“Did you ever meet the decedent, Jeff King?”
“No, but I knew a lot about him. Mrs. King hired me to watch him. She believed that he was cheating on her and using heroin.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
That covers it. “Was he abusive?”
“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. He didn’t let her leave the house. He had people watching her because he thought she was cheating. He berated her in private and in public.”
“How long was this going on?”
“From the day they met.”
I stole a glance at the jury. The woman from Twitter was frowning. I asked, “What made Mrs. King think that her husband was cheating?”
“There were many late nights. He spent most of his time at their residence in San Francisco, while she was at their house in Palo Alto. There were unusual text messages and charges on their credit cards. He had a burner phone. I found a listing for Mr. King on a hookup site called Mature Relations, where he met Ms. Low. He paid her over fifty thousand dollars.”
“Was he seeing other women in addition to Ms. Low?”
“Yes.”
“And patronizing strip clubs?”
“He went to an establishment called the Gold Club several times a week.”
“Was he a sex addict?”
“Objection. Ms. Gullion is not qualified to provide medical expertise on that subject.”
“Sustained.”
“Did Mrs. King ever express unhappiness about the fact that her husband was having sex with other women?”
“Frequently.” Kaela Joy frowned. “But it was a little more complicated, Mr. Daley. They had an unconventional marriage.”
Finally the good stuff. “How so?”
“For a period of time, they had an open marriage in which they agreed that they would be allowed to see other people.”
“How did that work out?”
“Not well. Mr. King had many more relationships than Mrs. King, so she decided that it wasn’t an acceptable arrangement.”
“Did they return to a more traditional monogamous relationship?”
“No. They entered into what is commonly known as a ‘polyamorous’ relationship with another couple. That didn’t work out well, either. Mr. King continued to see women not in their polyamorous group, including Ms. Low, and other women he met on the Mature Relations site.”
“Do you know the identity of the other couple?”
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Gopal Patel.”
Murmurs in the gallery. “How do you know this information, Ms. Gullion?”
“Because I was at Mr. and Mrs. King’s house on several occasions when Mr. and Mrs. Patel came over for the night.”
“How long did this relationship last?”
“A few months.”
“Who terminated this arrangement?”
“Mr. King.”
“Was anybody upset?”
“Everybody. The Patels were especially angry after they found out that Mr. King had been seeing Ms. Low outside the scope of their multi-party agreement.”
That’s enough. “No further questions.”
* * *
Brian Holton was up next.
“You’re the founder and CEO of Mature Relations?” I said.
“I am.” In his double-breasted suit and subdued necktie, Holton looked like the CEO of a media conglomerate. “We provide a legitimate service similar to Match or Tinder. We have over ten million members.”
“What percentage are male?”
“About seventy-five percent.”
“Was Jeff King a member?”
“Yes.”
“Did he meet many women on your site?”
“About a dozen.”
“Mr. Holton, are any other members of senior management of Y5K or related parties also subscribers to Mature Relations?”
“Yes, Mr. Daley.”
“Would you mind giving us their names?”
“I’m really not supposed to.”
“You’re under oath, Mr. Holton.”
“Jack Steele, Drew Pitt, and Gopal Patel.”
“We raised this issue with Mr. Steele and Mr. Patel, who testified that they were not members of Mature Relations.”
Holton flashed a wicked smile. “Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they had memory lapses.”
Sounds good to me. “No further questions.”
* * *
There was a hint of optimism in the consultation room during the afternoon break. After Holton had testified, I had recalled Steele and Patel to ask them about their memberships on Mature Relations. There was raucous laughter in the gallery when Steele admitted that he was a member of the Premium Club.
For the first time since she was arrested, Lexy’s eyes were a little brighter. “Did you see the look on Steele’s face when you told him that Holton had confirmed that he was a member of Mature Relations?” she asked.
“Priceless.”
Her expression turned serious. “Do you have enough for an acquittal?”
“Getting closer, but we still have work to do.”
61
“HE NEVER THANKED ANYBODY”
“What is your position at Y5K?”
Sanchez took a sip of water. “Chief Technology Officer.”
“You wrote the code for Y5K’s products?”
“Most of it.”
The gifted young geek had ditched his t-shirt and camouflage pants for an off-the-rack suit and a powder-blue dress shirt with no necktie. His shoulder-length hair was pulled into a ponytail.
“Did Jeff King write code?”
“No.”
“The Silicon Valley press reported that he wrote the software for Y5K.”
“He always took credit.”
“How did you and Mr. King get along?”
