Cruel Justice (40 page)

“I personally did not,” the doctor said hastily, as if somewhat taken aback by the suggestion that he might actually perform physical labor. “I have people who do that for me.”

“Of course. Did you examine the prints they collected?”

“I did.”

“Did you find any prints that belonged to the defendant?”

“Oh yes. All over the crime scene.”

“Objection!” Ben said. “Of course his, prints were all over the place. He worked there. He slept there!”

Hawkins peered down from the bench. “I fail to see what evidentiary objection that statement conveys.”

Ben didn’t either, but it was a fact he definitely wanted to bring to the jury’s attention. “Sorry, your honor.”

Bullock proceeded. “Exactly where did you find the defendant’s prints?”

“On his locker.”

“What about the golf bag that was found inside the locker?”

“His prints were all over it.”

“Of course, he was a caddy.”

“True. But that particular set of clubs was new. None of the caddies’ prints were on them.”

A soft muttering was audible from the jury box.

“Did you find the defendant’s prints anyplace else?”

“Yes.” There was an extended pause. Ben had come to recognize this as a sign that Bullock’s witness was about to unload a biggie. “His fingerprints were found in numerous locations on the victim’s clothing.”

“His prints were on Maria Alvarez?”

“Yes.”

“What part of her body?”

“Mostly her upper body. Waist, neck, torso.”

“Near the point where the murder weapon entered her body.”

Dr. Paglino looked at the jury. “Exactly.”

Bullock pivoted on one heel and returned to his table. “No more questions.”

Ben was up before Judge Hawkins had a chance to invite him. “First of all, Dr. Paglino, let’s talk about what you didn’t say. Then we’ll get to what you did say.”

The doctor bowed his head. “As you wish.”

“For instance, you didn’t mention the necklace that was purportedly found in Leeman’s locker. Did you find Leeman’s prints on that?”

“By its nature, a linked chain of gemstones makes a poor surface for body-oil deposits—”

“Answer the question, Doctor.”

“I’m trying to explain that this doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“Leave the arguing to the lawyers, doc. Did you find his fingerprints on the necklace?”

The doctor exhaled. “No.”

“And you looked, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“Probably looked as hard as it was possible to look. Mr. Bullock probably ordered you to look eight or ten times. But you didn’t find anything, did you?”

“As I said, no.”

Ben realized he should move on. He was just so elated to have finally scored a point, no matter how small, that he wanted to savor the moment as long as possible. “What about the golf club? The murder weapon.”

“What about it?”

“I’ll bet you checked it for prints, too.”

The good doctor was becoming visibly perturbed. “You’re right.”

“Did you find Leeman’s fingerprints on it?”

“Oh yes.”

“Where were the prints?”

“Where would you expect? On the grip. The handle.”

“So,” Ben said, “the prints were consistent with the possibility that Leeman tried to remove the club after she had been murdered.”

“Objection!” Bullock said. “Calls for speculation.”

“No I didn’t,” Ben said quickly, before Hawkins could rule against him. He’d seen this coming and chosen his words carefully. “I asked if the evidence was consistent with a particular hypothetical scenario. That’s a permissible line of inquiry with an expert witness.”

Hawkins grudgingly overruled the objection. “The witness will answer.”

“I’ll repeat,” Ben said. “Is the fingerprint evidence consistent with the possibility that Leeman tried to remove the club from the woman’s neck?”

“The evidence is consistent,” Paglino said, “with the theory that the defendant held the club by the grip when he rammed it through the victim’s throat.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Ben said calmly. “Stop trying to ram the prosecution’s conjectures down the jury’s throat. Just tell them what the evidence is.”

“We found distinct fingerprints on the club grip. The defendant clearly held it tightly.”

“But there’s no way you can tell from the prints
why
he held it.”

“That’s true.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Now, you said you found Leeman’s prints all over the victim’s upper body.”

“That’s true. It would be difficult to thrust in the club without impacting to some degree on the body.”

“Doctor, wouldn’t these prints also be consistent with a simple hug?”

