Jamison had carefully considered his course of action. There was no way he was going to extend a blanket immunity to Foster when Carter wouldn’t tell him what Foster was going to say. Not only would it be naive, it would be irresponsible. As far as he was concerned, Gifford could put Foster on the stand and Wallace would order Foster to answer. If he did, he did. If he didn’t, then there was nothing Jamison could do about it unless he was willing to act blindly. He wasn’t. He walked over to the sheriff’s office to meet with Jensen.
Mike Jensen clearly relished his return to the sheriff’s office. As O’Hara brought him down the hall, older detectives came out to greet him with younger ones following to get the opportunity to shake his hand. Whether he had achieved legendary status or not, he was treated like he had and he was going to enjoy every minute of his day in the sun, even though he likely had a throbbing headache from his excesses the night before.
Ernie had earlier taken Jensen to the evidence room to go through the items still maintained in the Harker case. The tickets to Dodger stadium were still in a plastic bag along with the program from the game. A faded parking receipt was clipped to the game program. Ernie had checked it out of evidence and carried it over to a detective office where Jamison waited to go over everything before Jensen testified. Then they walked to court.
Jensen fidgeted in the witness chair, pulling at his collar and tie. He wasn’t used to wearing a tie anymore and he hadn’t noticed how tight his shirts had become around the collar because he never buttoned the top button. He scanned the courtroom and rested his eyes on Harker, who glared at him. Jensen allowed himself a faint smile in response.
“Detective Jensen,” said Jamison, “you have previously testified in this matter. You were the primary investigating officer in the murder of Lisa Farrow, correct?”
“Yeah—yes, I was in charge of the case.”
“And during your investigation did you initially focus on anyone as a suspect besides Richard Harker?”
“Yes, as I testified to before, we looked at a guy named Richard Sample. That was because of the victim’s mother giving us that name based on a misunderstanding of who the little girl was talking about as the person who murdered her mother.”
“Did you contact Richard Sample?”
“Yes, myself and several uniformed deputies found him at his mother’s house. We bagged him up and took him in for interrogation.”
“As a result of that interrogation, did you receive anything from Richard Sample?”
“Yeah, he gave me two tickets to a baseball game, at Chavez Ravine in LA.”
Jamison held up a plastic bag that had an exhibit tag on it. “Do you recognize People’s Exhibit One?”
Jensen took the bag and examined it, then handed it back. “Yes, those are the tickets I got from Sample. You can see my initials on the plastic bag and I made a very small pen mark on the back of the tickets. I got those from Sample.”
“Did he have them on his person when you arrested him?”
“No, we didn’t get him until late the next day after the murder. If I recall correctly, we had to go back to his house where the tickets were. The game program we got from his buddy, a guy by the name of Jimmy Stack. Sample claimed he had been at the baseball game until late the night before and didn’t get home until the middle of the next day. I got the same story from Jimmy Stack.”
“Did you check out the tickets?”
“Yeah, I went down to LA and they confirmed these were tickets for that day. The Dodgers played the Giants the day of Lisa Farrow’s murder. The game didn’t finish until late and the parking receipt matched up. It’s about a four-hour drive from Dodger Stadium back here. Sample would not have been here to have killed Lisa Farrow. Jimmy Stack backed him up.”
“Now do you know what happened to Richard Sample?”
“Yeah, he’s dead. And I know that because he was killed in a bar fight. It happened right before I retired. I was the supervising detective and sent our guys out to the scene. I came out later and he was still on the floor. Well, actually he was in an alley behind the bar—in a dumpster.”
“So, you did a complete investigation of Richard Sample’s alibi for the night of Lisa Farrow’s murder?”
“Yes. Initially I thought he was the perpetrator based on what the little girl and her grandmother said. I followed up with Sample’s mother, and him and Stack, and I checked out the tickets and the times. He wasn’t here when she was killed so his alibi checked out. Then we got information that led us to the defendant, Richard Harker. Our investigation caused us to conclude he was the one.”
