Trap (9781476793177) (32 page)

“Would you please briefly describe the content of the photographs and what they represent?”

“Yes, these are photographs taken by an iPhone belonging to Mr. Salaam . . .”

“Excuse me for interrupting . . . how do you know that they were taken by that particular device?”

Newbury smiled. “Remember how I said IP addresses are assigned to different devices so that when something—such as a photograph—is sent from them to another device, we can trace the origination? Such devices also include iPhones. This particular iPhone and corresponding IP address belonged to Mr. Salaam and was found on his body following his death.”

“Thank you. Please continue with your description of the photographs,” Karp said.

“Of course. All of the photographs in People's Exhibit 30 A through E depict fires engulfing three buildings and two vehicles. With the aid of the New York police and fire department arson investigators we were able to determine that at least four of the photographs, and probably all five, depict acts of arson, and in one case, homicide.”

“Were any of these cases resolved with the apprehension and conviction of the perpetrator?”

“Four of the cases remain open,” Newbury said, “the fifth, the homicide, is what we're currently here to determine.”

“Were these photographs Mr. Salaam could have picked up from media through the internet and downloaded onto this iPhone and later transferred to his computer?”

“No, we were able to determine that he, or whoever had possession of his iPhone, took the photographs.”

“Mr. Newbury, would you please describe the contents of the photograph marked as People's Exhibit 30-E.”

“The photograph shows a vehicle—actually a 2012 Ford Taurus—engulfed in flames. You can see two people lying on the sidewalk near the front passenger side of the car. And you can also see what appears to be someone in the backseat.”

“Were you able to determine what this photograph represents?” Karp asked as he walked over to the diagram depicting the street crime scene People's 1 in evidence.

“Yes, it was taken from across the street . . .”

“I'm sorry, just a moment, Mr. Newbury,” Karp said, and looked at Rainsford. “With the court's permission, may the witness be allowed to approach People's Exhibit 1, the diagram?”

“Granted.”

“Thank you. Mr. Newbury, would you please come here and mark on this diagram of the crime scene the location of the photographer and direction of the camera when this photograph was taken?”

Newbury did as asked. “Here is the approximate place he stood and was facing this direction toward where the circle marked ‘Lubinsky car' is on this diagram.” He then returned to the witness stand.

“Were you able to identify the people you described as lying on the sidewalk, as well as the person we can see in the backseat of the car?”

“Yes, the two victims on the sidewalk are Rose Lubinsky and Alejandro Garcia. It is my understanding that Mr. Garcia had just pulled her from the car. The victim in the backseat was a young woman named Mary Calebras.”

Karp walked over and accepted the photographs from Newbury, which he then passed to the jurors. As they were looking at the exhibits, he returned to the prosecution table and picked up two more photographs that he handed to Newbury. “Mr. Newbury, I'm handing you two more photographs. Can you identify them?”

“Yes, these were also found on Mr. Salaam's computer,” Newbury said. “The first is a photograph of Rose Lubinsky taken from approximately thirty feet away. She appears to be speaking at a rally or meeting. The second is of a young man we were able to identify as Micah Gallo. It appears to have been taken outside an apartment building from across the street.”

“Mr. Newbury, was there anything else of interest in regard to this case on Mr. Salaam's computer?”

“Yes. We had to dig deeper as much of what I'm about to discuss had been deleted, and in some cases attempts to wipe the memory from the computer's hard drive were made. There was one other item he'd made no attempt to remove but is indicative of Mr. Salaam's character. He was what those who engage in social media outlets refer to as a ‘troll.' He'd create false identities, including using photographs of other people he found on the internet, and would then engage other people, such as on Facebook, for the sole purpose of antagonizing and disrupting the lives of these people. He would make harmful remarks and sow dissension and then leave the conversation.”

“What else?”

“We were able to discover several items from his deleted browsing history that was relevant to this case. This included looking up bomb-making instructions on the internet, including the use of C-4 explosives.”

