Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  Quinlan threw those hands down again, and spun away from Jefferson in frustration. This time, the jury was definitely going out of the courtroom. Jefferson would be waiting in the hallway, too, as the attorneys discussed what she could or couldn’t say.

  As soon as the doors to the hallway and the jury room closed, Talon spoke. “The defense moves for a mistrial, Your Honor. And for a dismissal on double jeopardy grounds. The State’s misconduct precipitated the mistrial and—”

  Kirchner raised another hand to Talon. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll deal with the mistrial motion first. What’s the basis?”

  The judge knew the basis, but Talon had to say it out loud. Besides, she wasn’t sure Quinlan understood. “The State elicited hearsay testimony from the witness despite my repeated objections, objections which the court sustained. Mr. Quinlan knew Detective Jefferson would not be permitted to tell the jury what other witnesses had told her, and yet they still went ahead and had this witness—not the ballistics expert—tell the jury that the handgun from my client’s residence matched the crime scene. I don’t know how many times I have to object, but at some point I shouldn’t have to any more. We’d reached that point, but Mr. Quinlan did it anyway. There’s no way to unring that bell. The only remedy is a mistrial. Strike this jury panel and start all over. Although, again, when the State causes a mistrial, double jeopardy bars a new trial. This case should be dismissed.”

  Kirchner frowned. No judge wants to dismiss a murder trial. Especially not based on a stupid mistake by the prosecutor. She sighed and looked to Quinlan. “Response?”

  Quinlan stood up from where he’d been pouting in his chair. The smart thing to do would have been to admit the mistake, apologize for it, then explain why it didn’t require mistrying the entire case. But Quinlan had rarely been accused of being overly smart.

  “Again, Your Honor, I don’t believe Detective Jefferson’s statement was hearsay,” he protested. “As I explained before, she was recounting what she learned so the jury would understand the steps of her investigation, not to show that any of it was necessarily true.”

  “You told the jury in opening statement,” Kirchner reminded him, “that the ballistics matched. Are you saying now that you don’t intend to argue that?”

  “Of course I do, Your Honor,” Quinlan replied. “But not based on what this witness says.”

  “Then why have her say it?” the judge challenged. “Especially after I had told you twice not to have this witness testify as to what other people told her.”

  Quinlan shifted his weight. “Well, perhaps Ms. Winter should have objected again instead of moving directly to mistrial.”

  “I shouldn’t have to object again,” Talon interjected. “The court was clear.”

  Kirchner’s hand raised again. “You’ll get your chance, Ms. Winter. Please be patient.”

  Talon nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Back to Quinlan. “Ms. Winter makes a valid point. Did you not understand my rulings?”

  Quinlan raised his chin a bit. “Of course I understood them.”

  “Then why did you elicit more hearsay?”

  Quinlan hesitated. “Well, I, I mean, I don’t think I did really. I didn’t really ask her what someone told her. She just kind of volunteered it when I asked her what she did next.”

  Talon frowned inside. That was actually true. Kirchner looked to her. “Ms. Winter, what about that?”

  Talon considered conceding the point. But she wasn’t very good at conceding. “He knew what she did next and why. He knew what she would say when he asked that seemingly innocuous question. In fact,” she realized, “that’s what makes it even more troublesome. After having been objected to, and sustained, twice, Mr. Quinlan formed a question that didn’t give me the chance to object. If he’d asked, ‘Did you receive a ballistics report and what did it say?’ then I could have objected in time. Instead, he took my ability to object away by leading the witness to the inadmissible testimony and letting her carry it across the goal line herself.”

  Kirchner smiled slightly at that. “Any further response, Mr. Quinlan?”

