Hand of Justice (Mara Brent Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by Robin James

  “Was anything taken from the home, to your knowledge?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Patty Sutter had a jewelry box on her dresser. Among other things, we found a four-carat diamond engagement ring. Her daughter, Devina Francis, confirmed it belonged to her mother. It matched what she filed with her homeowner’s policy. It had an appraised value of ten thousand dollars. It was still in the box. There were computers in the home. There was a small safe in the closet. It had five thousand dollars cash inside. Chris and Jenny Sutter also had valuables in their home. Jenny’s engagement ring was still on her finger. Christopher Sutter’s wallet was on the kitchen counter with two hundred and sixteen dollars inside. Credit cards. Theft was not a motivation in this killing.”

  “What about Kevin Sutter’s home?” I asked.

  “As far as valuables?” Sam asked.

  “Let’s start there,” I said.

  “He only had twenty dollars in his wallet,” Sam answered. “That was found on him, in his jeans pocket. He had guns in the home. Hunting weapons, for the most part. But he kept a .38 in a bedside drawer. It was still there. It hadn’t been moved.”

  “Can you tell me where Kevin was found?” I asked.

  “Also in his kitchen, near his kitchen table. We found a bullet hole in the wall, as if perhaps the killer missed. But then, Kevin was shot right through the chest. He fell beside the table, likely taking the kitchen chair with him.”

  “Detective,” I said. “At what point did your investigation begin to focus on the defendant?”

  “We did extensive interviews with the remaining members of the Sutter family. This was not a home invasion. As I stated, nothing was stolen from these people’s homes. There were no signs of forced entry at any of the residences. So, that strongly indicated that the perpetrator might have been someone known to the victims. Several of the witnesses indicated concerns they had about Skylar Sutter’s relationship with the defendant,” he said.

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “I was informed that Mickey Harvey and Skylar were dating. One of the first things I did was secure Skylar’s cell phone. Upon searching it, I found a series of texts from the defendant to Skylar that raised some concerns.”

  I introduced the cell phone records. One by one, the jury saw the texts between Mickey and Skylar. They began the day before the murder after Mickey claims he last saw Skylar.

  Mickey: You catch any grief from your dad? I tried to get out of your driveway before he saw me.

  Skylar: I don’t want to talk about it.

  Mickey: Whatever. I’ll pick you up after your last class tomorrow. Pack some shit. You’ll stay here.

  Skylar: Not this weekend. I just want to lie low. I’ll talk to you later.

  Mickey: What do you mean you’ll lie low? Pack some shit.

  Skylar: Just drop it. I’ve got exams. I’m tired.

  Mickey: So am I.

  Mickey: What time you want me to get you?

  Mickey: ??

  Mickey: You’re ghosting me? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m the one who’s tired of this. You need to quit using your daddy as an excuse, Sky. When are you going to grow up?

  That was it. The texts ended.

  “What did you do then?” I asked.

  “I subpoenaed Mickey Harvey’s phone records,” he said. “I had his number off Skylar’s phone. It took a few more weeks to get the transcripts of his other texts. But within a day, I had the tracking data. Mickey Harvey’s phone hit the tower closest to Skylar’s home at ten a.m. on May 18th. He was there for approximately an hour that morning.”

  “Then what did you do?” I asked.

  “I brought Mickey in for questioning.”

  At that point, I was permitted to play the interview tape of Mickey’s interrogation. The jury saw him from the camera’s vantage point in the top corner of the room. Sam’s back was to the camera.

  Mickey squirmed, fidgeted, sweat, asked for a cigarette. Then, just a few minutes into the interview, Mickey delivered the first lie that later sealed his fate.

  “When was the last time you saw Skylar?” Sam asked him.

  “I saw her the Thursday morning before she died,” Mickey said. “She’d spent the night at my place the night before. Instead of going out like I wanted, she just came over. We talked.”

  “About what?” Sam asked.

  “None of your business,” Mickey answered.

  “You didn’t go out there at all Friday?” Sam asked, giving Mickey the rope he used to tie around his own neck.

  “No,” Mickey lied.

  “What happened next?” I asked Sam after the recording finished.

  “The fruits of my search warrant on Mickey Harvey’s apartment came in,” he said.

  “What did you find?”

  Sam went through the catalog of items. Finally, he got to the most damning piece of all. I held up the shirt we now had sealed in a vacuum bag. Though brownish now, the bloodstains stood in stark contrast to the yellow cotton.

  “After our DNA analysis,” Sam said, “we could confirm that the defendant, Mickey Harvey, had blood-soaked clothing wadded up in a garbage can inside his garage. The blood matched Skylar’s. Later analysis showed a transfer pattern.”

  “Meaning?” I asked.

  “Meaning this blood was likely wiped on this shirt. He pressed against her. He wiped his hands on it, something of that nature.”

  “Objection,” Elise said. “Assuming facts not in evidence.”

  “Sustained!’ Denholm shouted. Both Sam and I knew we were out on a limb here. But regardless of the judge’s ruling, the jury had already heard what I wanted.

  “What did you do next, Detective?” I asked.

