Seven Years After

by Marvin Perkins

  Studying the photos, a large smile came to her face. A smile of recognition. “Yeah, yeah! I remember this dude” She said pointing at the picture of the suspect which was in the right hand corner. “I did see this guy one day a couple of months ago. I remember because, I was outside cleaning the windows when this homeless guy and this guy got into an argument. The homeless guy was pushing a shopping cart full of cans and stuff and decided to stop right in the middle of the street. He wouldn't move. This guy yelled at the homeless guy and finally he moved. But then I seen this guy circle the block a few more times like he was looking for somebody on the sidewalk.”

  Again like with the lady at the parking garage they asked comic book girl if she would testify in court that she saw their suspect and she said that she would.

  Things were looking up. They now had two eyewitnesses. One would put Michael Parson in that truck at the parking garage where it was ditched and the other witnessed him in the truck cruising up and down the street the day the victim was killed. Tiffany was going to be happy. The State's case was getting stronger with only a few more days until the trial started.

  Chapter Fifty Eight

  “Tell me something good,” Tiffany Adams was singing to the tune of the old Chaka Khan song as the detectives arrived at her office. “I know you've got some good news, I can tell by the looks on your faces. Let me have it.”

  Chuck and Carson were quite elated themselves, and couldn't wait to tell the ADA the latest news. Carson as usual jumped in to get the ball rolling. “Found the stolen truck that was used to transport the body, got a positive match to the victim's blood. Also, we have a witness at the parking garage where the truck was dumped that can put our suspect in said vehicle”

  “And, we've got another witness that can ID our suspect as an individual she saw driving a red pick up down Third Ave. a couple months ago in the vicinity of where the victim had his clandestine meeting with the wife and little girl. How do you like that?” Chuck said, beaming with pride.

  “I like it, I like it a lot,” Tiffany yelled. “I knew you guys would come through for me. We've got this guy now. All I've got to do is put the pieces of this puzzle together, and Mr. Michael Parson is toast, a done deal, baby.”

  Leaving the office the detectives felt good about the case and their chance of winning. It had been a long hard uphill struggle but they could see the light at the end of the tunnel finally. They had done their job, now it was time for the lawyers to do theirs.

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  Michael Parson was having a similar meeting with his defense attorney. They had just received the news about the blood evidence in the truck and the witnesses. “Just got this in from the DA's office. Seems they found a stolen red Chevy pickup and got a positive match on blood they found in the truck bed. Also they have two witnesses. One that puts you in a red truck on Third Avenue the day of the murder, another puts you in that truck entering the parking garage where the pickup was ultimately abandoned.”

  Michael had a look of shock and dismay on his face for the first time since he had been arrested. He was at a loss of words momentarily, but finally managed to speak. “Wasn't me, I was never in a red pickup truck on Third Avenue or anywhere else. I swear Raymond.”

  “Well, whether you were or not and whether you're telling me the truth or lying is immaterial. Is their proof strong enough to convince a jury of twelve individuals that you were in that truck. That is the question.”

  “Like I said I wasn't in a red truck. I don't know where they dug these people up, under what rock they crawled out from under, but their lying, pure and simple.”

  The lawyer, looked at his client intently, patted him on his shoulder. “Don't worry about those two so called witnesses. By the time I get finished with them on the stand they'll swear the truck was blue and a midget was driving it.” He laughed and fumbled through a stack of documents he had on his desk.

  “I hope you're right. So what is our defense?” Michael asked, not really knowing what his lawyer's overall plan was.

  “I'm glad you asked, my boy. We're going with an alternative suspect approach. It's all about creating reasonable doubt in the mind of the jury. If we can get just a couple thinking our way, then we've got it made.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means we are going to paint a picture of a couple of scenarios describing how somebody else was the one who killed poor Charles. Say those people he said were following him. Or perhaps his crazy murderous, kidnapping brother, Pete. You see where I'm going with this, Michael?”

  “Yeah, yeah, that Pete, he's a likely suspect for real.”

  “I just hope this Sherry, your alibi witness, holds up on the stand. We need to bring her in again and make sure her story doesn't have any holes in it. It needs to match with your account of those three missing days, but not too closely as to seem like the whole testimony had been scripted, you see where I'm coming from?”

  “Yeah, we definitely need to work on her story, that's for sure.”

  “Okay, you go on home and get some rest and relaxation. I'll start working on this along with my opening statements. Jury selection is tomorrow, trial starts in five days. Don't worry, we'll be ready.”

  Michael left his lawyer's office hoping he would be ready, but he had doubts now, with the advent of these new witnesses.

  Chapter Sixty

  The courtroom was full of activity the next day for the all important selection of the twelve people who would decide if Michael Parson went free or was incarcerated for life, or worst, put to death. Both teams were there, the prosecution and the defense, hoping to select the right group of jurors who would be sympathetic to their particular cause.

  A crowd of prospective individuals were assembled awaiting the selection process to begin. The voir dire as it's called. They were from all walks of life, rich, poor, black, white, Latino, Asian, male and female. Some looking happy to be there, some not so happy, while others just stared blankly into space hoping they would not be chosen and they could go home.