“I wrote code. He paid me.”
“You believe that you were underpaid, don’t you?”
“A little.”
“And underappreciated?”
“At times.”
“That made you angry, didn’t it?”
“I dealt with it.”
Okay. “You were at the party at Mr. King’s house on the night that he died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that he was meeting Ms. Low?”
“No.”
“Did he ever talk about her?”
“Not to me.”
“Did Mr. King thank you for your hard work on the IPO?”
“He never thanked anybody.”
“It bothered you, didn’t it?”
“A little.”
“You knew that he was planning to use heroin that night, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You’d seen him take heroin at his parties, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where he got it?”
“No.”
“The police think Ms. Low brought the heroin.”
“I don’t know.”
“You really think a billionaire took smack from somebody he met online?”
“Objection. Speculation.”
“Overruled.”
Sanchez shrugged. “You never knew with Jeff. He was a quirky guy.”
I might have used a more colloquial description. “Did you use the upstairs bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Mr. King put a baggie of heroin in the drawer in the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Did you see Ms. Low bring a baggie of heroin into the house?”
“No.”
“A few minutes ago, you expressed anger at Mr. King for slighting you. You brought a baggie of super-potent heroin into his house with the idea that he would take it and overdose, didn’t you?”
“Whatever I thought about Jeff—and sometimes it wasn’t much—I wasn’t going to risk blowing up the IPO and losing millions just because he treated me like crap.”
* * *
“How well did y
ou know Jeff King?” I asked.
Tristan Moore was wearing a Calvin Klein suit and a Christian Dior necktie with a paisley design. “Very well.”
“You liked him?”
He flashed a charismatic smile. “Of course.”
“You knew that he was a regular heroin user, correct?”
The smile disappeared. “I had suspicions.”
“After Mr. King’s untimely death, you were promoted to acting CEO, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a big promotion.”
“And a big responsibility.”
“I trust you’re getting a raise?”
“We’re working out terms.”
“Seems you gained a lot from Mr. King’s death, didn’t you?”
“It’s not the way I wanted things to happen.”
“You knew that he and his wife had separated, right?”
“Yes. It was unfortunate.”
Maybe not for you. “She’s pretty.”
“Yes, she is.”
“You knew her well, didn’t you?”
“We’d met on several occasions at the office and company events.”
“Ever been to her house?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
I turned to the judge. “We would like to interrupt Mr. Moore’s testimony for a few minutes to call another witness who has information relevant to Mr. Moore’s testimony. We reserve the right to recall Mr. Moore after our next witness has completed his testimony.”
“No objection,” Harper said.
“The defense calls Peter Daley.”
* * *
Pete was on the stand for less than two minutes. He summarized his credentials. I introduced the video of Moore leaving Chloe’s house. He finished with a succinct conclusion.
“On January twenty-fourth of this year, Mr. Moore spent the night at Mrs. King’s house.”
“No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Mr. Harper?”
“Just a few questions.” He walked up to Pete. “You’re Mr. Daley’s brother?”
“Yes.”
“You embellished your testimony to assist your brother, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You used to be a police officer, right?”
“Right.”
“You were kicked off the force, weren’t you?”
“My partner and I broke up a gang fight in the Mission. One of the criminals was drunk and belligerent. He was injured when we subdued him in self-defense. As part of a settlement with the City, my partner and I were terminated.”
“The young man had a fractured skull, didn’t he?”
“And I had a cracked rib.”
“Please answer my question, Mr. Daley.”
“Yes.”
“No further questions.”
* * *
Moore was back on the stand. I pressed a button on my laptop. Pete’s video from in front of Chloe’s house appeared on the screen. I ran it in slow motion and stopped it as the BMW was passing Pete’s car.
“Do you recognize this vehicle?” I asked.
“No.”
“Would it help you if I told you that it’s a BMW registered in your name?”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
I zoomed in. “Do you recognize the driver?”
Moore’s eyes darted. “Looks like me.”
“Mr. Moore, the individual who shot this video just testified that he took it in front of Mrs. King’s house on the morning of January twenty-fourth.”
“I’ll take your word for that, too.”
“He also testified that you had spent the night at Mrs. King’s house.”
A hesitation. “I don’t recall.”
“Are you saying that the individual’s testimony was inaccurate?”
“I’m saying that I don’t recall.”
“You’re having an affair with Mrs. King, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Do you want to reconsider your answer, Mr. Moore?”
He scowled. “We were attracted to each other. She was lonely. It just happened.”
“And Mr. King’s death meant that you were free to see his wife, right?”
