Michael Connelly (126 page)

“When you went to meet this woman, why didn’t you call for a backup?”

“She hadn’t told me enough over the phone to convince me there was anything to it. We were getting dozens of calls a day.
None of them amounted to anything. I have to admit I went to take her report not believing it would amount to anything.”

“Well, if you thought that, Detective, why did you go to her? Why not just take her information over the phone?”

“The main reason was that she said she didn’t know the address she had been to with this man, but could show me the place
if I drove her down Hyperion. Also, there seemed to be something genuine about her complaint, you know? It seemed that something
had definitely scared her. I was about to head home so I thought I would just check it out on the way.”

“Tell us what happened after you got to Hyperion.”

“When we got there we could see lights on in the apartment over the garage. We even saw a shadow pass across one of the windows.
So we knew the guy was still there. That’s when Miss McQueen told me about the makeup she saw in the cabinet under the sink.”

“What did that mean to you?”

“A lot. It immediately got my attention because we had never said in the press that the killer was keeping the victims’ makeup.
It had leaked that he was painting their faces but not that he also kept their makeup. So when she told me she had seen this
collection of makeup, it all clicked. It gave what she said some immediate legitimacy.”

Bosch drank some water from a paper cup the marshal had filled for him earlier.

“Okay, what did you do next?” Belk said.

“It occurred to me that in the time it had taken her to call me and for me to pick her up and get back to Hyperion, he could
have gone out and gotten another victim. So I knew there was a good chance there was another woman up there in danger. I went
up. I ran up.”

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“First of all, I did not believe there was time to wait even five minutes for backup. If he had another woman in there, five
minutes could mean her life. Secondly, I did not have a rover with me. I couldn’t make the call even if I wanted to —”

“A rover?”

“A portable radio. Detectives usually take them on assignment. Problem is, there are not enough of them to go around. And
since I was going home I didn’t want to take one because I wasn’t coming back until the next evening shift. That would mean
one less rover available during the next day.”

“So you couldn’t radio for backup. What about a phone?”

“It was a residential neighborhood. I could drive out and find a pay phone or knock on somebody’s door. It was about one
A.M.
and I didn’t think people would open their doors quickly to a single man claiming to be a police officer. Everything was
a question of time. I didn’t believe I had any. I had to go up by myself.”

“What happened?”

“Believing someone was in imminent danger, I went through the door without knocking. I was holding my gun out.”

“Kicked it open?”

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“First of all, I announced myself. I yelled, ‘Police.’ I moved a few steps into the room — it was a studio apartment — and
I saw the man later identified as Church standing next to the bed. It was a foldout bed from a couch.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was standing there naked, next to the bed.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.”

“What next?”

“I yelled something along the lines of ‘Freeze’ or ‘Don’t move’ and took another step into the room. At first he didn’t move.
Then he suddenly reached down to the bed and his hand swept under the pillow. I yelled, ‘No,’ but he continued the movement.
I could see his arm move as if his hand had grasped something and he started bringing the hand out. I fired one time. It killed
him.”

“How far away from him would you say you were?”

“I was twenty feet away. It was one big room. We were at opposite sides of it.”

“And did he die instantly?”

“Very quickly. He dropped across the bed. The autopsy later showed the bullet entered under the right arm — the one he was
reaching under the pillow with — and crossed through the chest. It hit his heart and both lungs.”

“After he was down, what did you do?”

“I went to the bed and checked to see if he was alive. He was still alive at that point, so I handcuffed him. He died a few
moments later. I lifted the pillow. There was no gun.”

“What was there?”

Looking directly at Chandler, Bosch said, “Great mystery of life, he had been reaching for a toupee.”

Chandler had her head down and was busy writing but she stopped and looked up at him and their eyes locked momentarily until
she said, “Objection, Your Honor.”

The judge agreed to strike Bosch’s comment about the mystery of life. Belk asked a few more questions about the shooting scene
and then moved on to the investigation of Church.

