“I do.”
“Officer, could you please state your full name for the record?” Astrid asks.
“Mateo Palino. That’s M-A-T-E-O, last name P-A-L-I-N-O. I’ve worked with the police department of the Seventh Precinct for the past three-and-a-half years.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me in your own words what happened the night of August 17?”
“At approximately 10:15 on the night of August 17, I received a 9-1-1 dispatch to the corner of Henry and Rutgers. Possible homicide, possible suspect still in the building. My partner and I arrived on the scene, pressed a button for apartment number seven, received no immediate answer, broke through the two glass entrances and entered the elevator. As we entered, we heard a voice on the speaker say, ‘Come on up,’ and then we heard a buzzer sound.
“When we arrived at the seventh floor, the doors wouldn’t open, but then seemed to open automatically. The defendant then pointed to the victim and said, ‘He’s right over there.’ I proceeded to ascertain the status of the victim, while my partner secured the—”
“Sorry, let me stop you for a second,” Astrid says. “Can you tell me how the defendant appeared upon arrival at the scene?”
“Objection,” Shawn says. “Calls for speculation.”
“Your Honor, this witness is an officer of the law,” Astrid chimes in. “His perception is based on experience, and he was the first one on the scene.”
“Overruled.”
“Continue please, Officer Palino,” Astrid says.
“Well, the way he said ‘Come on up.’ It was kinda like he was having guests over for a party. ‘Come on up!’ And then we entered. He was very calm. Simply pointed to this huge pile of blood with a naked body in the middle of it and said, ‘He’s over there.’”
“Can we play the 9-1-1 call, please?”
A loud click echoes through the room. The volume is high, but quickly resolves to a normal level.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“Please help me! My husband! Something’s happened here! I tried to save him. He was alive. Oh God, please come, please! Maybe you can help him!”
“Sir, please slow down. Did you say something’s happened to your husband?”
“Yes! I got home, and he was just lying there. Blood. Oh my God, I think he’s dead! Please hurry!!!”
“Sir, what is your location?”
“142 Henry Street, #7, corner of Rutgers.”
“Sir, we have an ambulance on the way, and police are very close.”
“Oh God, how did this happen? I don’t understand!”
“Now, I need you to calm down, okay? Is there anyone else in the house?”
“What?”
“Sir, could the person who did this still be there?”
“Oh my God, I have no idea.”
“Do you have a neighbor or a nearby friend you can go to right now until help arrives?”
“I think I’m okay.”
“Just to be safe, could you find a place to hide, maybe lock yourself in a bathroom, please, sir?”
“Yes, I have a friend who …”
((Audible doorbell.))
“I think they’re here.”
((Click.))
“Does anything strike you as odd about that call, officer?”
“Yes.”
Astrid looks at the jury with a knowing glance. She does not pursue this line of questioning at the moment and continues.
“Can you describe for the jury what the defendant was like for the rest of the evening?”
“Well, he was very fidgety and kept wanting to sit everywhere. I kept thinking, this is a crime scene for God’s sakes, and kept asking him to remain standing. I asked him to tell me what happened, and he described hearing a gurgling noise in the dark. He says he knew it was Lennox, so his first thought was to approach and administer CPR.
“And the way he said he administered CPR seemed excessive,” Mateo continues. “He said he kept pushing on the victim’s chest over and over. ‘Over and over,’ he said. I couldn’t imagine beating on someone’s chest who’d been stabbed thirty-three times.”
“But officer, wasn’t the room dark? I mean, can you blame the defendant for not knowing what had happened, and trying to administer CPR to save him?”
“That’s the thing. The lights had been on the whole time, ever since the moment we stepped through the elevator, and there were no blood stains on the light switches.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, if you do CPR on a man who’s been stabbed thirty-three times, mostly in the chest, you’re going to have blood all over you. I mean, allll over you. And he most definitely did, all over his face, his arms, his chest. So if the lights were off during the time he said he administered CPR, but they were on when we arrived, then why was there no blood on the light switch?”
Astrid again looks at the jury. Some faces are staring straight ahead. Some are looking down.
“No further questions for this witness,” Astrid says.
Shawn recognizes Astrid’s win. He did not draw the same conclusion from the photos of the light switch in the condo he had seen in the discovery photos. He mentally kicks himself and wonders how he will address the matter.
“Your witness, Mr. Connelly,” Judge Wilson says.
“Thank you, your Honor,” Shawn begins. “Officer Palino, do you live in a high rise?”
“Yes, in the East Village with my wife and two kids.”
“And do you have a buzzer for visitors?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Do you remember what you say to your visitors when you buzz them in?”
“Something like ‘Hey, come up.’”
“Is it something like ‘Hey, come up’ or is it definitely ‘Hey, come up’?”
“Sometimes it’s ‘Hey, come up,’ sometimes it’s ‘Come on up.’”
“Sometimes, something like, huh? Is it possible that the reason why you don’t know is because you do it so often, it becomes rote, like second nature?”