  Quinlan took a moment. Causing a mistrial on a murder case would be difficult to explain to his superiors, let alone Mrs. McCabe-Johnson and the rest of Jordy’s family. And Talon was right, a mistrial caused by the State could very well lead to a dismissal. The court would have to find that things weren’t going well for the State and that the mistrial was caused to try to get a do-over, but Talon would be able to argue that, especially after the way she’d gone after Retired Detective Halcomb. “I would ask the court to deny the motion for mistrial. This was an inadvertent mistake. We plan to call the ballistics expert later in our case and he will testify to his findings, first-hand.”

  “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hearsay from this witness,” Kirchner pointed out.

  “Understood, Your Honor,” Quinlan offered meekly, “but I think it goes to the prejudice, if any, suffered by the defendant. If at the end of our case-in-chief, we haven’t gotten that information to the jury through other means, then the court could reconsider the motion for mistrial. But at this point, the court should deny it. We ask the court to deny it. Please.”

  Judge Kirchner drummed her fingers on the bench. “Is there anything this witness will testify to that isn’t hearsay?”

  Quinlan frowned. “Well, that’s kind of what a lead detective does, Your Honor. They read reports written by other people and assign tasks to other people who report back to them later.”

  “So, no?” Kirchner asked to confirm.

  Quinlan thought for a moment. Talon figured he was trying to remember what testimony he was planning on eliciting from the detective. When he didn’t have any ready, Kirchner went ahead and made her decision.

  “All right,” she said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to deny the motion for a mistrial. I do that in part because Mr. Quinlan has represented that the information about the ballistics match will come in later through a proper witness. If that doesn’t happen, I will entertain a motion to reconsider the mistrial.”

  Talon was disappointed, but not surprised.

  “But let me make one thing perfectly clear, Mr. Quinlan.” Kirchner pointed a stern finger at him. “If this witness provides even one more word of hearsay, I will grant the mistrial and we’ll schedule the motion to dismiss for one week from today. Do you understand?”

  Quinlan nodded tightly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Good,” Kirchner replied. She looked at her bailiff. “Get the jury.”

  As the bailiff did that, McDaniels fetched Jefferson from the hallway. A few minutes later, the jury was back in the jury box, the detective was back on the witness stand, and all eyes were back on Quinlan.

  He had used those few minutes to decide what to do.

  He looked up at the judge. “No further questions,” he announced.

  Talon was only a little less surprised than everyone else in the courtroom. It was the safest thing to do, but it left the jurors hanging. It also presented Talon with a decision. Should she do any cross-examination? But that was actually a fairly easy decision.

  “No questions, Your Honor,” she stood to say.

  Any questions could invite more hearsay from Jefferson, and she could hardly object to her own questions. More importantly, though, the abrupt, mid-sentence end to Jefferson’s testimony, immediately after a closed-door session of judge and attorneys, let the jury know that either Jefferson had done something wrong, or Quinlan had. Maybe both. That was good. It took at least some of the attention off of that bad thing her client was accused of doing.

  Point, Talon. Battle of Jefferson won.

  But the war continued.

  “Call your next witness,” Judge Kirchner instructed the prosecutors.

  Quinlan obliged. “The State calls Sergeant Mark Brennan.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Talon frowned. Brennan was their bridge witness. He had nothing to d
o with the murder investigation. But he had everything to do with the burglary of Michael Jameson’s home.

  Brennan walked into the courtroom in a short-sleeved patrol uniform, Tacoma P.D. badge on his chest and sergeant’s stripes on his arm. He was in his late thirties, tall, with thick arms and short black hair over a clean-shaven jaw. He just looked trustworthy.

  Damn.

  After the preliminaries, Quinlan got right to the point, “Were you involved in the investigation of the murder of Jordan McCabe?”

  “No, sir,” Brennan answered. “Not directly.”

  Talon frowned. Nice editorializing.

  “Were you involved in a more recent case,” Quinlan followed up, “involving the burglary of the defendant’s home?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brennan said. “I was the supervisor on that call.”

  “And who called the police?” Quinlan clarified.

  “The defendant’s wife, Alicia Jameson.”

