I turn around and offer the obligatory, “Yes, Your Honor.” I look at Leon and whisper, “You’re going to have to save it for later.” I feel like I’m talking to Grace when I add, “If you act up, you’ll never have a chance to tell your side.”
He folds his arms and doesn’t say anything. I hope he hasn’t done irreparable damage in the first two minutes of his prelim.
Rosie leans over to me and whispers, “Keep it short.”
I walk over to the lectern and place three note cards next to the microphone. I look up at the judge, who shows no signs of the maternal grandmother we saw in her chambers yesterday. “Your Honor,” I say, “Leon Walker is a dying man who has been unjustly accused of a crime he did not commit. Mr. McNulty has suggested that the victim was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps, but so was Leon Walker. He had the misfortune of walking down an alley around the same time that Tower Grayson died.”
I glance at the judge to see if she’s buying any of this, but she has an excellent poker face.
I keep going. “Mr. Walker was going home from work when he ended up in the middle of a nightmare. This case involves a bull rush to judgment of a terminally ill man who did not have the strength to kill Tower Grayson. Rather than taking the time to do a thorough investigation, the prosecution has chosen to place the blame on my client.”
McNulty starts to stand, but reconsiders. He isn’t going to win any points by interrupting my opening. Judge McDaniel looks at me as if to say that I should lighten up on the hyperbole.
“Your Honor,” I say, “in light of Leon Walker’s medical condition, we have no choice but to put on a full defense during this preliminary hearing. We will demonstrate that there is insufficient evidence to bind him over for trial.”
I sit down and look at the judge and try to read the tea leaves. If she’s impressed, she isn’t showing it. “Thank you, Mr. Daley,” she says. Without any further acknowledgment in my direction, she turns to McNulty and says, “You may call your first witness.”
“The people call Officer Jeff Roth.”
It makes sense to start with the first officer at the scene. It won’t help that he’s still pissed off at us.
# # #
They say you should lead with strength. I’ve known Jeff Roth for four decades and I’ve never seen him give a bad performance on the stand. If my guess is correct, it will take him longer to walk down the center aisle and be sworn in than to testify. He’s here to set the table and his role in this melodrama will be limited. You want to believe him when he swears that he’s going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
McNulty takes him on a quick tour of his resume, which includes thirty years with the SFPD and twenty-nine walking the beat on Sixth Street. Then he leads him through a concise and well-rehearsed description of what he found on Friday morning behind Alcatraz Liquors. He speaks in the standard, clipped police dialect as he explains that he responded to a nine-one-one call from the clerk at Alcatraz Liquors. He says he found Grayson’s body in the Dumpster. “The defendant was passed out a few feet away.”
It’s the first score of the game: he’s placed Leon at the scene.
McNulty tees up another softball. “What did you do when you arrived?”
“I called for reinforcements and secured the scene in accordance with standard police procedure.”
I didn’t expect him to say he started destroying evidence.
Roth adds, “Then I began to search for evidence and questioned everyone in the vicinity.”
McNulty asks, “Did that include the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“What did you find when you approached the defendant?”
“His jacket was covered with blood and there was a knife in his pocket.”
It’s a bit of a stretch to say that the jacket was covered with blood, but I don’t interrupt. Blood is clearly visible on the jacket.
McNulty walks over to the evidence cart and picks up the knife, which is wrapped in clear plastic and tagged. “Is this the knife?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Now they have the second score: The murder weapon was in Leon’s possession.
McNulty walks Roth through a similar exercise identifying the jacket. Then he asks, “Did the defendant have any explanation as to why his jacket was covered with blood or why there was a knife in his pocket?”
“No.”
His hat trick is complete: Leon offered no alibi.
“Was there any other distinguishing characteristic about the knife?”
“It was covered with dried blood.”
“Do you know whose blood it was?”
This is too easy for them and I have to make them work a little. I summon a respectful tone. “Objection. Foundation. Officer Roth is not an expert on blood analysis or DNA.”
“Sustained.”
McNulty shrugs it off. He’ll cover this territory later. He turns back to Roth and asks if he found anything else in Leon’s pocket.
“A bill clip with approximately two thousand dollars in cash.” He explains that Tower Grayson’s initials were engraved on the clip.
McNulty goes to the evidence cart and asks Roth to identify the bill clip and the cash, then he asks, “Did the defendant have any explanation for how he obtained the money?”
“No.”
McNulty gives Roth a satisfied smile before he asks, “What did you do next?”
