False Accusations

by Jacobson, Alan

  “No, he couldn’t let her go public. So he offered her money, and she took it—a mere forty thousand dollars to make the misery of a protracted and humiliating rape trial go away. But yes, she was still angry, and she did send the letter and photo to Phillip Madison’s wife. But what was wrong with that? It was nothing less than the truth. There wouldn’t have been a problem if Madison had told his wife about the settlement, but he kept it from her, lied to her. If Madison chose to lie to his wife and keep certain facts from her, well...” he said, smiling again at the jury, “you can’t blame my client for that.

  “And you can’t find her guilty of murder because she merely wanted to avoid the publicity and embarrassment of a high-profile rape trial. Can you, now?”

  He paused, for effect.

  “No. My client, in fact, has nothing to do with these murders. Actually, Phillip Madison was the suspect they initially charged. But then, suddenly, a few days before his trial is to begin, the DA lets Madison go and charges Miss Harding. Why, we don’t know. Oh, he’s said it’s because of new evidence that they stumbled upon. I don’t buy it. But we’ll never know the true reason why he suddenly switched gears. Maybe it was pressure from someone—from the press, from some politician who owed Phillip Madison—”

  “Objection!” Denton was on his feet. “Your Honor, this is completely inappropriate and Mr. Warwick knows it. He’s accusing my office of impropriety and, he has absolutely no proof of such an allegation.”

  “Approach,” Judge Calvino said, his face as red as a strawberry, his left eyebrow twitching fiercely.

  The two attorneys walked up to the bench; the judge looked down upon them from his perch and covered the microphone so the jury would not hear. “Mr. Warwick, explain.”

  “Nothing to explain, Your Honor. I simply felt that there had to be some better reason for the DA to have dropped the charges against—”

  “This is contemptible!” Denton said.

  “Mr. Warwick,” Calvino said between clenched teeth, “let’s not get off on the wrong foot in this trial. You know the rules. That was a cheap shot against Mr. Denton. If you do anything of this nature again, I’ll hold you in contempt. No more warnings, understand?”

  Warwick nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Calvino motioned them away with his hands, as if he were shooing away flies.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge said, addressing the jury, “Mr. Warwick made inappropriate remarks that have absolutely no basis in fact. I’m instructing you to disregard what you’ve just heard.” He shook his head and glared at Warwick. “Objection sustained.”

  Warwick paced for a moment in front of the jury box, composing his thoughts, hand on his chin. Reprimand notwithstanding, Denton was well acquainted with the trick Warwick had deployed: a judge can tell a jury to disregard certain remarks, but the fact was, they heard them—and nothing anyone could say would miraculously erase those comments from their memory.

  Warwick stopped pacing and faced the jury. “The DA will attempt to show you that there were cans of beer in the vehicle, and that these cans had traces of saliva on them. They extracted DNA from this saliva, and it showed a pattern of genetic material that supposedly matched that of my client. Whether or not DNA is a legitimate test is not important at this moment. What is important is that it doesn’t matter whether or not Miss Harding’s DNA is on the beer cans. All it proves, if it proves anything at all, is that at some point in time, those cans were in Miss Harding’s possession. It doesn’t mean that she was driving the vehicle when it struck the two pedestrians.

  “So I’m going to ask you to remember three things throughout this trial. The first is reasonable doubt—if there’s an ounce of doubt in your minds that my client is guilty, you must find her not guilty. The second thing to keep in mind is the concept of circumstantial evidence. No one saw Miss Harding driving that car. No one saw her kill those people. No one even saw her near Phillip Madison’s house either before, or after, she supposedly stole his car. There is no direct evidence of my client’s guilt whatsoever.

  “The last thing that I want you to remember is that Miss Harding is innocent until proven guilty. I’m telling you now that the DA will fail to make his case. He has the burden of proof, and he will not meet his burden. Remember what I’m telling you, because I’ll remind you of it when the trial is over. You must find my client not guilty, because she is...Not Guilty. Thank you.”

  Warwick took his seat. Denton tried to look impassively at the judge, awaiting his next orders. He did not want to look at the jury. Warwick had made a good showing, better than Denton had thought he would, exposing many of the weakest points of the prosecution’s case against Harding. And while no DA likes it when the defense, or the judge, belabors the point of reasonable doubt, Warwick did not merely belabor it. He beat it into the ground like a flag, and then saluted it.

  Calvino looked down at his watch and declared a recess until after lunch. As everyone prepared to file out of the courtroom, the reporters were still scribbling furiously to get down their final thoughts on the opening arguments. The first person to leave the courtroom was the man who was sitting in the last row, nearest the doors: Jeffrey Hellman.

  CHAPTER 63

  HELLMAN GRABBED LUNCH with Denton and his assistant prosecutor. He commended them on a strong opening statement, and they discussed the strategies that Denton had outlined for the trial. Hellman felt it was a reasonable and sound approach.