  Quinlan paused. “Please don’t tell me anything Mrs. Jameson told you,” he warned his witness, lest there be another hearsay objection and motion for mistrial. “But did you ever speak with the defendant here, Mr. Jameson?”

  By evidence rule, statements of a criminal defendant were never hearsay if elicited by the prosecution. They meant that ‘everything you say can and will be used against you’ stuff. So Talon couldn’t object to what Michael had told Brennan.

  “Yes,” Brennan answered. “I spoke to him when I was first dispatched to the home for the original report. I also spoke with him again after the burglary suspects were apprehended and the stolen items were recovered.”

  “What did he tell you when you first spoke with him?”

  Brennan thought for a moment. He was testifying without a copy of his report in front of him, which meant he’d memorized it before coming to court.

  “He simply advised us that the home had been broken into while the family was away on vacation. They had come home to find a back window broken out and the interior of the home ransacked.”

  “Did he report what was stolen?”

  “Yes.” Brennan ticked off the items on his fingers. “A flat screen television, a laptop, some of his wife’s jewelry, and a small amount of cash.”

  Did he report any firearms being stolen?” Quinlan prompted.

  Brennan hesitated. “Mr. Jameson?” he confirmed. “Not at that time, no.”

  Great, Talon thought. So, everyone knew Alicia had reported the guns stolen, and Michael had confirmed it later. All without the witness actually saying it, so she had nothing to object to.

  “Did he mention the firearms later?” Quinlan followed up.

  Brennan nodded. “Yes, we were able to locate the stolen items rather quickly using our PawnStop program.”

  “What is the PawnStop program?” Quinlan interrupted for the benefit of the jury.

  “It’s a program we have with most of the area pawn shops,” Brennan explained. “We upload serial numbers into the system and the pawn shops self-report if they’ve accepted any of the stolen items for pawn. In this case, the Jamesons had kept excellent records of their personal electronics. By the time we uploaded the serial numbers for the T.V. and the laptop. They had already been pawned at the Pawn Super-Xpress on South Tacoma Way.”

  “Is Pawn Super-Xpress part of the PawnStop program?”

  “Yes. As soon as we got the match, Pawn Super-Xpress notified us and we went out to take a report and recover the property. Every pawn shop in town takes a photocopy of photo I.D. on every transaction. They all have interior surveillance cameras as well. We were able to positively identify the burglary suspect based on the driver’s license and store video.”

  Quinlan nodded. “And what items had the suspect pawned?”

  “Both the television and the laptop.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  Here we go, Talon knew.

  “Two handguns,” Brennan answered. “A thirty-eight caliber revolver and a nine millimeter semi-automatic.”

  “So the same suspect pawned all four items at once?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quinlan allowed a smile. “So, what did you do next?”

  “I seized the items as evidence and transported them back to police headquarters.”

  “Evidence of the burglary?” Quinlan clarified.

  “Yes,” Brennan confirmed. “At first.”

  Ugh. This isn’t going well, Talon worried. Brennan was a good storyteller in his own right.

  “Did you return the items to the Jamesons?”

  “We returned the electronics right away,” Brennan explained, “but we kept the firearms for further processing.”

  “What kind of processing?” Quinlan asked. “And why?”

  Talon probably could have objected to the compound question, but it was easily overcome and she didn’t want the jury to know how much Brennan was hurting her.

  “We sent the firearms to the State Patrol Crime Lab for operability testing.”

  “Why would you do that?” Quinlan followed up.

  Brennan nodded. “That’s a good question.” He turned to the jury to give his explanation, but it made sense to do so, since Quinlan likely would already know what he was about to explain. “You see, burglarizing a home is called residential burglary. But if you’re armed with a deadly weapon when you do it, that raises the offense to burglary in the first degree. You can be armed for the purposes of the burglary statute even if you enter without a weapon if, during the course of the robbery, you take a firearm or other deadly weapon. Plus possessing a stolen firearm is a crime in its own right. But the firearm has to be operable, and not just a collector’s piece or a cigarette lighter or something. So, we needed to know if the firearms actually worked. The way we do that is, we send them out to the Crime Lab and they test fire them.”

