by Owen Parr
“Mrs. Goldstein, is the defense ready to continue?”
“We are, Your Honor.”
“Very well, call your next witness.”
“We call to the stand, Detective Angelo Levy.”
Levy sat down, and Judge Wesley reminded him that he was still under oath.
“Detective Levy,” Ruth began, “I was not present for your testimony before, but I have read the transcripts. I’d like to ask some questions that were not asked before. Did you, or the crime scene investigators, inspect the rest of the home, besides the master bedroom suite?”
“Of course, we looked all around.”
“Mr. Longworth stated that he had heard a noise emanating from downstairs when he was in the bedroom, did he not?”
“Yes, he did, but, —”
Ruth rushed in with another question, “Did you check for prints in the living room, kitchen, and other rooms?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Can defense counsel allow the witness to properly answer the question?” Morris asked.
Wesley said, “Sustained. Mrs. Goldstein, please allow the witness to answer.”
“Sorry, You Honor. Noise from the downstairs was the question,” Ruth stated.
Levy moved forward closer to the microphone, “I was going to say, we found nothing disturbed downstairs.”
Ruth nodded, “Did you check for prints in the living room, kitchen, and other rooms?”
“It was evident the murder scene was the bedroom.”
“So, what you’re saying is that no prints were retrieved from the rest of the home. Is that correct?”
“We didn’t think it was necessary. We had the gun, the, —”
“Yes, we know all that. Did you, your partner, or the other investigators examine the trash compactor in the kitchen?”
“The trash compactor?” he asked, a bit incredulous.
Ruth didn’t say anything.
Levy then said, sheepishly, “No, we didn’t.”
“So, Detective Levy, no one noticed that two white wine glasses were missing from the kitchen cupboards?”
“Objection, Your Honor!” cried Morris. “There is nothing in evidence about white wine glasses.”
“Sustained. Mrs. Goldstein?”
“Your Honor, we can have Luisa Sanchez, the maid for the Longworths, take the stand and testify that the day before the murder, there were twelve white wine glasses in the kitchen. When she was allowed back, with no one except the investigators having been in the home, there were only ten glasses in the cupboards.”
Wesley asked, “Mr. Morris, any objections?”
“No, Your Honor. Just more theatrics.”
“Go ahead, Mrs. Goldstein, but, keep it on point.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Detective Levy, you testified that Mr. Longworth insisted he had heard noises in the downstairs of the home. Yet, no one bothered to check for prints downstairs. Is it possible that the sounds he heard were two wine glasses and a bottle of white wine being crushed in the trash compactor, before the murderer fled the scene through the kitchen door?”
“That’s absurd,” Levy replied.
“Detective, is it not feasible that the murderer wanted to remove evidence, and did so, by feeding these items into the compactor? And your investigation ignored the possible DNA evidence, and prints, you could have retrieved from these articles? Yes, or no?” Ruth asked, raising her voice.
“We didn’t see any evidence in the trash compactor,” Levy replied, shifting in his chair.
“Did you even look, sir?”
“I don’t believe we did, no.”
“You don’t believe? Did you, or not?”
“No.”
“Thank you,” Ruth retorted, glancing at the jury. “Let’s move on. The coroner’s report, I assume you read it?” she paused for an answer.
“Yes, I read it.”
“Good. It says the angle of entry, for both rounds, was an upward angle of 20 degrees. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Your Honor, if you allow us to show the coroner’s drawing, which we have blown up for the juror’s benefit?” asked Ruth, looking at the judge.
As Judge Wesley nodded, Inez Hartman set up a tripod with the drawing in front of the jury box, and in view of Levy. The drawing was that of a person with two small holes in the left side of the chest, and two lines drawn from the holes, outward at twenty-degree angles.
“Detective Levy, Mrs. Longworth was five feet, seven inches tall, right?”
“If that’s what it says.”
“Yes, well, that is what she is listed at. What does the angle of entry tell us?”
“That the angle of entry for the rounds is pointing upward.”
Ruth looked towards the judge, “Your Honor, I have a toy plastic revolver that I would like to use in this demonstration, may I?”
Wesley glanced at Morris, who although frowning, nodded in acceptance. “Go ahead,” the judge said.
“Based on the crime investigators report, and the blood spatter on the carpet, walls, et cetera, they estimated that the shooter was how far from Mrs. Longworth?”
“I believe it was three feet.”
“That’s precisely right. Ms. Hartman, would you stand in front of me?”
Inez Hartman came around the table and stood next to the tripod.
Mrs. Goldstein grabbed the toy revolver from her table. “Detective Levy, Ms. Hartman is five feet, five inches, and I am five feet, four inches. If I was going to shoot Ms. Hartman in the heart, standing three feet from her,” said Ruth, as she positioned herself in front of Inez and exactly three feet away. “I would have to aim slightly upward like this, correct?” Goldstein asked, pointing the gun at Inez.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Detective, do you know how tall Mr. Longworth is?”
“No, I don’t,” he replied, disgusted.
Ruth turned to the defense table, “Mr. Longworth, would you please stand?”
