Slocum sat quietly for a moment staring at Harris’ vanity wall behind his desk. The wall had his diplomas and admission to the bar proudly displayed.
“What about the ex-cop, Carvelli and the female P.I. Madeline Rivers?” he asked. “Are you planning on calling them?”
“No, I agree with you. We can’t call them. It will look like we sent them into Traynor’s building to find evidence for us. Let Kadella bring it up. Jefferson will deny it. He’s a highly decorated police officer and he did a great job. He makes an excellent witness.”
“And if Kadella puts them on the stand?”
“Then they go to jail for breaking and entering. But we can legitimately claim they did it on their own, that the cops didn’t put them up to it and it doesn’t hurt our case.”
After dinner, such as it is in jail, Howie Traynor settled into a chair to watch a rerun of Melinda Pace’s show. It was being repeated following the six o’clock news. When it came on one of the other guests of Hennepin County stood up to change the channel.
“We already watched this bitch this afternoon,” the bald man said as he reached a tattoo covered arm toward the TV.
“Leave it,” Howie quietly, firmly commanded. Howie was seated in the middle of the third row of chairs. None of the other inmates were sitting within four chairs of him. He was watching Melinda do her intro and ignored the beefy, bald man.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man said to Howie as he turned toward him. Before Howie could answer, another inmate, a friend of the tattoo covered troublemaker, stood and whispered something in the man’s ear. When he finished, the man grunted, sneered at Howie and said, “Whatever.” Then he sat down in the front row.
The entire twenty-two minutes of airtime of Melinda’s show was devoted to Jefferson’s testimony. Locally the media had labeled this the most recent Trial of the Century and it garnered significant national attention as well.
Seated next to Melinda for the first half of the show was Gabriella Shriqui. Being the professional that she was, Gabriella completely suppressed her total contempt for the show’s host. To watch the two of them interact would lead you to believe they were good friends.
When Gabriella’s presence was initially televised, the crowd in the county jail, being the PC sensitive types they were, let forth with a number of lewd comments. The one with the biggest, most foul-mouth was the one who had tried to change the channel.
Because Gabriella had been in the courtroom for Jefferson’s testimony, she would serve as a substitute camera to explain in detail the day’s events. During their discussion, an artist’s rendition of the scene was put up on the screen for three different parts of the testimony.
During the second half of the show, Melinda had a former prosecuting attorney on the air. Her name was Denise Flagler. Melinda did everything she could to get Flagler to say Howie was guilty but she refused to go there. Instead, she reminded Melinda and her audience that the trial had a long way to go.
Later that night, a few minutes before lights out, Howie went into the bathroom to prepare for bed. The gorilla who had wanted to change the channel on the television saw him and followed him. There were three other men in there who scurried out as quickly as they could. Less than two minutes later, Howie laid down on his cot and within minutes he was sound asleep. The tattoo-covered moron was found by a deputy and spent the next three days handcuffed to a bed at the Hennepin County Medical center. None of the inmates would testify to anything.
FIFTY-TWO
Marc knocked softly on the conference room door, quietly opened it and looked inside. A deputy told him Howie and the priest were inside waiting for him. Realizing they might be privately conferring, Marc did not want to unnecessarily disrupt or startle them. He found the two men seated at the small round table.
“Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession,” Marc heard Howie say. “I feel better already.”
Father John placed his right hand gently on Howie’s shoulder and said, “Confession is always good for the soul,” the priest replied.
Hearing the word “confession” being used, the lawyer in Marc quickly went on alert. Even though the priest could not be forced to testify about anything a penitent confessed to him, confession was not a word a defense lawyer ever wanted to hear.
“Good morning, Marc,” Father John amiably said. He stood up, shook hands with Marc and continued, “I’ll leave you two alone to converse.”
The priest left and Marc closed the door behind him. He pulled out the chair opposite Howie and said, “Should I ask what it was you confessed to?”
Howie hesitated for a moment then sheepishly turned his head away from his lawyer and said, “I, ah, got in a fight, um, last night. One of the other inmates came after me in the bathroom.”
Relieved, Marc said, “So you defended yourself…”
“Yes, I couldn’t escape,” Howie quickly agreed. “The old me took over and I hurt the man. He’s in the hospital. I didn’t mean to, I just…”
“Did the guards talk to you?”
“No, this man is a troublemaker and I don’t think anyone really cares what happened.”
“Okay,” Marc said. “Keep quiet about it and let’s move on.”
The morning session would be starting shortly. Marc went over what was coming up and reminded Howie to remain calm and maintain an impassive look and demeanor.
Owen Jefferson sat down on the witness stand and Judge Koch politely reminded him he was still under oath. Tommy Harris had completed his questioning of the detective yesterday afternoon. It was now Marc’s turn.
Before he asked his first question, Marc requested and was granted, permission to approach the witness. On his way to the witness stand Marc dropped a document in front of Harris. He then handed a copy to Jefferson and one to Judge Koch. By the time Marc returned to his chair, Harris was on his feet.