  “And what were the results of the operability testing?” Quinlan asked.

  Finally. “Objection!” Talon interrupted. “Calls for hearsay.”

  Quinlan threw his hands up. “Really?” Not professional, but honest.

  “Yes, really,” Talon answered. “Unless this witness performed the operability tests himself.”

  Kirchner raised an eyebrow at Quinlan. “Did he?”

  Quinlan shook his head. “No, Your Honor. That was Mr. Langston.”

  “Then this witness can’t speak to the results. Objection sustained.”

  Talon smiled slightly and sat down again. Quinlan thought for a moment. Then he walked over to the clerk and requested one of the exhibits. The only type of exhibit you had to request because they weren’t going to let it just sit out on the bar with the reports and photographs. Not in a murder case anyway. The bailiff unlocked the door behind him and removed the 9 mm semi-automatic handgun with the exhibit tag hanging from its trigger guard.

  Quinlan took it and walked it over to Sgt. Brennan.

  “I’m handing you what’s been marked as State’s Exhibit Number Thirty-Seven,” he said for the record as he gave the firearm to Brennan. “Do you recognize this?”

  “It’s a handgun,” Brennan answered.

  “Can you identify it as related to your investigation of the burglary of the defendant’s home?” Quinlan followed up.

  Brennan took a moment to inspect the handgun. After a moment he looked up. “Yes. I recognize the serial number. This is the same handgun that was recovered from the pawn shop and returned to Mr. and Mrs. Jameson.”

  Quinlan took the handgun back from the witness and returned it to the bailiff. “No further questions,” he announced not a little triumphantly.

  Talon knew his strategy. Brennan identified Exhibit #37 as Jameson’s gun and then Langston would identify Exhibit #37 as the gun that fired the bullets recovered from the murder scene. Good lawyering, but nothing too special. That was how it was supposed to work. But in his irritation at Talon and satisfaction with himself for figuring out how to do it the right way, he forg
ot to ask the one more question that would have sealed the connection: ‘Did Mr. Jameson confirm the gun was his when you returned it?’

  As it was, Talon had some wiggle room. Brennan had testified to Jameson admitting a gun or guns had been stolen, and Exhibit #37 was from the pawn shop. But there was no direct evidence linking Exhibit #37 to Jameson. It was inferred, but not explicit. Something to exploit in closing argument. But not now. If she asked Brennan herself, of course he’d confirm it. And if she asked even one question, Quinlan would be allowed to conduct re-direct exam, and ask the question he’d forgotten to ask,

  She stood up and took a calculated risk. “No questions, Your Honor.”

  She knew that would leave everyone in the room curious. Was she confident, or stupid?

  Maybe both.

  But Quinlan lost his opportunity to connect that last dot as Brennan was excused and McDaniels stood to announce their next witness. As interesting as it might have been to see the alleged murder weapon paraded through the courtroom, it would pale in comparison to eyewitness testimony from the survivors of the attack.

  “The State calls Earl Daggett.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Talon looked at her client, who seemed as surprised as she was. Daggett was on the State's witness list, and Talon had prepared a cross-examination of him, but when Quinlan had left behind the closing of the case and started into the re-opening of it with Jefferson, she'd let herself hope that maybe they hadn't found him at that meat-packing plant outside Spokane. Still, hope for the best but prepare for the worst. She was ready. She just needed to make sure Michael was too.

  “Don't look at him,” she instructed in a whisper. “There's no good way to look at someone who testifies against you. Someone on the jury will think you're staring him down, no matter what your expression.”

  Michael nodded. “Okay,” he whispered back.

  “And if he identifies you as the shooter, don't shake your head. Don't scoff. Don't react at all. I'll handle it on cross. No one can I.D. someone twenty-five years later.”