by Freya Atwood
Chapter 23
A tuning fork was resonating in the pit of my stomach. The fact of Dizarella’s friendship with Kellag and his being one of the arresting officers was important. I nodded curtly.
“We went in through a side door on Duke Street. Inside was some kind of back storeroom. The building used to be a store, a grocery store. Ditz went in first; I was right behind him.”
“And what did you see Officer Waters?” Halden said.
“I saw an African American man standing over the body of an Asian man. The African American man held a gun in his hand. There was a pool of blood under the body of the Asian man and a strong smell in the room indicative of the use of firearms.”
“The man with the gun. Is he here today?” Halden asked.
“Yes, he is. Right over there.” Waters pointed to Hunter.
“Let the record show, Your Honor, that the witness has pointed out the defendant as being the man he found standing over the body of Dr. Adil Khan.” Halden intoned. “Officer Waters. Again for the record could you confirm for the court that the Asian gentleman was the man appearing now on the screen?”
An image of Adil Khan, smiling, handsome and happy appeared on the screen. It must have been taken close to the time of death, no more than a couple of months before.
“Yes. That’s the man I saw shot.”
Halden nodded. “Your honor, I would ask that the record show that the body which police found Hunter Watson standing over was that of Dr. Adil Khan.”
Greene grunted. “Yes, yes, yes. Suffice it to say counselor if there was any doubt about who was dead, we would not be here.”
“What did the defendant do when you burst in?” Halden asked after clearing her throat.
“He pointed his weapon at us and fired two shots.”
“And what did you do?”
“Took cover. Pointed our weapons at him and ordered him to drop the gun, which he did. There was plenty of cover in the room, boxes and crates…”
“Yes, thank you Officer Waters. Could you tell us what happened next?”
“Well, um, he dropped his weapon. He knew he was caught. No way out except in a body bag if he didn’t comply. Just dropped the gun and put his hands in the air.”
“So, he was caught with a gun in his hand and a body at his feet. A body shot dead. When confronted, he shot at you and then, realizing that he had been caught, probably feeling guilty, he surrendered.”
“Yes, he did ma’am. Knew he was caught.” Waters confirmed.
I stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Watson’s surrendering to two armed police officers is not an admission of guilt. It is a reasonable act.”
“Sustained.” Greene replied quickly. He looked at Halden. “Counselor, you know better. The jury will ignore the opinions just expressed. The defendant was found with a gun, standing over a dead body. Those are the facts.”
“Thank you, your honor. I would call the jury’s attention to exhibit Five C. A Glock G45 9mm handgun.”
From the evidence table in front of the judge’s bench, a court officer picked up the tagged weapon and carried it over to the jury, allowing all to see it.
“Can you confirm, Office Waters, that it was a Glock G45 that the defendant held when you entered the building?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Waters confirmed.
“For the record, exhibit Five C has been confirmed as the weapon used to kill Dr. Adil Khan with a single shot to the heart.” Halden said dispassionately. “Exhibit Fourteen F, a ballistics report confirms this. For the record.”
Greene nodded, having been shown the gun to examine for himself.
“No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.” Halden said, returning to her seat.
I strode across to the witness box, moving decisively and speaking briskly.
“Officer Waters. Did Mr. Watson say anything when you confronted him?”
“He said, I didn’t do it.” Waters replied immediately. “About what I’d expect to hear every time.”
“When you entered the room and saw a man with a gun did you immediately move to cover?”
“Of course.”
“You split up?” I asked.
“Objection, Your Honor. Where is this line of questioning going?” Halden interjected.
Greene raised an eyebrow to me. “Counselor?” He rumbled.
“I’ll cut to the chase, Your Honor. Officer Waters, did he aim his weapon at either you or Officer Ditzarella?”
“No, he just sort of waved it around like he didn’t know what to do with it.”
“And then he fired?” I prompted.
“Yeah, then he fired.” Waters replied.
“Did his hands shake?”
“Your Honor, my objection still stands. The defense has not established how this is in any way relevant. This witness was called purely to verify that the defendant was found red-handed.” Halden sounded exasperated.
I replied to Judge Greene directly. “The ability of the defendant to aim a weapon is relevant, Your Honor. My client is a drug addict and whether he is suffering withdrawal or has just used, it has a physical effect. Withdrawal symptoms include a lack of fine motor control. In other words, your hands shake. Look at him now, he’s shaking!”
“I’ll allow it.” Greene said, sitting back and folding his hands across his stomach.
“Did his hands shake?” I repeated my question.
Waters appeared to think for a moment. “I’m not sure.” He eventually said.
“You are under oath, Officer…” I began.