  “At that point, I believed I had probable cause. I arrested Mickey Harvey for the murder of Skylar Sutter, Ben Watson, Chris and Jenny Sutter, Patty Sutter, Mark O’Brien, and Kevin Sutter.”

  “Thank you, Detective. Your witness, Ms. Weaver.”

  Elise paused for a moment, then rose to take her place at the lectern.

  22

  “Detective Cruz,” Weaver started. “So I’m clear. You have no definitive way to determine which of the victims of this tragedy were killed first, do you?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said.

  “And that’s because all those things one would normally use to determine time of death were basically the same in each victim, right? Lividity? Body temperature, etc.”

  “Objection,” I said. “Counsel is assuming facts not in evidence. Detective Cruz isn’t the medical examiner.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Denholm said.

  “Fine,” Weaver said. “But back to my original question. Detective, you can’t determine with any degree of certainty which of the victims was shot first, isn’t that right?”

  “Definitively? No. We can make educated guesses based on the positioning of the bodies,” he said. “And as I stated on direct, these victims were likely killed within minutes of each other.”

  “Based on the positioning of the bodies inside Chris and Jenny’s house, right?” she asked.

  “Well, yes.”

  “In other words, Kevin Sutter, one house to the east, might have been the first victim?”

  “That’s certainly possible,” Cruz said.

  “Or Mark O'Brien might have been killed first, then Patty Sutter?”

  “Correct. Though in that crime scene, we have the clearest evidence that Mark was shot first.”

  “Right. Since Patty appeared to still be sleeping. We’re assuming she would have woken up, tried to run, or fight, like it looked like Mark did, right?”

  “That’s correct,” he said.

  “And based on your theories,” she said, letting her tone drip with contempt, “in Chris and Jenny’s house, you don’t think Skylar Sutter was killed first, do you?”

  “I do not,” he answered.

  “More than likely, she was shot last? Isn’t that right?”

  “That’s difficult to say,” S
am said. “I can only say for sure that her father, Chris Sutter, was likely shot just before she was. He was in front of her. The killer would have had to shoot through him to get to her. They were shot from the front.”

  “And yet you believe that Skylar’s relationship with Mr. Harvey was the primary motive in this case,” she said.

  “It’s significant, yes.”

  Weaver paused. She went back to her lectern and reviewed her notes. “You never found a murder weapon?”

  “None was recovered, no. But based on the ballistics, we know it was a nine millimeter. And we know these victims were all shot with the same weapon. The primer marks were all consistent across the board. The rifling from the slugs recovered from the victims’ bodies was all consistent one hundred percent. There is no question that this was the same murder weapon used on all. It doesn’t get any more definitive than that.”

  “But you don’t know for sure whether there was one shooter,” she said.

  “No,” he said.

  “With that type of weapon, how many rounds are in one clip?”

  “Seven,” he answered.

  “Seven,” she repeated. “And you indicated that you found no less than eleven bullet holes at the scene. Some in the victims, some in the walls.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Which means the shooter would have had to have reloaded at least once?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Interesting,” Weaver said. “Isn’t it true, Detective, you found none of my client’s DNA at any of the crime scenes?”

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “Across three brutal crime scenes, you found none of my client’s blood?”

  “Correct.”

  “And you didn’t find so much as a single hair matching my client’s head at any of these three houses, isn’t that true?”

  “That’s true.”

  “You didn’t find any footprints you couldn’t identify?”

  “That’s true.”

  “No footprints belonging to Mickey Harvey in the houses?”

  “None,” he said.

  “None of his footprints in the yards between the homes?”

  “No,” he said. “It was a pretty dry day. We didn’t even find any of Ben Watson’s footprints and he was found lying half in the lawn at the end of a trail of his own blood. So we know he took steps, he didn’t levitate.”

  “Your Honor,” Weaver said. “Would you please instruct the witness to respond only to questions he’s been asked?”

  “I believe I just did,” Sam answered, getting agitated.

  “Detective,” Denholm said. “Let’s none of us lose our tempers here. Just answer defense counsel’s specific questions.”

  “Detective,” Weaver said. “These were bloody crime scenes, were they not?”

  “Each of the victims bled quite a bit,” he said. “Yes.”

  “And yet you found no bloody footprints belonging to the defendant in Chris and Jenny’s kitchen, for example.”

  “I didn’t find footprints that we were able to match to Mickey Harvey, no,” he said.

  “You searched for fingerprints,” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I believe in your report you said you found thirty-two distinct sets of fingerprints among the three homes, is that correct?”

  “That sounds right.”

  “How many of them belonged to Mickey Harvey?” she asked.

  “None were a positive ID to Mickey. But it should be noted that four sets of prints were of such poor quality as to be unidentifiable to anyone.”

  “You searched Mickey’s car?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t find any blood or DNA evidence belonging to any of the victims in Mickey’s vehicle, did you?”

  “We did not,” he said. “But that doesn’t …”

  “Detective,” Elise shouted over him. “You’ve already been instructed to answer only what you’ve been asked.”

  “Your Honor.” I stepped up. “Defense counsel seems to be forgetting the role of the judge in her cross.”

