| |
Dan tried to take stock before the next phase of the trial began. That had been a decent trick, but would it have much impact on the jury? He couldn’t be sure. Yes, the woman had gotten worked up and defensive and said something she shouldn’t—but that didn’t prove she didn’t see Ossie backstage. He would have to keep his eye on the jurors and continue trying to read their minds.
He was surprised that Kilpatrick didn’t follow with someone from the CSI department. He started with probably the sketchiest witness on his list—the Dumpster diver. But maybe that made sense. First establish how you got the syringe, then let an expert explain why it was important.
To give Kilpatrick credit where due, he didn’t try to sugarcoat the reality of the situation. Quint had been groomed and dressed for trial—cheap gray suit—but in the first minute, the witness acknowledged that he had been homeless and searched trash bins for food and items he might sell for petty cash. He also revealed a minor record for theft—which was disappointing, because Dan had planned to reveal that during his cross-examination.
“Where did you find the syringe?” Kilpatrick asked.
Charlie Quint tugged at his collar. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d never worn a suit before in his entire life. Coupled with his natural nervousness, he came off as edgy and somewhat defensive. “In the trash bin outside the foster home.”
“Why were you there?”
“It was a good neighborhood for me. You’d be amazed what some people put out, especially in a house that’s feeding a lot of kids. You could live a week on it.”
Out the corner of his eye, he saw Maria’s face curl. Eating out of trash cans was not for her. How likely were you to find kale?
“Why did the syringe attract your attention?”
Quint squirmed a bit. “You see a syringe in the trash, you immediately think—druggie.”
“And why is that good?”
“Because there might be heroin in the syringe. Or elsewhere in the trash. And you can get big money for street drugs.”
“If they’re so valuable, why would anyone throw them out?”
“Messed-up people do messed-up stuff.”
Not elegant, but he made his point. “Did the syringe contain anything?”
“Not enough that I could sell.”
“Then why keep it?”
“I thought the police might be interested.”
“Did you contact the police?”
“Yes. And they were interested. They took the syringe and ran some tests.” He beamed. “They thanked me for being such a good citizen.”
Kilpatrick nodded. “Pass the witness.”
It almost seemed too easy to chastise Quint for being a homeless wastrel or having a record. Like kicking infants. “Let’s talk about your visit to the police station. Given your history, you must’ve had some qualms about setting foot in there.”
“Um...what?”
He realized his mistake. “You must’ve had...you must’ve been worried about seeing cops.”
Quint shrugged. “Yeah. A little.”
“Were you hoping to get something for your information?”
“Is that so wrong? I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”
“You asked for money, didn’t you?”
“I thought the intel might be worth something.”
“But they weren’t willing to pay for it, right?” Because then the payment could be used to impugn his testimony.
“True enough.”
“How did you react to that news?”
“I tried to leave. They stopped me. Said they’d arrest me for withholding evidence.”
“So they forced you to surrender the syringe.” He thought for a moment. Something wasn’t right here. Quint clearly expected a reward from the cops. And he was in that particular trash bin at such an opportune time... “It sure seems like a coincidence that you happened to be searching my client’s trash right after Detective Kakazu claims he found the name on the mirror. Did you target that trash bin?”
“I’m...not sure what you mean.”
“When I talked to you earlier, you mentioned that the best bins to search were behind restaurants, but this neighborhood was a far cry from any restaurants. So why were you there?”
“I told you—”
“Isn’t it true that you went to that trash bin specifically hoping to find something that could be used against my client?”
“How would I know that was the right trash bin?”
“Yes, exactly. I don’t think your research skills could get you there. I think someone must’ve told you. And the most likely candidate would be the police. Isn’t it true that the police sent you to Ossie’s house?”
Quint’s eyes darted to Kilpatrick. “Why...would they do that?”
“If the police searched that bin, it might be considered an unreasonable search without probable cause and I’d be up here arguing that they needed a search warrant. If a homeless guy does it, there’s no state action and thus no constitutional violation.”
“You’re way over my head now.”
“And if the syringe was planted, they would definitely want someone else to ‘discover’ it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let me simplify it for you. Have you run errands for the police in the past?”
Kilpatrick rose. “Objection. Relevance. What the witness did or did not do in the past doesn’t relate to this case.”
“I’m establishing that the witness is a regular police informant, your honor. Or...police flunky.”
“What if he is?” Kilpatrick said. “The bottom line here is that the incriminating syringe was found outside the defendant’s home.”