“I detained the defendant and awaited the arrival of additional officers as well as Inspector Marcus Banks of the homicide division.”
He’s done his job. McNulty asks him a few more perfunctory questions to confirm that the evidence was bagged and tagged properly. Then he says, “No further questions.”
Roth’s testimony took less than five minutes.
The judge points her gavel at me and asks, “Cross examination, Mr. Daley?”
You bet. “Yes, Your Honor.” I stand, button my suit jacket and approach the witness box. I stop about five feet from Roth. I don’t want to crowd him or appear disrespectful. On the other hand, I don’t want him to get too comfortable.
First things first. I want to establish that this is a circumstantial case. “Officer Roth,” I say, “did you see Mr. Walker stab Mr. Grayson?”
“No.”
“Have you found anybody who saw him stab Mr. Grayson?”
“No.”
“So, you have no personal knowledge of how Mr. Grayson died, do you?”
Roth’s professional demeanor doesn’t change. “It’s Dr. Beckert’s job to determine the cause of death,” he says.
Yes, it is. He’ll be on next. “Yet you detained Mr. Walker?”
“It appeared to be appropriate after I found a bloody knife in his pocket.”
True enough. We volley about the evidence that precipitated his decision to hold Leon. I’m not going to score big points, so I have to settle for small ones. “Officer Roth,” I say, “did you see Mr. Walker place the knife in his pocket?”
“No.”
“And did you find anybody else who saw him place the knife in his pocket?”
“No.”
“So, it’s possible that somebody other than Mr. Walker may have stabbed Mr. Grayson and placed the knife in Mr. Walker’s pocket, isn’t it?”
McNulty’s heard enough. “Objection,” he says. “Speculative.”
“Your Honor,” I say, “I’m asking him to consider various alternative scenarios based upon his years of experience as a police officer.”
This is nothing short of complete bullshit.
She gives me a break and calls it my way. “Overruled. The witness will answer.”
Roth sighs and says, “I suppose it is theoretically possible that anybody in the world could have stabbed Mr. Grayson and then placed the knife in the defendant’s pocket.”
That’s all I wanted. “Thank you, Officer Roth.”
He adds, “The chances that it happened that way appear to be very remote to me.”
I don’t want him to have the last word. “Move to strike the witness’ last remark. There was no foundation and he answered a question that I didn’t ask.”
“Granted.”
It’s another modest victory. It isn’t as if she’s going to forget what Roth just said. I glance at Jerry Edwards and say, “Officer Roth, you mentioned that you’ve been interviewing potential witnesses on Sixth Street.”
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t found anybody who saw my client stab Tower Grayson, right?”
McNulty correctly objects. “Asked and answered,” he says.
“Sustained.”
I keep pushing. I ask Roth, “Have you concluded your investigation?”
“Yes.”
“So, less than a week after the victim was stabbed, you have concluded that there are no other witnesses out there who may have helpful information regarding this case?”
There isn’t a hint of defensiveness in his tone when he says, “We’ve done a thorough canvass of the area and we would encourage the public to step forth with additional information.”
Of course. “But you think my client is guilty, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, you’ve told potential witnesses in the vicinity that you aren’t interested in any information that would challenge that conclusion, aren’t you?”
“Objection. Foundation. Argumentative.”
“Sustained.”
Now I’m playing to the media. “In fact, you’ve put the word out on Sixth Street that the SFPD doesn’t want to blow this case and you will hassle people who provide information that may cast doubt on my client’s guilt, haven’t you?”
“Objection. Argumentative.”
Before the judge can sustain the objection, I say, “Withdrawn.” I shoot another glance at Jerry Edwards and say, “No further questions, Your Honor.”
McNulty isn’t interested in trying to rebut the minor damage that I’ve done to Roth’s reputation. He stands and says in his most solemn tone, “The people call Doctor Roderick Beckert.”
The stakes are going up. Jeff Roth was an opening act, but the Chief Medical Examiner of the City and County of San Francisco is definitely a headliner.
*****
Chapter 43
“I am the Chief Medical Examiner of the City and County of San Francisco”
“Dr. Beckert is a professor of pathology who has been San Francisco’s Chief Medical Examiner for more than thirty years and is an authority on forensic science.”
— UCSF Medical School Catalogue.
Bill McNulty summons a deferential tone as he addresses the next witness. “Would you please state your name for the record?”
The bald man with the salt and pepper beard, striped tie and folksy demeanor flashes a subdued, but confident smile. “My name is Dr. Roderick Beckert,” he says. “I am the Chief Medical Examiner of the City and County of San Francisco. I’ve held that position for thirty-three years.”
