The prosecutor paused briefly. “You are associated, I am told, with the Los Angeles Police Department. Correct, Dr. Steiner?”
“At the present time, I am semi-retired. However, that is true. I work on a consultant basis with the LAPD, as well as the San Bernardino Police Department.”
“Uh-huh. I understand you are also associated with a Rape-Crisis Center in downtown L.A.?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
Berkoff moved toward the jury box. “Dr. Steiner, we brought you here today to discuss, among other things, Megan’s Law.” He grabbed the railing and glanced back at Steiner. “For those of us who are not entirely aware of what Megan’s Law is all about, can you help us? Enlighten us?”
“Megan’s Law was named for Megan Kanka, a seven-year-old New Jersey girl, who was raped and murdered by a known child molester who had moved across the street from the family without their knowledge.”
All at once, Ramsey spoke up. “Objection, Your Honor. This information is not relevant to this case.”
“Overruled. You may continue, Mr. Berkoff.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” The A.D.A. moved closer to the stand. “Dr. Steiner, I have just a few questions, I’d like to clear up in my own mind, if you will. I think my questions will also assist the jury members in understanding what this case is about.”
“I’d like to help in any way I can,” Steiner said.
“Tell me, Doctor, how can a person tell who is a potential sex offender and who is not?”
In unison, the jury members suddenly directed their gaze at Dr. Steiner. They waited curiously for his answer.
“There is no such thing as a typical sex offender. They don’t walk around with a sign on their back.”
“So, how does a person protect themselves?”
Steiner paused. “It’s a question of trusting your instincts about people and situations.”
“Uh-huh. Is it true that most men who commit sexual offenses do not know their victim?”
“That is a false statement, Mr. Berkoff. Most child victims, as in the case of Danny Novak, know their offender.”
Ramsey glanced up at Judge Baylor. “Objection, Your Honor.”
“On what grounds, Counselor?”
“With all due respect to Dr. Steiner, the statement is flagrant. It assumes my client’s guilt.”
“Overruled. You may continue, Dr. Steiner.”
“Almost half of the sex offenders turn out to be a member of the family,” Steiner said.
“I see. Tell us, Doctor, do child sex offenders use threats or physical force to assault their victims?”
“No. Usually they don’t. Most sexual abusers gain access to their victims through deception and enticement, seldom using force. Very often the abuser, or perpetrator is in a position of trust with the victim. A teacher. A parent. A priest.”
Ramsey was on his feet. “Move to strike, Your Honor!”
“Motion denied. Please continue, Mr. Berkoff.”
Berkoff paused and turned to face the jury. “Let’s take a hypothetical case, Dr. Steiner. Let’s say a child agrees to go along with sexual abuse. He is cooperating, willingly participating with the sexually abusive activities.”
“Is there a question here, Your Honor?” Ramsey suddenly interjected.
“Continue, Mr. Berkoff. But let’s get to the point, shall we?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. My question, Doctor, if the child is a willing participant, does this make him partially to blame for the sexual abuse?”
Steiner’s eyes narrowed. “A child is never to blame for his or hers own abuse, although they are very often made to feel like willing participants as a result of the manipulative and devious behavior of their abusers. This in itself, further contributes to their feelings of shame and guilt.”
At this point, Berkoff scanned the jury. They were listening intently; hanging onto every word. He sensed the jury members liked Dr. Steiner. They were impressed. They, in turn, felt his testimony gave an aura of credibility to the proceedings. Berkoff felt his confidence rise; bringing in the pyschiatrist to testify had been a wise move, on his part. “One final question, Dr. Steiner. Is sexual gratification the prime motivation for sexual assault on a child?”
“Not necessarily.” Steiner paused. “True, some offenders seek sexual gratification from the act, but power, control and anger are more likely the prime motivators.”
Berkoff turned back to the witness stand. “Thank you, Dr. Steiner. No further questions, Your Honor.”