“You were no longer part of that, correct?”

“No, as is routine I was assigned desk duty while my actions in the shooting were investigated.”

“Well, were you made aware of the results of the task force’s investigation into Church’s background?”

“Generally. Because I had a stake in the outcome, I was kept informed.”

“What did you learn?”

“That the makeup found in the bathroom cabinet was tied to nine of the victims.”

“Did you ever have any doubts yourself or hear of any doubts from other investigators as to whether Norman Church was responsible
for the deaths of those women?”

“For those nine? No, no doubts at all. Ever.”

“Well, Detective Bosch, you heard Mr. Wieczorek testify about being with Mr. Church on the night the eleventh victim, Shirleen
Kemp, was killed. You saw the videotape presented as evidence. Didn’t that raise any doubts?”

“It does about that case. But Shirleen Kemp was not among the nine whose makeup was found in Church’s apartment. There is
no doubt in my mind or in anybody’s on the task force that Church killed those nine women.”

Chandler objected to Bosch speaking for the rest of the task force and the judge sustained it. Belk changed the subject, not
wanting to venture any further into the area of victims seven and eleven. His strategy was to avoid any reference to a second
killer, leaving that to Chandler to take a swing at on cross-examination, if she wanted to.

“You were disciplined for not going in with backup. Do you feel the department handled the matter correctly?”

“No.”

“How so?”

“As I explained, I did not believe I had a choice in what I did. If I had to do it again — even knowing I would be transferred
as a result — I would do the same thing. I would have to. If there had been another woman in there, another victim, and I
had saved her, I probably would have been promoted.”

When Belk didn’t immediately ask a follow-up question, Bosch continued.

“I believe the transfer was a political necessity. The bottom line was, I shot an unarmed man. It did not matter that the
man I shot was a serial killer, a monster. Besides, I was carrying baggage from —”

“That will be fine —”

“Run-ins with —”

“Detective Bosch.”

Bosch stopped. He had made his point.

“So what you are saying is you don’t have any regrets about what happened in the apartment, correct?”

“No, that’s not correct.”

This apparently surprised Belk. He looked down at his notes. He had asked a question he expected a different reply to. But
he realized he had to follow through.

“What do you regret?”

“That Church made that move. He drew the fire. There was nothing I could do but respond. I wanted to stop the killings. I
didn’t want to kill him to do that. But that’s the way it turned out. It was his play.”

Belk showed his relief by breathing heavily into the microphone before saying he had no further questions.

Judge Keyes said there would be a ten-minute break before cross-examination began. Bosch returned to the defense table, where
Belk whispered that he thought they had done well. Bosch didn’t respond.

“I think everything is going to ride on her cross. If you can get through it without heavy damage I think we’ve got it.”

“What about when she brings up the follower, introduces the note?”

“I don’t see how she can. If she does, she’ll be flying blind.”

“No, she won’t. She’s got a source in the department. Someone fed her stuff about the note.”

“I’ll ask for a sidebar conference if it gets to that point.”

That wasn’t very encouraging. Bosch looked at the clock, trying to gauge whether he had time for a smoke. He didn’t think
so and got up and went back to the witness stand. He passed behind Chandler, who was writing on a legal pad.

“Great mystery of life,” she said without looking up.

“Yeah,” Bosch said without looking back at her.

As he sat and waited, he saw Bremmer come in, followed by the guy from the
Daily News
and a couple of wire service reporters. Somebody had put out the word that the top act was about to begin. Cameras were not
allowed in federal court, so one of the stations had sent a sketch artist over.

From the witness seat, Bosch watched Chandler working. He guessed she was writing out questions for him. Deborah Church sat
next to her with her hands folded on the table, her eyes averted from Bosch. A minute later the door to the jury room opened
and the jurors filed into the box. Then the judge came out. Bosch took a deep breath and got ready as Chandler walked to the
lectern with her yellow pad.

