Andrew Price - Without A Hitch

“Yes. This is the entire packet we keep when we open a new account. The top couple are signed by the account holder and the rest are legalese.” She smiled when she said that, as did most of the jury. They liked her.

“There are about fifteen pages, aren’t there?”

Smith counted them and agreed.

Pierced turned to Judge Sutherlin. “Your Honor, I’d like to mark these as People’s Exhibit 12. Can you read the signature, Ms. Smith?”

She squinted slightly at the document. “It says, ‘Scott Stevens.’”

Pierce paused again to let the jury examine the signature, which now appeared on the screen. “What happened next, Ms. Smith?”

“I opened the account for him.”

“How did you do that?”

Smith paused, seemingly confused. “I don’t understand?”

“Did he give you anything?” Pierce prodded her.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what you meant. Yes, he handed me $100 in cash to place into the account. I put that in my drawer and then gave him the usual paperwork, which includes starter checks. Those are the ones you said they-”

“Objection,” Beckett said calmly, not bothering to leave his chair.

“Sustained.”

Smith looked panicked, but Pierce jumped in to calm her down. “That’s ok, Ms. Smith. You gave him starter checks and he took them from you, is that right?”

She agreed, though she still appeared shaken by the objection.

“What did Mr. Beaumont do then?”

“He left the bank.”

“He opened an account in a false name and then he left,” Pierce repeated. “Your witness,” he said to Beckett. As he returned to his seat, Pierce was all smiles.

Beckett leaned against the podium. “Good afternoon, Ms. Smith. My name is Evan Beckett. I represent Mr. Beaumont. I’m going to follow up on some of what you just talked about with Mr. Pierce,” he said kindly.

“Ok.” Smith smiled, though she was nervous about what Beckett would say or do.

“You say you were at work on June 14th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

She looked confused.

“Let me back up a second. When did you first hear about this case?”

“When a police officer came to the bank.”

“When was that?” Beckett asked. His polite manner put Smith at ease.

“I don’t know, two months ago, maybe?”

“What did the officer want?”

“He said they were investigating identity theft and they wanted details on one of our accounts,” Smith said in the same helpful tone she’d used with Pierce.

“That was the account of Scott Stevens?”

She nodded.

“I take it you gave them the information?”

“Oh yes, after we checked with our attorneys to make sure we could turn that over.”

“Was there anything prior to the police showing up at the bank which sent up any red flags on that account?”

“No, nothing,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis.

“How many accounts do you normally open on any particular day?”

“Maybe five or six on a busy day.”

“How many accounts did you open on June 14th?”

Smith’s face went blank. “I. . I don’t know.”

“Was it more than one?”

“Probably, but I honestly don’t remember. I’m sorry, that was a long time ago.”

“Do you remember any of the other people who opened an account that day?”

Smith shook her head.

“What about people on the 15th of June?” Beckett asked.

Smith shook her head again.

“What about the 16th of June?”

“No sir. . I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of them.”

“Do you remember anyone who opened an account in June, other than Mr. Beaumont?”

“No sir, I don’t,” she responded politely.

“But you do remember Mr. Beaumont?” Beckett asked. The first hint of skepticism crept into his voice.

Smith blushed. “No, not at the time. . but I do now.” This comment got the jury’s attention. Several members sat up straighter in their chairs.

“What do you mean, ‘not at the time’?” Beckett asked.

“I didn’t remember him the first time the police came to talk to me,” she clarified. “But when they came back, they showed me a picture of Mr. Beaumont.”

“They showed you Mr. Beaumont’s picture?!” Beckett asked incredulously. “Did they show you anyone else’s picture?”

“No, I don’t think so. They told me the Stevens account was fake and they knew who did it. Then they showed me Mr. Beaumont’s picture and asked me if I recognized him as the man who pretended to be Scott Stevens.”

This caused several members of the jury to look at Eddie Pierce. They were frowning. Beckett had scored a hit.

“So you only remembered Mr. Beaumont only after the police showed you his photo and told you he was Scott Stevens?” Beckett asked, pounding home his discovery.

“Yes,” Smith replied. No one in the courtroom doubted her honesty.

“When someone opens an account, you get identification from that person, right?”

“Oh yes. We need a pho. .to ID.” As the words left Smith’s mouth, her entire face turned white and her eyes grew. “Oh my,” Smith said to herself, though the microphone carried it throughout the courtroom. “There should have been a photo ID.”

Pierce momentarily looked nervous, but quickly regained his poker face. He glanced at Morales, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

Beckett picked up the packet of documents. “If you could turn to the packet of documents Mr. Pierce handed you a few minutes ago. I believe he marked it as Exhibit 12?” Smith picked up the packet as Beckett flipped through his own set. “Now, I believe these are out of order, so if you could please look about ten pages in.”

Smith flipped through the pages until she came upon a photocopy of a drivers licenses. She squinted at it, taking in all of the details. Then she looked at Beaumont, comparing him to the image on the drivers license. She seemed to deflate.

Beckett placed his copy of the image on the projector. Soon the jury was comparing the digitally altered image of the Hispanic/Asian appearing Alvarez with the bald, black Beaumont.

“This is the drivers license given to you by the man calling himself Scott Stevens, isn’t it?” Beckett asked.

“Yes, sir,” Smith said with some embarrassment. She bit her lip.

“You made this photocopy yourself didn’t you, when you opened the file?”

“Yes sir, I did.”

“Does that look like Mr. Beaumont to you?”

Smith set down her copy. “No sir, it doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Ms. Smith. Trials are about finding the truth. Let’s just make sure we get this right. They’re not even the same race, are they?”

“No sir, it doesn’t appear that way. . not at all,” she added.

“Is it possible you were mistaken when you told this jury that Mr. Beaumont was the man who opened the Stevens account?”

“I. . uh, I think I was wrong. I’m very sorry.”

“Then it wasn’t Beaumont that opened the account?”

“No sir, it wasn’t.” She looked at Beaumont and blushed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Thank you, Ms. Smith.” Beckett returned to his seat.

Judge Sutherlin stopped the proceedings early the first day because he needed to handle three minor matters on his docket. This gave Eddie Pierce extra time to find and browbeat Paul Webb. Webb stood with his back against the bookcase in Pierce’s office. Pierce stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded and a nasty frown on his lips.

“Listen to me, Officer. If you don’t testify, this case will die. That monster will escape. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“No sir, I don’t want any of this on my conscience,” Webb replied.