Judge Baylor glanced at the defense attorney. “My Ramsey? Re-direct?”
“I have no questions for this witness, Your Honor.”
“You may step down, Dr. Steiner. Mr. Berkoff, will you please call your next witness?”
“We call Detective Steven Farrell, Your Honor.”
Detective Farrell rose from his seat in the gallery and approached the bench. He turned to face the court clerk.
“Detective Farrell? Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?”
“I do,” Farrell said, his right hand raised.
“You may take your place on the witness stand.”
Detective Farrell seated himself, quickly adjusted the microphone. Berkoff remained at the prosecutor’s table for a few moments; he was eyeing Farrell closely. Then, rising, he approached the stand. “For the record, Detective, will you please state your full name?”
“Steven Allan Farrell.”
“Detective Farrell, you are a Homicide Detective with the San Bernardino Police Department. How long have you been with the department?”
“Oh, I’d say, a little over two years.”
“My information is that you were previously assigned to the Los Angeles Police Department. The South Central Division. Am I correct, so far, Detective?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.
“And, how long were you with the LAPD?”
“I was with the LAPD for twelve years.”
Berkoff tossed him a curious glance. “What made you move out here, to, what shall I call it, Detective? The boondocks?”
Farrell shrugged. “I’d suddenly had enough of South Central L.A. The stress, the danger, the pressure of the job was getting to me. I felt like I was burned-out. Add to that, the fact that I was shot in the line of duty, and assigned to a desk job. I hated that. I couldn’t stand being cooped up in an office all day. So, I decided to chuck it all. My wife and I moved out to San Bernardino. We bought a small ranch out here, got a few horses. I feel like I can breathe again.”
“I see. For identification purposes, I’m sure you are very familiar with the Sheriff’s Substation at Big Bear Lake. Correct, Detective?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“Uh-huh. And how far, approximately, is Half Moon Lake, where the tragedy took place, from the substation?”
“I’d say about ten miles, as the crow flies. It’s fifteen miles really. The roads have a lot of curves in them. The terrain is pretty rugged up there around the lake.”
Berkoff’s voice was steady, even. “You were the first person to arrive at the murder scene. Is that not correct, Detective?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“When were you first made aware of Danny Novak’s death, Detective?”
Farrell was slightly hesitant. “Well, technically, he was listed as missing, at first.”
“So, regressing a little, someone must have called you to report the boy was indeed missing. Right?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And who was it that called you, Detective?”
“It was Father Reiniger.”
“I see.” He paused. “As Jack Kramer had testified, Danny was last seen around dusk, let’s say around seven o’clock, when he left with Father Reiniger in the motorboat?”
Farrell nodded. Yes. That’s right.”
“Now, when exactly, did you get the call from Father Reiniger?”
“The call came in shortly before 8:00 a.m., the following day.”
“That would be Labor Day morning, then?”
“That is correct.”
“And at that time, as you have just testified, the boy was reported as missing?”
“Yes. Correct. So, I got in the car and immediately drove up to the lake.”
“And?”
“When I got there, Father Reiniger, Jack Kramer, Mr. Groda, and the two boys were all out looking for Danny. They’d searched the whole campsite, and had come up with zilch, nothing!”
The prosecutor paused momentarily. “How was Father Reiniger taking all of this?”
“I could tell, he was worried. He was very upset.”
“When did they discover that Danny was in fact, missing?”
“The three boys were to share an upstairs bedroom in the main house. When two of the boys woke up around 7:30 that morning, the first thing they noticed was that Danny’s bed hadn’t been slept in. They immediately notified Father Reiniger. He in turn, called me.”
There was a long pause. “And so, Detective, my information is that you called Lt. Palmer at the substation, who in turn recruited a small group of Big Bear Lake residents, and you organized a search-party. Correct?”
“That is correct. We couldn’t find any trace of Danny, nothing at all, so, we decided to drag the lake.”