Jamison looked at the tickets in the clear evidence bag. Something in the back of his brain was nagging at him like he was missing something. He pushed it aside. He had so far carefully avoided asking Jensen what Sample had told him, knowing it was inadmissible hearsay, but he decided to take a chance. “Did what Richard Sample told you about his activities the evening of the murder all check out?”
“Yes, from the very beginning Sample’s story was consistent with the physical evidence and backed up by his mother and Jimmy Stack.”
Gifford wasn’t asleep. He immediately objected that the question and answer had to be based on inadmissible hearsay. Wallace blew out a long sigh. “I’ll allow it. It’s evident that Sample is dead and we are plowing over a case that is almost thirty years old. I’m going to let it in but I am also going to give Mr. Gifford a great deal of latitude in cross-examination.”
Gifford picked up the bag containing the tickets. “You say you checked these tickets out. What did you do?”
“I went to LA to Dodger Stadium. We called it Chavez Ravine back then but I guess nobody calls it that now. Anyway, I went to the ticket office and they showed me where they were on a seating chart. They confirmed that the tickets were legitimate. The parking receipt checked out too. The game ran late, like I said, and they wouldn’t have gotten out until maybe after eight thirty or nine that night. Sample said that he and Stack ended up driving partway and sleeping in the car. But even if they drove home right after the game, they wouldn’t have been back here until well after midnight, maybe two in the morning. None of that matched with the time of the murder.”
“And how did you know the time of the murder?”
“The autopsy was consistent with time of death being prior to midnight, and Clarence Foster said that it was around nine. Plus, the neighbors saw Foster and Harker go into the house around that time. If they were all correct, then Sample was still in LA. He couldn’t have been in two places at the same time, Counselor.”
“Did you check out who was sitting next to Sample at the game?”
“I tried to find that out. This was a long time ago, Mr. Gifford. Back then most people didn’t use credit cards like they do now. Most people paid cash. All I knew was the seats were sold. After all the investigation I did and the interrogation of Foster and the identification by the little girl, it was obvious who committed the murder—your client. I don’t waste time going down rabbit holes. This was a brutal case. I wanted the man who did it.”
“What if Sample left early from the game—could he have gotten back during the time you say the murder was committed?”
Jensen shook his head. “Anything’s possible I guess, but there was no evidence of that and Stack backed him up on the alibi. I asked them some details from the game based on the news accounts and they were able to tell me enough to convince me they were there—although it was pretty obvious both of them, especially Stack, drank a lot of beer while they were there so Stack wasn’t much help.” The frustration reflected itself on Gifford’s face and the tone of his questioning. He wasn’t getting anywhere and Jensen was only going to help him dig his hole deeper. “Nothing further, Your Honor.”
Jamison stood. “Your Honor, I don’t intend to present any further evidence. The People rest.”
“Mr. Gifford?” Wallace was looking over the top of reading glasses with his eyebrows slightly raised, waiting to
see what Gifford was going to do.
“Your Honor, I want to talk to this Jimmy Stack myself. I also intend to recall Clarence Foster.” Gifford approached the bench and handed Wallace his copy of the immunity agreement. “I received this early this morning from Mr. Carter, who the court appointed to represent Mr. Foster. My understanding is that Mr. Jamison also received a copy. I would ask the court if we can reconvene early tomorrow?”
Wallace tapped his pen on the bench, his lips scrunched together before answering. “All right, but be prepared to argue this tomorrow unless you have more evidence. Is that clear?”
Chapter 36
As soon as court reconvened and Wallace settled himself on the bench, Gifford stood up and called Clarence Foster to the stand. It didn’t take long for Carter to tell the court that without a further immunity order his client wasn’t going to testify. He turned to Jamison, who stood to respond to the court’s inquiry.
“Your Honor, Mr. Foster has an immunity agreement, which is in the hands of the court. I have no intention of extending another immunity agreement to Clarence Foster. I have no legal obligation to do so and I certainly won’t do it without knowing what is going on.” Jamison knew that Foster could say anything he wanted and there was nothing he could do about it. He could never put together a case on Foster with respect to the murder based on the evidence he had, and if there was something else he wouldn’t get it from Foster.
