by Marti Green
Dani knew Luckman had to call her. Even if her memory now differed, she had once claimed Osgood was the man in her bedroom. He took her through that early identification, made just days after the attack, then asked if she still believed it was the defendant. When, as he expected, she answered “No,” he got her to say that she didn’t know that it wasn’t him who hit her with a bat.
There wasn’t much for Dani to do with this witness. She just asked her a few questions to elicit why her testimony had changed from Osgood’s first trial, then ended with, “Just to reiterate, you now say that your statement twenty-two years ago, that you saw Jack Osgood in your bedroom, was incorrect.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You can step down now.”
Lisa exited the stand, then took a seat next to her aunt and uncle.
Luckman stood up. “The People rest, Your Honor.”
They had put on a poor case. Without a bite-mark expert and with Lisa’s changed memory, there wasn’t much else they could do. Dani stood and asked the judge for a directed verdict—taking the decision away from the jury because it was clear that the State hadn’t met its burden of proof. Such motions were rarely granted, but in this case, Dani thought she had a good chance.
Luckman stood up to argue against the motion, but Judge Beiles raised her hand to stop him. “I’ll reserve decision on your motion. You can both argue it at the end of the trial.”
Dani was pleased that Beiles had not immediately ruled against her. She called her first witness, Captain Ed Cannon, and once he was seated, she walked over to him. With his eyes narrowed and jaw set, Cannon seemed no more warmly disposed toward her than the first time she’d questioned him.
“When did your investigation focus on Jack Osgood?”
“Pretty much from the beginning. The Hickses’ neighbors all thought he was strange, which raised our suspicions, and then, two days later, Lisa Hicks identified him as the man in her room.”
“Was there anything else that made you suspect him so early?”
“The bat. Lisa had been hit with something hard, and we kept hearing that Osgood often had a bat with him. When we asked to see it, he claimed he’d lost it. That didn’t seem believable to us.”
“So, is that when you arrested him?” Dani knew that another reason for the early focus was that the forensic dentist had claimed a match between Osgood’s teeth and the bite mark on Kelly’s arm, but Cannon had been warned not to mention it.
“We were getting ready to when some kids found the defendant’s bat. There was blood on it, so we decided to wait for the test results. It came back matching Lisa Hicks. That’s when we arrested him.”
“And how much later was that from the night of Kelly’s disappearance?”
“Just over four weeks.”
“During those four weeks, did you investigate the possibility that someone else had abducted Kelly?”
“Of course.”
“And whom else did you consider?”
“Well, in a homicide, you always look at those closest to the victim first. So we had to rule out her parents, and of course, her aunt and uncle, since they were in the same house.”
“Anyone else?”
“She had a boyfriend, but he was away at college.”
“What was his name?”
“Johnson. Greg Johnson.”
“What school was that?”
“University of Georgia, in Athens.”
“And how long is the drive between Athens and Stone Ridge?”
“About an hour fifteen.”
“So, Mr. Johnson could have driven to the Hickses’ home and gotten back to school for classes the next day, couldn’t he?”
“We checked him out. He had an alibi.”
“Who?”
“His roommate. Derek Whitman. He came back to the room around three a.m., and Johnson was fast asleep.”
“Wasn’t that still enough time to drive back and kill Kelly?”
“No. He needed about two and a half hours for the drive back and forth, then time to get into the bedroom, take Kelly out to Wilson’s Creek, which was twenty minutes away, then kill her. Figure three and a half hours minimum. Whitman said he woke up at six thirty, and Johnson was still sound asleep.”
“What if I told you that Whitman returned to his room at one, not three? And that he woke up at eight. Would that change things for you?”
“I suppose it would give Johnson more time.”
“Isn’t it true that from the beginning you were focused on Jack Osgood?”
“We explored every possibility.”
“But he’s the only one you brought down to the station for questioning, right?”
“Yes.”
“And that was one day after Kelly’s disappearance?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it also true that once you focused on Osgood, you didn’t continue to search for other potential suspects?”
Cannon shifted in his seat. If possible, his eyes seemed even more glaring now. When he spoke, Dani could detect the annoyance in his voice. “We did a thorough job. Osgood’s bat was missing, and his mom had a ladder. When his bat was found, we knew he was our man. He is the one who killed Kelly Braden.”
“Let’s talk about the bat. Isn’t it possible that the real killer found the bat outside Osgood’s house and picked it up? Then discarded it after he’d killed Kelly? After all, Osgood’s lawn is right next to the Hickses’ home, and there’s no fence dividing the two properties.”
“Sure, it’s possible. But unlikely.”
“Wasn’t the bat wiped clean of fingerprints?”
“Yes.”
“If Osgood’s initials are on the bat, why would he bother to wipe off his fingerprints?”
“He’s not too smart. Probably didn’t think it through.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
Cannon stepped down from the stand and took a seat in the gallery. He seemed to studiously avoid looking at Dani.
