“Do you still have your family?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still have your big, expensive house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still have your license to practice medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Were your hospital privileges reinstated?”
“No.”
“Do you expect them to be?”
“I’ve gotten no assurances, but I hope so.”
Warwick began to approach Madison. “And you still have your health. Otis Silvers and Imogene Pringle, the two people who were run over, had nothing. With the exception of a young child, Ms. Pringle had no family. In fact, aside from a few meager possessions, the only thing they had was their lives, and even that was taken away from them.”
“Sir, you have no idea how awful I feel that these people were killed—not to mention the fact that my car was used to commit this heinous crime. I’ve devoted my life to saving people from pain and suffering, to improving their condition. But I can’t be responsible for your client’s illness. She’s a sick individual who in my professional opinion requires treatment.”
“Your Honor, move to strike!”
“So stricken,” Calvino said, his voice booming through the speakers in a fit of sudden anger. “Dr. Madison, do not offer medical opinions as to the state of Miss Harding. That is not your purpose here today, and if you do so again, I’m going to have to hold you in contempt of court.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Jury will disregard that last comment by the witness.
“Continue, Mr. Warwick.”
Warwick paced back over toward the defense table, stood looking down at it for a moment, at a pad of notes; he then turned to Madison. “In order for Miss Harding to have committed this crime, sir, she would’ve had to break into your garage and steal your car. Isn’t that right?”
“No.”
“No? Oh, that’s right. You said that your wife’s set of keys to your car were missing.”
“That’s correct. Stolen, by the defendant.”
“That’s a lie!” Harding was standing, her face beet red, her flowing auburn locks tousled. “You’re lying. I didn’t steal the keys or your car—”
“Counselor, get your client under control immediately or I’ll have her removed.”
Warwick had already been struggling with her, pushing down on her shoulders, trying to make her sit, his face squarely in front of hers, locking on her eyes. As Harding took her seat, her chest still heaving with anger, the bailiff who was hovering nearby took a few steps backward. Warwick whispered something in her ear and then turned toward Madison again. He glanced down at his notes, took a deep breath, and began again where he had left off.
“You contend that my client had a set of keys to your car. If that’s true, how did she get into the garage? Don’t you lock it at night?”
“My wife’s set of keys had a key to the side garage door on it.”
Warwick seemed to be caught off guard; even though it was something that he should have anticipated, he apparently did not. “When you realized that the keys had been missing, didn’t you have the lock changed as a precaution?”
“As I testified earlier, my wife had left me, and it wasn’t until a week after she returned that she realized they were gone. And at that time, my mind was on other things. I didn’t think of it.”
“Don’t you mean that you weren’t concerned because the keys were in fact never stolen?”
Madison clenched his jaw but maintained his demeanor. “No, sir. I meant exactly what I said. My mind was on other things. Given all that I’d been through, that’s perfectly understandable.”
Warwick began walking toward Madison again. “Do you have an alarm in your house, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Does it also protect the garage when you turn it on?”
“Yes.”
“When do you usually arm the alarm?”
“Right before we go to bed.”
“And at what time had you gone to bed the night of the murders?”
“As I told the detectives, I fell asleep while watching television that night, around eleven o’clock.”
“Eleven.”
“So I never set the alarm that night. I awoke around four in the morning when the police came to the door.”
Warwick reached the witness box and leaned on the railing, looking down at Madison. “Do you have a car alarm?”
“Yes, I do. But it doesn’t arm itself unless I lock the car doors. I don’t lock the car when it’s parked in the garage because the garage is alarmed. Besides, there’s a remote arming device on the same keychain as the spare car key. Without the arming device, the key wouldn’t do my wife much good.”
Warwick clenched his jaw, moved to his next question. “You have a dog, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a good watchdog?”
“At times.”
“I hear that Labs are excellent watchdogs.”
“Like with people, generalizations are not always accurate. He’s a good watchdog at times.”
“And when are those times that he’s particularly effective?”
“When he’s downstairs or on the second floor. I’ve got a big house. If he’s upstairs and asleep, he usually doesn’t hear anything in the garage, which is separate from the house.”
Warwick chuckled and turned to face the jury for a moment. “So you’re saying that because your dog was asleep, he didn’t hear anything. A dog that’s a heavy sleeper,” he sneered mockingly, shaking his head, as if to say, Do you believe this? He turned back to Madison. “Did he awaken you the night of the murders? Had he heard any strange noises?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I don’t recall him waking me up.”
“So what you’re saying, if I may paraphrase—and please stop me if I’m wrong—is that Miss Harding stole your keys, took a chance that your house alarm wasn’t armed, stole your car, ran down these two people, planted the beer in the backseat, returned your car to the garage, again risking the fact that the alarm might be set, and then left? And your dog never heard any of it?”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. That’s what the police are saying. I’m not saying anything other than what I’ve told the police, yourself, and Mr. Denton.”
