by Teri Ames
“No.”
“Walking to Maple Street. That’s a pretty memorable thing, isn’t it.”
“I suppose.”
“But when Officer Shores asked you where the party was less than a week later, you claimed that you didn’t remember, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That was one more lie you told to Officer Shores the first time he called you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Dutton paused for effect.
Keenan was kicking himself. He knew should have told the officer the truth about the party the first time they spoke. But like everybody else, he didn’t want to rat out the hosts. In retrospect, it was stupid. How was he supposed to know that less than a year later he would be sitting in this courtroom and what he thought was a random conversation would be evidence against him?
The prosecutor continued, getting closer for his attack.
“When Officer Shores searched your room, he found Shannon’s keys, right?”
“Yes.”
“That might have been a good time to mention that you took the keys to keep her from driving if that had really been true, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but...” Keenan brought his hands to his forehead, but brought them down suddenly when he realized it might make him look guilty.
“But, you didn’t do that, did you?”
“No.”
“Because you hadn’t yet thought of that explanation, right?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. You had to have been there.”
Keenan remembered when Officer Shores had showed up at his room. When he recognized the officer waiting there, he had braced himself for bad news. But instead, the guy was in his face again, trying to make him look guilty for not letting him search Keenan’s room. Keenan hadn’t wanted to sign the consent form, but he was afraid if he didn’t it would look like he had something to hide. He had forgotten completely about the keys. With the holidays and Shannon’s disappearance, the keys had just been pushed from his mind.
Unfortunately, the prosecutor wasn’t done with him.
“Isn’t it true that the first time you told Officer Shores you were concerned about Shannon’s ability to drive that night was on December thirtieth, ten days after her disappearance and the fourth time you spoke with the officer?”
“I think so.”
Dutton nodded knowingly. “Okay. After you walked to Maple Street that night, you found Shannon, right?”
“Yes.”
“And she told you about Jake, right?”
Barry stood. “Objection. Asked and answered.”
Keenan answered anyway. “No, she did not tell me about Jake.” His voice sounded shrill, angry, which was probably why his lawyer had not wanted him to answer. He needed to remember to keep his answers as short as possible.
“Sustained,” the judge said, belatedly.
“You got upset, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You yelled at her, didn’t you?”
“No.” Keenan tried to keep his voice even like Barry coached him, but it was getting harder and harder.
“You got physical with her, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You grabbed her, didn’t you?”
“I hugged her, that was all.”
“And she ran off. Isn’t that what you said?”
“She left quickly.”
“She ran away from you, didn’t she?”
“Maybe.”
“Because she was scared of you, wasn’t she?”
“Objection. Speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“And you followed her, didn’t you?”
“No.” Keenan shook his head.
“And you continued the fight, right?”
“No.”
“And you hit her, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Punched her on the left cheek, right?”
“No.” Keenan was still shaking his head. He started crying.
“And she went down.” Dutton paused. “And she hit her head, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“You knew you’d be in trouble for killing her, so you used her car to move her body, right?”
“No.”
“You dumped her in the river, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Then you drove her car back to campus, right?”
“I drove the car, but not the rest of it.”
“That’s right. You drove her car.” The prosecutor started to sit. “One last question. What number is your hockey jersey?”
“Five,” Keenan said. What difference did that make?
Dutton nodded and sat down.
Keenan looked pleadingly at Barry, whose face was grim as he stood for re-direct.
“Why didn’t you tell Officer Shores the whole story right up front?”
“I don’t know. Even in the beginning, it felt like I was on the defensive. Then, when he came to my house on Christmas Eve, he actually accused me of doing something to Shannon. I couldn’t even talk to him at that point.”
“Why not?”
“It felt like he was accusing me of murder. Which it turns out he was.”
“Why did you let Officer Shores search your dorm room?”
“I was trying to be cooperative.”
“Were you concerned he would find Shannon’s keys?”
“No, I really had forgotten about them.”
“Why didn’t you give the officer an explanation at that time?”
“He kept accusing me, twisting things. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking to him.”
After Keenan had left the witness stand, Barry announced that the defense rested.
“Do you plan to present any rebuttal evidence, Mr. Dutton?”
“I do, Your Honor. And I need a few minutes to set up the AV equipment.”
“Very well. We’ll take a ten-minute break.”
Barry and Keenan both used the bathroom before meeting back at the counsel table.
“I made it worse, didn’t I?” Keenan said as they were washing their hands. He looked at Barry in the mirror.
“There’s no way to know,” Barry said without looking up. “What’s done is done. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Keenan didn’t believe him. “Who else is he going to use for a witness?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I should, but I don’t know what’s coming.”
