A Class Action (19 page)

Something’s wrong with these pictures. It’s all over the photographs and hiding in plain sight. It’s the blood. Suddenly I feel like there’s a way to go here. I brought my whole file along and it includes the doctor’s report about Nancy Eaton’s heart trouble, so I ask Victor if it’s possible that Nancy died of a heart failure while her mother was still riding down the hill.

As expected, Larkin is up out of his seat.

“
We strenuously object to this line of questioning to this witness. He’s not a medical doctor and can’t possibly qualify to testify as an expert as to any live person’s health condition.”

The judge would like to hear more of my argument, but in order for him to do that he must first rule on this objection to Victor’s testimony. I see the judge looking down at me over his glasses with an expression of curiosity on his face.

“
Your Honor, we are not attempting to qualify Mister Gutierrez as an expert medical witness. He is here today as the result of being subpoenaed by Mister Larkin, so his testimony should not be treated so lightly. Furthermore, while not a licensed physician, he has taught autopsy science and procedure to countless medical students and coroners’ staff throughout the United States, and his expert opinion as to cause of death is highly respected by bench and bar alike.

“
The question we are now putting to him is not merely to seek an opinion of her health while alive, but to ask him to state whether or not in his many years of doing post mortem examinations he has ever seen a person with the type of medical condition Nancy Eaton had, die instantly in an automobile accident.”

Larkin won’t let go. He jumps up again and starts to shout more objections, trying to stop Victor from answering my question. It worked. Contrary to public opinion, judges are human too, and subject to having just as much curiosity as the rest of us. Experience has taught me that if you can get a judge involved in what you’re trying to bring out in court, he’s more likely to be influenced by his own curiosity, and that’s what probably happened here. The judge is curious to see where I’m going with my questioning, so he tells Larkin to sit down, because he won’t sustain the objection. Victor is allowed to answer my question and he does by telling us that it is possible that Nancy Eaton died instantly, prior to her mother’s death.

Larkin correctly argues that ‘possible’ isn’t good enough here. He points out that the burden of proof is on us to establish that Nancy died first by at least a preponderance of the evidence, and not just by a mere possibility. The judge agrees with him. I feel a lot better already. This hearing started out with me not standing a chance in hell, and now I feel like I’m at least back in the game. I’ll probably lose anyway, but at least I’m back in the game.

My next line of questioning to Victor is quite simple to follow, and almost objection proof.

“
Mister Gutierrez, you perform autopsies on dead bodies, is that correct?”

“
Yes, Mister Sharp. The State doesn’t like us to perform autopsies on people until they’re actually dead.”

Victor knows I’m making him work for his money, so I don’t blame him for having a little fun with me.

“
Mister Gutierrez, would you please tell the court if it is possible for a dead body to gush blood?”

Victor knows where I’m going with this and so does Larkin, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

Victor answers as expected, that dead bodies don’t gush blood. This leads to my next series of question regarding the photos of the smashed window and Estelle Berland covered with blood. The logical conclusion that the judge should reach is that she was alive while the car was rolling down the hill.

This is a big victory, because we have just established that she didn’t die instantly. It doesn’t mean that she died before or after her daughter, it only means that she didn’t die instantly, and that’s half the battle.

My next series of questions establishes where Nancy Eaton’s body was found and how close to the roadway it was. This is an attempt to establish the fact that she was tossed free of the car before it started it’s descent down the hill.

We bring up the picture of Nancy Eaton lying on top of the boulder. There is no blood to be seen. My contention is that she was dead when she hit the boulder and therefore must have been dead when being tossed from the vehicle.

I sum up my argument to the court by contending that the blood tells the tale - none on the daughter, plenty on the mother. Therefore, our entire objection is that the daughter died instantly from heart failure when the car hit the guardrail and the airbags deployed. She was then thrown from the car and landed on a large boulder, not shedding a drop of blood. Her mother was still alive and bleeding during her trip down the hill. Pictures of the car after she was removed show a complete pattern of blood, indicating that she was alive and bleeding while the car was rolling down the hill. The daughter died first.

The judge doesn’t make an instant ruling. Instead, he says he’ll take the matter under submission, which means he’ll think about it for a couple of weeks before sending us postcards with his decision. We fill out the postcards and leave the courtroom. On the way out, I make every effort to thank Eaton and attorney Larkin.

“
Gentlemen, I couldn’t do it without you. Thanks for forcing Victor to be here with his pictures.”

Mister Berland and his attorney are both pleased with the way it went in court. I remind Socrates to tell Berland that it isn’t over until it’s over. He nods in acknowledgment and we all head for our respective parking spaces. I owe Jack B. another one for those medical reports.

On the way out of court, Victor calls me aside.

“
By the way Peter, I got some results on those prints from the brake tool. There was a match.”

“
Really Victor, did the national database come through for you?”

“
Better than that, Peter, I used another database – one that I’d almost forgotten about. I keep a file on every print I’ve ever lifted, so I tried matching the tool prints with that file. And whatta ya think? I found a match.”

“
Don’t keep me guessing Vic, who’s the bomber? We’d really like to find him.”

“
You already found him, Pete… he’s Marv Kupchic, the stiff from Stuart’s trunk.”

*****

Chapter 13

I email a report to Indovine’s office and his reply is encouraging. He’s especially pleased that I sprung Joe Morgan, hoping that the dealership will also be cleared of any civil liability.

Unfortunately, it appears that Indovine’s pleasure is pre-mature, because my caller ID display shows Joe Morgan’s telephone number. I answer and say hello.

“
Mister Sharp? This is Joe Morgan.”

“
Yes Joe, I know… what can I do for you today?”

