William Bernhardt - Cruel Justice

“The evidence is consistent,” Paglino said, “with the theory that the defendant held the club by the grip when he rammed it through the victim’s throat.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Ben said calmly. “Stop trying to ram the prosecution’s conjectures down the jury’s throat. Just tell them what the evidence is.”

“We found distinct fingerprints on the club grip. The defendant clearly held it tightly.”

“But there’s no way you can tell from the prints why he held it.”

“That’s true.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Now, you said you found Leeman’s prints all over the victim’s upper body.”

“That’s true. It would be difficult to thrust in the club without impacting to some degree on the body.”

“Doctor, wouldn’t these prints also be consistent with a simple hug?”

Paglino paused. “Did you see any of the pictures taken of that woman at the crime scene?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ben replied. “We all did.”

Paglino nodded. “I wouldn’t have hugged a body in that condition. I don’t think anyone would.”

“Maybe the hug occurred before the murder,” Ben suggested.

“Maybe it did,” Paglino replied. “Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe he wouldn’t stop. Maybe that’s why he killed her.”

Damn. Just when he seemed to be on the verge of making a dent in their case, he played right into Bullock’s sex pervert theory. “You don’t know for a fact that that’s what happened, do you, Doctor?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you keep suggesting events to the jury that are not supported by your evidence?”

“I’m just answering your questions.”

“You’re just saying exactly what your boss told you to say. Right, Doctor?”

“Objection!” Bullock shouted. “This is grossly offensive!”

“I agree,” Judge Hawkins said. “Consider yourself warned, counsel. Another outburst like that and you’ll be in contempt. Do you have any more questions of this witness?”

“No,” Ben said quietly. Threaten me all you like, Hawkins. I made my point. And some of the jurors may have been listening. “That’s all.”

“Anything more from the prosecution?” the judge asked.

“Just one more witness,” Bullock answered. “The witness we’ve all been waiting for. The State calls Detective Theodore Bickley to the stand. And,” he added, “we instruct the witness to bring his videotape with him.”

59

WHILE THE WITNESS MOVED to the front of the courtroom, the bailiff set up the television and VCR and positioned them so the jury could watch.

Lieutenant Bickley could’ve been Paglino’s brother—the one who couldn’t get into medical school. He was short, compact, wiry, aggressive. Overcompensating, according to Mike. Mike rarely spoke ill of another police officer, and this was no exception, but Ben still had the distinct impression Bickley was not one of Mike’s favorites.

After the witness’s background and credentials were established, Bullock asked Bickley to recall the night of the murder ten years before.

“Why were you at the crime scene, Detective?”

“When Sergeant Tompkins radioed in, he indicated that he had discovered a homicide. I was the homicide detective on call that night.”

“What did you do when you arrived?”

“First, I conferred with the officers on the scene—Tompkins, Sandstrom, and Morelli. Then I inspected the crime scene. I carefully completed a search of the building and the surrounding grounds.”

“Did you interrogate Leeman Hayes?”

“I tried. He was cuffed to the door when I arrived. I read him his rights again, then asked him what happened. He didn’t respond.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I realized this case was going to require special attention, so I finished the physical investigation and postponed the questioning for a more formal environment, after I’d had a chance to consult with specialists in … difficult witnesses.”

“When did you resume the questioning?”

“The next day. About twelve hours later.”

“Is there a record of this interrogation?”

“Yes. A videotape.”

“Was it common procedure to tape interrogations ten years ago?”

“No. Matter of fact, we had only obtained the video equipment a few weeks before. The reason I thought to use it in this case was, well, the defendant was not answering our questions verbally, but in some instances, he seemed to be … acting out his answers.”

“You mean, in sign language.”

“No. I don’t think he knew sign language. It was more like … pantomime.”

“You’re saying the defendant was … a mime?”

Ben frowned. Cheap shot, Bullock.

“It’s hard to explain,” Bickley said. “I can probably explain it better if I can show me tape.”

“The tape would assist you in delivering your testimony to the jury?”

“Definitely.”

Bullock had Bickley identify the tape and establish the chain of custody. Then he offered the tape into evidence. Ben renewed his prior objections to the use of the tape, but they were overruled. Bullock requested that the jury be permitted to view the tape. Judge Hawkins consented.

Although Ben wasn’t able to keep the tape from being used at trial, he successfully insisted that the entire tape be shown. No edited versions, no cutting to the good parts. Ben wanted the jury to understand that the pantomime in question wasn’t something Leeman blurted out suddenly; it came only as the product of long, high-pressure, intensive questioning.

Ben had another reason as well, although he would never have admitted it to the judge. The tape showed almost half an hour of fruitless questioning before the critical performance.

Ben hoped that by the time the jury got there, they would be too brain-dead to be horrified.

Unfortunately, this was not to be. From start to finish, the jury seemed fascinated by the tape. Ben supposed it was like being invited backstage—getting to see how confessions are extracted. The climax to the drama came in the form of Leeman reenacting the murder of Maria Alvarez. Although Ben had seen it many times before, it was no less chilling seeing it again.

Through Leeman’s eyes, the jury witnessed the whole terrible crime. They saw Leeman run up to Maria and shove her back against the wall; they saw Maria scream in terror. They saw the club plummet down on Maria’s head, then saw the broken shaft pierce her throat. Worst of all, they saw Leeman’s rage, the expression on his face that seemed to say he was capable of doing anything to anyone.

In the midst of all that, Ben wondered if anyone had noticed the quick quiet moment when Leeman held his palm flat over his eyes. See?

He doubted it. He hadn’t noticed it himself the first two times he viewed the tape.

After the tape was shown, Bullock concluded his examination. Ben raced to the podium.

“Detective Bickley, how long did you question Leeman before you began videotaping?”

“I’m not sure,” Bickley answered.

“Can you give me an estimate?”

“More than two hours.”

“So by the time we get to what you called the pantomime, Leeman had been subject to questioning for almost three hours.”

“I suppose that’s right.”

“And this wasn’t the first time you questioned him, was it?”

“No. This was the afternoon session. We had interrogated him unsuccessfully for about two and a half hours that morning as well.”

“That would be an extremely stressful way to spend the day, don’t you agree?”

“All the proper procedures were followed. He exercised his right to have an attorney present. He even had his father there.”

“And none of that changes in the least the fact that you pounded him with questions for over five hours. Won’t you agree that would be rather stressful?”