by Dan Decker
“What would you say was the defendant’s state of mind?”
“I would say he was scared.”
There had been at least two things I would have objected to already, but I looked to the judge who glanced at me with a small smile as if he knew what I was thinking and turned his attention back to the questioning.
Judge Anderson had been a top-notch defense attorney in his former life. I would have thought he would be a little more sympathetic with the plight of the defendants, but he was one of the toughest judges we had. Perhaps all those years as a defense attorney had made him jaded. Unless I was able to pull a rabbit out of the hat, there was no doubt Timothy Cooper would be bound over for trial.
And even Keith, who had experience with the Honorable Judge Anderson, knew that was likely too.
“What made you think he was scared?” Frank asked.
“Well, he spoke with a tremor and his hands seemed to shake. He was also a little green around the gills and I thought I caught a whiff of vomit on him as well.”
“Vomit?”
“Yeah, I did not go into his bathroom to check or anything, but he smelled like that to me.”
“What did the defendant say when you entered?”
“He told me that he had come home and discovered his roommate dead. His wording was a little odd. As near as I can recall, he said ‘George’s head is missing. His head is missing. Somebody has gone and shot it off.’”
“Officer Hopkins, how long have you been on the force?”
“About two years now.”
“And during that time how many homicides have you responded to?”
Hopkins made a face. “I dunno, more than twenty.”
“What strikes you as different about the defendant in this case, as opposed to people met on the scene in other cases?”
“He looked guilty,” Hopkins said with a shrug.
I was about to jump to my feet and had to restrain myself, the judge smiled at me again and even made a small motion with his hands as if he knew that I would have a proper objection, but he let it pass.
Frank Ward hid a smile as I shook my head. I knew why Frank was doing this, it was a persuasion technique calculated to prejudice the judge who should hopefully know better.
Perhaps I should put Cynthia on the stand so she can talk about how there’s no way he could’ve ever done this. I can have her tell stories about when he was a little kid.
My eyes narrowed.
I’d like to ask where she was the night of the murder.
I still didn’t believe she was just at home sleeping like she’d told the cops, but I didn’t have proof otherwise.
Cynthia Cooper was still a big question mark for me in all this. Despite agreeing to meet with my investigator she had never been able to pinpoint a time when she could.
The thought of her made me scan the courtroom. At first I thought she was not in attendance, but I finally saw her sitting in the back, I would have expected she would be sitting closer to either Ron or Timothy. She also wore a big hat as if she were trying to disguise her appearance. When I made eye contact with her, she looked away.
Was that because of a guilty conscience?
Her face was too far away to tell for certain.
“What about him made you think he was guilty?”
“Well he seemed like a nervous sort of person. A nerd or a geek, somebody who spent all his time in the library, rather than out partying with his friends. I would have expected him to act differently if he had really come home and found his roommate dead. For one, he was focusing on the fact that the victim’s head was missing. He brought it up a little too much, almost as if he was trying to assuage his guilt. Yes, it was shocking, but in this day and age of video games and movies, especially for one like him, I would have thought he would be used to seeing this type of carnage. His fixation on his roommate’s missing head gave me pause several times.”
The officer coughed. “Every time he mentioned it, there was a look behind his eyes and I just knew he had done it.”
It was difficult to keep in my chair but somehow I managed. I noticed a thin smile on Keith’s face because this was only helping him. Ron did not bother to hide a smug look, which made me cringe. The father in him should have been conflicted about this, but he did not appear that way. Keith also looked as if he expected to get Ron dismissed from the case today. I shook my head and ground my teeth.
When I glanced over at Barbara and her attorney, they both looked pretty happy as well.
“‘His head is missing. His head is missing.’” Hopkins let the words hang in the courtroom.
I jumped to my feet. “I am sorry, Your Honor, I know this is going against your instruction, but isn’t this a little thick and just plain speculation? Officer Hopkins cannot read minds and he didn’t know my client, he had no way of knowing how he might respond to such a shocking crime. It’s not like my client made an excited utterance of guilt here. He can state facts, but not make interpretation of those facts. All of this speculation is just wasting the Court’s time.”
“I’m inclined to agree, counselor.” He looked at Frank Ward. “Get on with it.” He looked at me next. “I’m not going to tolerate any more outbursts like that.”
Frank did not look disturbed and acted as if he’d expected this to happen, which he probably had. He had got somebody on the stand to testify that my client looked guilty. The judge, as much as he might not try to take this into account, was going to subconsciously base his decision on this because Frank Ward had managed to set a significant baseline.
Timothy in his orange jumpsuit isn’t going to help matters.
Thankfully, Judge Anderson would not be the judge when we got to trial, but the prosecution was also getting a dry run on their case and Frank Ward would learn from his mistakes.
“Can you please describe the victim as you found him?” Frank asked after taking a moment to review a notepad.