Rod Beckert combines a razor intellect and a storehouse of knowledge with a grandfatherly tone. I stipulate to his credentials without hesitation. The dean of big city coroners is a superb witness who could read the phone book aloud with convincing eloquence.
McNulty starts by introducing the autopsy report into evidence. Then he has Beckert confirm that Grayson was found in the Dumpster at eleven A.M. on Thursday morning and that his death was caused by multiple stab wounds to the back. I object only once in a modest attempt to break up McNulty’s rhythm. Beckert sets the time of death between two and five A.M. and confirms that the blood on the knife and on Leon’s jacket matched Grayson’s. McNulty is back in his seat five minutes after he started.
I’m up in front of the witness box before Beckert can drink a cup of water. I may not be able to shake him, but I don’t want to let him off easy. “Doctor,” I begin, “your autopsy report concluded that Mr. Grayson died in the Dumpster as a result of multiple stab wounds.”
“Correct.”
“Is there any chance he died somewhere else and was placed inside the Dumpster?”
“No.” He explains that he made the determination based upon the state of rigor mortis, the location of the blood in the body, called lividity, and various other tests. He says Grayson was definitely in the Dumpster when his heart stopped beating.
I don’t dispute his conclusion. I point to a chart that shows the location of the liquor store, the loading dock and the Dumpster and ask, “Where was Mr. Grayson stabbed?”
Beckert points to a spot adjacent to the loading dock and says, “We found the first drops of blood here.”
I point to the Dumpster and say, “But the body was found all the way over here. That’s a distance of almost thirty feet.”
“Correct.”
“And it’s your view that Mr. Grayson was still alive when he left the loading dock and made his way toward the Dumpster?”
“Yes.”
I give him an inquisitive look, then I point at the Dumpster and ask, “How did he get all the way over here?”
McNulty is up on his feet. “Objection. Speculative.”
I try for a sincere tone. “Your Honor,” I say, “I’m asking Dr. Beckert to exercise his best medical judgment to explain how the victim traversed thirty feet after being stabbed.”
Judge McDaniel’s chin juts out slightly as she says, “Overruled.”
Beckert takes it in stride. “In my best medical judgment,” he says, “Mr. Grayson probably walked–or more accurately staggered–to the Dumpster.”
“Is it possible that he got from the loading dock to the Dumpster by some other means?”
McNulty recognizes that I’m trying to open the door to an infinite number of possibilities and objects right away. “Calls for speculation,” he says.
Judge McDaniel disagrees with him. “Overruled,” she says.
I wasn’t sure she’d give me that one.
Beckert correctly offers as little as possible. His tone borders on patronizing when he says, “I suppose it is theoretically possible, but highly unlikely, that Mr. Grayson got from the loading dock to the Dumpster by some means other than walking.”
Theoretically possible is all I need. “And that might have included being carried?”
“Yes.”
“And it might even have included being carried by the person who killed him?”
“I suppose.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“Correct.”
Time for our first trip through the looking glass. “Assuming that Mr. Grayson was, in fact, carried from the loading dock to the Dumpster, does your report contain any evidence that Mr. Walker did so?”
“Objection. Assumes facts not in evidence.”
“Overruled.”
It’s Beckert’s turn to show impatience. “The victim’s blood was found on the defendant’s jacket.”
“I understand. However, I’m asking if you found any specific and conclusive evidence proving that Mr. Walker carried the body to the Dumpster.”
Based on the way I’ve framed the question, he has no choice. “No,” he says.
“Did you find any evidence Mr. Walker touched or otherwise handled the body?”
“No.”
Good enough. Now for the other end of the trip. “Were you able to come to a conclusion as to precisely how Mr. Grayson’s body found its way into the Dumpster?”
His impatience turns to annoyance. “He fell inside.”
“Is it possible that he may have been lifted into the Dumpster by his assailant?”
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Overruled.”
Beckert sighs and says, “It’s possible.”
It’s all I need. I stand next to Leon and prepare for a second trip to never-never land. I look up to Beckert and ask in my most innocent tone, “Have you met Mr. Walker?”
“No.”
“Are you aware that he has a terminal disease that has weakened h
im substantially and that he weighs only about a hundred and twenty pounds?”
“So I’m told.”
I give Leon a long look and then turn back to Beckert. “Doctor,” I say, “how much did Mr. Grayson weigh?”
He looks at his report for a moment and says, “Two hundred and ten pounds.”
MD04 - Final Verdict Page 33