Longworth stood, as Goldstein took some papers from the lectern. She handed one to the judge and a second one to the prosecutor.
Thank you, Mr. Longworth, you can sit now. That’s a copy of Mr. Longworth’s New York State driver’s license.” Ruth handed her copy to Levy. “Detective can you read from that, and tell us how tall Mr. Longworth is?” she asked, turning to face the jurors.
“He is six feet, four inches.”
“Six feet, four inches,” Ruth repeated.
Levy broke in, “Yes, but, he could have been kneeling.”
Ruth smiled, “Yes, I thought you might say that. Could you explain to the jurors, in simple terms, what backward spatter and void is, please.”
“Backward spatter,” Levy began turning to the jury box, “is the blood spatter that comes from the victim, back to the shooter, as a result of the initial entry of the bullet. The void is the clear space behind the killer, where no blood is found from the spatter, due to the shooter’s body blocking its flow.”
“Thank you, that’s well done. So, this backward spatter is deposited on the killer’s clothes, face, hairs, preventing it from projecting further back, behind the shooter.”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Two questions about the backward spatter found, and not found. If Mr. Longworth were kneeling, as you suggested, there would possibly have been back spattering found on the carpet behind the shooter. Yet, there was none, correct?
“Yes, that’s possibly correct.”
“Possibly correct? Was there blood spatter on the carpet behind the shooter?”
“No.”
Ruth walked over in front of the jury box, turned to face Levy and asked, “In your examination of Mr. Longworth, were there any, any specks of blood or this backward spatter found on his face, clothes, hairs on his head, or any place on his body?”
“Well, —” Levy began.
“It’s a yes or no question, Detective.” Goldstein asserted.
“No.”
“Mr. Levy, you’
ve been a homicide detective for how many years?”
Levy moved uncomfortably in the chair, “Five years.”
“Five years investigating crime scenes. And yet, the lack of blood spatter on Mr. Longworth’s body, hair, face, didn’t give you pause to consider that someone else may have been the shooter?”
Levy smiled, “Everything points to him being the shooter. His prints on the gun, the gun residue on his hands and arms. Her blood all over his suit,” he said, smartly turning to the jury.
Ruth raised her hand to stop him, and he did. “Yes, we know that, but, the lack of blood spatter on him, the void caused by the body of the shooter, the angle of the entry wounds. All of that was ignored.”
Morris objected, “Your Honor, is there a question here?”
Wesley responded, “Mrs. Goldstein, unless you have a question, save that for closing arguments.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I have no more questions, Your Honor,” Ruth said, walking back to the defense table.
Judge Wesley turned to the prosecutor’s table, “Mr. Morris, any redirect?”
“Yes, Your Honor, thank you,” replied Morris. “Detective Levy, just to go over your prior testimony. You testified that you arrived at the scene just minutes after the patrolmen had secured it, correct?”
“Yes,” replied Levy.
“Was there any sign of forced entry?”
“No, there was none.”
“Was there anything disturbed in the home?”
“Nothing, other than where the murder took place.”
“And Mr. Longworth was covered in his wife’s blood?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Further, his prints were all over Mrs. Longworth’s revolver, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Two more questions, Detective. The only bloody shoe prints found on the stairs, going down, and then, coming up, were of Mr. Longworth’s shoes, is that right?”
“That’s right, yes.”
“So then, Detective Levy, assuming there is a third person, as the defense would like us to believe, with all the blood on the master bedroom floor, how did this mystery person leave without any trace?”
Levy sat back and smiled, then quipped, “They must have flown away.”
The gallery broke out in loud laughter, the jurors sat silent for a few seconds, then followed suit.
“Order in the courtroom,” Wesley demanded, banging the gavel down twice. “Any other questions, Mr. Morris?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. I have no more questions for this witness.”
Judge Wesley said, “We’ll break for lunch, and reconvene at two in the afternoon.”
28
This was like watching a very tight basketball game, with us leading throughout the entire match, only to have Morris, the prosecutor, throw up a long three-pointer with one second left on the clock, and hit nothing but net. Shit, that comment at the end, from Levy, deflated my excitement.
I stood next to Inez, who had not even glanced at me once, during the morning session. Turning her back to me, she said something to Goldstein and they walked out of the courtroom together.
Detective Levy approached me, as I stepped out of the courtroom. “You’re an asshole Mancuso. I tried to help you when I didn’t have to, and you have this lady attack me on the stand. We’re done, buddy.”
“Angelo, hang on a second,” I replied, as Levy walked away. Picking up my pace, I reached him. “Angelo, I’m only doing my job, brother.”
“Your job is to destroy my credibility? I don’t think so, man. And, don’t call me brother, unless your name is Cain.”
“Listen to me,” I said, glancing around the hallway, “come here a second,” I added, motioning with my hand, and walking away from the people milling about. Levy stopped and came towards me, and I said, “I don’t know if the jury is going to find this guy guilty, or not. Regardless of the finding, Longworth did not do it.”
“Right, and this mystery killer that you’ve concocted is going to show up and confess.”