“Was any research reflected on the computer regarding the method of detonating bombs?”

“Yes. He investigated several possibilities, such as using cell phones,” Newbury said, looking down at his notepad. “He downloaded one title, ‘A Quick Guide to Detonation Using the Vibrating Function on a Cell Phone.' The internet is full of such useful information.”

“Please continue,” Karp said.

“We also determined that Mr. Salaam used his computer to locate the Seahorse Motel in Atlantic City, as well as bus schedules and pricing for that destination.”

Karp glanced over at Stone, who was bent over her legal pad writing, as her face turned bright red. “What else?”

“Quite a bit,” Newbury said, looking at the jurors. “This goes back to our little chat regarding IP addresses and emails.” He looked down at his notebook. “Mr. Salaam's laptop had an IP provider number of 172.16.254.”

“And how does that pertain to this case?”

“Well, over the past two years or so, but particularly in the time directly preceding and following the murder of Mrs. Lubinsky, he received a number of emails from IP address 184.12.321.”

“And the significance of that?”

“That is the IP address for the computer removed from the office of former district attorney Olivia Stone.”

Up to that point, most of the media and others in the gallery had been following the discussion about computers and IP addresses with scrunched-up faces and looks of bewilderment. But suddenly, accompanied by a rising tide of murmurs and dropped jaws, it became clear where Karp was leading the witness, and he could tell it had for the jurors as well. Stone stopped writing and simply sat staring down at her legal pad.

“I want to be clear about something,” Karp said. “Were you able to read the content of these emails?”

Newbury shook his head. “No, they'd been deleted and then wiped from the computer's memory.”

“But you are able to determine that emails had been sent and received?”

Newbury nodded. “Yes,” he said. “The hidden ‘details' that accompany any email also include the date and time of the transmission and reception. That's how we were able to determine what I just said about the time directly preceding and subsequent to these attacks, including one sent a few minutes before the explosion of Mrs. Lubinsky's vehicle that caused the death of three people.”

Karp allowed Newbury's statement to sink in for a moment before continuing. “Was there any record of Mr. Salaam replying?”

“Only once. Most of the time he only received the transmissions and did not respond. However, on one occasion, the afternoon of the day following the car bombing at Il Buon Pane, he received a message from 184.12.321 and responded almost immediately.”

“Was this the only evidence that he actually saw these emails?”

“Well, the fact that he received these messages over a period of two years and did nothing to prevent or block them would indicate that he was reading them,” Newbury said, “but more than that, he seemed to respond in other ways through his actions. For instance, we were able to connect the reception of emails with the appearance within a day or two of a man matching the description of Yusef Salaam at the Seahorse Motel. This man would check in and then be joined by an unidentified white woman.”

“You said a man matching the description. Did this man register under the name Yusef Salaam or Henry Burns?”

“No. As you know, the Patriot Act requires that motels and hotels check the identification of guests when they check in,” Newbury said. “According to the owner of the Seahorse Motel, which is something of a dive that rents rooms by the hour, the man who matched the physical description of Yusef Salaam presented a driver's license claiming he was one Charles Beamon of Cleveland, Ohio. However, we were able to determine that the real Charles Beamon—a forty-five-year-old Caucasian male standing five-foot-eight and weighing two hundred twenty pounds—lost his identification to a Coney Island pickpocket on New Year's Eve two years ago.”

“Were you able to obtain photographs of the real Mr. Beamon and Mr. Salaam and subsequently show them to the owner of the Seahorse Motel?”

“Yes. The owner, a Mr. Islay Kennedy, formerly of County Cork, Ireland, could not identify the real photograph of Mr. Charles Beamon. However, he was able to identify the photograph of Mr. Salaam as the man known to him as Charles Beamon.”

“Did you also show Mr. Kennedy a photograph of the defendant?”