“No. The bottom line is that the police targeted my client before they’d had time to conduct any meaningful investigation.”
“Another objection,” Kilpatrick said. “Your honor, may we approach?”
The judge nodded. Most judges would’ve pulled the lawyers to the bench a long time ago. These arguments were not evidence, but they could influence the jurors.
Stress was smeared all over Smulders’ face. “So...what is it you object to, Mr. Kilpatrick?”
“The irrelevant suggestion that this witness is a police informant.”
“Is it true?”
He hesitated only an instant. “It doesn’t matter.”
Dan jumped in. “You’ll note that he is not answering your question.”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. I think the police targeted my client and sent this loser out to create evidence to back their case.”
“They already saw his name—”
“Anyone could scrawl a name on a mirror. Just as anyone could drop a syringe in a trash bin and then send Oscar the Grouch to find it.”
“He’s attacking the police department. Standard shyster defense lawyer trick. I can’t believe you’d stand for it, your honor.”
Who was the shyster now? Kilpatrick was playing on the judge’s naiveté.
“Well, I don’t want any of that,” Smulders said.
“Good. Shut down this line of questioning.”
The judge drew in his breath. “I don’t think we need questions about what happened in the past. Let’s stick to this case.”
The lawyers left the bench. Dan continued questioning. “In this particular case, Mr. Quint, did anyone suggest that you should search the trash outside my client’s home?”
He could see Kilpatrick thinking about another objection, but he kept his seat.
“Well...yes.”
“And when was this request made?”
Another glance at Kilpatrick. After a few beats, Quint answered. “Early. Some cop found me under a bridge and woke me. Wasn’t even light out yet.”
At that point, most of the public didn’t know about the murder yet. And the police hadn’t had time to investigate much or to question any suspects. “How long did it take you to get to the trash bin?”
“A couple of hours.”
“So the police had plenty of time to get there first. And put anything in it they wanted.”
Kilpatrick shot up. “Objection! Your honor, this is exactly the kind of reprehensible tactic I warned you about.”
Dan stepped toward the judge, jaw set. “I am entitled to question police conduct during a criminal trial. It’s the court’s job to make sure the police respect the constitutional rights of individuals.” He paused. “You probably recall hearing something about that in Constitutional Law class, right?”
Judge Smulders drew in his breath. “Yes. I do.”
“If my client was being framed by cops who decided he was guilty before they had any evidence just because he was the obvious suspect...” He paused. “Or because someone rich and powerful wanted Ossie out of the way...that’s exactly what—”
Kilpatrick went into full-out aggro mode. “This man’s paranoia is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The jurors are not stupid. They won’t buy this fantasy. Mr. Pike wants everyone to believe that our boys in blue, the ones who risk their lives to keep us safe, are criminals. I reject this cynical liberal notion.”
“If you’re finished with your drama-queen scene, maybe we could return to actual legal argument.”
Kilpatrick pounded the edge of the bench. “Outrageous.”
“I agree with one thing he said, your honor. The jurors are not stupid. They can weigh evidence for themselves without all this shouting and bellyaching. If what I say has no value, they won’t give it a second thought. But if they are concerned that the police may have pursued a particular suspect for reasons that have nothing to do with the evidence, that should rightfully play an important role in their deliberations.”
A long pause ensued.
After a significant period of silence, Judge Smulders seemed to realize it was his turn to speak. “So...did you want me to...do something?”
His clerk muttered from behind the hand covering her face. “Rule on the objection.”
“Oh, well, sure. I...don’t think we should be dissing the police officers. Especially since they aren’t even on the stand to defend themselves.”
Kilpatrick leaned in. “You’re sustaining my objection?”
“Um, yes. That’s right.”
“And strike the irrelevant business about police misconduct from the record?”
“Sure. Did the court reporter get that?”
Over in the corner, Bertha nodded. Dan didn’t care. They could do anything they wanted to the record. The jury would not forget what he’d said.
“Anything else?”
He decided to end the cross. He’d done what he wanted—planted the possibility of a police conspiracy to frame his client. He’d pick up the thread again later. “Nothing more, your honor.” He took his seat at the table.
Both Maria and Ossie looked pleased.
“You knocked the ball out of the court, slugger,” Maria whispered.
“Technically, I did nothing. The syringe is still coming in. And it is incriminating.”
“Till you get your hands on the next prosecution witness.”
Ossie seemed more concerned than elated. “Why would the police want to go after me?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. But we’re going to find out.”