“The body was laid out on the bed, the victim was fully clothed, as if he had just come in for the night. The defendant’s statements were accurate.” He hesitated and seemed to be wrestling with saying something else, but apparently thought better of it. “His head had been blown off. Bits of brain and gore were on the back wall.”
“Can you describe what happened next?”
“The defendant entered the room with me. As I was beginning to suspect he had done this, I carefully watched his face as he took in the crime scene. What I saw there was disturbing.”
I rolled my eyes and refrained from jumping up again.
Judge Anderson did nothing so I had no choice but to let it slide.
It was going to be a long day. Frank was gonna lay it on as thick as he could.
“And what did you find disturbing?”
“He had a small smile on his face. Like he had finally succeeded in getting this guy, as if he’d been trying to get him all along.
“How did you respond when you saw this?”
“I said, ‘It’s a real shame he was done in like this, isn’t it?’ Well, as you can imagine, Timothy noticed me looking at him and his whole composure changed. He went from looking gleeful, happy even, to stricken. Some people have strong reactions to killing. I also suspected that this was probably not the first time Timothy had killed.”
This was getting more intolerable by the moment. I pulled out my notepad, picked up a pen, wrote something that was illegible and looked furiously at Frank Ward.
“Why do you say you felt as if he had done this before?”
“Instinct perhaps, I saw somebody else from another murder, we ended up sending the guy way. It turned out he was a serial killer.”
“We are getting a lot of conjecture here,” Judge Anderson finally interjected. “Let’s stick to the facts.” He looked directly at Officer Hopkins. “Officer, did the defendant at any time say anything that lead you to believe he did this? Did he confess?”
Officer Hopkins swallowed. “He did not. But the way he was act
ing—”
“Please be specific. How was he acting? You have already told me that he had repeatedly mentioned his roommate’s head had been blown off, but I find that hard to swallow as evidence of guilt unless you have something more. An expression on another convict’s face has no relevance to this defendant.”
“After we left the room I stepped away, telling him to stay out of the victim’s room. I kept a careful eye on him. He pulled out his phone and begin texting.”
“This also does not provide evidence of guilt,” Judge Anderson said. “Did you see who he was texting?”
“I did not. But it was not long before his attorney showed up.”
“Calling for an attorney is hardly evidence of guilt, is it not? Perhaps you made him feel uncomfortable with your unfounded assessments of the situation, whether stated or not, so he figured he needed to get somebody over quick.”
Officer Hopkins was turning red and I was beginning to relax. I had seen Judge Anderson do this before on another matter. Anderson could be somewhat unpredictable, but today he was making Frank Ward’s team fly straight after giving him some leeway. Frank was trying hard not to frown now that his strategy had backfired. He had taken too much, and the judge was now calling him to the carpet by pointing out his witness’s unreasonable testimony.
“That is possible, Your Honor.” Hopkins spoke now with a wooden voice and I could tell that he had been rattled
“You can continue, counselor, please keep things based in fact and not speculation.”
I avoided making eye contact with Judge Anderson, but I could have sworn he had a twinkle in his eye as Frank Ward resumed his questioning. It was rare, but sometimes the former defense attorney showed up.
“Please describe the general state of the apartment.”
I studied Barbara as Officer Hopkins answered. Frank Ward continue to ask questions for another twenty minutes, but avoided asking for any more speculation, keeping Officer Hopkins on task. By the time he was done with the witness, it was 10:30 AM.
“We are going to take a five-minute break and then I’m going to give the defense attorneys time to question the witness.” He looked at Frank Ward. “I fear you’ve wasted some of the court’s time this morning, I hope you are more succinct in your questioning throughout the rest the day, otherwise I might withdraw my request that the defense attorneys hold their objections to keep you on track. I want this hearing done by end of the day one way or another. I have a full docket and I won’t be delayed. I’m just gonna warn you now, rather than let it be a surprise, but we will stay here until midnight if necessary.”
47
July 25 – 10:31 AM
“Hopkins is really going out of his way to make me look guilty,” Timothy said. None of us felt the need for a break so we all remained seated at the table.
“Did you expect otherwise?” I asked. “He has a simplistic view of the world. It is his job to put people behind bars. Everybody he meets is a potential suspect. He hates me because he thinks I keep criminals on the street. Unfortunately for him, it is a world that does not conform to his expectations.”
“I’m starting to regret not taking that offer. I could’ve been out in seven years. I was a fool.”
“I’m happy to approach Frank if you want, but he’s gonna want you to testify against your dad and Barbara. Do you have anything you can tell him?” I studied Timothy, wondering if more information was about to come forward.
Another layer to the onion.
Timothy hesitated and shook his head. “No, I wish I did. It was a mistake to let it get this far. I am not cut out for this.” He had a sudden intake of breath. “This is not even the trial.”
“Hang in there.”
I stood, primarily to get away from my client’s negative attitude. I would be up next so I wanted to make sure I handled this just right. It was imperative I get into the right frame of mind, Timothy was not helping me do that.