“Yes. But he was unable to say for certain she was the woman who would join Mr. Salaam at the motel.”

“Did he say why he could not identify her?”

“He said he never saw the woman without sunglasses and a heavy coat,” Newbury said. “He also believed that she was wearing a brunette wig. He did say that she appeared to be in her late thirties to midforties.”

“And would they arrive at the motel together?”

“No. Mr. Salaam would show up first on foot,” Newbury said. “The unidentified woman would then arrive in a late-model silver BMW.”

Karp walked over to the prosecution table and picked up a clear plastic bag that he handed to Newbury. “Mr. Newbury, would you please identify the contents of this bag?”

“Yes. It's the New York registration for a 2013 BMW F13, color silver, registered to the defendant, Olivia Stone.”

“Do you know where the registration was located when taken into evidence by Detective Clay Fulton?”

“Yes, I believe it was in the glove box of the vehicle.”

With the eyes of the jurors flitting over to the defense table where the blond defendant sat stone-faced and pale, Karp returned to the forensic examination of the computers. “Before we move on, were you able in your investigation to establish any sort of connection between Yusef Salaam and Lars Forsling?”

“There was nothing we found to indicate such a connection.”

“What about between Mr. Salaam and Micah Gallo?”

“None.”

“How about Thomas Monroe or the computer confiscated from his office at the Greater New York Teachers Federation?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Two last questions regarding the browsing history of Yusef Salaam. Was there anything that pertained to the events in Brooklyn that claimed the life of Mr. Salaam?”

“Yes, on that day, a search was conducted on Google maps to locate the Jay Street Bar, and he also searched for the bus routes leading to that location.”

“And did that coincide with any emails received from the computer associated with the office of the defendant?”

“Yes. This is the timing for the instance I mentioned in which he received an email from that computer and then responded.”

As Newbury spoke, Karp looked at the jurors. They were paying attention but also looked as if they'd just been inundated with a lot of material to absorb. He turned to the judge. “Your honor, we'll probably be using the rest of the afternoon for Mr. Newbury's testimony and I was thinking that this might be a good time to take a break.”

Rainsford glanced at the clock and nodded. “We'll meet back here in twenty minutes.”

Karp left the courtroom to call Marlene but then returned as quickly as he could to go over his notes for the remainder of his questions for Newbury. He found Irving Mendelbaum sitting in his chair at the defense table, his chin on his chest and lightly snoring. The old man stirred and opened his eyes.

“Ah, boychick, caught me napping,” Mendelbaum said with a tired smile.

“How you doing, Irving? You okay? You're looking a little beat.”

“Am I? Well, I'm feeling beat . . . and old,” he said. “All of this talk about IP addresses, and browsing histories, and iPhones . . . so much of it is going right over my head. This is the first time since I was a young and not-so-bright Legal Aid attorney fresh out of Columbia Law that I feel I am not adequately representing my client. I am simply not up on all of this computer stuff.”

“You're being too hard on yourself, not to mention you were never a ‘not-so-bright' attorney,” Karp said. “You're the dean of the New York defense bar and you're still on top of the program. And I have to confess, most of this computer stuff goes over my head, too. I don't even have a personal computer at home, I'm not sure what social media means, and I don't use email. I have to ask my boys or Marlene, who's pretty good at it, to explain any of it to me at home. And I'd be lost without Newbury at work.”

Mendelbaum chuckled. “I've always liked Vincent. A good man and a trial attorney. I've battled with him several times in the past, and even won a couple.”

“I know,” Karp said, “because he takes every loss as a personal reflection on his abilities. But he doesn't lose many and dinosaurs like us have to rely on guys like him to lead us through the intricacies of the internet. You had your own experts.”

“Yes, but apparently not as good as Newbury and his ‘Geek Squad,' and I wasn't savvy enough to realize that. All I know is that they told me the computer memories had been wiped clean of any questionable material. Now I just feel old and not so smart.”