Wallace directed his question at Foster. “Mr. Foster, this is an immunity agreement between a deputy district attorney and your lawyer, Roger Jamison. It means that you agreed to testify in this case. Do you understand that? Do you understand that under that agreement you can’t be prosecuted?”
Foster looked over at his attorney and then back at Judge Wallace. “My attorney says not to say nothin’ until I get another immunity order so I’m not saying nothin’ until he says okay. So, I guess you can put me in jail, Judge. Wait, I am in jail, so I guess I got no more to say.”
There was very little Wallace could do. He could order Foster to testify based on the agreement he had been given and his previous testimony. But if Foster refused to testify, all he could really do was put him in jail for contempt. Foster already was in jail so that was an empty threat. The smirk on Foster’s face didn’t improve Wallace’s mood.
Gifford held his hands out. “Your Honor, I’m asking the court to grant immunity. We need to hear the whole truth here.” Gifford’s voice was barely controlled as he tried to keep his emotions in check.
Wallace leaned back before speaking. “Mr. Gifford, the court has no authority to grant immunity without the concurrence of the district attorney. You know that. It’s evident that isn’t going to happen. I understand your frustration but move forward. Do you have another witness?”
“Jimmy Stack, Your Honor. We call Jimmy Stack.”
Jimmy was brought from the holding cell area, dressed in a jail jumpsuit, his hands cuffed. Wallace ordered the cuffs removed before Stack was sworn as a witness. He looked around the courtroom, waiting for something to happen. It didn’t take long
Gifford positioned himself in front of Stack. “Do you know my client, Richard Harker?”
Jimmy peered over at Harker. “Seen him at the jail but don’t know him.”
“Did you know Richard Sample?”
“Yeah, never said I didn’t. But like I told the DA investigator, Sample’s dead and I already told what happened.” Jimmy looked over at Wallace. “How come I don’t have a lawyer? I’m supposed to have a lawyer, right?”
Wallace’s eyebrows raised noticeably before he answered. “You want a lawyer? Are you refusing to testify?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Nah, I been around. I don’t need no lawyer. I got nothin’ to say I ain’t said before. Okay, go on.”
Gifford didn’t hesitate. “You refused to talk to me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I don’t like lawyers and I don’t want to talk about this. Like I told you, I said all I got to say about this. It was a long time ago.”
Gifford persisted. “You remember being questioned by detectives when Lisa Farrow was murdered?”
“Yeah, told them Sample and me was at a baseball game.”
“Were you at a baseball game? Tell us about that.”
“I just did. We was at a ball game and watched the Dodgers play the Giants. Don Sutton pitched. I remember that. After that I was drinkin’ a lot of beer and the rest of it I don’t remember much. We left late and slept in the car. Came home the next day. I didn’t know nothin’ about the murder until a detective came to see me and I told him. It was a long time ago. My memory isn’t that good anymore. That’s it.”
Gifford stood silently in front of the witness box; his shoulders showed growing resignation. “So, you’re saying that Richard Sample was with you until early the day after Lisa Farrow was murdered.”
“That’s what I said and that’s what I been saying.” Stack’s head jerked around with quick bird-like movements before turning to Wallace. “I want to go back. I don’t want to talk no more.”
Wallace directed his question to Gifford. “Any more?”
“No, Your Honor. No more.”
Wallace turned toward Jamison, who didn’t wait for a question. “The People are ready to argue, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Gifford, I’ll hear your arguments now.”
Gifford began to breathe heavily as the stress of the moment weighed on him. “Your Honor, what we have is a grave miscarriage of justice. My client, Richard Harker, has been imprisoned for the better part of his life for a crime he didn’t commit. Finally, someone came forward, and that person is Christine Farrow. This is the daughter of the victim and she was plagued most of her life by the growing realization that she had made a mistake. There can be no more compelling exoneration than comes from the voice of the victim of a crime. She was only a child when this happened. And it is understandable that a child could be misled and frightened by this whole process. My client is just grateful that she came forward.