Warwick waved a hand at Madison in disgust. “I have nothing further at this time for this witness. We reserve the right to recall him if additional evidence becomes available.”
“Redirect?” the judge asked.
Denton looked up toward Calvino. “Yes, Your Honor. A few questions, if I may.” He stood and walked over to Madison.
“Doctor, did you ever tell Brittany Harding that your home has an alarm?”
“No.”
“Do you have any of those signs or stickers posted anywhere on your house warning anyone of an alarm?”
“No, my wife thought they were ugly.”
“Are there homes in your area that don’t have alarms? Please don’t answer unless you have direct knowledge,” he said, sensing Warwick preparing to pounce like a hungry leopard.
“I have two friends who don’t have alarms. One of them lives across the street. Matt Prisco. The other house belongs to the Fentons, down the block. There may be more, but I don’t personally know of any others.”
“So, unless the person breaking in knows you personally, or knows someone who knows you personally, the burglar wouldn’t know whether or not you have an alarm.”
“That’s correct.”
“Doctor, how many floors are there in your house?”
“Three.”
“Which floor is your bedroom on?”
“The third.”
“Does your dog usually sleep in the bedroom with you?”
“Yes.”
“And was he in the room with you when you fell asleep the night Mr. Silvers and Ms. Pringle were murdered?”
“Doctor, is your garage part of your house? By that I mean, are they part of the same structure?”
“No, the garage is its own separate building. There’s a carport between the garage and the house, and the covering of the carport connects the two buildings.”
“So it seems perfectly reasonable that your dog might not have heard Miss Harding three stories below, in another building, doesn’t it, doctor?”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn,” Denton said, moving back to his seat. Brittany Harding looked at Warwick, her eyes pleading with him to say something, anything, to help her. But Warwick was busy seething, grinding his teeth, impotently watching his adversary settle into his chair.
Denton shuffled a few papers, then faced the judge.
“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”
Denton raised a glass and tapped it against Hellman’s. “We’re done. Your client did well. Warwick will really have to come up with something powerful to save Harding.”
Hellman swirled his beer, examining the sediment. “I, for one, would like to see her put away, not just for killing those people, but because she’s evil. And I know she’ll never leave Phil alone. She’s not only delusional, she’s obsessed with him, fixated on him. I don’t know how he’s held together as well as he has.”
“Please pass along my apologies again to him. I still feel we did the right thing given our original information. Even though it made a shambles of his life, he was, at that time, the most likely suspect. But, shit, nobody’s perfect. We just missed it.”
Hellman raised his eyebrows. He felt it was a bit flippant the way Denton dismissed the hell that he had put Madison through. Yet, he understood that in fact they were not perfect, and that they were just trying to do a tough job: put the person responsible for a heinous crime behind bars. “His life was a shambles before you got involved. Don’t get me wrong—it got worse after his arrest, but at least you realized the mistake before it was too late.”
Denton raised his glass. “To a smooth conclusion.”
“A smooth conclusion,” Hellman said.
CHAPTER 68
IN AN EFFORT to score a few quick and final points to neutralize some of the damage done by Madison, Warwick concluded his case by calling two witnesses: one was an expert on rape who testified that many women do not come forward immediately following the assault because of the embarrassment and grilling they would have to face at trial. It was therefore perfectly understandable, the expert psychologist testified, that Harding did not go to the police earlier. In fact, she pointed out, look what happened when she did decide to file a complaint—no charges were brought and no arrest was made.
On cross-examination, Denton elicited her concession that the reason no charges were filed was not that she came forward as a rape victim, and not that the police did not believe her, but that there was no definitive evidence to support a successful prosecution.
Denton leaned toward the psychologist. “In fact, her quest for money overshadowed her concern for finding justice, didn’t it?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“She hired an attorney to bring a civil case. And once her monetary demands were met, she withdrew the criminal complaint before the police even had the chance to complete their investigation.”
“Objection.”
“Withdrawn,” Denton said, smirking as he walked back to his seat. “Nothing further.” Although the comment had been withdrawn from the record, his point had been cemented in the minds of the jury. He viewed this exchange with the psychologist as a victory, but could not help but wonder what the female members of the panel would be thinking relative to Harding’s being portrayed as a rape victim. Sympathy to any degree could be deadly when dealing with reasonable doubt.
Warwick’s other expert, hastily arranged, testified as to the shortfalls of DNA testing. As soon as Warwick inquired about the weaknesses of PCR analysis, before the researcher could render an opinion, Denton requested a sidebar. He warned that if Warwick persisted in this line of questioning, he would request permission to reopen the prosecution’s case, as he expected to have the results of the RFLP testing within a day or two. He was confident of the outcome and would use the findings as rebuttal testimony.
Calvino asked Warwick if he was the gambling type. “Make the perceived weakness of PCR analysis the cornerstone of your case, counselor, and it could be blown clear out of the water should the RFLP test results corroborate the results of the PCR testing.”
