MD04 - Final Verdict

by Sheldon Siegel

“At this rate, it won’t make any difference.”

  Go to hell. “Instead of taking potshots at me,” why don’t you do something useful?”

  “Such as?”

  “Find Alicia Morales.”

  “That’s your job.”

  “Not if you want to win a Pulitzer.”

  “Let me see what I can do.” He shakes his head and says, “I still want to interview your client.”

  “I told you I’d make him available after the prelim.”

  “You have nothing to lose by making him available sooner.”

  “He may say something that will adversely impact his case.”

  “He’s going to be dead in a couple of weeks and you’re worried about legal niceties?”

  “It’s a bad idea.”

  “I’ll give you five minutes on Mornings on Two tomorrow. He can plead his case to a huge audience in the court of public opinion.”

  “I won’t recommend it.”

  He gets the last tweak. “If your performance doesn’t improve, it may be your client’s only chance.”

  # # #

  Leon is trying to keep his emotions in check in the consultation room during the break. There is desperation in his voice when he says to me, “We’re getting slaughtered, Mike.”

  “It’s hard to score points during the prosecution’s case. We’ll do better when we put on our defense.”

  This elicits a sigh. “Who’s up next?”

  “Marcus Banks.”

  “After that?”

  “It’s our turn.”

  “When do I get to testify?”

  Rosie and I exchange a quick glance. He appears to be ready if we need him. “You’ll go on either later this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning. You understand the risks.”

  “Yes.” He turns deadly serious. “I want to testify,” he says. “I need to do it.”

  “We’ll put you on tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “There is another possibility,” I say. I tell him about Jerry Edwards’s offer to go on TV.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “I want to do that, too,” he says.

  “It could blow your case right out of the water.”

  He makes a realistic assessment. “Unless you find the murderer in the next couple of days, this will be my best chance to tell my side of the story.”

  # # #

  Leon is escorted down the hall to the bathroom and I look to Rosie for a reality check. We have only a moment before we have to return to court. “So,” I say, “how are we doing?”

  “The truth?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re scoring points. The stuff about the knife being in the right hand and the blood splatters may have been enough to push a jury to reasonable doubt.”

  There’s a “but” coming.

  “But this is just a prelim. McNulty needs to give Judge McDaniel just enough evidence to take this case to the next step. They haven’t even brought up the fact that Leon bought a knife a few weeks ago. They don’t need it.” She pats my hand and says, “You’re doing all you can, Mike, but the bottom line is that it will be damn near impossible to get the charges dropped unless we can get somebody to confess. You know the odds. This isn’t Perry Mason.”

  I’ve never won many arguments against the voice of reality. “What do we do?” I ask.

  “We play it out and see what happens.”

  “That won’t be enough.”

  “At least we should give Judge McDaniel some options. She may not drop the charges, but it may cause enough pressure in the media to get the cops and the prosecutors to reopen the investigation.”

  “Who do you have in mind?”

  “Everybody who had contact with Grayson on Thursday night and Friday morning. Maybe we can deflect some of the attention to his wife or son or his business partners.”

  “Or to Alicia Morales,” I suggest.

  “Even better,” she says. “She isn’t here to defend herself.”

  *****

  Chapter 46

  “Did You Consider Any Other Suspects?”

  “I play it by the book. If you ignore the rules, our system collapses.”

  — Inspector Marcus Banks. Profile in San Francisco Chronicle.

  Bill McNulty is standing at the lectern as Marcus Banks takes his seat in the witness box and calmly adjusts the microphone. They go through the ceremonial reading of his name and occupation into the record. Banks says he’s been with the SFPD for forty-two years, with thirty in homicide. I stipulate to his credentials. I could bring up the time he was suspended for a few weeks twenty years ago after he was accused of beating a confession out of an innocent man, but that’s ancient history around the Hall and it won’t play well to the judge.

  They should bring law students down here to watch Banks and McNulty put on a clinic of how to present information in a dignified and seemingly unbiased manner. The seasoned pros start by introducing the security video from Alcatraz Liquors over my strenuous, but futile objections. They run it three times in super slow motion as Banks shows how Grayson dropped the cash on the counter, just under Leon’s eye. Then he takes the judge on a guided tour of Leon’s walk down Minna Street. He includes just enough details and embellishes only slightly.

  McNulty plays it conservatively and asks his final question only twenty minutes after Banks takes the stand. “Inspector,” he says, “could you summarize what happened in back of Alcatraz Liquors on Friday, June third, at approximately two-ten A.M.?”