  When they returned to court, the jury was brought back in and Denton called his first witness: Detective Bill Jennings, who would establish the sequence of events leading up to his arrival at the crime scene, the collection of evidence by the criminalist, the discovery of the physical evidence on the car, the presence of Millstone beer cans inside it, and the resultant arrest of Phillip Madison. Jennings was brief and to the point. He had been through this many times in the past and knew how to allow Denton to lead him without letting it appear as such. He responded negatively here and there to give the impression that this was all something new, something they had not rehearsed or discussed.

  After recounting their interview of the witness, Clarence Hollowes, the homeless man who later identified the Chicago Cubs hat, Jennings described their investigation in broad terms, hitting only the high points and explaining why they chose to drop the case against Madison and charge Harding instead.

  On cross-examination, Warwick attempted to paint Jennings as a bumbling fool who was not sure who had committed the crime and who must have been manipulated into dropping Madison as a suspect. He leaned hard on him, trying to ascertain who it was who had applied the pressure to layoff Madison. Although Warwick attempted to get in Jennings’s face, the detective kept his composure, refusing to allow the attorney to rattle him. He explained that the evidence was clearly more convincing against Harding, and given her tirade in the market, he felt it was “a home run.” Warwick successfully had the last remark stricken from the record.

  “I’d like to ask you, detective, what you consider to be the most important piece of evidence against my client.”

  Denton was on his feet. “Objection. Vague and misleading. Overbroad.”

  “Mr. Denton?” Calvino asked.

  “How does counsel define ‘most important’? In terms of what?”

  Warwick sighed. “I’ll restate my question, if it pleases the court.”

  “It would,” Calvino said.

  Warwick pursed his lips and nodded, then faced his witness. “What piece of evidence carries the most weight, in your opinion, detective, in leading you to conclude that my client is more guilty than Phillip Madison?”

  “I’m going to object,” Denton said. “It calls for an opinion that has no relevance to the matter at hand.”

  “I will show relevance, Your Honor, if counsel will give me an opportunity to proceed.”

  “Very well,” Calvino said. “Make it quick, Mr. Warwick. Overruled.”

  Warwick looked over at Jennings; the j
udge instructed him to answer.

  “There’s a lot of evidence that I would consider important.”

  “Is there one thing, detective,” Warwick said, “that you consider to be of greatest importance?”

  “In my opinion, the evidence regarding her motive and her statements in the market wherein she declared her intention to take revenge are crucial pieces of evidence.”

  “And the beer can DNA?”

  “Important as well.”

  “Is it accurate to state that those three pieces of evidence are the three most important?”

  “Objection.” Denton was on his feet again; Calvino looked irritated. He waved Denton down into his seat with a muffled “Overruled.”

  “Yes,” Jennings said, “I would consider those three to be the most important.”

  “Thank you,” Warwick said, walking back to his seat. “Oh, I’m just curious, detective,” he said as he sat down, as if it were an afterthought, “does the fact that my client’s saliva and DNA were found on the beer cans in the car prove conclusively that my client was in that vehicle at the time the two people were run down?”

  Jennings shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I wouldn’t say conclusively. At least, not by itself. But when you combine it with the other evidence, namely the two other factors I mentioned a minute ago, we see that at some point in time the beer cans belonged to her—”

  “Your Honor—” Warwick interrupted.

  “...and if she were trying to frame Dr. Madison,” Jennings continued, “then it would follow that she planted these cans—”

  “Your Honor!” Warwick shouted, jumping to his feet and leaning forward on the defense table, as if ready to pounce if Calvino did not respond. “Please instruct the witness to merely answer the question that was asked of him, and not to launch into a narrative.”

  “Detective,” Calvino said, “please just answer what’s asked of you.”

  Warwick was flushed in the face; apparently frustrated that Jennings had maneuvered an important defense point into a prosecution advantage.

  As Warwick approached the witness stand, Jennings landed his final dig. Looking at the judge, he said, “I believe I have answered what was asked of me.” His eyes were the size of quarters, like a child pleading his case of having raided the candy jar merely because it was there for the taking.

  Warwick was now standing and leaning over the railing, his nose twelve inches from Jennings’s face. “I’d like to ask you about former Sacramento Police Officer Ryan Chandler,” he said, looking into his adversary’s eyes, watching for weakness.

  “What d’ya wanna know?” Jennings asked with a singsong tone.

  Denton’s back muscles tightened; it caught him off guard. He did not think that Warwick knew anything about Jennings and Chandler. How far was Warwick going to go with this? How much did he really know? What about the lab and Palucci—

  “...so you had this ‘poor relationship’ with him, as you put it, detective. Warwick leaned back and tilted his head slightly. “Can you be more specific?”

  Jennings shrugged his right shoulder. “Nothing much to tell. He and I were involved in a case together fifteen years ago. We disagreed on how to proceed, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I believe there’s much more to it than that,” Warwick said, smiling, walking back to the defense table. He reached into his attaché case and took out a piece of paper. “I have here a department memo—”

  “Objection,” Denton said as he arose from his seat.

  “Where is Mr. Warwick going with this? This is completely irrelevant.”

  “Mr. Warwick,” Calvino said, “where are you going with this?”

  “If the court would give me a little latitude, I believe it will become clear.”