Warwick chose to abandon his line of questioning, requesting the right to recall the witness should the RFLP test results support the defense’s position. The expert’s testimony was essentially reduced to harmless rubble and a few impromptu and pointless questions about the dangers of contamination and degradation. Denton promptly fired back the same questions he had asked his own expert, Dr. Ross, about how contamination or degradation could cause the results to match Harding’s DNA pattern. The answer was that it could not, and the witness was disposed of harmlessly.
Thus far, much to Denton’s satisfaction, there were no surprises during trial. He only hoped that the jury was seeing the events and circumstances as clearly as he viewed them. Although Warwick elected not to put Harding on the stand, a wise move considering her unpredictable and socially abrasive nature, the jury had been forcefed a dose of what she was truly like by the prosecution’s witnesses: from delusional nuisance to plotting extortionist to vengeful murderer.
The judge, having gestured to the court recorder, cleared his throat. “Mr. Denton.”
Denton remained seated, as was his custom when beginning his closing argument. “This was a gruesome murder of two innocent people, ladies and gentlemen. No one in this courtroom will dispute that. What will be debated, and what has been the subject of this trial, is who did it. Well, we feel that we know who did it. And we’ve presented evidence to you these past couple of weeks showing you who, how—and why. We’ve shown you the character of the person who stands accused over there,” he said, throwing out his finger and pointing at Harding, “and we’ve shown you the events which led up to her eventual action that resulted in the deaths of the two innocent victims. These people didn’t die because anyone had anything against them. No, they were true victims in the sense that they had nothing to do with what precipitated the anger that built beyond proportion—and beyond control—in Brittany Harding’s mind.
“The aggression in this case was focused against Dr. Phillip Madison, a well-respected surgeon in this community. And what did he do to deserve this aggression? Well, nothing, any reasonable person would conclude. But the defendant took exception to having lost her job due to her own inadequacies, and held it against Dr. Madison. While most of us would simply have gotten angry, maybe yelled a bit, written a nasty letter...the defendant sought revenge. She came forward with a bogus rape complaint—you heard the lack of evidence—and when she tried to extort money from him, an attempt which ultimately failed, she cranked up the stakes of revenge a bit more. She tried to turn his wife against him.
“But she didn’t stop there. She stole his car and went to the streets of our community in an attempt to commit murder, all the while setting the situation up as if Dr. Madison had done it in a drunken stupor. But she didn’t figure on one thing: the fact that our investigative process is largely assisted nowadays by science: in this case, DNA, saliva, and lip print analysis. She didn’t know that we would be able to extract her saliva and genetic code—a fingerprint, if you will, off the beer cans she planted in his car in an attempt to implicate him.
“She tried to fool the police. She tried to fool me. She tried to fool you, ladies and gentlemen. But it didn’t work, did it? No, we saw her for who she is, and what she’s about.
“I ask you to look carefully at the evidence, at the defendant’s state of mind, at her character, at the witnesses who have testified before you under oath. You have to ask yourself: did the defendant have the
ability to commit this heinous crime? Let’s look at it first from a physical perspective. This crime did not require any unusual amount of strength—just an unusual amount of gall. Leeza Madison noticed that her keys to her husband’s car and garage were missing shortly after the defendant was in their home. Dr. Madison testified that he’d fallen asleep watching the evening news—the same statement he’d made to the police when they first began their investigation—so he never did get to arm his house alarm. So I ask you, was it possible for Brittany Harding to walk up to the garage, a separate structure that was on the opposite side of the three-story house from Dr. Madison’s bedroom, unlock the door with the key, start his car, and drive off? I believe the answer is obvious. Did she take a chance that the alarm was already set? Most definitely. But did she even know that there was an alarm?
“There was no way for the defendant to know. At the very least, she was taking a chance. But that requires levelheaded, prudent, objective thought processes, and I remind you that as the psychiatrist, Dr. Hall, testified, revenge is an act of desperation, and involves obsessive behavior. She was fixated on one goal: revenge against Dr. Madison. So in this instance, it was not just a matter of whether or not she was able to kill these two people, it was whether or not the defendant exercised prudence in weighing the reward of revenge against the consequences of getting caught. Clearly, as Dr. Madison and Mark Stanton, her former employer, testified, she has established a pattern of seeking the reward of revenge over the risk of retribution.
“Then there is the issue of the market incident. Ronald Norling, the grocery clerk, was only interested in telling the truth of what he had seen and heard. He doesn’t know Dr. Madison or Miss Harding—he has no ax to grind, no bias, if you will, whatsoever. We know why the defendant did what she’s accused of doing because, aside from the physical evidence implicating her, she told us what she was going to do. She made her intentions quite clear. The last time she threatened to do something—when she accused Dr. Madison of rape and screamed that she was going to go to the police and make him pay—she did just that. And when she screamed at him in a crowded market that she would make him pay and get even with him—she did just that. Or tried to.
False Accusations Page 36
