. Saint and Dillon Chase, right?”

  Smoke gnawed on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Yes.”

  “Or to be more accurate, I should say that there was a time that Ms. Saint was drunk and half-conscious, and was alone with Dillon Chase, true?”

  “I don't know that.”

  “Sure you do. When you went to the bathroom, was there anyone in the suite besides Lizzy Saint and Dillon Chase?”

  A long pause. “No.”

  “You weren't worried about that though, were you?”

  “I wasn't.”

  “Because you knew Dillon Chase, true?”

  “That's true.”

  “For many years?”

  “Yes.”

  “Going back to a time when you played with other bands.”

  “That's true.”

  “Earlier, you mentioned that Mr. Chase had a lot of connections, right?”

  “He did.”

  “He could put you in touch with all sorts of people, right?”

  “Well, some sure.”

  “No, Mr. Smoke, Mr. Hanson asked you what he could do and you said that he could put you in touch with all sorts of people. Do you remember that?

  “Yes.”

  “That included musicians in other bands, label executives, venues, right?”

  “That's true.”

  “Mr. Chase had been around long enough that he could put you in touch with just about anyone you needed, right?”

  “I guess that's true.”

  “Mr. Smoke, you said you joined up with Lizzy Saint’s band about two years ago, right?”

  He bristled. “We decided to partner together about two years ago, yes.”

  “Before that, you were a member of the band Tower, right?”

  “I was.”

  “And for a few years before that, you were part of the band Red Sails, true?”

  “I was.”

  “Mr. Smoke, why did Red Sails break up?

  Jeff stood. “Objection, Your Honor. While this would be great for Behind the Music, I'm not sure how it's relevant to this case.”

  “It is, Your Honor. I'll get there directly.”

  “See that you do, Mr. Shepherd,” said Judge Gallon.

  I looked back at him. “Mr. Smoke, wh
y did Red Sails break up?”

  Smoke was biting the inside of his cheek now. He glared at me and said, “Our lead singer died.”

  “Johnny Turn, right? That was his name?”

  Smoke nodded. “It was.”

  “He died of a heroin overdose, didn’t he?”

  Jeff flew from his seat. “Your Honor!”

  Judge Gallon was looking at me sternly as she said, “Up here, Counsel.”

  The two of us went up to the bench and bent close to the Judge so that we could talk quietly but still be heard by the court reporter. Jeff started. “Your Honor, I believe that Mr. Shepherd is about to talk about the circumstances of the death of Johnny Turn of a drug overdose and, potentially, the presence of certain people involved in this case at that incident.”

  Judge Gallon looked at me and the look she gave me was not pleasant. “Mr. Shepherd?”

  I nodded. “Mr. Smoke was with Johnny Turn that day and they had seen Dillon Chase the day before. Close enough in time that the police interviewed Chase about it.” I held up the paper.

  “Is that the police report?” said Judge Gallon.

  “It is.”

  “That case is not on trial here, Mr. Shepherd. You will not mention anything else about it. Do you understand?”

  “But Your Honor the circumstances are so similar—”

  “The circumstances are separated by years and miles and victims. You will not mention it, do you understand? And you will not try to get a mistrial from using it.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Objection sustained.”

  I went back to the podium, shifted gears, and said, “So Mr. Smoke, you went from Red Sails to Tower to Lizzy Saint, right?”

  Smoke stared at me for a moment, then smirked when he realized the topic had changed. “I think we covered that, Counselor.”

  “So the answer is ‘yes?’”

  “Yes.”

  “And you started writing with Lizzy Saint right away, correct?”

  “I did.” He smiled. “We hit it off right away.”

  “Once you started with the band and writing with Lizzy, Hank Braggi no longer wrote with Lizzy, true?”

  “That's true. Lizzy was branching out in new directions.”

  “You've written two albums with her?”

  “I have.”

  “Those albums have done well commercially, haven't they?”

  “They have.”

  “You're familiar with the sales numbers for those albums, aren't you?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Those albums have only sold about a third as much as her original album, Ripper, right?”

  Smoke's eyes grew hard. “Maybe.”

  “They've only sold about half as much as her second album, Jacked, true?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't know? You're very familiar with the sales numbers of your albums but not Lizzy's prior albums?”

  “I don't pay as much attention to those. Those are in the past.”

  “Ripper won the Grammy for best new album, didn't it?”

  “It did.”

  “Neither of your albums with Lizzy Saint has won a Grammy, have they?”

  “Art’s not about awards.”

  “So is that a ‘yes?’”

  “Do you think that the Rolling Stones care that Goat’s Head Soup never won a Grammy?”

  “I don't know, when I have Mick Jagger on the stand, I’ll ask him. Neither of your albums with Lizzy Saint won a Grammy, did they?”

  “No.”

  “Does it bother you that your albums with Lizzy haven't been as commercially successful as Hank's collaboration?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Smoke, you told Mr. Hanson and the jury that nobody used heroin or talked about using heroin in the suite that night. Do you remember that?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you use heroin, Mr. Smoke?”

  Jeff stood. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Hanson is the one who brought it up, Your Honor,” I said. “He elicited testimony from this witness that no one used or talked about using in the suite that night and yet we have a syringe of heroin here. I have the right to explore that with the witness.”