  The judge nodded him on. “Overruled. For now.”

  As Denton resumed his seat, he was handed a copy of the document by Warwick, who was now strolling confidently in front of the prosecution table, headed back toward Jennings. A shark going in for the kill.

  “This memo, signed by your supervisor at the time, Lieutenant Beals, is essentially a reprimand to the file, your personnel file, regarding your conduct during that investigation. He used such words as—”

  “Chandler and I had a disagreement,” Jennings said. “He wanted to handle it one way, and I felt a different approach was indicated.”

  Warwick paused for a moment, wondering if he should finish his question, or go on. He chose the latter. “And what was the result of the disagreement you two had?”

  “The suspect was ultimately captured.”

  “Only after another two people were murdered. Your actions caused a delay in apprehending—”

  “Objection!” Denton shouted again, on his feet. “This has absolutely nothing to do with the defendant, this case, or the evidence at issue.”

  “Sustained. Mr. Warwick, your latitude has ended. Let’s see a different line of questioning or dismiss the witness.”

  Warwick nodded, walked over to his attaché, and put the memo back in it. “So, detective, how did this reprimand make you feel?”

  “Objection.”

  Calvino squinted confusion. “Mr. Warwick, I instructed you to pursue a different line of questioning.”

  “I have, Your Honor. There is pertinence to this, and I will make it clear within the next few questions.”

  “You have three more and then if I don’t see the relevance, you’re through.”

  Warwick, still standing in front of the defense table, looked over toward Jennings. “Detective, how did you feel toward Ryan Chandler after this incident?”

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t have invited him over for a barbecue.”

  Denton clenched his jaw again; he did not want to keep objecting, as it might appear to the jury that he was trying to hide something. He only hoped that Chandler and the crime lab incident did not come up. If anything could confuse a jury, divert them from the real issue, it was impropriety in the procedure of handling evidence. It could set the stage for challenging the saliva and DNA findings later.

  “A barbecue. No,” Warwick replied. “I would say not. And now, with Chandler the private investigator on the Madison case, was there even the hint of revenge in your mind, a sense of satisfaction, of enjoyment in arresting his client, Phillip Madison?”

  Jennings hesitated a second, looked down at the railing for a moment. “I am a professional, sir. What happened in the past is in the past. I was only concerned with the present and apprehending the right suspect in this case.”

  Denton spread his hands out in front of him and looked at Calvino.

  “Mr. Warwick,” Calvino said, “you should take Detective Jennings’s advice and leave the past in the past, where it belongs. I believe you’re finished with this witness.”

  “But that was only two questions. You said I had three.”

  “Math was never my strength, Mr. Warwick. The law was and still is, and I see no relevance to the line of questioning you’re pursuing.”

  To Denton, however, it was quite clear: Warwick wanted to discredit Jennings in any way possible. He could not break him with direct questioning, so he tried to dredge up something out of Jennings’s past. A skeleton in the closet. Although Calvino did not know where Warwick was headed, Denton was glad that the judge’s command of mathematics was admittedly weak.

  Denton’s second witness, Stuart Saperstein, was a bit more polished in his delivery than was Jennings. He came off as articulate, thoughtful, and reflective.

  Testifying as to the physical evidence found on the Mercedes, he established the fact that it was the car used in the murder of both individuals; further, he described the method by which both victims were struck, where they were most likely located prior to impact, and whether or not it appeared that the position in which the bodies were found was consistent with the mechanism of the suspected impact. Saperstein excelled in all aspects of the direct examination; he was working well with Denton, as they had in the past duri
ng numerous other cases in which Saperstein was a key forensic witness.

  As time was winding down for the day, Denton asked Saperstein about the baseball cap found at Harding’s house.

  “And this hat, Mr. Saperstein. Do you recognize it?” Denton asked, waving the Chicago Cubs cap.

  “Yes I do.”

  “Where have you seen it before?”

  “It was the one that was analyzed at the lab.”

  “And what did the analysis show?” Denton asked, stepping back from the witness box, allowing the jury an unimpeded view of Saperstein.

  “Our analysis demonstrated fibers that were consistent with those found in the carpet of Brittany Harding’s home. Further, there were hair strands that matched those of the defendant, Miss Harding.”

  “And just how did you determine this, Mr. Saperstein? Did you hold it up to a light, maybe use a magnifying glass?”

  Saperstein gave a little chuckle. They had rehearsed this. “No, not a magnifying glass. We have special high-powered instruments that are specifically built just for fiber and hair analysis, called comparison microscopes. Essentially, the instruments consist of two compound microscopes that are integrated into a binocular lens so that you can place both fibers under separate scopes and compare and integrate them into one image.”

  “So would you consider this method to be accurate in comparing and identifying fibers?”

  “Very accurate.”

  “Thank you,” Denton said. “Now on to more important matters. You also performed other tests. Tests that were run on the beer cans that were found in the back of the Mercedes, is that right?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “What did you find on the cans?”

  “Saliva, apparently from the person who drank the beer.”

  “Where was the saliva found?”

  “Around the opening in the can that you drink from.”

  “And what else did you find around this opening?”