“They were already separated.”
“Mr. King’s death meant you would also get a promotion and a substantial raise, right?”
“I didn’t intend for things to happen that way.”
“Come on, Mr. Moore. You’re the only person who came out ahead. You were able to continue your relationship with Mrs. King and you got a promotion.”
“That’s absurd, Mr. Daley.”
“You knew that Jeff King had a heroin problem. You knew that he was going to see Ms. Low that night. You knew that they always took smack when they got together. You knew that he had a heart condition susceptible to disaster if he took some pure heroin. So you planted some high-powered stuff in the bathroom upstairs and hoped that he would overdose. Isn’t that what happened, Mr. Moore?”
“Absolutely not, Mr. Daley. Jeff King was my boss, my mentor, and my friend. I did not plant heroin in his bathroom. End of story.”
I did my best to feign disbelief. “No further questions.”
62
“I THINK HE WAS A SEX ADDICT”
“What is your position at Y5K?” I asked.
The “Guy from Rye” smirked. “Quality control.”
“What does that entail?”
“Making sure our products work the way they’re supposed to.”
Gee, thanks. “You and Mr. King were friends for a long time, right?”
“Since high school.”
“And you’ve worked at several companies that he started?”
“That we started.”
Sure. “You also spent a lot of time together outside the office, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You partied?”
“From time to time.”
“Met women?”
“Occasionally.”
“You knew that Mr. King had a substance issue, right?”
“I had suspicions.”
“You were his best friend for forty years. You must have known.”
“I was pretty sure.”
Was that so hard? “You also knew that he and Mrs. King had separated?”
“I did. I tried to be supportive.”
“You introduced him to women?”
“Periodically.”
“And provided drugs?”
“No.”
It was worth a shot. “He had issues with women, didn’t he?”
“I’m not a therapist, Mr. Daley.”
“I’m not asking for a professional opinion.”
“I think he was a sex addict.”
That got the jurors’ attention. “You knew that he was meeting women on a site called Mature Relations, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re also a member of that site, right?”
“It isn’t illegal.”
“And you’ve met people through that site, haven’t you?”
“That isn’t illegal, either.”
“You recently attempted to renegotiate your compensation with the company, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And management was reluctant to give you a raise?”
“Just business.”
“Did you discuss it with Mr. King?”
“Yes. He promised to see what he could do.”
“You didn’t get the raise, right?”
“He died before we could resolve the issue.”
“I presume you were upset about it?”
“Just business, Mr. Daley.”
“You were at the party at Mr. King’s house on the night that he died?”
“Yes.”
“You knew that he was planning to get together with Ms. Low, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew that they would engag
e in sex and take heroin?”
“That was usually the way it worked.”
“Who provided the heroin?”
“Ms. Low.”
“A billionaire accepted heroin from a woman he met on a pickup site?”
“Mr. King did some reckless things.”
“Did you ever provide the heroin?”
“No.”
“You’re under oath, Mr. Pitt.”
“No.”
“Did you see Ms. Low that night?”
“No.”
“Did you use the upstairs bathroom?”
“I believe so.”
“You left some high-end heroin for your friend and his date, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You let your best friend of forty years take cheap smack that a woman he met on a hookup site bought on the street?”
“Jeff didn’t always use exemplary judgment.”
“Let’s be honest, Mr. Pitt. You slipped Mr. King some high-powered heroin to send him a little message about your disappointment, didn’t you?”
“That isn’t how I roll, Mr. Daley.”
“Then perhaps you slipped your friend some high-end heroin to thank him for all of his hard work on the IPO, didn’t you?”
“No, Mr. Daley.”
“No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Mr. Harper?”
“No, Your Honor.”
The judge looked at her computer. “I’m going to recess until tomorrow. How much longer will you need, Mr. Daley?”
“We should wrap up our defense in the morning.”
“Very good. I want to see draft jury instructions from both sides first thing tomorrow morning. Once those are agreed-upon, we should be in a position to move forward to closing arguments.”
63
“I JUST CAN’T”
Lexy’s eyes were clear. “Are we almost done?”
“Close,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow morning.”
Lexy, Nady, and I were in the consultation room in the Glamour Slammer at seven-thirty on Monday night. We had developed a routine of meeting in the airless bunker every night after trial.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Not great.”
“We can ask the judge for a day off if you’re hitting the wall.”
“I want to finish.”
“That’s fine. I need to ask you something.” Here goes. “Do you think you’re up to testifying tomorrow?”
She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure, Mike.”
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