Marcia Clark - Guilt By Degrees

I was giving him another chance to claim self-defense.

“No.” He stopped and was silent for a moment. “I pretty much came at him out of the blue. He just stood there, like, in shock. But I don’t know what happened after that, because as soon as I saw his arm drop and I could see the lady was out of reach, I took off.”

If Yamaguchi was telling the truth, it meant that regardless of who the killer was, the stabbing certainly hadn’t been done to defend anyone. This was a murder.

I movedin to nail down the point.

“What do you mean, ‘the lady was out of reach’?”

“She took off running,” he replied. “I remember thinking there was no way he was gonna get to her again. She moved fast, and the sidewalk was packed, you know?” He shook his head. “I can promise you I wouldn’t have taken off if it’d looked like she was still in danger.”

I heard the note of pride in his voice.

“The tae kwon do came in handy,” I remarked.

He dipped his head and gave me a modest smile. “All those classes. I always hoped I’d get the chance to help someone.”

And this was his reward. A cell in the county jail. But Ronald had uttered the words without a trace of irony. Though it definitely hadn’t turned out well for him, he knew he had saved that dark-haired woman and he didn’t regret it.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t the stabber. I moved on.

“Did you see where she went?”

Again Yamaguchi stopped and thought. If he was pulling an act, I had to admit it was a good one.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s all kind of a blur, it happened so fast. All I know is that after I hit his arm, he stopped, she moved away, and it seemed like everyone was okay. So I took off.” Yamaguchi looked at me, his expression open, earnest.

There was something so… off about this case. The pieces weren’t fitting into any logical pattern. Or at least not one I could see at this point. I rubbed my aching neck and shoulders, and moved on to the next subject.

“So the victim was standing and unharmed when you left the area?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where did you go?”

“Back to work,” Yamaguchi replied. “I work at a spa in Little Tokyo on First near San Pedro Street. I’m a masseur-”

It wasn’t conscious, but I guess my reaction showed on my face. I’d heard that some of those “spas” were just fronts for prostitution.

Yamaguchi continued, his tone firm. “It’s a real spa and I’m a real masseur. And you could use some help,” he said, nodding at my hand, which was at that moment kneading the rigid muscles in my neck. I dropped my hand, busted.

“But you went back to the scene. Why?” I asked.

Yamaguchi sighed and looked down at the floor. We all sat silently, waiting. Finally Walter spoke up. “Ronald, you’ve gone this far. There’s no point in holding back now.”

Intrigued, I leaned forward.

Yamaguchi nodded but pressed his lips together. After another minute, he spoke. “One of my regulars is a cop. He was on the table when the call came in on his radio, and when I heard the location I realized it might be the homeless guy I’d just seen. He ran out when he got the call, and I decided to go look.” Yamaguchi held his hands out, palms up, as far as the chain would allow and shrugged. “Just curiosity, I guess.”

His story was just weird enough to have the ring of truth. But we weren’t quite done yet.

“First of all, I’d like the name of that cop,” I said. “If he corroborates your story, it’ll go a long way toward getting you out of here.”

Yamaguchi shook his head. “If it gets out that he was getting a massage while he was on duty, he’ll be in big trouble. He’s a good customer. I can’t do that to him.”

I was impressed by his reluctance to dump out the cop-assuming it was the truth. What I’d need to do is talk to the officer on the down low, promise not to let anyone else know about his “afternoon delight,” and see if he would corroborate Yamaguchi’s story. But I’d need Bailey’s okay first, because we’d be hiding evidence of an officer’s dereliction of duty. That meant there was no point in pressing the issue right now.

“You know they found blood on the sleeve of your jacket,” I said. “You have an explanation for it?”

The working assumption had been that it was the victim’s blood, and Stoner had submitted the jacket for testing as soon as Yamaguchi was arrested, but the lab hadn’t given us any results yet.

“I don’t,” Yamaguchi said, his expression distressed. “It couldn’t have been much, or I’d have noticed it.” He frowned to himself. “It was just a drop or something, right?” he asked Bailey.

Bailey shrugged, noncommittal. “Big or small, the point is, you don’t remember cutting yourself at all that day, right?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” he replied. “But no, I have no memory of it.”

It impressed me that he wasn’t trying to give us a cover story. This was yet another answer that’d come back to bite him if he suddenly remembered at trial that he’d had a shaving accident. The fact that Walter was letting us pin him down this way told me he must really be thinking this guy is innocent. Still, Walter wouldn’t be the first lawyer to be suckered by his client. I decided to continue with the last point.

“From what I hear, you had a lot to say about the homeless-none of it good. Want to explain the rant you got into with the arresting officer?”

For the first time since the interview began, Yamaguchi reddened and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I waited without comment, letting the silence build. Sometimes silence is the best interrogator.

“That was…unfortunate,” Yamaguchi said slowly, his eyes focused downward at a point on the table. “We’ve been having a real hard time at work because some of the homeless guys can be…pretty aggressive. They’ve been scaring off customers, especially the women.” He paused. “This economy, things are already so tough. We lose many more customers, we’ll fold.” He shook his head. “When I went to the bank that day, I’d made the smallest weekly deposit ever. I was in a pretty bad mood.” Yamaguchi stopped, realizing what he’d said, then looked at me steadily. “But I’d never kill someone. Never. And I didn’t kill that guy.”

I watched him as I returned his gaze. I decided to test the waters some more. “You willing to take a poly?”

“Sure,” Yamaguchi immediately replied.

At that same instant, Walter erupted, “No! I do not trust those things, and I will not allow it.”

Frankly, for my own reasons, I didn’t trust them either. If Yamaguchi was a real martial artist, he might be able to control his breathing and galvanic responses enough to pass, or at least to give an inconclusive result. Maybe Yamaguchi knew that too. But if that were the case, I would’ve expected him to bring up the idea of taking a poly first, not to wait to see if I did. The fact that he hadn’t, and that he’d readily agreed to take it, meant either he was the slickest con artist ever or he really was innocent and eager to prove it.

Yamaguchi gave his lawyer a perplexed look but didn’t argue.

“Look, Ms. Knight, why don’t you at least let me bail out?” he suggested. “Put a cuff on me, whatever. I can promise you, I’ll stick around. I need to get back to work. Every day I spend in here, I’m losing customers. I lose enough customers, I get fired.”

I was definitely leaning toward letting this guy go. The case against him was unraveling more and more by the minute. But I wasn’t quite ready to cut him loose. Because if I let him go and he turned out to be the killer, both Bailey and I would have our necks in a noose.