“It’s possible.”
“Thank you. You also mentioned a casual way about Mr. Breuer that was out of place, or odd I believe is the word you used. But isn’t it also possible that people react differently to traumatic events?”
“Yes, but the defendant’s demeanor went beyond—”
“‘Yes’ will suffice, thank you. And do you have any psychological credentials this court is unaware of?”
“No.”
Shawn ponders a way to address the light switch but is wondering himself how there was no blood on it. He stalls by shuffling some papers on his desk, still figuring out his argument.
“Now, Officer Palino,” he begins, then pauses. He is about to try another ‘is it possible’ themed argument, but decides not to risk it. “I have no further questions,” he says, and stares straight ahead to the witness stand, as if he were about to say something else.
Officer Palino stands up, then halfway sits back down again, looks at Shawn, then shakes his head.
Shawn walks back to Micah. They lock eyes for a brief moment of unspoken confusion.
“Counselor Lerner, do you have anything further for this witness?” asks the judge.
“Nothing further at this time,” Astrid responds.
“Very well. Next witness.”
“The people would like to call Detective Bronson Penance, please.” Astrid smiles and lifts up her laptop she has connected to the monitors. The first slide of her PowerPoint presentation reads Timeline.
Detective Penance approaches and is sworn in. A stark contrast to the disheveled way he presented himself at Astrid’s apartment the night before, he is dressed to the nines in charcoal-grey pinstripes, with a red-and-black tie and a pocket handkerchief to match. He rattles off his credentials and lengthy history as detective for New York’s Southern District, as well as his role in the investigation.
“Detective Penance, did you notice the absence of blood on the light switch?” As
trid begins, wanting to reiterate her Perry Mason moment, as Elaine Holcomb’s husband had put it.
“Yes, yes I did.”
“You were also the one to put together this timeline of that evening, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Can you walk us through it, please?”
“Of course.”
Astrid hands him the remote control. He approaches the large monitor in front of the jury.
“Based on eyewitnesses, footage from several public and private cameras along the route, social media photo timestamps, GPS tracking on the phones of both the defendant and the victim, and phone calls from the defendant to the victim, I put together the following timeline.” He begins reading the slides and describing the events.
7:00pm–7:30pm: Initial stabbing
“Bloodwork and blood splatter results obtained from the scene indicate the murder happened between 7:00pm and 7:30pm. However, the victim was still alive after these stabbings.”
7:17pm: Micah Breuer leaves/enters taxi.
“We know this from the footage and timestamp of the city camera at the corner of Henry and Rutgers, across from the condo, which is the crime scene in question.”
((Photo of Micah leaving the building))
“The defendant, dressed in a black-and-white tuxedo, carrying a large Jack Spade canvas bag, gets into a taxi, which is corroborated by a receipt, direct from a company called LES Taxi and Limousine Service.”
7:20pm: Micah texts Jenna
Where are you?
“The defendant texts a friend asking, ‘Where are you?’”
7:40pm: Gas station stop of 3 minutes
7:45pm: 14th St at 5th Ave
7:50pm: Micah texts Jenna
Almost there
7:57pm: Micah arrives at event
“Notice the time lag here. Cameras at the event the defendant uses as his alibi clock him exiting the taxi at 7:57pm. It’s important to note here that traffic was light that evening, so what should have been a twenty-minute drive from the Lower East Side where Micah and Lennox lived to Midtown, where the event took place, took almost fifty minutes.
((Photos and videos of various camera angles showing Micah’s limo))
“Cameras did clock the taxi at a gas station at Houston and Lafayette at 7:40pm, which took a total of three minutes, as did a camera at 14th and 5th at 7:45pm, and another at 7:50, three blocks from the final destination, which was the event.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Astrid says. “Do you have any information on the taxi and its whereabouts during the stretch of time unaccounted for between 7:17pm, when the defendant left his apartment and got in the cab, and 7:40pm, when the taxi carrying the defendant stopped for gas? That’s over twenty minutes.”
“We do not. We cannot place the defendant anywhere during that time period. We spoke with the cab driver, but there was a bit of a language barrier there.”
“Continue,” Astrid says.
8:20pm: Micah texts Lennox
OH. MY. GOD. You said you’d be right here. Lemme know an ETA baby.
9:05pm: Micah calls Lennox
“Not much later, Micah calls Lennox. The voice mail transcript reads: “Hey baby, where are you? I miss you. I can’t tell you how many people are asking about you. Text me or call me, I have my phone. I hope everything’s all right.” This will also be made available to the jury as a recording.
9:15pm: Micah leaves event
“Witnesses at the event report Micah leaving around 9:15pm.”
9:34pm: Micah enters taxi
10:10pm: Micah exits taxi
“These times are corroborated both by cameras and taxi receipts. It wouldn’t normally take this long for a taxi to drive from Midtown to the Lower East Side, but nothing too out of the ordinary.”