Halden was on her feet again but I threw out a hand and started speaking loud enough to drown her out. She stopped, her face red.
“Your honor, the desk sergeant who processed Hunter Watson’s arrest at the precinct noted in his statement that he was visibly shaking and sweating. It was noted as a potential indicator of medical assistance being required. I know the Counselor for the Prosecution is going to object to me suggesting that this witness is lying. I merely wish to verify that his account matches that of his colleague. If the remark offends, then it can be stricken from the record.”
I held up my hands as though in surrender and walked away from the witness box.
“Strike the remark. But answer the question, Officer.” Greene concluded.
“Yeah. He was shaking. Like he was strung out.” Waters grudgingly admitted.
“And how many shots exactly did you say Hunter Watson fired at you?” I asked without giving Waters time to draw breath.
“Two. But they were wild, nowhere near us.” Waters replied.
“You’re lying! You son of a bitch! You put that gun in my hands!” Hunter was suddenly on his feet.
I gritted my teeth, moving quickly back to the table and trying to get into Hunter’s line of sight to get his attention on me. Behind me, I heard Judge Greene’s gavel.
“Order! Defendant will be silent until he is called to the witness box!”
Hunter’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat. His arms were visibly trembling and his eyes were wide, staring. Spittle flew from his mouth as he tried to get around the table.
“I didn’t kill no one! Those cops set me up! They set me up!” He screamed.
I could see Court police officers moving towards Hunter, cordoning him off from the judge, jury and witnesses. I darted around the table and grabbed Hunter by his upper arms, putting my face close to his.
“They are. But we’re going to prove it. I need you to sit down and stay quiet! Hunter, you have to help me here!” I whispered urgently.
Nic was at his elbow. The court officers were not yet close enough to hear what we were saying to him. She leaned in, her mouth an inch from his ear.
“Faint!” She hissed. “Do it now!”
Hunter blinked and then crumpled. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed to the floor.
Chapter 24
I watched as a doctor administered a shot to Hunter’s arm. He lay on a couch in the courtroom’s first aid room
. The room was white and stark, lit by a bare, overhead strip light. The white painted walls were covered in public information posters and emergency care infographics. There was a strong smell of disinfectant.
Hunter was staring at the ceiling, his jacket across his waist, shirt sleeve rolled up. The on-call doctor was a woman with a long face and hair in a ponytail. She had assessed Hunter coolly and then prescribed a shot of adrenaline and some glucose tablets. His diagnosis was low blood sugar brought on by lack of sleep, food and stress. Hunter and I both knew that he was in withdrawal.
After the doctor had left the room, Nic and I were left alone with Hunter.
“When was the last time you scored, Hunter?” I asked straight out.
“Three days.” Hunter mumbled.
“It’s going to be longer. But you’re going to have to keep it together or I can’t help you. That display out there is playing right into the DA’s hands. You looked like a violent thug.”
“I know.” Hunter replied wearily. “It just got to me. They’re lying and everyone believes them. Just because they’re white and they have uniforms. Those two cops, I remember them talking about how to frame me. How to make sure I went down for killing Dr. Khan.”
“I am going to prove they are liars. It was all going according to plan. Waters mentioned Ditzarella who hasn’t been tabled as a witness and the DA didn’t want him coming anywhere near the case. There’s a reason for that.”
“I didn’t know that.” Hunter protested.
“There’s a lot you don’t know because I don’t have time to explain it all to you. But at this point you just have to sit there and shut the hell up.” I snapped. “The prosecution won’t call you as a witness. They don’t need to. Until I call you, there’s nothing for you to say. Understand?”
I made my tone harsh, standing over him with my fists on my hips. I wasn’t going to let him sabotage his own defense because he was feeling sick from going cold turkey.
Hunter propped himself up, meeting me glare for glare. “Well, how the hell do I know you know what you’re doing? For all I know, you might be way out of your depth here, just trying to cover yourself. What the fuck do you care about me anyway? I’m just another junkie to you. You probably walk past a dozen men like me on your way to your fancy office every morning…”
Hunter’s words were marinaded in self-pity. He was lashing out. But it made me angry anyway.
“Because it’s my duty, you sorry son of a bitch! I chose to be a defense attorney. I chose to be your defense attorney. And while I am, everything else is secondary, including my own life and my family. Got it?! And as for walking past people like you on the street, I used to be one. You think you had it hard? Try growing up in Los Angeles where the only people more dangerous than the gangs are the fucking cops! Get off your damn soap box.”
My voice was rising rapidly and I clamped my teeth together, breathing hard through my nose. I didn’t want my voice to carry to the cops outside, or to anyone else who might overhear. The DA knew my past already. I didn’t want it to be broadcast. I felt Nic’s hand on my shoulder. She knew I needed to tag out of this conversation and take a minute to calm myself.
