by Dan Decker
“I don’t know. You would have to ask them.”
“I see. I will make sure to do that.” Adeline Noyce made a notation on her notepad and then turned the page. “Was Barbara Howard Smith a suspect prior to Mister Turner’s revelation about the lip-gloss?”
“Yes, the prosecuting attorney had us looking into her several days beforehand.”
I hid a smile as Judge Anderson sat back. He had started to think Adeline might have a point, but this had alleviated his concerns.
“But the emails were not found until afterward?”
“Correct.”
“Did you ask Frank Ward where he got this information?”
Ah, that’s what she’s doing. She has not given up on blaming me. She’s just coming at it from a different direction. I resisted the urge to shake my head. The most persuasive argument that I was not trying to frame her client was the fact I had turned over the murder weapon when it directly incriminated mine.
“I did not.”
“But did you learn from another source how he learned about this?”
Stephanie glanced at me. “I heard he received a tip from Mister Turner.”
Once again, Timothy stirred beside me and I refused to look at him. I was not going to apologize for handling his case in the way I saw fit. If he wanted to fire me after today, so be it, but I was not going to take flak for doing my job.
“This is very curious, don’t you think? Mitch suggests to the prosecuting attorney that he ought to look into my client and then later he ‘remembers,’” she held her fingers up to put emphasis on the word, “that he also had this lip gloss in his possession?”
“We’ve looked into Mister Turner. We don’t think he did what you’re suggesting.” Stephanie leaned back in her chair and I could see that the day had taken a toll on her. She glanced my way and the undercurrent of what I saw there made me shiver.
She had gone from the hot angry she had been before to the cold steel fury that I remembered on the day she broke up with me. She had never given me the real reason why, and for a brief moment the memory threatened to grind my mental processes to a halt.
“Would it be fair to say that my client would never have been involved in this case if Mister Turner had not dragged her into it?”
“No, as I mentioned, we already had people reviewing emails. You want to make a big deal about the fact that there is a possibility the technician might have looked at her emails more closely after we received information from Mister Turner, but what does that give you?
“Nothing. We would have gotten to those emails in due course. We always make it a point to review all emails, text messages, and phone calls—not to mention social media activity—from the victims and all possible suspects. That’s a lot of information to review and we can’t get through it all in just a couple days. It takes weeks, sometimes months. But the fact of the matter is that your client made threats to her nephew and wound up dead. This is very curious, don’t you think?”
Adeline Noyce ignored the question. “Do you have any evidence that puts my client in the apartment on the day of the murder?”
Stephanie hesitated. I could tell she wanted to carefully word her answer.
“I am not aware of any information that indicates your client was or was not in the apartment on the day Gordon Howard was shot.”
Adeline frowned. “I have no further questions.”
Judge Anderson looked at Frank. “Redirect?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I have a few follow-up questions.”
“Sure thing.”
Frank took his time approaching the stand and even had a whispered conversation with a junior prosecutor at the table.
“Detective Gray,” he said when he was finally at the podium. “I am sorry for what you have been put through today. It might ease your mind to know that I will be sending a letter of reference, hoping that your boss will decide to keep you on. You are a good detective and have done a great job.”
“Thank you.”
Frozen steel.
“Let’s talk about the crime scene. Did you find Barbara Howard Smith’s fingerprints in the victim’s bedroom?”
“We did not find them in the bedroom, however we did find them on the doorjamb of the bedroom.”
“Is there any known technology that allows us to identify the date or time a fingerprint is made?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“So let me make sure I understand this correctly, Barbara Howard Smith’s fingerprints, were found in the apartment. And indeed, the fingerprints were found on the doorjamb of the victim’s bedroom, is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“In your review of the crime scene, where did you believe the shooter stood when Gordon Howard was shot?”
“The shooter stood in the living room.”
“And did you find Barbara Howard Smith’s fingerprints there?”
“We did.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions, your honor.”
Judge Anderson looked at me. “Mr. Turner, your name has come up a lot in the questions and testimony today, I imagine you have some follow-up questions, although this breaks with our usual protocol, I’m going to allow you to ask them because I think it will have a bearing on the matter at hand. I’ll give you a moment to collect your thoughts.”
“Thank you, Your Honor, I don’t need a moment, I’m ready.”
“You may proceed.”
I approached the lectern without my binder. I already knew the questions I was going to ask.
“Detective Gray,” I said, “been kind of a ride today, hasn’t it?”
“Is there a real question in there, Mister Turner?” Stephanie’s voice was like an ice cube. It was the exact response I wanted. I glanced at the judge and he looked between the two of us and I could tell that my message had been received.
There was nothing going on between us. And she looked at me with such loathing, the thought of anything ever going on between us again was almost laughable.