  The problem was for both sides, who would be a better fit for their case. One or two sympathetic individuals could sway the verdict one way or the other, from guilty to innocent. This is why this phase of the proceedings was so important.

  The judge who was to preside over the procedure was a twenty year veteran of the bench by the name of Beauregard T. Johnson, a huge hulking man, with a loud booming voice and a commanding presence. He was known for his fondness of the prosecution and for being a hard ass, ruling the jury selection process with an iron fist. He knew the importance of the voir dire and made sure it was done by the book.

  Tiffany and Raymond, the prosecution and the defense, sat side by side at adjoining tables. They both studied the group, looking into their faces, their eyes, sizing them up for their side. Each prospective juror would be interviewed individually to decide on the twelve who would sit in judgment and three alternates.

  The judge called the proceedings to order and one by one they were called and asked questions to enable the prosecution and defense to decide if they were suitable or not acceptable to be a member of the jury. It was a grueling process but very important to both sides.

  Raymond had the first question, he spoke slow and decisively. On the stand was an older Afro-American lady, who appeared to be a professional of some sort, with streaked black and graying hair and too much makeup. “ First off, do you have any medical, personal or financial problems that would prevent you from serving on this jury?”

  Without hesitation the woman answered, “No, not that I can think of, no.”

  “Have any friends or members of your family been a victim of a violent crime?”

  Again the lady answered quickly. “No, fortunately.”

  Raymond continued, “If chosen for the jury, would be you be willing to keep an open mind and not be influenced by the news media or the opinions of friends or relatives? If you had any reasonable doubt in your mind, would you
act on that doubt and find my client not guilty?”

  The lady thought for a beat, looked down at the floor and back up again at the lawyer. “Yes sir, I would. I've always got my own opinion about things, and I pride myself on having an open mind, as you say. Yes sir, I would vote to acquit if I had any doubt that he was innocent.”

  Without any further questions, Tremble said, “She's acceptable, the defense will take her.”

  Tiffany said without even looking up, “The prosecution has no problem with this prospective juror, she's acceptable.”

  Appearing for the lawyer's approval next was a huge Mexican man with an equally large drooping mustache. He had gang tattoos on his arms and a smile that looked like he was unusually happy, high on drugs, or was hiding something. Raymond looked at the prospective juror curiously, not knowing quite what to make of him. The man and the lawyer locked eyes and stared at one another until finally the man on the stand relented his gaze and lowered his head. “First of all, do you have any medical, personal or financial problem that would prevent you from serving on this jury?”

  The big Mexican dude answered like the lawyer should have already known the answer. “I'm busted and I need to go to work, my kids need new shoes, my car's broke down, and I ain't making no money sitting here talking to you.”

  Raymond braced himself and asked the next question. “Have any friends or members of your family been a victim of violent crime?”

  With a look of anger in his eyes the big man yelled, “As a matter of fact, yeah. My nephew was a victim of violent crime last year. He was killed by the National City Police. Shot him down like a dog, 'cause he stole a pickup truck. I hate cops, hate 'em.”

  One last question and the defense was done with this guy. “Sir, if chosen to be a member of the jury would you carefully weigh the evidence and if the evidence didn't prove my client was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, would you vote to exonerate my client?”

  The big Mexican man looked at Raymond and said, “No, I'd vote to convict. Most people who get put on trial are guilty or they wouldn't be there in the first place. I don't believe in wasting time. I had to take off work to come here. I'm losing money. My job don't pay unless I work.”

  “Not acceptable for the defense,” Raymond said without any further comments.

  “I agree, I do not accept this prospective juror,” Tiffany said, again without looking up.

  And so it went and when it was done, amazingly enough the process had worked and they had chosen the twelve to serve on the jury and the three alternates. The trial would begin in three days. Opening statements would be made and the fate of a man would be decided.

  Chapter Sixty One

  The big day had finally arrived, there were a few reporters hanging around from cable news and the paper, not like the trial of Michael Parson was any big deal. But to Michael and the Parson family, it was a big deal.

  Sitting at their prospective tables were Tiffany Adams, the ADA, and Raymond Tremble, for the defense. They were as ready as they could be, each hoping to be victorious. Sitting nervously, they awaited the arrival of the judge. Their wait would be a short one.

  “All rise,” the bailiff yelled as Judge Beauregard T. Johnson walked in from his chambers, looked around the courtroom and had a seat. “The court will now hear opening statements, Ms. Adams.

  Tiffany glanced down at a yellow legal pad on her desk for a brief moment and then stood and walked over so she could address the jury. “Ladies and gentleman of the jury, we are here today to the hear the facts in the case of the State versus Michael K. Parson. I say the facts, because that is what we deal with in our legal system. Fact, Mr. Michael Parson brutally murdered his son-in-law Charles Smithson, and this we will prove beyond a reasonable doubt. He first drugged his victim with a cocktail of Ecstasy, or X as it is known on the streets. Then in a stolen red pickup truck, he took the poor victim to an undisclosed location and beat him savagely with a baseball bat. Then, poor Charles lying bloody and unconscious in the back of that red pickup, was taken to a high rise office building under construction in downtown San Diego,where the accused carried him up five flights of stairs, and put two .22 slugs between the helpless man's eyes, of course killing him instantly. Fact, we have two reliable eyewitnesses that will put the accused in that red pickup truck, and a DNA expert that will testify that the blood traces found in the back of that previously stolen red truck are a match to the victim.