  “Overruled. Answer the question, Mr. Smoke.”

  I heard a stirring behind me and turned. Max Simpson had stood and waved Jeff over to him and was whispering furiously. “A moment, Your Honor?” said Jeff.

  “Briefly.”

  Simpson's face was animated and a little red as he talked rapidly and made small gestures with his hand. Jeff listened impassively before he straightened and said, “Your Honor, I find myself in an interesting position as a prosecutor. However, I am the one who called Mr. Smoke to testify and I believe that if the Court is going to allow this line of questioning …” He paused.

  Judge Gallon stared at him. “The Court is.”

  “So that if the Court is going to allow this line of questioning, the witness should be advised that he has a right under the Fifth Amendment to decline to answer any question that would incriminate himself regarding the commission of the crime.”

  Judge Gallon appeared to think and turned to me. “Mr. Shepherd?”

  “I can't control Mr. Smoke's answer, Your Honor. But the prosecution has opened the door and I believe I'm permitted to ask the question.”

  Judge Gallon turned to Jared Smoke. “Mr. Smoke, you have taken an oath to tell the truth and must do so in this proceeding under penalty of perjury. However, if you believe that an answer might incriminate you regarding the commission of a crime, you may decline to answer, claiming the protection of the Fifth Amendment. Do you understand?”

  “I do, Judge.”

  I continued. “Mr. Smoke, do you use heroin?”

  Smoke looked at me, a slight grin on his face. “No.”

  “Have you ever used heroin?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever helped someone obtain heroin?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Smoke, please roll up your sleeve above the elbow.”

  “What?”

  Jeff stood. “Your Honor, this is outrageous.”

  I shrugged. “Impeachment, Your Honor.”

  Judge Gallon thought. “I'll allow it.”

  Smoke glared at me as he unbuttoned the sleeve on his right arm.

  “You're right-handed, aren't you, Mr. Smoke?”

  “Yes.”

  “So roll up your left sleeve.”

  Smoke froze. His eyes became hooded as he buttoned his right sleeve, folded his hands, and set them on his lap. He sat there and stared at me.

  “Your left sleeve please, Mr. Smoke.”

  Smoke stared at me, motionless.

  “Your Honor, could you direct the witness to roll up his left sleeve, please.”

  Judge Gallon stared at him, face neutral. “Mr. Smoke?”

  Smoke glared at me and then he looked over my shoulder at where Simpson was sitting. I didn’t take my eyes off him. Nobody moved.

  Finally, Smoke said, “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

  “Understandable,” I said. “Mr. Smoke, I'm not your lawyer, but I will tell you that the Fifth Amendment allows you to refuse to answer a question but it does not allow you to lie in response to a question so I am going to ask you again, do you use heroin?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Smoke in the past have you used heroin?”

  “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

  “Mr. Smoke, have you ever bought heroin?”

  “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

  “Have you ever helped other people buy heroin?”

  “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

  “Mr. Smoke, did you buy heroin when you were part of the band Tower?”

  “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

  “Did you ever buy heroin when you were part of the band Red Sails?”

  “I claim my Fifth Amendment right.”

 
; “Mr. Smoke, you knew Dillon Chase going as far back as your Red Sails days, true?”

  He glared at me. “True.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Jeff could barely be contained as he almost sprang back up to the podium. “Mr. Smoke, Mr. Shepherd talked about the commercial success of your albums and his clear implication was that you’re jealous of Mr. Braggi. First of all let me ask, are you jealous of Hank Braggi?”

  “Of a sound engineer? No.”

  “Does your professional relationship with Hank Braggi affect your perception of what happened that night in the suite?”

  “No.”

  “Does professional jealousy of Mr. Braggi’s relationship with Lizzy Saint color your perception of what you saw Mr. Braggi due to Dillon Chase?”

  “Of course not. My relationship’s better than his.”

  Jeff went to his blowups and put the five-foot-tall picture of Dillon Chase's unrecognizable face on the stand. “This is a true and accurate representation of what Dillon Chase looked like after Hank Braggi had beaten him that night?”

  “It is. He was a mess.”

  Another picture. “This is a true and accurate representation of the angle Dillon Chase’s arm was laying at when you saw him?”

  “It was bent backwards like that, yes.”

  Another picture. “Is this a true and accurate representation of what the wall looked like in the hotel suite?”

  “It is.”

  “Whose blood is this?”

  “Dillon Chase's.”

  Another picture of Dillon Chase's face. “Mr. Smoke, when you saw Dillon Chase earlier that night, did he have a nose?”

  “He did.”

  “Mr. Smoke, you mentioned that you were in a relationship with Lizzy Saint on the night of the killing?”

  “Yes. Still am.”

  “Would you have left her in the room if you didn't think she was safe?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You didn't see anything from Dillon Chase that you believe presented a danger to Lizzy Saint, is that right?”

  “That's right.”

  “And when you reentered the room, you didn't see anything that presented a danger to Lizzy Saint, true?”

  “True.”

  “What you saw was Hank Braggi killing Dillon Chase, is that right?”

  “I don't know,” said Smoke.

  Hanson cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I think he might’ve already been dead when I saw Hank throwing him around.”