I stepped back, walking to the other side of the room and staring at a poster giving the signs of a stroke.
“Hunter. We are your only hope of avoiding prison for the rest of your life, or maybe even the death sentence. I get that you don’t see a reason to trust us. But, tough. You have to. There’s no one else. No one else cares.” Nic told him matter-of-factly. “So, if you want to quit, we’ll just change the plea right now and I’ll find a priest for you. You’ll need one.”
Hunter opened his mouth, face twisted to spit venom but Nic just rolled on. “Now, there are going to be things said that you won’t understand. There’ll be things said that I don’t understand or expect. That’s how the boss works. She’ll have an insight and change her tactics without telling anyone. Least of all her client. But that’s what makes her a superior attorney. She thinks on her feet; she reacts and goes with her instincts. And her instincts are always right.”
Hunter lay back, wiping sweat from his face. “Takes a lot for me to trust any one lady.”
“Fine. Be cynical. I don’t care. Just keep your mouth shut.” Nic retorted.
Hunter hit the wall three times, leaving a crater in the plasterboard. Then finally, he nodded. There was a knock at the door. A cop put his head in.
“Everything OK in here?”
“Peachy, officer.” Nic replied with a grin.
The trial resumed later in the afternoon, following the recess granted for the sake of Hunter’s health. I couldn’t gauge how much damage might have been done in the jury’s eyes by the outburst. There was little chance any of them believed him. Hunter would have appeared as unstable at best and as a drug addict in the grips of his addiction to any who knew what to look for. Neither was an image that would help his case.
Waters was still on the stand and I had a trick up my sleeve to cast doubt on his testimony. Not enough for an acquittal or a mistrial, not by itself. But, it should help to sow the seeds among the jurors. As he took the stand and was reminded he remained under oath, Waters looked poised and confident.
Halden watched me closely, tapping a pen against her lips. Wondering what I’m going to pull out of the bag next. The question about the shaking must have been unexpected. Prior to the trial resuming, Nic had set up an image on the screen, an overhead plan of the room in which Hunter had been found. All of the room’s furniture, fixtures and fittings were marked as were the doors and the position of both Hunter and the body.
“Officer Waters, please look at the screen. I would like you to indicate the positions in which you and your partner took cover, upon entering the room and seeing a man with a gun.”
Halden reacted. “Objection, Your Honor. Again, I must question the relevance of this.”
“Your Honor, a thorough understanding of the crime scene is surely crucial in any murder case. The jury needs an intimate knowledge of what that room looked like.” I responded with a ready answer.
“Overruled.” Greene said, shortly. “Answer the question, Officer.”
Waters frowned, then looked to the judge. “Your Honor, am I permitted to go over to the screen?”
The judge nodded and Waters got up, an officer opening the gate that gave admittance to the witness box. Waters confidently strolled up to the screen, scrutinizing it closely. He pointed to a rectangle just to the left of the doors marked with the words,
“Medical Supplies - wood and packing material”.
All of the other objects in the room that we had been able to identify from crime scene photographs were similarly marked, giving the material from which the object was made and the contents.
“I was there. Ditz was there.”
He pointed to a square directly in front of the door, it was also marked as medical supplies. As he spoke, Nic had used the laptop to circle both areas in red. Now she clicked and a red dotted line was overlaid onto the image. It ran from Hunter’s position through Dizarella’s position and ended at the door. At that point a red X appeared.
“Let the record show that this X is the point where a 9mm round was found, embedded in the door. Exhibit 13A gives this information and confirms that the round was fired by the gun found in Hunter Watson’s hand.” I said, turning to the jury. “Thank you, Officer Waters, could you return to the witness box please?”
He looked confused, but complied. Several members of the jury were also looking confused. An elderly man with wire-rimmed spectacles was making notes rapidly.
“Let the record show that the same exhibit, a ballistics report, states that the round struck the door three inches from the floor.” I continued.
Wire-rimmed spectacles scribbled and seemed to draw a straight line with his pencil. He chewed the end thoughtfully. He could see where this was leading.
Another dotted red line appeared. It traveled a slightly different
path, impacting the wall to the right of the door.
“The second shot fired.” I explained. “But I want to focus on the first. Officer Waters, was your partner injured by the first shot?”
“I told you ma’am, neither shot hit us. If they had we would have returned fire and the suspect would have been killed. We couldn’t have missed.”
“You say you would have returned fire, Officer Waters. Does that mean that you were both in a position to fire? In other words with a direct line of sight to Hunter Watson?”