Paglino paused. “Did you see any of the pictures taken of that woman at the crime scene?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ben replied. “We all did.”

Paglino nodded. “I wouldn’t have hugged a body in that condition. I don’t think anyone would.”

“Maybe the hug occurred before the murder,” Ben suggested.

“Maybe it did,” Paglino replied. “Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe he wouldn’t stop. Maybe that’s why he killed her.”

Damn. Just when he seemed to be on the verge of making a dent in their case, he played right into Bullock’s sex pervert theory. “You don’t know for a fact that that’s what happened, do you, Doctor?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you keep suggesting events to the jury that are not supported by your evidence?”

“I’m just answering your questions.”

“You’re just saying exactly what your boss told you to say. Right, Doctor?”

“Objection!” Bullock shouted. “This is grossly offensive!”

“I agree,” Judge Hawkins said. “Consider yourself warned, counsel. Another outburst like that and you’ll be in contempt. Do you have any more questions of this witness?”

“No,” Ben said quietly. Threaten me all you like, Hawkins. I made my point. And some of the jurors may have been listening. “That’s all.”

“Anything more from the prosecution?” the judge asked.

“Just one more witness,” Bullock answered. “The witness we’ve all been waiting for. The State calls Detective Theodore Bickley to the stand. And,” he added, “we instruct the witness to bring his videotape with him.”

W
HILE THE WITNESS MOVED
to the front of the courtroom, the bailiff set up the television and VCR and positioned them so the jury could watch.

Lieutenant Bickley could’ve been Paglino’s brother—the one who couldn’t get into medical school. He was short, compact, wiry, aggressive. Overcompensating, according to Mike. Mike rarely spoke ill of another police officer, and this was no exception, but Ben still had the distinct impression Bickley was not one of Mike’s favorites.

After the witness’s background and credentials were established, Bullock asked Bickley to recall the night of the murder ten years before.

“Why were you at the crime scene, Detective?”

“When Sergeant Tompkins radioed in, he indicated that he had discovered a homicide. I was the homicide detective on call that night.”

“What did you do when you arrived?”

“First, I conferred with the officers on the scene—Tompkins, Sandstrom, and Morelli. Then I inspected the crime scene. I carefully completed a search of the building and the surrounding grounds.”

“Did you interrogate Leeman Hayes?”

“I tried. He was cuffed to the door when I arrived. I read him his rights again, then asked him what happened. He didn’t respond.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I realized this case was going to require special attention, so I finished the physical investigation and postponed the questioning for a more formal environment, after I’d had a chance to consult with specialists in … difficult witnesses.”

“When did you resume the questioning?”

“The next day. About twelve hours later.”

“Is there a record of this interrogation?”

“Yes. A videotape.”

“Was it common procedure to tape interrogations ten years ago?”

“No. Matter of fact, we had only obtained the video equipment a few weeks before. The reason I thought to use it in this case was, well, the defendant was not answering our questions verbally, but in some instances, he seemed to be … acting out his answers.”

“You mean, in sign language.”

“No. I don’t think he knew sign language. It was more like … pantomime.”

“You’re saying the defendant was … a mime?”

Ben frowned. Cheap shot, Bullock.

“It’s hard to explain,” Bickley said. “I can probably explain it better if I can show me tape.”

“The tape would assist you in delivering your testimony to the jury?”

“Definitely.”

Bullock had Bickley identify the tape and establish the chain of custody. Then he offered the tape into evidence. Ben renewed his prior objections to the use of the tape, but they were overruled. Bullock requested that the jury be permitted to view the tape. Judge Hawkins consented.

Although Ben wasn’t able to keep the tape from being used at trial, he successfully insisted that the entire tape be shown. No edited versions, no cutting to the good parts. Ben wanted the jury to understand that the pantomime in question wasn’t something Leeman blurted out suddenly; it came only as the product of long, high-pressure, intensive questioning.

Ben had another reason as well, although he would never have admitted it to the judge. The tape showed almost half an hour of fruitless questioning before the critical performance.