“On the day I asked you to meet me, do you remember the restaurant that I suggested?”
“I do, it was Drake’s Place.”
“And what significance did that restaurant have?”
“It is the place where I dumped you.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“Almost a decade.”
“And have you had any contact with me, other than professionally, during the last decade?”
“No.”
“Is it fair to say then that there is no personal entanglement between you and myself on this case?”
“It’s the absolute truth.”
“Thank you, no further questions.”
52
July 25 – 3:15 PM
Judge Anderson let out a long sigh after I was done with my questions.
“Detective Gray, you are dismissed.”
I could tell by the hint of the question in his tone that he was still trying to make up his mind about the two of us and our level of personal involvement. My calculated questions of Stephanie might have backfired, it might have solidified the idea that Keith and Adeline had tried to send home.
It might have been better to not touch it. It was a risk either way, but in the court of law, it was best to not leave unanswered questions if you could. I wouldn’t have touched it with a ten-foot pole if this had been a press conference. I studied Judge Anderson while I tried to devise what my next best move should be.
“I think we all deserve a fifteen-minute break,” Judge Anderson said. He hit the gavel and was gone before anybody could stand.
Stephanie gave me the worst glare I’d ever received from her before and I could tell she too thought that I had made a mistake by asking additional questions.
Timothy leaned into me. “This has malpractice written all over it. If I go to jail I am going to sue you for all your worth.”
He gave me a roguish smile, something at odds with the perception I
had of him at the beginning of this case. The nerd was no longer in evidence. Either this case and changed him or it had brought this side out.
“The only way I’m not going to sue you is if you get me out of this, if you don’t it doesn’t look good for you.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
I stood before I could explain.
To be honest, I didn’t know what I meant, but it was best I put some distance between us, because it was the second time that afternoon that I wanted to lay somebody flat on the ground. I had known going into this day how things would be portrayed by the other defense attorneys and had done my best to plan for this, but I felt like I had bungled it.
It’s because of the personal angle. They’re attacking me personally. It’s hard to not let that get to me.
It did not help that Cynthia Cooper almost seemed to have a gleeful look in her eyes as I passed.
Whose side is she on anyway?
Somebody grabbed me as I left the courtroom. I turned, ready to throw out insults if it was Keith or Frank, but stopped short when I saw it was Winston.
“We need to talk.” He looked pleased and I wondered if maybe he had actually found something. Perhaps some part of Cynthia’s story had held up.
I nodded toward the exit. “Let’s go outside.”
We walked several hallways down so we were less likely to be overheard before we stood in an empty corner with each of us facing out. I was conscious of the marble all around us and hoped that nobody would be able to hear a whispered conversation fifty feet away because of weird courthouse acoustics.
“What did you find?” I asked without preamble.
“I didn’t meet with Timothy before the preliminary hearing started back up, but it doesn’t matter. I met with his civil procedure professor. The story about the test is true.” Winston reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to me. “I just got this from Professor Keaton at the law school. It proves he submitted his test at 1:35 am, a little after the supposed time of death.”
I shook my head. “It might not be enough, these things are not always accurate, once the prosecution gets a hold of this—” I didn’t finish, because I could tell Winston had something more.
“After I got that printout it occurred to me to have a chat with the law school IT guy. It turns out that our boy Timothy was very active on the internet that night. It appears he needed to blow off some steam after the quiz.” Winston snorted. “He did not do much studying after that. In fact, he played online games for several hours.” Winston reached into his bag and handed me another piece of paper. It was a log sheet. The final log was 3:31 AM.
“Are you telling me that we can prove Timothy was in the law library until 3:31 in the morning?”
“I sure am.”
“Stay close, this is going to get interesting. One more thing. Did you get over to Timothy’s apartment to look for doorbell cameras?”
“Not yet. Want me to go now?”
“No, I need you here.” I walked back to the courtroom.
I just gave Timothy a pleasant smile as he made another threat when I took my seat.
53
July 25 – 3:31 PM
“Your Honor,” Frank Ward said, “the prosecution calls Harry Jones to the stand. A thin man came into the courtroom, he wore glasses and was balding. He was probably in his early forties, but that might have just been the way he dressed. He also brought with him a laptop computer. I had reviewed his reports and found nothing of consequence. Jones was a forensic technician for the police department.
I hid a smile as the detective was sworn in. The timing could not have been more perfect. I was anxious to ask him some questions in light of what Winston had discovered.
Frank Ward flipped a page over in his notebook, read something, and put his finger on the page to keep his place before looking up at Jones.
“Can you please explain what your job is for the police department?”
“Yes, I’m a forensic computer technician. I review computers, social media, electronic communication, etc.”