“This was instigated by Lt. Palmer?”
“That is correct.”
“He in turn, contacted the LAPD, in San Pedro?”
“Correct.”
“A couple of underwater divers were dispatched to the lake?”
“That is correct.”
Berkoff eyed the detective closely. “Approximately what time did they discover the body?”
“They found the body in a tangle of underwater weeds, about 3:00 o’clock, that same afternoon.”
“Had the body been weighted-down, Detective?”
“No, sir. It had not.”
“Did the coroner establish time of death?”
“Yes. The coroner established the time of death to be approximately 10:00 p.m. That would be the Sunday night before, of course.”
“Did the coroner establish precisely how the boy died? Did he establish the precise cause of death, Detective?”
“Contrary to what most people thought, the boy did not drown in the lake,” Farrell said, evenly.
Berkoff shot a questioning glance. “You are telling us, Danny did not actually drown in the water, Detective?”
“The Medical Examiner found numerous bruise marks around the neck area. He also found lacerations at the boy’s throat. He had been strangled. The lacerations revealed that a solid, wooden object had been pressed up against Danny’s throat. He simply couldn’t breathe. We also found samples of sand on the body.”
“What was the condition of the body, Detective? What I mean is, was it clothed, or unclothed?”
“The body was naked.”
There was a slight pause. “Can you tell us, Detective? Had the boy been sexually assaulted?”
“Yes, he had. Very definitely. The victim had been sodomized. We found evidence of penetration, ejaculation. Although the body had been submerged in the lake for almost seventeen hours, the Medical Examiner found evidence of semen.”
Berkoff moved in very close. “And in the Medical Examiner’s investigation, was there anything vital, anything significant about the semen samples?”
“Yes, sir. There was.”
“What was significant about the semen samples, Detective?”
“Upon examination, we found that the spermatozoa was of the same blood type, as Father Reiniger’s.”
There was a slight rumble from the spectators. Judge Baylor gaveled them down. “Quiet, please.”
Berkoff paused. “I see. So, you are telling us, that for argument’s sake, we’re looking into a scenario where the defendant and Danny Novak returned from the ride in the motorboat, and went to the nearby stretch of sandy beach, where the victim was sexually assaulted. Are we okay on this, so far, Detective?”
“Yes. That is our assumption. Yes.”
The prosecutor turned back to his table and picked up Danny Novak’s clothes: his blue pants, the baseball cap and his white, athletic shoes. They were individually wrapped in plastic evidence bags. Berkoff crossed to the stand. “Detective, I would like you to identify these articles of clothing, for the record, if you will.”
“They were positively ID’d as belonging to the victim.”
“By whom?”
“The victim’s mother, Carolyn Novak. We also ran DNA tests.”
“Uh-huh. And where exactly was the clothing discovered?”
“We found the said items buried in a small stretch of sandy beach between the boat-dock and Mr. Groda’s cabin residence.”
“I see.” Berkoff turned to face Judge Baylor. “Your Honor, we would like to submit these articles of the victim’s clothing and have them marked as Prosecution Exhibit ‘B.’”
“So submitted. You may proceed, Counselor.”
Berkoff passed the plastic-wrapped items to the court clerk. He turned back to Farrell. “Now, what about the boy’s T-shirt, Detective?”
“Forensics found traces of Danny’s hair and, as a matter of fact, his T-shirt, inside the small rowboat, also tied to the dock. We feel that rather than start the motor up again, and create a lot of noise, the defendant simply carried Danny’s body to the rowboat, placed it inside, rowed out to the middle of the lake, and dumped it overboard.”
“Thank you, Detective.” He glanced at the Judge. “That is all the questions I have at this time, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Ramsey? Your witness.”
Ramsey rose from his chair and began to move toward the witness stand. “I have just one or two questions for Detective Farrell, Your Honor.”
“You may proceed.”