  “Of course.” Until now, Banks has been acting as if he was carrying on a private conversation with McNulty. This time, he addresses Judge McDaniel directly. “At approximately two-oh-two A.M., Mr. Grayson parked his Mercedes on MinnaStreet near the entrance to Alcatraz Liquors. He went inside and purchased a pack of cigarettes and placed a roll of bills on the counter in clear view of the defendant. The defendant followed him out of the store and stabbed him repeatedly. The victim stumbled toward a nearby Dumpster, where he fell inside. The defendant collapsed and was found the next morning, still wearing a jacket that was soaked in the victim’s blood. The murder weapon was in the defendant’s pocket along with two thousand dollars. The motive was money, the means was the knife and the opportunity presented itself when the victim walked into the liquor store. He never had a chance.”

  For courtroom aficionados, it should be noted that Banks may have set a record by referring to Leon as “the defendant” four times in ten seconds without mentioning his name.

  A self-satisfied McNulty nods toward Banks as if to say, “Nice job.” He turns to Judge McDaniel and says, “No further questions.”

  “Cross examination, Mr. Daley?”

  Damn straight. “Yes, Your Honor.” I walk toward the witness box, plant myself in front of Banks and come out swinging. “Inspector,” I say, “when did you arrive at Alcatraz Liquors?”

  “Eleven twenty-seven A.M.”

  I get him to acknowledge that it was more than nine hours after the events he had just described. I ask, “Who met you there?”

  “Officer Jeff Roth, who had secured the scene in accordance with police procedure.”

  Of course he did. I ask him when he had his first contact with Leon.

  “Approximately five minutes later.”

  “Was he a suspect at the time?”

  “Yes. We read him his Miranda rights and he told us that he wanted to speak to his lawyer. I called you a short time later.”

  He called me almost three hours later. “Did Mr. Walker say anything to you about Mr. Grayson’s death?”

  “He said that he didn’t kill him.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I placed him under arrest.”

  “He denied killing Mr. Grayson, yet you arrested him before you interrogated him?”

  “The murder weapon was in his pocket.”

  I look at the judge and say, “Move to strike the witness’s characterization of the knife as the mur
der weapon.”

  As if she’s going to ignore what he just said. “Very well,” she says. “Please proceed.”

  Banks and I go at it on the collection of the evidence, the bloody knife and jacket, the cash in Leon’s pocket and the location of Grayson’s body. He’s been appearing in courts for four decades and has had plenty of practice at keeping his stories straight.

  I move in closer and paddle into murkier waters. “Did you consider any other suspects?”

  Banks takes off his wire-rimmed glasses and wipes them with his freshly-pressed handkerchief and says, “All of the physical evidence pointed toward your client.”

  Time for some misdirection. “But there were other people who were angry at Mr. Grayson. Did you know that Mr. Grayson’s wife was in the vicinity before he died?”

  “Yes.” His demeanor is steady, almost serene. “She informed us that she had been in the area around two A.M. on Friday. She’s been very cooperative in our investigation.”

  She’s been somewhat less forthcoming with ours. “Are you aware that Mrs. Grayson had been informed earlier that evening that her husband had been frequenting a strip club called Basic Needs and procuring the services of a prostitute named Alicia Morales?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that she was quite upset about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You also found her gym bag in her husband’s burnt-out car, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet, it never occurred to you that she may have killed her husband in a jealous rage and drove his car to an abandoned area?”

  “We questioned Mrs. Grayson,” he says. “She went looking for her husband on Friday morning, but she didn’t find him.”

  “What about the gym bag?”

  “It isn’t uncommon for people to leave personal belongings in their spouse’s car. There was no evidentiary connection between Mrs. Grayson and her husband’s death.”

  “Other than the fact that she was looking for her husband the night he died and her gym bag was found in his car.”

  That gets McNulty up. “Objection, Your Honor. Argumentative.”

  “Sustained.”

  If he thinks I’m being argumentative now, just wait. I remind myself to keep my tone measured as I begin my next character assassination. “Inspector,” I say, “are you aware that the victim’s son was also in the vicinity of Alcatraz Liquors on Friday morning?”

  “Yes.” He decides to try a pre-emptive strike. “We interviewed J.T. Grayson, who confirmed his whereabouts that morning. We also interviewed a private investigator named Nicholas Hanson who was keeping the victim under surveillance. He told us that he had seen the younger Mr. Grayson in the alley down the block from Alcatraz Liquors at approximately two-ten A.M. on Friday morning.”