“What computers or other hardware have you received during the course of this investigation?”
“I have the defendant Timothy Cooper’s laptop computer. I also have a computer from the victim, Gordon Howard. I also examined the phones of Timothy Cooper, Ron Cooper, and Barbara Howard Smith.”
He looked ready to continue, but Frank Ward interrupted. “Let’s start with the computer of Timothy Cooper. What did you find there?”
“I found several emails where Timothy Cooper emailed his mother and mentioned his roommate. The comments he made about Gordon Howard were mostly benign, but there was one comment where he mentioned he was getting sick of his roommate.”
“How long ago was this email sent?”
“It was approximately six months prior to the victim’s death.”
“Was there any other mention of Gordon Howard since that time?”
“There was not.”
“Did you find anything else interesting on the computer?”
“Yes, it appears that Timothy Cooper spent much of his time in online gambling establishments.”
Bingo.
Timothy turned red in the face.
“Would you say he has a gambling problem?”
“I don’t know that I’m qualified to say that, but he spent a lot of time on gambling websites. It wasn’t much, dollars here and there. It normally didn’t add up, but there was one week where he lost in excess of two thousand dollars.”
“How recent was that?”
“A week before the murder.”
I hid a frown and avoided looking at my client. Frank Ward was trying to establish a motive. He wanted to paint Timothy as desperate for money and was going to try to prove that he had stolen from Gordon Howard after killing him.
“How did you learn about the gaming?”
“We reviewed his credit card records.”
“Thank you. Did you look at the computer belonging to Gordon Howard?”
“Yes.”
“And did you find anything in your examination?”
“I did. I found emails from the victim to Barbara Howard Smith.”
“We’ll get into the details of those emails in a moment, but can you give us a high-level summary of what the emails were about?”
“There was not much communication until early March of this year when Gordon Howard discovered an affair between Ron Cooper and Barbara Howard Smith. He apparently decided to confront his aunt about it.”
“Would you pull up the first email?”
“Sure thing.” The detective opened his laptop and sent a picture to the overhead projector for all to see as the bailiff dimmed the lights. It was an email from Gordon to Barbara that was sent on March 11.
“I have highlighted the relevant text here.”
“Would you mind reading that for the court?”
“Sure thing. ‘I don’t know how to say this, Barb, so I’m just gonna come right out with it. I know you’re having an affair with Ron Cooper.’”
“And was there an email response from Barbara?”
“No, there was not, however when I reviewed the text messages on Gordon’s phone, I discovered that he had received a text from Barbara that appeared to be sent in response to this email.”
“Would you mind reading the text to the court?”
“Sure.” The screen changed again. “It reads: ‘My dear nephew, it has been too long since we got together, can you meet for lunch?’ You will note that the date of this message is March 12, the day after the victim sent his email. It is a logical assumption this was a response to that.”
“Are there any other text messages from this time that are relevant to the matter at hand?”
“There are not. It is not until later that we found additional information.”
“Would you care to put that up on the screen next?”
“Yes.” The detective did something on his
computer again and the screen changed. It was another text message from Barbara.
“This was sent on May 15. ‘Gordon, we are all adults. There is no need to bring your uncle into this. Please call me, I would like to talk with you at your earliest convenience.’ Three days later on May 18, she sent another message. ‘Please stop ignoring me, it is urgent we speak.’ And then a day later there was this message. ‘If you do not respond, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands. I do not like to think of what that might include, but you are leaving me with no choice. Please just let me come over to your place so we can talk.’”
“Was there any communication from Gordon to Barbara during this time?”
“Not for which we have a record. There was one dropped call that Gordon placed to Barbara, but the call lasted less than three seconds. I assume he either called her by mistake or decided to not go through with it.”
“Please continue with the next message.”
“Sure thing.” A few moments later another message appeared on the screen. “This was sent on May 25. ‘Gordon I’m becoming very frustrated. I have always been your favorite aunt, you have been my favorite nephew. It is important you and I start to talk about this. If we don’t, I am afraid that things might get a little out of hand. Please don’t take this as a threat, but there are other options I can employ to resolve the situation if you are not willing to work with me.’”
“Was there a response to this message?”
“There was. I’ll put it up now. This was sent on May 26, three days before the victim died. ‘What are you gonna do, kill me?’ A response came back within minutes. ‘It is important we meet. Can I come to your apartment?’”
Frank Ward took a moment as if thinking of what to say next, but I was sure he wanted to let the impact of this statement sit with the judge. When he looked up, Judge Anderson was staring at Barbara and then looking between Ron and Timothy.
I could tell he was wondering if there was a connection between the three defendants as the prosecution alleged. Frank Ward’s case was now coming to a head.