  Tiffany paused for a moment to let her points soak in, took a slow glance around the jury making eye contact with them, and then continued. “And lastly, it is a fact that the accused had the motive, opportunity, skills, knowledge and the strength to have committed this heinous, cold blooded murder. After we have successfully proven and showed that all of the aforementioned facts are true, then you the jury must do your job and find the accused, Michael K. Parson guilty of the premeditated murder of Mr. Charles Smithson. Thank you.”

  Returning to her seat the ADA glanced at the jury attempting to gauge what effect her statement had made, most of whom sat stone-faced and solemn, but a couple smiled approvingly in her direction.

  The judge wanting to keep the proceedings moving along as quickly as possible motioned in Tremble's direction. “And now we will hear from the defense, Mr. Tremble.”

  Raymond rose slowly, almost dramatically from his chair. He took one final look at his notes, and slowly walked over to where the jury sat, gazed at each one momentarily, then stepped back and began. “Ladies and gentleman of the jury. Today is a very important day. Maybe not for you, not even for me, but certainly a very important day for Mr. Michael Parson who is accused of a crime he simply did not commit. Today is the beginning of the proceedings that will decide if he is to be set free, incarcerated in prison for life or Heaven forbid, even put to death. Since the prosecution wants to talk about facts, lets talk about the facts in this case. The fact is my client was arrested, indited, and brought to trial without one shred of evidence. No eye witnesses to the crime, no fingerprints, no forensic, and no DNA evidence. He simply fit the profile of this imaginary suspect the detectives were looking for and they went out and fabricated the evidence to fit the individual they had arrested. After they got fixated on my client they didn't look any further, they knew they had their man. They tailor made the facts to fit my client like a new suit and put Mr. Michael Parson in that suit. Well, I say, that suit doesn't fit, it is ill formed and poorly constructed.”

  Tremble looked around at the faces in the jury box looking for reactions. Some seemed bored, others attentive, some even surprised. He half expected an objection from the prosecution, but she sat quietly, taking notes. Raymond continued. “The prosecution's case is an illusion, a house of cards that will fall when even a slightest wind blows. It has to be an illusion, because my client is innocent.

  He walked back to his desk, retrieved his note pad, and took a sip of water from a glass. Returning to the area in the immediate proximity of the jury, he continued, flipping through his yellow legal pad. “Speaking of the witnesses the State wishes to parade before you for your amusement. The first one, a Cassie McPherson, claims she saw my client drive a red pickup truck into her parking garage downtown over two months ago, and she is willing to swear on a stack of Bibles he is the one. Says she picked him out of a six pack, a photo array the detectives conveniently had with them, along with a photo of the alleged red pickup. They even described him as a big man. My God she couldn't help but pick my client after basically telling her what he looked like. A one in six chance, not bad odds. Then there's a Miss Chastity Lazure, yes my kind jury members, that is her real name. She swears she saw my client, again, two months ago in that red pickup which she was showed a picture of as well, driving up and down Third Ave. in Chula Vista and having an altercation with a homeless man in the intersection adjacent to her place of employment. Although every time my investigator has driven by the comic book shop where she works, her nose was buried in a cartoon book. But she swears she saw
my client, picked him out of that same photo array. These are what the prosecution is basing their whole case on. I move for an immediate dismissal of all charges against my client. This trial is a travesty and a total waste of the tax payer's money.”

  Finally, Tiffany was on on her feet yelling, “Objection, objection, your Honor.”

  Judge Beauregard, banged his gavel on his podium and boomed loudly, “Order, I will have order in this court.” He waited for a moment, cleared his throat, tried to compose himself from the anger that was rising up his spine to the back of his head. “Mr. Tremble, have you totally lost your mind, sir? I will not tolerate such adolescent shenanigans in my courtroom. Another outburst like that, will be dealt with harshly. Do you get my meaning, Mr. Tremble?”

  Knowing he had made his point over the ADA's objection and the judge's chastisement, Raymond, smirked and said, “Yes, your honor.”

  “You may continue, and watch yourself,” the judge said with a nod of his head.

  “The defense intends to prove that my client was nowhere near the scene of this horrendous crime at the time of the murder. He was instead in the arms of another woman, not his wife that weekend. We will concede that Mr. Parson is a bad husband and a cheater, but he is no murderer. And lastly, the defense will offer alternative suspects to this murder, suspects that the police didn't even bother to consider, that is after they decided themselves that my client was guilty and not to look any further. They had their patsy, why do any more work, my guy was the one. Well ladies and gentleman, after it is all said and done, you will be the ones that will decide the guilt or innocence of my client after carefully weighing all the evidence, the facts and the testimonies. Remember our system requires that you are convinced of a suspect's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt, pretty heavy words and quite a burden, but such is your job and I know you will do the right thing and find my client innocent when the last gavel is sounded. Thank you for your attention.