  He wants to leave it at that, but I don’t. “What was he doing there?” I ask.

  “He lives a couple of blocks from Alcatraz Liquors. He was on his way home.”

  It may be a truthful statement, but it isn’t close to the whole story. “Where was the younger Mr. Grayson immediately prior to the time that Mr. Hanson saw him?”

  “At Basic Needs.”

  “What was he doing in a theater where women dance without any clothes?”

  McNulty stands up, but can’t think of any reason to object.

  Banks says, “He was looking for his father.”

  “Why?”

  He pauses to choose his words carefully. “He was aware of his father’s activities and wanted to confront him.”

  “Did he find him?”

  “No.”

  “Was he angry at his father?”

  “Objection. Speculative.”

  “Sustained.”

  I try again. “Did J.T. Grayson and his father get along well?”

  “According to J.T. Grayson, yes. Obviously, we didn’t have a chance to ask his father.”

  “Did you ever consider the possibility that the younger Mr. Grayson was so irate at his father that he may have threatened him or even killed him?”

  McNulty starts to stand, but Banks motions him to sit down. Banks says, “We never rule anything out, but we didn’t have any evidence connecting the younger Mr. Grayson to his father’s death.”

  “In other words, you decided to take his word for it.”

  He repeats, “We didn’t have any evidence connecting him to his father’s death.”

  “You didn’t take Mr. Walker’s word for it when he said he didn’t kill Mr. Grayson.”

  “J.T. Grayson didn’t have a bloody knife in his pocket.”

  No, he didn’t. We argue about motives. I get Banks to admit that J.T. and his mother were both were angry at Tower Grayson, but he refuses to consider the possibility that either of them may have been involved in murder.

  I move in a different direction. “Does the name Alicia Morales mean anything to you?”

  “She was a dancer at Basic Needs.”

  I walk over to the evidence cart and introduce the log from Grayson’s cell phone into evidence. Then I turn back to Banks and say, “Were you aware that Tower Grayson made a call to a cell phone issued to Ms. Morales at approximately two-oh-five A.M. on Friday?”

  He acts as if he expected the question. “We identified a call placed on a cell phone owned by Mr. Grayson to a cell phone owned by Basic Needs. The cell phone was issued to Ms. Morales, but we have not been able to determine whether she answered it.”

  “Why not?”

  “We haven’t been able to locate her.”

  “So, the last person to have spoken to Mr. Grayson has disappeared?”

  He corrects me. “The person to whom that cell phone was issued has disappeared.”

  “And you have no idea where to find her?”

  McNulty snaps, “Objection. Asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Inspector,” I say, “you have an affidavit from Mr. Hanson stating that he saw Ms. Morales in the alley behind Basic Needs on Friday around two A.M.”

  “Yes.”

  “What was she doing there?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “What was the victim’s relationship to Ms. Morales?”

  “She was a dancer and he was a customer.”

  “They also had an ongoing relationship outside of Basic Needs, didn’t they?”

  “We have no evidence proving any such connection.”

  “Ms. Morales was a drug dealer and a prostitute, wasn’t she?”

  “Objection. Foundation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “And Mr. Grayson was a regular customer of hers, wasn’t he?”

  “Objection. Foundation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “And Ms. Morales was blackmailing Mr. Grayson, wasn’t she? That’s why he had a substantial sum of cash in his possession on Thursday night, wasn’t it?”

  “Objection. Foundation.”

  “Sustained.”

  I’m playing to the gallery. Maybe Jerry Edwards will finally pick up the trail. “Inspector,” I say, “did you consider Ms. Morales as a suspect?”

  “No. There was no evidence connecting her to Mr. Grayson’s death.”

  “No evidence? She was seen in the alley behind Alcatraz Liquors. She was a known prostitute and drug dealer. Mr. Grayson called her cell phone immediately before he died. Isn’t it possible that she may have met with Mr. Grayson on Friday morning?”

  “We have no evidence that she did.”

  “And isn’t it possible that she may have been angry at him, or even killed him?”

  McNulty turns red. “Objection,” he shouts. “Speculative. Foundation. Argumentative.”

  All of the above. Judge McDaniel’s patience runs out. “Mr. Daley,” she says, “unless you can provide substantiation for these claims, you’re wasting this court’s time.”

  “Withdrawn.” We’ll address these issues during our defense. I glance at Rosie, who nods. I turn back to Banks and try for one more act of misdir
ection. “Inspector,” I say, “isn’t it true that you found a cigarette lighter that was inscribed with my client’s name in the charred remains of Mr. Grayson’s car?”