I walked to the back of the courtroom, intending to getting a drink of water, when Cynthia Cooper made eye contact. She motioned me over with a wave.
“Do you have a minute?”
I looked at my watch. “I have exactly one minute.”
She asked for us to leave the courtroom, I looked back at the bailiff as I did, hoping Judge Anderson would give us more than the five minutes he had prescribed.
Once we were outside, Cynthia walked until there was nobody nearby. “I don’t like how things are going. I have some information I want to pass to you. Can you meet me during the lunch break?”
And why is it coming forward now?
I refrained from pointing out that Winston had tried seven times to arrange a time to meet with her.
I nodded. “Sure, no problem. How about you just come over to my office?”
“Perfect.”
“I need a drink of water before we start up again.”
I left without waiting for a response, wondering what information she could possibly give to me on this matter.
My instincts told me it would be something that could hurt her husband. Two minutes later I was taking my seat when the bailiff told us all to rise. Judge Anderson looked at me after he was back in place with Hopkins was on the witness stand.
“Mister Turner, would you like to go first?”
I walked to the lectern, taking my binder with me. It was several moments before I was opened to the right page. I reviewed my written strategy before looking at Officer Hopkins.
“Thank you for being here today,” I said, greeting him with a tepid smile. “I just have a few questions. When you got to the apartment on the morning of May 29, what had you been told to expect?”
“Dispatch said somebody had called in a dead body.”
“What was your first thought when you heard that?”
“Excuse me?”
“Dispatch called you, gave you the address, and told you the nature of the report. What did you think as you made your way there?”
“I don’t know that I really had any thoughts. I suppose I wanted to get there as fast as I could.”
“Did it cross your mind that the person who made the call was also the murderer?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Please just answer the question.”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
I nodded and made a note in my binder which was more for dramatic effect than actual utility. I had done my research on Officer Hopkins and learned he jumped to unfounded conclusions, just as he had done during the prosecution’s examination.
I assumed Frank Ward had put Hopkins on the stand first to set a baseline for the preliminary hearing. Frank had probably also wanted to get the weakest witness out of the way first. I intended to make him regret that decision.
“How long had you been on the job that night when you got the call?”
Officer Hopkins thought about it. “Maybe seven or eight hours.”
“You were at the end of your shift?”
“Yeah, I guess I was, but I was later authorized to work overtime that day.”
I made another notation in my binder. “Describe again how Timothy looked when he came to the door.”
“Well, he was pale, as I already said, and he smelled like vomit.”
“Can you recall again the look you said he had on his face when he showed you the body?”
“He looked a little gleeful, like he had finally accomplished something he’d been working on for a long time.”
I made another note. “So just to make sure I understand, when you first saw him, he was pale and smelled of vomit, but when he showed you the victim’s body a moment later, he looked happy and pleased with himself?”
Officer Hopkins hesitated. He could clearly see what I was getting at. If my client really had killed Timothy and had been happy about it, why had he been pale and throwing up? These two descriptions did not seem to go together. A glance at Judge Anderson showed that I had scored the point I wanted to make.
“I don’t know what to say, that’s what I saw.”
I had planned for several other questions along this same line, but figured it was best to leave this where it was to not belabor the point.
“The other thing you mentioned that was interesting was your theory that he is a serial killer. Could you elaborate on how you got there?”
Officer Hopkins was red in the face now but nodded as if certain of what he was going to say next. “He was looking kind of pleased with himself and it just reminded me of somebody else I knew who we convicted of a couple murders.”
“What was the name of the defendant?”
“Jude Harrison Thomas, it was several years back.” Officer Hopkins was no longer red and feeling very sure of himself.
“How long had you been on the force?”
“I dunno, maybe two months.”
I rubbed my chin in thought, glancing at Judge Anderson again. I could tell he thought even less of this guy’s answer now that he knew this additional information. The case of Jude Harrison Thomas had been high profile, and there was no way Judge Anderson had not heard about it. The important part was that Officer Hopkins had been a fresh rookie.
I figured I had probably already made my point well enough, but decided to ask an additional question or two, just to send it home.
“Were you involved with the arrest of Jude Harrison Thomas?”
“I was.”
“It has been more than two years since that arrest, have you arrested any other serial killers during that time?”
“No.”
“And something about the way Jude Harrison Thomas acted two years ago reminded you of my client and made you think he was capable of not only killing, but killing multiple people. Is that a correct summation of your testimony?”
“Well, I wouldn’t—and didn’t—put it in those exact words, but it was just kind of a sixth sense, I guess.”
“Thank you.” I promptly sat down, wanting to emphasize that point with the Judge. “No further questions.
That had gone about as well as it could, referencing a sixth sense had likely just sent him into the Judge’s irrelevant bin. I looked at Judge Anderson and was sure both my points had scored.