  “Ms. Weaver, I’ll make the rulings. If there’s admonishing to be made, I’ll make it. You’re not a professor here.”

  Elise looked rattled for the first time. She pursed her lips and gathered her breath.

  “Detective,” she said. “You weren’t able to find a nine millimeter registered to Mickey Harvey, isn’t that true?”

  “I wasn’t able to find a legal registration of that particular weapon in Mickey Harvey’s name, that’s true.”

  “But you found other guns registered to Mickey, didn’t you? Isn’t that true?”

  “That’s true,” he said. “Mickey purchased a .410 Remington three years ago. There is also an AR-15 registered in his name.”

  This was a risk. One Elise surprised me by taking. If the jury bought every other argument I threw at them, it would help prove premeditation. Mickey went to Skylar’s with a weapon he knew couldn’t be traced back to him. I made a quick note and saw Hojo writing the same thing on his legal pad.

  “Detective Cruz, in your report, you indicated the crime scene unit looked for tire tread matches, isn’t that true?”

  “We examined tire tread marks at the crime scenes, yes,” he said.

  “And yet you found none that matched Mickey Harvey’s vehicle, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s correct,” he said. I wrote down another note.

  “So, other than a single hit from a cell phone tower, you haven’t got a shred of evidence that Mickey Harvey was on the Sutter property the morning of the killings, do you?”

  “You mean other than his later admission that he was there?” Sam said. “No.”

  “The Redmond Road cell phone tower, you’re not claiming the Sutter homes are the only homes serviced by that tower, are you?” she asked. “There are several homes down on Redmond Road that would register a hit if a cell phone was used in their vicinity, correct?”

  “That’s correct,” he said. “But irrelevant. Mickey admitted to being at the Sutters’ home, not any of the other homes down on Redmond. If he wanted a better lie, he could have just stuck with his story that he went to his father’s. Only he couldn’t because we have security footage from the Valero on Whittaker that shows him heading the wrong way, toward Skylar Sutter’s where he admitted he went.”

  I hid a smile behind my hand. It was a helluva point. Adjacent to the Sutters’, Ed Harvey’s property was served by the same tower too. But none of that mattered now.

  Elise quickly realized her massive misstep and moved on.

  “So you found no murder weapon, no DNA, no footprints, no tire treads, no fingerprints, no physical evidence to indicate my client was on the premises during the murders,” she said. “So let me ask you about what you did find, Detective.”

  “By all means.”

  “State’s Exhibit 19, the so-called bloody tee shirt.”

  She pulled up a picture of the tee shirt on the wall screen. In it, the garment lay flat on a property room table with a ruler across the top to show the dimensions.

  “You indicated this was a positive match to Skylar Sutter’s blood,” she said. “But Skylar Sutter bled out, did she not?”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

  “Skylar Sutter’s cause of death was listed as cardiac arrest brought on by massive blood loss, isn’t that true?”

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “Wasn’t Skylar wearing a tee shirt when she was found?”

  “She was. Exhibit 19 isn’t Skylar’s shirt. It’s the defendant’s. As I indicated in my direct testimony, the blood found on Mickey’s shirt was transferred. As in, either his hands were covered in Skylar’s blood or some other surface was covered in her blood and he wiped it on the tee shirt.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “That’s exactly what I’m after. You’re not claiming this blood is consistent with a splatter pattern, then?”

 
; “No.”

  “It didn’t get on this shirt because its wearer was standing close to Skylar when she was shot, right?”

  “It doesn’t appear so, no.”

  “In fact, you can’t even prove when this blood was deposited on this shirt, can you?”

  “No,” Sam said.

  “It could have happened at Mickey’s house days before the killings, right?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “They were dating. Your witnesses didn’t dispute that. We know she spent the night at Mickey’s as recently as the night before, right?”

  “Objection,” I said. “Counsel is testifying.”

  “Sustained.”

  “I’ll rephrase,” Elise said. “Detective, it’s equally possible that this bloody shirt ended up at Mickey Harvey’s by innocent means as anything else, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand the form of the question,” he said.

  “Isn’t it true that, in fact, you don’t really know how that blood got on that shirt, do you?”

  “That’s correct,” Sam said.

  “Thank you,” Elise said. “I’m done with this witness.”

  “Your Honor,” I said. “I have just a few questions on redirect. I’d like to get them in before we adjourn, if that’s okay.”

  “Proceed,” he said.

  “Detective,” I said. “With the obvious exception of Skylar Sutter’s fatal gunshot wound, did you observe any other fresh or healing wounds on her body?”

  “Not that I observed,” he said. “She was found wearing a tee shirt and shorts. I got a pretty good look at her arms and legs.”

  I left that there. I could circle back and get a definitive answer from the M.E.

  I trusted Sam implicitly. He was as sharp a detective as any I’d ever put on the stand. We’d been through this enough times together. It almost felt like a dance. He knew how to take my lead. And he knew how to poke holes in defense theories.

  “Detective,” I said. “In your experience, what kinds of things would cause a murderer to leave blood or DNA at a crime scene?”

  I detected just the hint of a smile in the corner of Sam’s mouth. “The most obvious would be from a struggle.”