“Your Honor, we object to this document being admitted into evidence as irrelevant and immaterial.”
“May we approach, your Honor?” Marc asked.
“Yes,” Koch said waving them to come forward while she reviewed the document. When the three lawyers assembled in front of her she hit the white noise privacy button and asked Marc, “What is this?”
“It’s the autopsy report of Judge Robert Smith, murdered up by Bemidji,” Marc replied.
“He’s not charged with this crime,” Harris interjected.
“Judge, their case hinges on the defendant evading their surveillance by somehow escaping from his building across the roof. I have the right to try to poke some holes in that theory. The murder of Judge Smith is relevant for that purpose. Plus, they opened the door when the witness testified about the method and cause of death being the same.”
Koch considered it for a moment then said, “All right, I’ll let you question the witness abut Judge Smith for that purpose only.”
The lawyers retreated to their respective tables and Koch overruled the prosecution’s objection.
“Detective Jefferson,” Marc began, “I have given you an autopsy report from Beltrami County. Do you recognize this document?”
“Yes, I have seen it before,” Jefferson answered.
“It is the autopsy report of the murder of Judge Robert Smith at his lake home outside Bemidji, isn’t it?” Marc asked.
“Yes, it appears to be,” Jefferson agreed.
“On the front page, I have highlighted the date of his death. Please read that to the jury.”
Jefferson told the jury what it was.
“That was before Rhea Watson, the first murder my client is charged with, is it not?”
“Yes,” Jefferson agreed.
“You personally received a copy of this report along with a copy of the police report of Judge Smith’s murder the day after it happened did you not?”
“Yes.”
“And you read through it that day?” Marc knew this because Tony Carvelli had told him this.
“Yes.”
“Jud
ge Smith, according to these reports, was found seated between two trees, his arms extended, his hands nailed to those trees and his fingers and toes were crushed, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And his killer had planted a crown of barbed wire thorns on his head?”
“Objection,” Harris said. “This witness has no personal knowledge of who placed the barbed wire on this victim’s head.” It was a foolish objection and Marc had to suppress a smile.
“Sustained,” Koch ruled.
“I’ll rephrase, your Honor,” Marc said. “Isn’t it true that according to the report you read, Judge Smith had a barbed wire crown of thorns on his head when his body was found?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Without getting into the technical medical terms, isn’t it true that the cause of death was loss of blood due to his throat being slit from ear-to-ear?”
“Yes, that’s also true.”
“When you arrived at the scene of Rhea Watson’s death, isn’t it true you saw her body in her basement, sitting with her back to the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Her arms were spread, her hands nailed to the wall, her body covered in blood, her fingers and toes crushed and a barbed wire crown of thorns on her head exactly like Judge Smith?”
“Yes, she was,” Jefferson agreed.
“And Detective Jefferson,” Marc began more softly, “isn’t it also true that the moment you saw her you thought of the report you had read about Judge Smith?”
“Well maybe not the instant I saw her but it did occur to me.”
“Her cause of death is also loss of blood due to having her throat slit from ear-to-ear, exactly like Judge Smith, isn’t it?”
“Objection,” Harris said. “The witness is not a medical professional.”
Judge Koch looked at Jefferson and asked, “Do you know her cause of death?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Overruled. The witness may answer.”
“Yes,” Jefferson said looking at Marc.
“To your knowledge, has the defendant been charged with Judge Smith’s murder?”
“No, he has not,” Jefferson said.
“Detective Jefferson, do you know a private investigator by the name of Anthony Carvelli?”
“Yes, I know him.”
“In fact, Anthony Carvelli, a retired detective of the Minneapolis police is a friend of yours, is he not?”
“As he is of you, I understand,” Jefferson managed to slip into the discussion.
“You’re right,” Marc admitted looking at the jury. “I’ve known Mr. Carvelli for several years. Do you know another private investigator by the name of Madeline Rivers?”
“Yes, I know her,” Jefferson calmly said.
“And retired Minneapolis police officers Daniel Sorenson, Thomas Evans and Franklin Washington, do you know them?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it also true that Ms. Rivers, Sorenson, Evans and Franklin were all working under the direction of Carvelli doing surveillance of Howard Traynor on behalf of a private citizen at the time when Judge Robert Smith and Rhea Watson were murdered?”
“Yes, they were,” Jefferson admitted.
“Isn’t it also true that Carvelli was keeping you informed, sort of informally and off the record, of that surveillance?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Isn’t it true that Mr. Traynor is not charged with the murder of Robert Smith at his lake home thirty miles outside Bemidji, a distance of over two hundred miles from Minneapolis, because on the night it happened, Mr. Traynor was being watched and his car never moved?”
“I don’t know why he has not been charged with that murder. It’s not my case.”
“Did Carvelli tell you they watched him all night that night?”
“Yes.”
“Did he also tell you Mr. Traynor’s car never moved from in front of his apartment building?”
