Medrano’s office, in the basement of the building, looked more like a TV studio. He had a bank of fifteen flat-screens on one wall, each showing a different live feed from the building’s security system. Beyond this room was the locker area for the guards, and behind the monitors there were around half a dozen desks, each with a computer and a phone.
“So, when David’s neighbor, Mr. Gershbaum, made the emergency call, that call came through to somebody in this room, is that right?”
“Right,” said Medrano.
“And the security system logs the date and time of the call?”
“Yes, and the security officer deals with the police alert,” said Medrano.
“What do you mean?” said Kennedy.
“When a resident makes an emergency call to us, our system sends a text to 911 telling them we’ve had a call. Unless our operator contacts 911 within five minutes to tell them everything is fine, NYPD send a patrol car to check it out. It’s like a fail-safe. We’ve got around twenty of Manhattan’s super-rich in this building. If a crew tried to rob us, the first thing they’d do is disable the security control room. So if a resident or a member of staff managed to get to an emergency phone, even though we might be incapacitated, somebody from 911 will know there’s an emergency, and if we don’t stand them down, the cops’ll come running.”
“I didn’t know that. All I have is a record of security calling 911 when the body was found. Kennedy, you think you can get me a record of the text?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Can I see the whole feed from the camera that NYPD took their footage from? I want to make sure that it hasn’t been edited,” I said.
Medrano relieved the security guard at the bank of monitors and started calling up the footage from the hard drive. Within moments, the screen directly in front of us went blank, and then an image appeared of the security guards knocking on Gershbaum’s door before letting themselves in.
“Hang on. I’ll rewind,” said Medrano.
“No, it’s fine. Just let it play,” I said.
A guard came out of Child’s apartment and made a call. Nothing happened for a few minutes, so Medrano scrolled through the digital footage until the first pair of cops arrived. Medrano appeared on the screen, and he let the cops into Child’s apartment. He fast-forwarded the footage, and we watched Medrano pacing up and down the hallway at high speed until the detectives arrived, followed by a team of CSIs in white coveralls to work the evidence. I paid attention to each figure as they moved and asked Medrano to slow it down so I could get a good look at all of the officers. There were periods where there was no one on-screen, and Medrano could fast-forward the footage so that a minute of real time played out on the screen in less than three seconds. After twenty minutes or so of Medrano fast-forwarding the footage, I yelled out, “Stop.”
Immediately, Medrano paused the video. I knew then that I had a hand to play in court in the morning.
“What am I looking at?” said Kennedy.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I’m going to find out. I’ll need to see the footage for the whole day. Can I get a copy of this?”
The head of security rubbed his chin. “I don’t see why not. The cops took the entire day’s footage, too. Oh, did you want a copy of the footage from the vent camera?”
“Let me see it first,” I said.
“How come the cops didn’t take a copy of this footage from the vent cam?” asked Kennedy.
Medrano cleared his throat, looked at this shoes, and then raised his head to address Kennedy.
“Look, there’s a lot of wealthy, famous people who live in this building. We watch everything, and in many ways, we see nothing. Know what I mean? The paparazzi have been trying to buy somebody, anybody, in this building who’ll tip them off when a hooker, a dealer, or another celebrity visits an apartment in this building. We get well paid for our silence and for looking the other way. Up until a year ago there was no camera there. We kind of had an unwritten rule that the stairs were out of bounds for cameras. There was a burglary. We caught the guy and as a compromise we installed hidden cameras on each floor. The cops didn’t ask to see this footage, and we never showed it to them. This is the only camera that covers the door to the stairs. It’s a balancing act. Lot of residents don’t want to live under a security camera, not with their lifestyles. So we have to try to make them feel both secure and anonymous.”
After Medrano scrolled through menus and entered a date and time search, the footage appeared on the screen above the control panel. It was a side view. We watched David and Clara enter the apartment. Medrano sped up the footage until we saw David again, backpack in tow, hooded. He slowed the footage, rewound and played it. David didn’t drop anything on the floor. I could see his hands clearly. He turned his back on the door and walked out of view toward the elevator.
“Stop,” said Kennedy. “Did you see that?” he said.
“No,” I said.
Medrano backed up, played the footage again.
“Right there,” said Kennedy.
“What?” I said.
“Can you zoom in?” said Kennedy.
“Sure. Where?” said Medrano.
The FBI man pointed to the mirror in the hallway. In response, Medrano used two large dials on either side of the keyboard to focus on the mirror. The close-up picture was grainy now, but much larger.
“Play it again,” said Kennedy.
As the footage played, I couldn’t help but let out a gasp when I saw it.
“Holy shit,” said Medrano.
The three of us remained silent for a time, our eyes transfixed on the image Medrano had frozen on the screen.
“Are you sure the cops didn’t watch this footage?” I asked.
“Yes. They had all they needed from the main camera,” said Medrano.
“So are you going to give this to the DA?” said Kennedy.
I thought for second. Shook my head. I didn’t want Zader to get a heads-up on this evidence. It didn’t prove David was innocent, but if handled in the right way, it might just give him a shot.
“No. Better that this comes out in open court. Public and messy,” I said.