Chapter 61
Thursday, September 18, 2014
FRED KNEW he was on shaky ground with his rebuttal, but he also knew that it would have a big impact if he got away with it. It had come to him while Greg Brody was testifying. He was surprised that Barry had made such a big mistake, a rookie mistake really, letting the dad talk about how nonviolent the son was. As testimony, it wasn’t particularly believable, and it had opened the door for Fred’s next move. He recalled Greta Paraiso.
“Ms. Paraiso, I’ll remind you that you’re still under oath,” the judge said.
Greta bit her lip and nodded.
Fred began. “Ms. Paraiso, did you attend a Masterson College hockey game on November first of last year?”
“I did.”
“What did you observe at that game?”
“I saw Keenan Brody get into a fight with a player from the other team.”
“I’m showing you what is marked as State’s Exhibit 10. What is this?”
“It’s a video of part of that game.”
“And have you watched that video?”
“Yes.”
“And does it accurately portray what you observed?”
“Yes, it does.”
“With the court’s permission, I’d like to show the video to the jury.”
Barry’s voice boomed. “Objection, Your Honor.”
The white noise came on and the judge beckoned the attorneys to the bench.
Barry was clearly pissed. “I h
ave never seen this video. It was not included in any of the discovery I got. I want it excluded as a discovery violation.”
“Is that true, Mr. Dutton?”
“Yes, Your Honor. But I only got the video in the last hour. I couldn’t have turned it over because I didn’t have it. I sent Officer Shores out during lunch to track it down after the defendant’s father testified. I remembered Ms. Paraiso mentioned the incident in her deposition, so I brought her back. I had Officer Shores show her the video a few minutes ago.”
“Mr. Densmore, did the witness mention the fight during her deposition?”
Barry shook his head slowly. “Possibly. I’d have to review the transcripts.”
“Well then, I’m going to allow it. You knew about the fight even if you didn’t have a copy of the video.”
“But, Your Honor, it’s more prejudicial than probative. There are multiple grounds for excluding the video. It’s not even relevant. Hockey’s a game, a sport. Not real life.”
“You opened the door, Mr. Densmore. Let’s watch the video.”
Barry tried again, but despite trying the judge’s patience, he couldn’t keep the video out of evidence. He did, however, convince the judge to give a limiting instruction to the jury explaining that participants of contact sports consent to physical contact, so a fight on the ice wasn’t necessarily an assault. For all the good it would do. The instruction would be buried in the post-trial boilerplate presented to the jury. Fred had to work very had not to smile as he walked back to the counsel table and pressed the play button on the laptop.
The video was perfect. Dustin had gotten it from the archives at the college athletics office. Apparently, they kept videos of all the hockey games. It clearly showed Masterson Number 5 in a brawl with Number 12 from the other team. The jury seemed enthralled by graphic display.
It was three o’clock when the judge announced that the evidence was closed. He asked the jurors if anyone had a problem with staying late. When nobody objected, he said, “We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess and return for closing arguments. I’d like the jury to begin their deliberations today.”
Chapter 62
Thursday, September 18, 2014
BARRY WAS pissed. Mostly at himself. It was the obvious move. And he had missed it. How could he not have his head in the game when the stakes were so high? He used the fifteen minutes to splash some water on his face and go over his notes for the closing argument. It was more important than ever that the jury not see how frazzled he was. He wished he had longer to regroup.
Fred looked confident when he walked over to stand in front of the jury. Of course he did. He had ended the trial with an impressive and memorable display. Fuck!
Fred captivated the jury when he started talking. “Shannon Dawson was only eighteen years old when her life was ended. It was a life full of promise because, in her eighteen short years, Shannon had accomplished much. Here is a picture of Shannon in life.” Fred clicked a remote and Shannon’s prom picture appeared on the large screen. “She was an impressive figure skater, a brilliant student, a friend, a daughter. If her life had not been so tragically cut short, she likely would have become a doctor, like her father, and probably, some day, a mother herself. She would have given her parents even more reasons to be proud of their only child.” Fred paused and looked toward Shannon’s parents, who looked even more wilted than they had at the beginning of the trial. “But none of that is going to happen. None of Shannon’s tremendous potential will ever be realized, because on December 20, 2013, her life came to an end in a few moments of uncontrollable rage.”
“And here again is a picture of Shannon in death.” Fred clicked the remote and the picture changed. “I apologize that it’s disturbing.”
“Shannon wasn’t perfect. None of us are. Especially when we’re only eighteen years of age and inexperienced in the ways of love. She made the mistake of falling in love with two young men at the same time. But that mistake should not have cost her her life.
“And yet it did. Because when the defendant found out he wasn’t her only suitor, that he was not the only one she had been intimate with, he lost control.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the burden of proof is on the government in this case. As it should be. The judge will instruct you that all we had to do was present evidence of the defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. We have done that and more.