Dani next called Ted Bennett. Although he was now seventy-six, he walked spryly down the aisle and took his seat in the witness box. His gray hair was thin at the top, but his body was trim and his eyes sharp.
“Mr. Bennett, are you currently employed?”
“Been retired for six years now.”
“Prior to your retirement, where did you work?”
“I managed the A and P in Stone Ridge for thirty-two years.”
“Are you familiar with Jack Osgood?”
“Yes, I’ve known him since he was a little boy.”
“Did there come a time when he worked for you?”
Bennett nodded. “After he left high school, I took him on. He was about sixteen then. Always showed up on time and worked hard.”
“What duties did he perform?”
“Mostly stock, unpacking items as they arrived, stacking them on the shelves. Sometimes, if there was a spill, he’d sweep or mop it up.”
“Could he reach the top shelves without a ladder?”
“He’s a tall boy, but no, back in the warehouse, a ladder was needed. I used someone else for those shelves.”
“Why is that?”
“’Cause that boy just wouldn’t get on a ladder, no matter how hard I pushed him. Said he was afraid of ladders.”
“Do you know why?”
“He fell off one helping out his daddy, before he left the family. I think he was about eight years old then. Fell off a ladder and broke his arm. I guess that left its mark on him.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
Luckman stood but didn’t approach the witness. “Mr. Bennett, do you know for a fact that the defendant never climbed a ladder after he broke his arm?”
“Can’t say I do. But in the store, he was adamant that he wouldn’t climb one.”
“You never saw him outside the store, did you?”
“Once in a while, I’d visit his mother. We were friends. I’d see him then.”
&nb
sp; “How often would that be?”
“Maybe a few times a year.”
“So, you have no way of knowing if the defendant really wanted something strongly, whether he’d climb a ladder.”
“I suppose not.”
“Thank you. That’s all.”
Bennett left the chair, and as he walked down the aisle and found a seat, Dani called Derek Whitman. Whitman headed to the witness chair with long strides, his head bent down. The navy suit he wore looked like it had seen better days. He was sworn in, then gave his name and address to the court reporter. Dani asked a few preliminary questions.
“Were you familiar with Kelly Braden?”
“Yes. We went to high school together.”
“And did you also go to high school with her boyfriend, Greg Johnson?”
“I did.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“University of Georgia.”
“And with whom did you room your freshman year?”
“Greg.”
“Greg Johnson?”
“Yes.”
“Did the police question you after Kelly Braden was murdered?”
“They did.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“I said that on the night Kelly was murdered, I returned to my dorm room from a party around three a.m. and Greg was asleep, and that when I woke up a little before six thirty a.m., he was still asleep.”
“Was that testimony truthful?”
Whitman lowered his head, and in a weakened voice, answered, “No.”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” the court reporter said.
He lifted up his head, his cheeks and ears now a pale red. With his voice louder, he repeated, “No.”
“In what respect was it not truthful?” Dani asked.
“I got back about one and slept until eight.”
“Why did you lie to the police?”
He turned to the jury. “You have to understand. Greg was my best friend.” His voice now sounded like he was pleading for absolution. “I didn’t think he’d hurt Kelly, and so I didn’t think I was doing any harm.”
“Before you left for the party, do you know if Greg received a phone call from Kelly that evening?”
He turned back to Dani. “Yes, he did.”
“Do you know what she said?”
Luckman called out, “Objection. Hearsay.”
“I haven’t yet asked for the content of the conversation. Counsel’s objection is premature.”
“Go ahead, Ms. Trumball,” Judge Beiles said.
“I do,” Whitman answered.
“How do you know?”
“Because I could hear Greg’s end of the conversation.”
“And what did you hear Greg say?”
“I renew my objection,” Luckman said.
“Your Honor,” Dani responded, “what Mr. Whitman heard was an excited utterance, a clear exception to the hearsay rule.”
Judge Beiles motioned the attorneys to approach the bench, then quietly asked, out of the jurors’ hearing, what Dani expected the witness to say. When Dani finished, the judge said, “Objection overruled.” Luckman returned to his seat, and Dani asked Whitman the question once again.
“‘You’re breaking up with me?’ He said it as a question,” Whitman said.
“Did Greg seem upset?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I have no more questions.”
Luckman stood but remained at his table. “Back when the crime occurred, you told the police you returned at three a.m. You were lying then, isn’t that so?”
“I thought I was just helping out a friend.”
“And so you lied, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Why should we believe that you’re telling the truth now?”
Whitman shrugged.
“You need to answer the question,” the judge said.
“It’s been a long time. I was a kid then. I’m not anymore. I understand the importance of being accurate.”
“When you returned to your room, allegedly now at one a.m., was Mr. Johnson asleep?”
“Yes.”
“When you awoke the next morning, was he still asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Did anything in the morning look different than it had when you went to sleep yourself?”
“No. Everything looked the same.”