“Not exactly. But I’m going to hand the guilty person to you. So, you can bring the guilty party to justice, yourself.”
“I’ve already done that. And, it's Longworth, Mancuso. Look, everyone can see what you people are up to. This jury is going to see right through that and convict this man. Period. You and I are done. Have a good life,” Levy said, as he turned and walked away.
I stood there, understanding how Levy felt. I had used him, but his investigative methods, and that of his partner Alvarez, together with the crime scene crew, blew it on this one. I suppose everything pointed to Longworth, the obvious at least, did. Me, I like to look beyond the obvious. The killer had done a good job of masking their identity, but I had them.
Father Dominic, who had sat in the back of the courtroom throughout the proceedings approached me, “Joey, that was good, until it wasn’t.”
“I know, he beat us at the buzzer.”
“We have one more witness, right?” Dom asked.
“Ms. Geraldine Francis, the Executive Director of the Longworth Foundation. Then, I guess, the closing arguments tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help you more in this case. I’ve been busy at the Church with the New Year’s and all,” Dom said, apologetically.
“You’re good, bro. We do what we can, when we can. I’ve got this one.”
“You have this all figured out, don’t you?” Dominic asked. “Are you going to let me in, and share your conclusion?”
“At this point, I want you to enjoy the surprise ending, like everyone else. Why spoil it?” I replied, smiling.
“How is Marcy?’ he asked. “I called this morning, but was unable to reach her.”
“Shit, I have to call her. I didn’t see her yesterday.”
“How come? What did you do after the trial? I thought you were headed to the hospital,” he said, a bit dumbfounded.
“Yes, I was. But, she claimed to be tired and in pain. I’m a little concerned with her demeanor. She sounds depressed, and her stepdad says the doctor told him she was suffering from mild depression.”
I walked towards a bench in the hallway and sat.
Father Dom sat beside me, and said, “That’s understandable with everything she’s gone through; killing a man, the Federal Marshall gunned down, she was shot, my God, who wouldn’t be depressed.”
“It’s more than that. Evidently, her boss, Mrs. Stewart, asked her to take a leave of absence to recover. Then, when she comes back, she has to prove she is physically capable, and I think Marcy is worried about that.”
“What does that entail?”
“If she loses mobility in her right arm, like the doctors say she might, part of the test involves having the ability to load and shoot with both hands.”
“Marcy is a lefty, she should be able to do that.
“Not that simple, brother. With a pistol, you have to be able to load, pull the slide back with a thumb and forefinger, and be able to do it with both hands, your strong, and your weak hand, in a timed test. Then, she has to have the ability to use the long arms, both a shotgun, which you have to pump, and whatever other semi-automatic rifles they are using these days.”
“If she loses mobility to that extent, I can see that being a problem. What happens if that’s the case?” Dom asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Then she can become an analyst of some kind, but no field work. Or, she’ll be offered disability with about sixty-six percent of pay, all in.”
“What’s all in?”
“Department disability, plus pension, plus social security.”
“Knowing Marcy, neither of those are going to be an attractive option for her,” said Dom.
“I know,” and thinking for a second, I added, “In speaking to her stepdad, he mentioned that Marcy commented to her mother how well I was doing. Referring to the offers we’ve had from the law firm, and my old boss.”
“You told her about those?”
“I did, yes. But, my idea was, and it never came across correctly, that perhaps she could see that if we expanded into a larger investigative service, there would be an opportunity for her to join us. After all, if we do accept both offers, we need help, you and I can’t do it alone.”
Father Dom observed, “She’s taking your possible success, and her potential fallback, in a personal sort of way. So, a little-unintended jealousy has crept in. You know what, Joey? Don’t take it personally. In her current mental state, that’s a reasonable reaction. She’ll come around.”
“I hope so, brother. She wanted to talk to me today, and it sounded kind of serious. I’ll go visit her after the trial.”
“Why didn’t you call me last night after the trial? We could’ve had dinner.”
“I should have. But, Inez Hartman, the attorney, wanted to talk about the case, and we went for drinks after.”
“Drinks? Did you go back to our pub?”
“No, we went around the corner, just two blocks from here.”
“And you had drinks.”
“She’s a very attractive lady, and I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“And?” asked Dom, in an inquisitive fashion.
“She came on pretty strong to me, wanting more than drinks. And I’m not blaming her. But, no need to confess me, brother, I passed on the opportunity. But, man, was it hard, and she was pissed.”
“By hard, I assume you’re referring to passing on it,” he asked, smiling.
“Father O’Brian, didn’t see that coming from you. Let’s just say, I passed on the temptation.”
“Good for you. Stay strong, make that… strong willed.”
“Yeah, I don’t know how you do it. Let’s get lunch.”
“Where do you want to go?” Dom asked.
“There’s a gourmet place on the corner?”
“Gourmet?”
“Gus’s Gourmet Hot Dogs from a cart on the corner.”
29
The courtroom was packed for the final witness. The gallery had been treated to a fiery questioning by the defense, and the prosecution had scored points also.