“Yes,” Jefferson agreed.
“So, isn’t it true that he could not have sneaked out, somehow traveled to Bemidji without his car, murder Judge Smith and somehow get back to the Cities by morning undetected?”
“Yes, that’s probably true,” Jefferson admitted with obvious reluctance.
“And whoever murdered Judge Smith did it exactly the same way as the victims Howard Traynor is charged with murdering, is that correct?”
Jefferson opened his mouth as if to say something contradictory. He looked at Harris hoping for an objection. When none was forthcoming, he reluctantly said, “Yes, that’s true.”
“Is it reasonable to assume that the same person who murdered the victims charged in the indictment for this trial also killed Judge Smith and that person could not possibly be Howard Traynor?”
“Objection,” Harris said jumping to his feet, “speculation.”
“Sustained,” the judge ruled. “The jury will disregard the question in its entirety.”
Marc expected Harris to object and Koch to sustain it. He didn’t care. He had made his point and even though Koch had ordered the jury to disregard it, the judge’s order to the jury would not unring that bell.
Judge Koch looked over the jury and the gallery. Everyone in attendance was absolutely still and quiet. And they were all staring directly at Marc and Owen Jefferson. However, needing a break herself, the judge ordered a short recess.
“Detective Jefferson, after the death of Rhea Watson, Anthony Carvelli told you he was going to discontinue the surveillance of Howie Traynor, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Because they had been watching him for almost three weeks and did not believe Traynor was doing anything criminal, did he not?”
“You’d have to ask Tony Carvelli that,” Jefferson said.
“No, Detective, I’m asking you if he told you that.”
“Objection, hearsay,” Harris said.
“Overruled,” Koch quickly said.
“Yes, he did tell me that.”
“You made no attempt to persuade him to stay on the surveillance of Howie Traynor, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But you had encouraged him to watch Mr. Traynor a couple of times before that didn’t you?”
“Um, I guess so, yes.”
“Because you believed Howie Traynor should be watched but the police could not do it, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“And it was after the murder of Rhea Watson that Tony Carvelli told you he was calling it off and you did not object, did you?”
“No, because I didn’t believe…”
“Non-responsive, your Honor,” Marc quickly said to cut him off.
“You will answer only the question asked, Detective,” Koch politely admonished him.
“When Judge Ross Peterson was killed, Mr. Traynor was not under surveillance by anyone, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“It was also at that time, that you compiled a list of people who were prosecuted by Rhea Watson, tried in front of Ross Peterson and whose cases were handled on appeal by Judge Robert Smith, isn’t that true?”
“Yes,” Jefferson acknowledged.
“Isn’t it true you came up with a total of eight names?”
“Yes.”
“None of these eight people were under surveillance by anyone at the time of the murders of Rhea Watson and Ross Peterson or Robert Smith, were they?”
“Not to my knowledge, no,” Jefferson admitted.
“Was Mr. Traynor one of these eight people?”
“Yes, he was.”
“And seven others including a Eugene Parlow and Aaron Forsberg?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“In fact, isn’t it true, Detective Jefferson, you believed it was one of those three men, Howard Traynor, Eugene Parlow and Aaron Forsberg?”
“Well, not completely, no.”
“But they were at the top of your suspect list, weren’t the
y?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“Because all three of them had recently been released from prison and because their convictions were overturned due to the prosecution using DNA tests that were doctored by a lab technician, isn’t that true?”
“Yes and we found out the other five all had solid alibis.”
“Really? They had solid alibis but you didn’t believe Mr. Traynor had a solid alibi by being under round the clock surveillance?”
“We believed he had a strong motive.”
“Because of the way he was convicted by use of a tainted DNA test?”
Jefferson squirmed in his seat, looked at Harris, then the jury and back to Marc when he said, “Yes and he had ties to Smith, Watson and Peterson.”
“As did both Eugene Parlow and Aaron Forsberg, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” Jefferson agreed.
“Isn’t it true that neither Eugene Parlow nor Aaron Forsberg were under surveillance at the time Judge Smith, Judge Peterson and Rhea Watson were killed?”
“Objection,” Harris said standing and interrupting. “He continues to bring up Judge Smith in an irrelevant manner.”
“Overruled,” Koch quickly said, “because of the similarities, his death is clearly connected to the others.”
“Were they under surveillance?” Marc asked.
“No,” Jefferson admitted.
“After Judge Peterson’s murder, you decided to put all three of those suspects under surveillance by the police, isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“The very next day, Judge Julian Segal, a Ramsey County judge was found near Lake Harriet wasn’t he?”
“Objection,” Harris said. “The defendant is not…”
“Overruled,” Koch said with a noticeable touch of annoyance. “The witness will answer the question.”
“Yes, he was.”
“He was found in between two trees, his arms spread, his hands nailed to the trees, his throat slit, fingers and toes crushed and a barbed wire crown on his head, isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“And exactly like the others, he had been jolted by a Taser?”
“Objection,” Harris said.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 171