“Were you still in your room when Mr. Johnson awakened?”
“Yes.”
“Did he seem upset?”
“No.”
“Did anything about him seem different?”
“No.”
“Thank you. You can step down now.”
Dani called Russell Jessup to the stand. He was a big man, like Whitman and Johnson. He strode down the aisle to the witness chair, took a seat, then brushed his hand through his wavy brown hair.
Dani began by taking him through the timeline of the evening. “Are you certain that you and Mr. Whitman returned to your dorm room at one?”
“Give or take five minutes, yes, I’m certain.”
Luckman asked him a few perfunctory questions, mostly to demonstrate the unreliability of memory so many years later.
When Jessup left the stand, Dani stood up. “Your Honor, may we take a short break?”
The judge looked at the round clock on the wall. “Ten minutes.”
Dani thanked her, then quickly walked outside the courtroom, turning her phone on as she did. She walked to the end of the corridor, away from other people, then dialed Tommy’s phone. When he answered, she could hear the excitement in his voice.
“I think we hit something big,” he said. “I’m at the Clemson police station, with Detective Lou Hammond. Their cold case—it’s the exact same MO as Kelly.”
“Give me the specifics.”
“Sixteen-year-old girl, taken from her bedroom in the middle of the night, a bite mark on her arm midway between her elbow and shoulder. And get this: she was pretty, with long blonde hair, just like Kelly.”
“And never solved?”
“Nope. No leads, either.”
Now Dani’s excitement matched Tommy’s. “Can you get the detective to come here tomorrow to testify?”
“He’s already agreed. He’d like to solve his case, and if there’s a connection with Kelly’s murder, that might help.”
“How about the Florida case?”
“I’m heading there next. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Dani returned to the courtroom, stopping by the Bradens to say hello. Carl Braden had his arm around his wife, whose dark circles under her eyes suggested she hadn’t been sleeping much. “I know this must be very difficult for you.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Susan Braden asked. “Jack Osgood killed our daughter, and you’re trying to free him. He should have been put to death already.” She practically spat the last words at Dani.
“Calm down, sweetie,” Mr. Braden said. “We have to trust the jury to do the right thing.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Braden, I know you want the person who killed Kelly punished. But shouldn’t it be the right person? I promise you, after tomorrow you’ll understand why I’m certain Jack Osgood didn’t kill your daughter.”
Just then, the bailiff announced the judge’s entrance, and Dani moved up to the front.
After Judge Beiles had retaken the bench, Dani called Jack Osgood to the stand. Most defense attorneys don’t want their client to testify. After all, it’s the prosecution who has the burden of proof. But jurors often need to hear the defendant say he didn’t commit the crime. They need to look at him, at his demeanor, when he says it. Other than Alison Grant’s murder, which Luckman couldn’t bring up, Osgood had never been in trouble. He was a good witness to take the stand on his behalf. Once he was seated, he scanned the courtroom. Dani saw his shoulders visibly relax when his eyes settled on Doris.
“Jack, did you know Kelly Braden?” Dani asked after he was sworn in.<
br />
“I saw her once in a while, when she visited her aunt and uncle.”
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“Sometimes. She was nice to me.”
“Did you climb up to Lisa’s bedroom and take Kelly away?”
“I won’t climb a ladder. And I did not take Kelly.”
“Did you kill Kelly Braden?”
Jack shook his head vigorously. “I would never hurt Kelly. I would never hurt anyone. It would be wrong.”
“Thank you, Jack. I don’t have any more questions.”
Luckman walked up to him with a stern look on his face. “Do you understand that you swore to tell the truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Didn’t you think Kelly was pretty?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t you have liked her to be your girlfriend?”
Osgood blushed. “She would never like someone like me.”
“But you thought about her being your girlfriend, didn’t you?”
“No. I thought about a girl at the A and P being my girlfriend. Not Kelly.”
“Isn’t it true that you climbed up a ladder and took Kelly away, then killed her because she didn’t want to be your girlfriend?”
“No.” Osgood took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead. “No, I didn’t do that.”
Luckman stepped back a little, then turned to the jury. “People say you’re slow, don’t they?”
“Some do.”
“But you’re not too slow to lie in order to save yourself, are you?”
“I wouldn’t lie. I promised to tell the truth.”
Luckman mumbled, “No further questions,” then turned and walked back to his table.
After Osgood returned to the defendant’s table, Dani stood. “Your Honor, I have one more witness coming tomorrow, possibly two. I only learned of these potential witnesses last night and was told one is available to testify. My investigator will be meeting with the second later today. Both are out of state, and tomorrow morning is the earliest one or both could be here. May we adjourn until tomorrow morning?”
“Your Honor,” Luckman said, “I know nothing about these witnesses. I should have been informed of a change to counselor’s witness list.”
Dani turned to him. “I just learned during the break that Detective Lou Hammond from the Clemson, South Carolina, police department has testimony relevant to this case.”