“Now I know Mr. Jamison is going to argue about hypnosis and disparage Dr. Vinson, but let me ask this question. Shouldn’t it shake this court’s confidence in the verdict that this case rested on the testimony of two people: one of a five-year-old child and the other someone who had to have immunity? Shouldn’t it shake this court’s confidence in the verdict that the one innocent witness in this entire tragedy has now said it wasn’t my client? Mr. Jamison will say that isn’t enough. What I say is, what if it’s true?
“How confident can this court be that Christine Farrow isn’t telling the truth? Just because she was hypnotized doesn’t mean what she said isn’t true. And if it is true, then this man, Richard Harker, has been sent to hell by the system and his only hope is that the system will want to make sure a mistake hasn’t been made. Let a new jury decide. Give this man a chance to show he is innocent.
“I can’t make my point any more clearly, Your Honor. Christine Farrow’s testimony should cause this court to be unsure. Certainly, it would raise a reasonable doubt if a jury heard it. This whole case rested on the tiny shoulders of a five-year-old. This court knows that is an age when many children aren’t even allowed to testify.
“This man’s condemnation depended on a five-year-old who now says she was wrong and she’s had almost three decades to know that. If you say no, then you are saying you have enough confidence in this case that you are willing to send Richard Harker back to prison for the rest of his natural life. If he’s guilty, then that’s a just sentence. But justice requires confidence in the certainty of its verdict. There can be no certainty here.
“The district attorney has refused to allow a full hearing because he wouldn’t agree to let Mr. Foster testify. He is the only other witness who pointed an accusing finger at my client. That isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. Mr. Jamison has the power to grant immunity and he won’t do it because he doesn’t want me to expose the truth in this case. You are Mr. Harker’s last hope.
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“Christine Farrow is the voice of an unburdened conscience and you, Your Honor, are the voice of justice. I am asking you to give this man the chance to have a jury hear Christine Farrow and let them decide. You don’t have to decide that Richard Sample committed this crime. All you have to do is decide that there is sufficient doubt that my client committed this crime, that you are unwilling to allow this case not to be retried. Let the district attorney prove it now—with all the evidence that exists now. Isn’t a man’s entire life worth making absolutely sure an injustice hasn’t been done? It’s in your hands, Your Honor. Do the right thing.”
Wallace remained impassive, but his skin showed a slightly gray pallor. Jamison could see that he was absorbing the weight of the decision. Jamison waited a moment before he rose to speak. He had thought about what he was going to say. He didn’t need his notes.
“Your Honor, I appreciate the passion of Mr. Gifford’s argument, but what it lacks is admissible evidence or a viable justification for the relief he’s demanding. This court is well aware that Christine Farrow’s testimony is not only undermined by the use of hypnosis, it should not be admissible in any retrial because it failed to comply with the rules of evidence. There is a reason why this type of testimony requires recording and evidence of what was said before hypnosis. The credibility of this type of testimony depends on the assurance the court has that it wasn’t influenced by the person doing the hypnosis. This court has no such assurance here. This court heard what Dr. Vinson did. I asked him if he brought up Richard Sample being a suspect before the hypnosis. He planted the seed. I’m not saying Dr. Vinson did it intentionally. I am saying it was irresponsible given what is at stake here both for Christine Farrow’s peace of mind and the public’s right to have finality.
“What Mr. Gifford is really asking is for this court to grant a new trial when he knows that we have an almost thirty-year-old case and we won’t be able to use Christine Farrow’s testimony without somehow getting into testimony that is inadmissible. Her testimony has been irretrievably corrupted. There is no way that poor young woman knows what is or is not the truth, or even has any real memory of what happened back then. She was just a small child forced to go through something no child should have to go through and now she has been forced to go through it all again.
Shades of Truth Page 24