Ben hoped that by the time the jury got there, they would be too brain-dead to be horrified.

Unfortunately, this was not to be. From start to finish, the jury seemed fascinated by the tape. Ben supposed it was like being invited backstage—getting to see how confessions are extracted. The climax to the drama came in the form of Leeman reenacting the murder of Maria Alvarez. Although Ben had seen it many times before, it was no less chilling seeing it again.

Through Leeman’s eyes, the jury witnessed the whole terrible crime. They saw Leeman run up to Maria and shove her back against the wall; they saw Maria scream in terror. They saw the club plummet down on Maria’s head, then saw the broken shaft pierce her throat. Worst of all, they saw Leeman’s rage, the expression on his face that seemed to say he was capable of doing anything to anyone.

In the midst of all that, Ben wondered if anyone had noticed the quick quiet moment when Leeman held his palm flat over his eyes.
See?

He doubted it. He hadn’t noticed it himself the first two times he viewed the tape.

After the tape was shown, Bullock concluded his examination. Ben raced to the podium.

“Detective Bickley, how long did you question Leeman before you began videotaping?”

“I’m not sure,” Bickley answered.

“Can you give me an estimate?”

“More than two hours.”

“So by the time we get to what you called the pantomime, Leeman had been subject to questioning for almost three hours.”

“I suppose that’s right.”

“And this wasn’t the first time you questioned him, was it?”

“No. This was the afternoon session. We had interrogated him unsuccessfully for about two and a half hours that morning as well.”

“That would be an extremely stressful way to spend the day, don’t you agree?”

“All the proper procedures were followed. He exercised his right to have an attorney present. He even had his father there.”

“And none of that changes in the least the fact that you pounded him with questions for over five hours. Won’t you agree that would be rather stressful?”

“For him or for me? I was doing all the work. He never said a word.”

Ben walked back toward the defendant’s table where Leeman sat. For once, Ben wanted the jury to notice Leeman.

“Detective, you’re aware that Leeman suffers from special learning difficulties, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Do you have any reason to doubt it?”

“I’m always suspicious when attorneys start making excuses for defendants.” He winked at the jury. “Most of these guys only turn out to be nuts after the lawyers get their hands on them.”

“Are you a psychiatrist, Detective?”

“No.”

“Are you a specialist in learning disabilities?”

“No.”

“Are you any kind of medical doctor?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then I’ll ask you to keep your uninformed opinions to yourself.” Sometimes, a sharp word was better than an objection. “Did you consider having a therapist present at the questioning?”

“I don’t recall that we did.”

“Did you consider consulting a specialist in learning disabilities or special education?”

“Look, our budget is extremely limited—”

“Don’t make excuses, Detective. Did you?”

“No. Look”—Bickley leaned forward, pressing against the outer perimeter of the witness box—“our job isn’t to make the witness as cozy and relaxed as possible, okay? Our job is to get him to talk. And to accomplish that goal, we do what it takes.” He glanced hastily up at the judge. “Within the boundaries of the law, of course.”

“So in other words, you had no intention of giving Leeman a fair shake.”

“My intention was to follow the law to the letter. Which I did. End of story.”

Ben walked to the VCR, grabbed the remote, and ran the tape back to just before Leeman began his protracted reenactment, when he briefly put his hand over his eyes.
See?

Ben replayed the snippet three times, until he was certain everyone had observed the action. “Detective, what is the significance of that gesture made by Leeman Hayes before he began the pantomime?”

“The significance? I suppose the sun got in his eyes.”

“The sun? You appear to me to be indoors. In a room with no windows.”

“Okay, the overhead lights then. So?”

“Your testimony is that the overhead lights shone in his eyes for two seconds just before he began the reenactment—and never before or after. Give the jury some credit, Detective.”

“Objection,” Bullock said angrily. “This is argumentative.”

“Agreed,” Hawkins said. “The objection will be sustained. I remind counsel of my previous warning. I meant it.”