“Mr. Bosch,” she began, “how many people have you killed?”

Belk immediately objected and asked for a sidebar. The attorneys and the court reporter moved to the side of the bench and
whispered for five minutes. Bosch only heard bits and pieces, most of it from Belk, who was loudest. At one point he argued
that one shooting only was in dispute — the Church slaying — and all others were irrelevant. He heard Chandler say that the
information was relevant because it illustrated the mind-set of the defendant. Bosch couldn’t hear the judge’s response but
after the attorneys and reporter were back in place, the judge said, “The defendant will answer the question.”

“I can’t,” Bosch replied.

“Detective Bosch, the court is ordering you to answer.”

“I can’t answer it, Judge. I don’t know how many people I’ve killed.”

“You served in combat in Vietnam?” Chandler asked.

“Yes.”

“What were your duties?”

“Tunnel rat. I went into the enemy’s tunnels. Sometimes this resulted in direct confrontation. Sometimes I used explosives
to destroy tunnel complexes. It’s impossible for me to know how many people were in them.”

“Okay, Detective, since you finished your duties with the armed services and became a police officer, how many people have
you killed?”

“Three, including Norman Church.”

“Can you tell us about the two incidents not involving Mr. Church? In general.”

“Yes, one was before Church, the other after. The first time I killed someone it was during a murder investigation. I went
to question a man I thought was a witness. Turned out he was the killer. When I knocked on the door, he fired a shot through
it. Missed me. I kicked the door open and went in. I heard him running toward the rear of the house. I followed him to the
yard, where he was climbing over a fence. As he was about to go over, he twisted around to take another shot at me. I fired
first and he went down.

“The second time, this was after Church, I was involved in a murder and robbery investigation with the FBI. There was a shoot-out
between two suspects and myself and my partner at the time, an FBI agent. I killed one of the suspects.”

“So in those two cases, the men you killed were armed?”

“That is correct.”

“Three shootings involving deaths, that is quite a lot, even for a twenty-year veteran, isn’t it?”

Bosch waited a beat for Belk to make an objection but the fat man was too busy writing on his tablet. He had missed it.

“Um, I know twenty-year cops who have never even had to draw their guns, and I know some that have been involved in as many
as seven deaths. It’s a matter of what kind of cases you draw, it’s a matter of luck.”

“Good luck or bad luck?”

This time Belk objected and the judge sustained it. Chandler quickly went on.

“After you killed Mr. Church while he was unarmed, did you feel badly about it?”

“Not really. Not until I got sued and heard you were the lawyer.”

There was laughter in the courtroom and even Honey Chandler smiled. After he had quieted the room with a sharp rebuke from
his gavel, the judge instructed Bosch to keep his answers on point and to refrain from personal asides.

“No bad feelings,” Bosch said. “Like I said before, I would rather have taken Church alive than dead. But I wanted to take
him off the street, either way.”

“But you set the whole thing up, tactically, so that it had to end in his permanent removal, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Nothing was set up. Things just happened.”

Bosch knew better than to show any anger toward her. Rather than make angry denouncements, the rule of thumb was to answer
each question as if he was dealing with a person who was simply mistaken.

“You were, however, satisfied that Mr. Church had been killed while unarmed, nude, totally defenseless?”

“Satisfaction doesn’t enter into it.”

“Your Honor,” Chandler said. “May I approach the witness with an exhibit? It’s marked plaintiff’s 3A.”

She handed copies of a piece of paper to Belk and the judge’s clerk, who handed it over the bench to the judge. While the
judge was reading it, Belk went to the lectern and objected.

“Your Honor, if this is offered as impeachment, I don’t see how it is valid. These are the words of a psychiatrist, not my
client.”

Chandler moved to the microphone and said, “Judge, if you look in the section marked Summary, the last paragraph is what I
would like to be read by the witness. You will also notice that the defendant signed the statement at the bottom.”