“You heard from three witnesses to the defendant’s rage. Shannon’s friends, Greta, Jenna, and Heather, described an angry defendant, grabbing and hitting, and Shannon fleeing. Were they reluctant witnesses, less than forthright with the police during their initial interviews? Probably. Does that mean that they inadvertently fabricated the testimony that helps establish the defendant’s guilt? All three of them? It defies the odds. It’s not reasonable to believe. Especially after watching the videotape of the defendant fighting with another hockey player. After you all saw the violence he’s capable of.
“The defendant, on the other hand, his story has been inconsistent since the police first questioned him. Shannon wasn’t his girlfriend...or she was. He ran into her...or he went looking for her. He forgot he had her keys...or he had them because he took them from her to keep her from driving. Which was it?
“And how did he know she was dead long before her body was found?” Fred paused here and took a sip of water. He was probably doing some mental organization, making sure he had hit all the highlights, but the act made him appear casual and highlighted his question at the same time. Well played, Barry thought.
“You also heard from the medical examiner. That evidence is clear. Shannon received two injuries to the head. The medical examiner has seen these types of injuries before. Lots of times. It’s a common combination: a blow to the face delivered by a right-handed person, followed by a skull fracture when the person falls. These injuries are common in barroom brawls. And domestic violence cases. And you may have noticed from the hockey video that the defendant has a strong right hook.
“The evidence may be circumstantial, but it’s overwhelming. The defendant was the last one to see Shannon Dawson alive. They had a fight in a public setting. She left. He followed her. Her keys were found in his dorm room. His fingerprints were found on the driver’s side of her car. Her hair was found in the trunk. He lied to the police about his relationship with Shannon and about what happened that night. Innocent people have no reason to lie to the police.
“The defendant is a smart kid. He had to be to get into Masterson College. He had explanations for some of the evidence and his inconsistencies. But he also had the advantage of sitting in the courtroom, listening to the other witnesses. He had the opportunity to tailor his testimony to fit the evidence. It sounded rehearsed, desperate. Which, of course, he is. He’s desperate to have a future, something that he denied Shannon of in a fit of jealous rage.
“Thank you.”
This was it. Barry’s last chance to turn this around. His last chance to talk to the jury before they decided Keenan’s fate. He stood slowly and started talking as he made his way to the jury box.
“The prosecution has come up with a pretty compelling theory of how Shannon Dawson died. And based on the evidence you heard, it is one possible explanation. But there are others that would fit the exact same evidence.
“You heard evidence that Shannon Dawson was intoxicated on the night she disappeared and that she was an inexperienced drinker. You may also recall that the medical examiner was unable to determine her blood alcohol content.
“What if Shannon Dawson left the party by herself? Nobody actually saw her with my client after the party. What if they really did part ways at the house on Maple Street?
“If Shannon was heavily intoxicated, she could well have fallen into the cold water. All on her own. The medical examiner couldn’t tell you for sure whether she drowned first or got the head injuries first. If she drowned first, then there is no way my client could have had anything to do with her death. That’s a re
asonable doubt.
“The medical examiner tried to argue against that doubt, but you may have noticed her argument was not logical. She believed that the death wasn’t accidental because there were no witnesses. But what if the accidental death actually occurred because there were no witnesses? She couldn’t tell you unequivocally whether the drowning or the head injury came first.
“It’s just like the proverbial chicken or egg. We can’t answer the chicken or egg question beyond a reasonable doubt. And you can’t answer the head trauma or drowning question beyond a reasonable doubt. Circular logic notwithstanding, the manslaughter charge just wasn’t proven by any standard, especially not beyond a reasonable doubt.
“The problem with the assault charge is similar. You heard from Dr. Lapitas how memories are formed. The human memory is incredibly unreliable. If you consider everything that Dr. Lapitas taught us about memory, you have to ask the question: Which came first? The suspect? Or the witnesses?
“In the first round of interviews, there was not a single witness who reported seeing my client assault Shannon Dawson. At that point, Shannon had been missing for several days. An assault just prior to her disappearance would have been highly relevant. But not a single one of the people interviewed mentioned it. The only one who used words like ‘fight’ or ‘argument’ was Officer Shores. And, as Dr. Lapitas explained, when Shores mentioned them, the ideas were planted. Those ideas spread. Through word of mouth. Through social media. And weeks later, when Officer Shores went back and interviewed the witnesses again, lo and behold, this time they remembered an altercation. And by asking leading questions, Officer Shores let the students know what an altercation might have looked like. Shores asked if Shannon was grabbed and hit. And a few students remembered that she was grabbed and hit. Most of them didn’t because she wasn’t. At a party full of people, only three people remember an incident resembling an assault.
“That’s because, ladies and gentlemen, there was no assault. Just like there was no manslaughter. The witnesses now have memories of a fictitious assault because, like almost all human beings, their memories are imperfect. Dr. Lapitas described some interesting studies on human memory. Those studies prove that witnesses are frequently wrong. It doesn’t make them liars. It just makes them human.