“Call your next witness,” Judge Maldonado demanded.
“I call Thomas O’Callaghan to the stand.” It was a bold move that Popovic would probably push back the moment the detective was sworn in. Relevance was thin. But I wanted to keep the momentum going. The jury knew that Pope would order murder. Now I wanted them to hear what it was like to be at her mercy. I surely knew what that was like, but as the prosecuting attorney, I couldn’t testify.
The judge held up a hand after Popovic rose to his feet again.
“I assume, Mr. Popovic, that you have the same objection of relevance?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then I have the same ruling. I will give the jury an instruction before deliberation about the proper use of the evidence presented. I’m sure you’ll include the same in your proposed jury instructions.” Only when Popovic sat down, did she turn to me. “Ms. Long?”
A minute later, O’Callaghan was in the witness box being sworn in.
“What murders did you commit or did you cause to happen at the request of the defendant in her role as county prosecutor?” I didn’t need to mince words or give anyone time to reconsider who they were discovering Lori Pope to be.
“Sarah Rose Pope,” O’Callaghan answered, his tone flat.
“Who was that?”
“The defendant’s half sister.”
The jury shifted in their hard-backed chairs. Fratricide was nearing matricide as a taboo.
“Who else?” I asked.
“Ja Roach.” This time it was the gallery moving on the benches. O’Callaghan was talking about murder as if he were picking up groceries. He had the effect of a career soldier, someone who didn’t really fit into polite society. I wanted the jury to see who he was and by extension who Lori Pope was.
“Who was Roach?”
“A confidential informant we’ve used off and on for years.”
I kept my eyebrows down. After this went on the air, the cops would be lucky to have anyone serve as a CI for a long, long time. Policing wasn’t my problem, though. Putting the bad folks in jail was the only thing before me, and I needed to focus on it like a horse with blinders.
“Anyone else?”
“Liberdad Saldaño, Placido and Quirita Fernández-Saldaño. Also, Ermano Fernández. Basically, the four members of the Saldaño-Fernández family.”
The jurors were looking at each other at this juncture. Their faces said that this was the most unbelievable thing they’d ever heard, a bald-faced admission of a stone-cold killing.
“What was the reason Pope gave you that justified these murders?” I asked, ready to expose the thin layer of excuses they used to execute innocent people.
“They all knew about the other crimes. Roach knew about Pope. Had helped get Tyisha Cooley to give Sarah Pope the hot shot.”
“The kids?”
“Collateral damage.” O’Callaghan was a cold one. Pope had chosen well when she’d brought the police officer into the fold.
“Anyone else?”
“Malcolm Pointer?”
“Wasn’t Pointer working with you guys?”
“We’d orchestrated Pointer and Wetzel’s relationship.”
“Did you know when you threatened him with prosecution if he didn’t go along with your plan that he’d end up dead…at your hand?”
O’Callaghan was silent. I let it go because at least he hadn’t refuted anything I’d asked.
“Why was Malcolm Pointer killed in Tia Wetzel’s home?”
“To make sure Tia Wetzel was indicted for a felony, and to make it so she couldn’t win her lawsuit against the cops and the county.”
I wanted to lunge at the cop’s throat. The reason he’d gone along with the others, was for Pope. But Malcolm Pointer. That was strictly to get him and his partner off the hook for abusing their authority to enter Wetzel’s house and raping her. The same crime against me was what had propelled me to take this job. The fact that I was standing here having given complete and total immunity to a rapist turned my stomach.
The lesser of the two evils, was still…evil.
I stalked back to my table. Took a drink from my to-go coffee cup. I nearly spit it out. It was just…coffee. The urge to walk right out of that courtroom and into a bar was almost greater than my need to put my murderous boss behind bars.
“Ms. Long?” the judge prompted.
As the shock of facing a rapist sober wore off, I avoided the cop’s eyes. This cold, bitter coffee was going to have to be enough.
“No further questions.” If I never heard another word from this cold-blooded Thomas O’Callaghan, I’d die a happy woman.