“You have stated the victim’s clothing was positively ID’d by his mother. Is that not correct, Detective?”
“That is correct.”
“You also stated the clothing was tested for DNA. Correct, sir?”
“That’s right.”
“In the DNA findings, did the Medical Examiner find any evidence, whatsoever, that would tie my client to the victim?”
“Only the sperm sample that was found on the victim’s body.”
Ramsey’s face darkened. This was not what he wanted to hear. His voice rose sharply. “I’m talking specifically about the clothing. I reiterate. In your DNA findings, there was nothing to connect the boy’s clothing to my client. Isn’t that correct, Detective?”
“Correct, sir. That is true.”
Ramsey was quick, abrupt. “Nothing further, Your Honor!”
“You may be excused, Detective.” The Judge glanced at Berkoff. “Mr. Berkoff? You may call your next witness.”
“Your Honor, we would like to call Willie Groda to the stand.”
--13--
Willie Groda was born and raised in West Memphis, Arkansas, a small mill-town near the Arkansas-Tennessee border. His father, Jimmy Lee Groda had deserted his wife when William (Willie) was just six-years-old. A year later, Loretta Groda had died of cancer, and the boy began a life of being knocked around from pillar-to-post, living (surviving) in a string of foster homes. At age eighteen, he was cut loose and began a succession of menial jobs that never lasted for more than six months, including: janitorial work, washing dishes, delivering furniture, setting up pins in a bowling alley, even assistant-managing a porno-theater on the rough side, the south side of town. Between jobs, he was often found sleeping on a park bench; under newspapers in a back alley; in winter, inside the warmth of the local bus station. He’d served several stints in rehab for his alcoholism; he’d been arrested numerous times for drunken and disorderly conduct. The booze had taken its toll, and the spectators and jury members eyed Groda warily, as he was sworn-in and seated. His eyes were dark, sunken-in; his face was lined and leathery; he ex
uded an aura of fear, quiet menace. Berkoff was quick to notice the jury’s apprehensive reaction to Groda, as he approached the stand. “Will you please state your full name for the record, sir?”
“William Emile Groda. They call me Willie, for short.”
“How old are you, sir?”
“Seventy-six.”
“What is your present occupation, Mr. Groda?”
“Caretaker, custodian, cook. Jack-of-all-trades, you might say.”
“You are presently employed? Working as caretaker at Camp Sierra?”
“Yes sir, I am.” He grinned. “But after this trial is over, there’s no telling where I’ll be workin’!”
“How long have you been in California, Mr. Groda?”
He paused slightly. “Well, lemme see now, I left my home in West Memphis, Arkansas, goin’ on almost three years now. Cain’t believe it’s been that long.”
“Uh-huh, I see. Now, Mr. Groda, I’d like to talk about the events which occurred on Sunday, September 5th, of this year. The day, Danny Novak died.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course, you knew Danny Novak, didn’t you?”
“Oh, sure! I saw a lot of Danny. He was what you’d call a nice kid. Would do anything for you!”
“How would you describe his relationship with Father Reiniger?”
“Oh, Danny loved Father Reiniger; he worshipped the ground Father walked on. He trusted him.” He paused again; there was the trace of a thin smile. “And, as for Father Reiniger, well, he was what I’d call, a little foxy.”
“What do you mean by that, Mr. Groda?”
“Lookin’ back on it, Father Reiniger took great pains, he took a lot of care, to build up that trust. He had them boys eatin’ right out of the palm of his hand. They’d do anything for him, mostly, because they trusted him.”
“I see.” Berkoff paused. “Now, prior testimony given in this courtroom, has stated on the afternoon of Sunday, September the 5th, Father Reiniger and Jack Kramer became embroiled in a heated argument. Is that a fair and accurate statement, Mr. Groda?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“And, to your knowledge, were they drinking?”
“Yeah. They was.”
“Now, this argument, Mr. Groda. What exactly were they arguing about?”
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