David Ellis - Jury of One

Shelly went to the defense table and handed out copies of the police dispatch, which had been entered into evidence. Then she walked over to the tape recorder, which had been queued up.

“This was the call from Miroballi’s radio at 7:47 P.M.,” she said. She hit the “Play” button and the voice echoed throughout the room:

RADIO 27: Dispatch, advise all units that suspect is armed. I repeat, suspect is armed.

DISPATCH: Copy that, Twenty-seven. Vehicles are responding. Where is he running? Twenty-seven? Twenty-seven, do you copy?

“The next transcript, from Sanchez in the patrol car-Squad 13-came at 7:48 P.M.”

SQUAD 13: Dispatch, this is Radio Twenty-six. I’m in the squad car.

DISPATCH: Give us your location, Thirteen. Thirteen, advise of your location. Two hundred block of South Gentry? Thirteen?

“This final transcript, from ‘Radio 26,’ was Officer Sanchez’s handheld. This call came two minutes later-7:50 P.M.”

RADIO 26: Dispatch, we have an officer down. Officer down. Officer-we have an-oh, God, Ray.

DISPATCH: Twenty-six, paramedics and ambulance are responding. Keep your man alive, Twenty-six.

Shelly pointed at the recorder. “According to my client and Ronnie, the shooting happened just after Miroballi called in that the suspect was armed. Not two minutes later. But even if you don’t believe Alex-let’s think about this. Sanchez must have heard the gunshot when he was in the car, right? But he didn’t report shots being fired. He didn’t say a word to dispatch. He didn’t say a thing until he saw who had been shot. That’s not only contrary to department policy, but it tells us that Sanchez was leaving the show to his partner. He assumed that Miroballi had fired the shot, so he wasn’t going to call in ‘shots fired.’ He was going to let his partner do it.”

She looked at the jury. “When he heard the shot, he assumed it was his partner who had done the shooting. He sat there and did nothing. Then, as even Monica Stoddard told you, Sanchez ‘jogged’ down to the scene. He wasn’t in a hurry. Why not? Your partner is involved in a shoot-out, and you don’t call it in? You don’t sprint to the scene? Not if you know that your partner is planning to rub someone out. No, in that case, you hang back, like Sanchez did. You wait for your partner to call in that he shot a suspect. You let your partner take care of everything. He doesn’t want your help, and you don’t want to know. You just stay out of his way.”

Shelly shrugged. “Maybe we should give Sanchez the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t know Alex. He admitted that. He didn’t know Alex. Maybe he assumed Alex was a bad guy. Maybe he thought this was some kind of rough street justice. I’m not a cop and I don’t live in their world. What matters, though, is that Sanchez’s deliberate unwillingness to involve himself in this confrontation proves my point even more. This whole thing was a setup. Miroballi finds the guy he wants to eliminate, and just before he does so-just when he has his target pinned down, helpless and injured in a dark alley-he calls in, ‘Suspect is armed.’”

She flapped her arms. “Sure. Of course. Suspect is armed, so when I shoot him, I can claim self-defense. But what does Miroballi need to make this happen? He needs a second, unregistered firearm. He needs a couple of packets of cocaine. Nothing that would be hard for a cop to get hold of.” She wagged a finger. “That gun that we have seen in this case wasn’t fired, but it was going to be fired. It was going to be fired right after Ray Miroballi killed Alex. He was going to kill Alex, then put a gun in his dead hand and fire it into the wall. Then Miroballi has an airtight justification for killing Alex. He was chasing a perp who was carrying drugs. The perp fired at him. He fired back and killed him. All of this happening in a deserted downtown on a very cold and dark February evening. And if it hadn’t been for Ronnie Masters tossing a bottle to distract him, his plan probably would have worked.”

She flipped her hand. “Let’s go back to Sanchez now. We know he heard a gunshot and did nothing. We know he eventually ‘jogged down’ to the alley. Then, of course, he saw something he never expected to see. He saw his partner lying dead. So then he calls it in. But what about this unregistered firearm sticking out of Ray Miroballi’s belt, or tucked in his jacket, or wherever it was? And what about these packets of cocaine Miroballi brought along to plant?”

She shook her head. “No. No good. Those can’t be found on Miroballi. That wouldn’t just make Miroballi look bad. It would make Sanchez look bad. So he tosses them in the general direction of where Alex ran. He tosses the gun. He tosses the cocaine. That story, at least, could sell. Then he waits for the cavalry to arrive.”

She looked at the prosecution. “Mr. Morphew has a rebuttal. He gets the last chance to talk to you. Let’s hear what evidence he has to prove I’m wrong. Because he has no evidence that puts that second gun in Alex’s hand, or Ronnie’s hand. He has absolutely, positively no explanation for that second gun-or for that matter, for the cocaine. What-we’re supposed to believe what Ray Miroballi said? Sanchez didn’t see any cocaine. He knew what his partner was doing. This whole thing was a setup, I’ll say it again, and we know why. Ray Miroballi was undeniably guilty of sex with a minor-a simple DNA test of Ronnie, Miroballi, and-well, me, would prove that. And he knew that. This is a man who would lose his job, and maybe his wife, and be on the hook for child support. He couldn’t have any of that. Easier just to kill the boy who you think is your son. Kill the boy and get on with your life. And since you’re a cop, it’s easy enough to set the whole thing up.”

She looked down and lowered her volume. “The reason we’re still here-the reason this case is still going on-is that the person who died was a police officer.”

She was referring to the prosecution as well as the judge, who in Shelly’s estimation should have directed a verdict of not guilty after the state closed its case. Judge Dominici lacked the fortitude to make the tough call, and so did Elliot Raycroft.

“But this case has nothing to do with cops. This isn’t about sending a message to police, one way or the other. This is about a man looking to commit a cold-blooded, premeditated execution who happened to wear a blue uniform. And since no one else has the courage to do the right thing, I’m asking you to do it.” She looked at the jurors’ faces. “All of you know that Alex acted in self-defense. But you don’t even have to go that far. All you have to find is that the prosecution has not proven, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Alex didn’t act in self-defense. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is an easy call.”

She walked over to Alex and put her hands on his shoulders. “One man already tried to take away Alex’s life. I’m asking you to give him his life back.”

Paul Riley pushed the remaining half of his dinner away. “Well, Shelly Trotter, I have to tell you that I’ve seen quite a few cases in my time, and heard lots of interesting stories about people’s lives, but-”

“I’m topping the charts.”

“Hey.” He shrugged. “All’s well that ends well.”

It had ended rather well, she would have to say. The jury had returned a verdict of not guilty by reason of self-defense after four hours of deliberations. Alex had slept in his own home for the last two nights. His legal problems were over. He had already pleaded out his drug case with the U.S. Attorney, and now his murder charge was beaten. There was always the possibility that the county attorney would charge him for extorting Ray Miroballi, but there would be no way to make that case. Alex hadn’t admitted to that on the stand. He had testified, when pressed by Dan Morphew, that he had never asked Ray Miroballi for money, and there was no one alive to refute it. And she was relatively sure that the county attorney would never have the appetite to prosecute Alex for that, anyway.