10:15pm: Approximate death of victim, corroborated by both the victim and blood coagulation analysis
10:32pm: 9-1-1 call
“Note here that the 9-1-1 call came over fifteen minutes after the defendant comes home and discovers his husband in a pool of blood on the floor.”
10:38pm: Police arrive on scene
10:50pm: Detective arrives on scene
11:15pm: Defendant escorted to police station
11:50pm: Defendant is processed
3:10am: Defendant confesses
“And there you have it,” Detective Penance says, ending his timeline.
“Thank you, Detective. Correct me if I’m wrong here. The defendant calls his husband at 9:05 because he is very worried, yet doesn’t make it home until over an hour later?”
“Objection,” says Shawn. “Argumentative.”
“Sustained,” says the judge.
“Please fill us in on any other relevant findings, Detective,” Astrid says.
“Well, Micah and Lennox had a one-point-five-million-dollar life insurance policy on one another.”
“One-point-five? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”
“Objection,” Shawn speaks out. “Argumentative. Again.”
“Sustained.”
Astrid knew her snap judgment of the amount wasn’t going to fly, but she wanted the $1.5 million on record, so she could use it in her closing argument.
“And when was this one-point-five-million-dollar life insurance policy taken out?”
“July of 2015.”
“July of 2015.” She reiterates the date while shifting her eyes back and forth from Detective Penance, then to the jury, then back to the detective. “Now I understand you’ve talked to several character witnesses, and have personally documented all testimony to be presented in this case?”
“I have. Transcripts and recordings.”
“Thank you. We have nothing further for this witness at this time,” Astrid says to the court.
“Your witness, Mr. Connelly,” says the judge.
“Thank you, your Honor.” Shawn stands up, grabs a folder, and walks toward the witness. He is holding the folder by his side as he approaches.
“Now, Detective Penance, you stated previously that it was you who discovered the absence of blood on the light switch, is that correct?”
“Yes, then I told Officer Palino, and we discussed it,” Penance answers, anticipating where this particular line of questioning is heading.
“But Officer Palino just said, mere minutes ago, that it was he who noticed the light switch.”
“Yes, but he did so after I asked him if the lights were on.”
“Lots of this story is confusing to me, so forgive me for asking.”
“Objection,” Astrid says.
“Sustained,” replies the judge. “Careful, Mr. Connelly.”
“Detective Penance, these so-called gaps in the timeline, did they take into consideration the many events that were happening the evening of August 17?” Shawn asks.
“Yes, they did. When we say the evening was ‘normal,’ we mean information we have on traffic patterns of the evening, as well as registered events near the areas in question.”
“Would it interest you to know that on the night of August 17, there were approximately two point five times the so-called ‘normal’ events in Midtown and surrounding neighborhoods?” Shawn asks. “We’d like to enter this document from the New York City Visitors Bureau as defense exhibit 40-B.”
Detective Penance looks at the document and looks straight ahead. He says nothing.
“Isn’t is possible, Detective, that Micah’s taxi could’ve been held up in traffic … especially with more than twenty-five events of at least ten thousand people being held on the island that night?”
“It’s possible but not probable, based on our information and the video footage.”
“You have no route information for Micah’s taxi, nor any footage of the taxi during those times, just before and after, and you did not procure a translator to talk with the cab driver, is that correct?”
“We do not, and yes, that is correct,” Detective Penance states, realizing Shawn is trying to confuse h
im. “Except for the translator. We did procure a translator, but we believed the driver was confused about the night in question.”
“You believe. Thank you. Now, Detective, you made no mention of my client’s alleged confession, other than a line item on the timeline.” Shawn feels confident in his proactive measures.
“Correct. I believe we are addressing that tomorrow.”
“Mind if we address it now?”
“Objection,” says Astrid.
“Your Honor, this particular confession goes hand-in-hand with the defendant’s state of mind during this traumatic night,” Shawn says, appealing to the judge. “I would like to address the trauma as it relates to the detective’s earlier comments about the light switch, as well as the alleged confession.”
The judge ponders his decision for a quick moment. “I’ll allow it.”
“Thank you, your Honor. Can we play the tape of Mr. Breuer’s alleged confession please?”
The audio starts with a loud thud, which startles Micah. He crouches in his chair, realizing another memory from that night is about to be resurrected.
“There’s blood everywhere you touched, but there’s no blood on the light switches. Can you explain that please? … (pause) … Sir, why did you pound on your husband’s mutilated body when you knew he was still alive?”
“Sir, I told you, I was freaking the fuck … (pause) …Geez, oh man, did I … (pause) … Did … Did I kill him? … (pause) … Oh dear God, I killed him myself.”
Shawn looks intently at Detective Penance and asks, “You used to be married, didn’t you, Detective Penance?”
“Yes, a lifetime ago.”
“When your wife was still alive, could you imagine her lying in a pool of blood when you got home from, let’s say, a Policeman’s Ball?”
Janice in the hospital.
Janice at home in hospice.
Janice being lowered into her casket.
“Detective?” Shawn interrupts Detective Penance’s thoughts of his wife.
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