“
I’m going back to jail, Mister Sharp… they’re here right now arresting me. The lady said it would be okay to make a quick phone call to you.”

“
Just keep cool, Joe. Remember what I told you last time: don’t talk to anyone unless I’m there. You can give your statistics to the jailer when he books you, but otherwise, no conversation… and that goes for anyone you’re in the holding tank or a cell with. Got it?”

“
Yes sir Mister Sharp, I got it.”

“
Good. Now, would you please put that lady on the phone?”

“
Do you want me to find out her name for you?”

“
No, that’s okay Joe, I’ve met her before.” Joe follows my instructions and hands Myra the phone.

“
Hello Petey, I’m sorry, but our office has decided to pick your guy up. It’s some new evidence we’ve got.”

“
Myra, I know you have to do your job, and I appreciate your letting him call me, but what could you possibly know today that you didn’t know last week?”

“
We’ve got a motive now, Pete, and as you correctly pointed out before, that was our big weak point.”

“
I’m coming to your office later today to talk about this. If you’ve got some new evidence, I’m entitled to know what it is, and in this case I’d like to get it from you face to face, and not from this evening’s news broadcast.”

We make an appointment to meet at her office in an hour, and now fifty minutes later I’m sitting in the outer waiting room. A clerk, who I remember seeing at the L.L.B. luncheon that Patty Seymour took me to, motions that it’s okay to go into Myra’s office. I don’t waste any time with small talk.

“
Okay Miss Prosecutor, what’ve you got?”

“
Well, here are two documents from the public records of the State Fire Marshal and Division of Industrial Safety that show your client’s applications for the licenses of Pyrotechnic Operator and Explosive Blaster.”

“
Gee, why stop there. With a little more effort you could probably even find out that at one time he applied for a driver’s license. What’s the big deal with these application forms? We all know he’s had military training in the use of explosives… hell, that’s one of the reasons you arrested him in the first place. All these applications show is that he wants to do things legally. Are you telling me that you had a judge revoke his bail and re-arrested him because he applied for some licenses?”

“
No Peter, it’s more than that. First of all, he applied for these licenses several weeks prior to the first non-fatal Suburban explosion. Second, we have a witness that will testify to the fact that your client had a disagreement with one of the victims, Nancy Eaton. Third, we believe that as a result of that disagreement, she notified both licensing boards that she would object to the granting of the licenses. Put all that together and you’ve got a little thing that we call motive.”

“
And exactly what do you have to substantiate your allegation that Nancy Eaton lodged a complaint with those agencies?”

“
They’ve told our investigators that upon receipt of a subpoena from our office that they will produce the complaint letter their office received.”

“
That’s wonderful. Are you listening to yourself talk? You just told me that an investigator heard from someone else that he could get a letter purportedly sent by the deceased victim. I don’t know what the record is for how many rules of evidence you can sidestep at one time, but I’m going to nominate you for it.

“
Myra, don’t you see? What you’ve got is a textbook example of a frame-up, and I know exactly who is behind it… the dealership’s general manager, Mister Ralph Eaton. I don’t know how he did it, but believe me… he’s behind this whole mess. He made all three of those vehicles explode, he killed his wife and mother-in-law, he’s in line to collect over three million dollars from insurance and probate, and he planned the whole frame job on Joe Morgan.

“
I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’m going to get it. There’ve been several times in the past when I warned you not to go ahead with matters… that you’d be making a fool out of yourself. And, if you remember correctly, I was right. Well, sweetheart, this is another one of those times.”

She’s sitting there like a pro and taking my ranting without fighting back. I know in my heart that she has a feeling I might be right. I don’t want to hear what she’s got to say, so I storm out of the office and note that everyone is looking at me as I leave. I guess I was shouting a little louder than usual and it must have been a wonderful show. I hope they enjoyed it.

Boy, I am steamed, and it must show, because as I drive west on Venice Boulevard back towards the Marina, other drivers are getting out of the way. If there’s one thing you don’t want to do, it’s piss off a guy driving a large Hummer, especially if you’re driving a sub-compact car and your eye level is even with my front bumper.

She’s got a lot of nerve doing this, because her case wouldn’t be hurt at all by leaving him out on bail. He’s not a danger to himself or anyone else, and he’s certainly not a flight risk. Can she be seriously thinking that he’d kill someone because of a complaint for some stinking license? That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen too many people in positions like her make decisions for political reasons that have nothing to do with a case, and a prime example was that jerk-off who had the job as D.A. before she got it. I sure hope that Joe’s being a Muslim had nothing to do with her decision, because if it did, I’m going to make sure that it comes back and bites her in the ass before this case is over.

It’s still light out when I get back to the boat. I need a drink to calm down. Maybe I’ll go over to Laverne’s boat for a backrub and a box of wine. That’ll calm me down. I hear the familiar pitter-patter of huge paws. It’s dogmail time, and I’m pleased to see that the kid is following my request to tuck the message in his collar, because it stays a lot dryer that way. It’s not a message from the kid. Damn! It’s a note from Socrates Gutsue. He spoke to the clerk at the Probate Court and found out that the judge denied our objection and that Mrs. Berland’s will is being accepted for probate.

How can this be? Is that judge nuts or something? I made a good case in there that the daughter died first. Didn’t he understand it? This is probably another case of a lawyer who was too stupid to make it in private practice so he borrowed some money from his family, made a contribution to the right campaign fund, and bought himself a judgeship. If he had half a brain he would have taken that fifty grand and bought himself a job as a maitre’d in some Las Vegas hotel. The health benefits are probably the same, but the tips are probably twice as much as a judge makes, and almost tax-free. And that doesn’t even take into consideration the extra bonus of the proximity to those leggy showgirls.