Alan Jacobson - False accusations

Bill Jennings and his partner, Angela Moreno, arrived at Denton’s office at a little past five. “Detective Moreno,” Denton said, “I ordered sandwiches for us. They’re waiting down at the desk sergeant’s station. If you’d be so kind…” He moved his head in the direction of the door, motioning her out.

“Why don’t we just call down and have the clerk-”

“I’d like to talk with Detective Jennings for a moment in private, detective,” Denton said.

“That’s not necessary, Tim.”

Denton locked eyes with Jennings. “I think it is, Bill.”

Moreno, no doubt sensing the tension, rose from her seat. “I’ll go get the sandwiches.”

As the door closed, Denton walked over and stood face-to-face with Jennings. “I don’t want to hear any more about the cigarette DNA, Bill.”

“I’ve got nothing more to say on the subject,” Jennings said. “I was assured that it wouldn’t happen again, and I’m satisfied with that. I won’t be reporting it to anyone.”

“Good to know,” Denton said. He opened the door as a signal to Moreno that their conversation had concluded. He then sat behind his desk and pulled the case file in front of him. “We’re here to draw up a search warrant for Brittany Harding. You get a chance to look over the memo I sent you on what we’ve got so far?”

“Yeah,” Jennings said. “Looks good.”

Moreno appeared and took a seat next to Jennings; she set the bag containing the sandwiches on the desk.

“We’re talking about the search warrant for Harding,” Jennings said to Moreno before turning back to Denton. “Do you think we’ll need this warrant or do you think she’ll voluntarily give us the blood and hair samples?”

“If she’s guilty, why should she contribute to her own prosecution?” Moreno asked.

Jennings said, “Yeah, but if she’s not guilty, there’d be no reason to refuse a request to give us samples. Why make us go before a judge?”

Denton was shaking his head. “Without a search warrant, if we ask and she refuses, she’ll have time to hide or destroy incriminating evidence.”

“Such as a Chicago Cubs cap,” Moreno said.

“Hellman tells me she’s a nut. I say we go in with a warrant and not take any chances. In the long run, it’ll be easier.”

They all nodded their heads in agreement.

Denton grabbed his pen and began to jot notes. “We look for gloves, baseball hats, keys to Madison’s car, beer cans, and any incriminating notes written by her. And we get a sample of her blood and a swab of her cheek.”

“And if she won’t cooperate?” Moreno asked.

“Then haul her ass in for contempt of court.” He rubbed the ridges on his forehead. “Anything we’re forgetting?”

They sat and thought for a moment; the consensus being that there was nothing else, Denton opened the brown bag and tossed them their sandwiches.

“Let’s get it right this time,” Denton said.

Armed with his attache case and a file folder full of papers that included his affidavit, Denton sat in Martin Elegante’s chambers while the judge thumbed through his document. He chose Judge Elegante because he was unfamiliar with the case, and it would be easier to obtain a search warrant from him than from Judge Tyson, to whom he’d gone previously claiming that Madison was the guilty party. Now, faced with having to switch gears just prior to the start of the trial, Tyson would no doubt grill him and Jennings on why they had arrested the wrong man, making a shambles of a prominent physician’s life and career in the process. Denton did not need to hear it.

Generally thought of as sharp, fair, and relatively easy-going, Elegante was a rotund African-American justice whose portly figure filled out his robes and made him appear formidable and intimidating.

The judge was sitting and rocking slowly in his large desk chair. It creaked rhythmically under his weight as he swayed back and forth. After quickly scanning through the affidavit, he tossed it onto the desk in front of him. “Mr. Denton,” he announced, in a loud, baritone voice. “Talk to me.”

“Your Honor, I’m requesting a search warrant on a suspect in our investigation, Brittany Harding.” He placed a hand on the warrant. “Through our investigation-”

“I’m confused. Didn’t you arrest a doctor on these charges? A…Phillip Madison if my memory serves.”

“Yes, Your Honor, we did. But DNA testing that was performed on a piece of crucial evidence indicated that Dr. Madison was not the driver of the vehicle.”

“And you have reason to believe that Miss Harding was the driver?”

“Yes, sir.”

Elegante leaned back in his chair amidst loud creaking. “Go ahead, Mr. Denton. Bend my ear. Let me hear your reasoning.”

Denton would like to have told the judge about the cigarette DNA, but for obvious reasons, could not. “We have evidence that Miss Harding has attempted to frame Phillip Madison with this crime. She had motive as well as a prior history of extortion.”

“Let me hear about the motive.”

“A couple of months ago, Harding accused Madison of rape-a complaint that was later withdrawn on account of a payoff by Dr. Madison. Although the state’s case was weak, with very little proof-she came forward five weeks after the alleged incident, so there was no physical evidence to support her claim-Madison felt that the cost of defending himself would be a wash against a payoff. Not to mention how damaging public disclosure of a rape accusation would be to a prominent surgeon.”

The judge began tapping the desk with his pencil. “Please, Mr. Denton, get on with it.”

“So he paid her off, but then Harding sent a copy of the agreement and a copy of the check to, Madison’s wife-which violated their agreement. Madison’s attorney insisted that Harding return the money. Then, a few days prior to the hit-and-run, Harding and Madison ran into one another in a supermarket and she went off on him, calling him a rapist and threatening to get even and make him pay. A grocery checker witnessed the incident.”

“This checker is available to testify as to what he saw?”

“That’s my understanding, Your Honor.”

Elegante nodded for him to continue.

“We don’t have a witness who can place Harding in the car, but we do have beer cans that were found in the vehicle after the accident, and a DNA signature was lifted off it. Those beer cans were the same brand that the checker will testify to having sold to Harding the night she had the altercation with Madison. We also have proof that two years ago, Harding extorted a prior employer, using a similar MO, for fifty thousand dollars.”

“What kind of proof?”

“I have a video the victim made without Harding’s knowledge.”

“Do you have it with you?”

Denton nodded and opened his attache case.

“Let’s see it, counselor.”

Denton pulled it out and handed it to Elegante, who inserted it into his PC to the left of his desk. The judge watched intently; he did not divert his attention until it ended-and even then, he continued to stare at the screen as he leaned back in his seat. “A real model citizen,” Elegante boomed. He turned to Denton and motioned for him to continue.

“It’s the prosecution’s belief, Your Honor, that Harding blamed Madison for the loss of her job. That, coupled with her failure to extort money from him on the rape charge, drove her to seek other forms of revenge-such as creating trouble for him with his wife by sending her a copy of the check and settlement agreement. But it was too easy and the effects too personal. She wanted something that would publicly humiliate him and destroy his reputation. And that’s why she framed him with murder.

“Even if he was found not guilty, his career and his life would be destroyed.” Denton paused to catch his breath and summarize. “I thus have reason to believe, Your Honor, that sufficient motive exists here…and that the DNA on the beer cans found in Madison’s car will match that of Brittany Harding.”