“Where were you the night of the murder?” I ask.
“I was at home,” he says.
I introduce the Timmerman house security log from that night as a defense exhibit, and then show it to Sykes. I get him to read that it shows him arriving at the house at six forty-five in the evening.
“Is that accurate? Did you arrive there at that time?”
He seems to be trying to figure out the best answer, and finally nods. “Yes, apparently so. It was months ago, and I had forgotten. I was only there a short time, and I think I went straight home from there. Though I may have run a couple of errands.”
“Why did you go there that night?”
“To see Mrs. Timmerman,” he says.
“Was Walter Timmerman at home?”
“He was not.”
“Did you know where he was?” I ask.
“No.”
“Did his wife know where he was?”
“I don’t know.” His answers are getting shorter as his worry increases. Some people do the opposite; they feel if they talk enough, they can make the problem disappear in a sea of words. Sykes’s reaction is the opposite; I’m going to have to pry the words out of his mouth with a crowbar.
“But she wasn’t worried about his returning and walking in on you?”
“She did not seem worried. No. And we were not doing anything we needed to worry about.”
“Is it possible that Walter Timmerman was at home, and that you forced him into the trunk of your car and drove him to Paterson?”
Richard objects before Sykes can answer, and Hatchet admonishes me. I didn’t expect to get an answer, which would have been an outraged no anyway. What I wanted was to get my theory in front of the jury, so they’d have a road map to follow.
“Mr. Sykes, may I see your cell phone, please?”
I see a flash of real worry, if not panic, in his eyes. “It’s turned off.”
“That would be a good answer if the question had been, Mr. Sykes, what is the current status of your cell phone? But what I asked was if I could see it.”
He takes it out of his pocket, and I get permission from Hatchet to have him turn it on. I then get Hatchet’s approval to have the court clerk dial a number, which I have her read off one of the discovery documents. As soon as she does, Sykes’s cell phone starts to ring.
“Please answer it,” I say.
He does so, but doesn’t look happy about it. “Yes,” he says, and the court clerk confirms that she hears Sykes’s voice through the phone.
“Mr. Sykes, based on the documents that were provided by the prosecution and submitted to the court, your phone is the one that called Steven Timmerman at seven twenty on the night of the murder. It was registered to Timco, so the prosecution assumed, I believe incorrectly, that Walter Timmerman made the call. Did you call him?”
If he says no he will clearly be lying, so he tries “yes.”
“What was the purpose of that call?”
“Mrs. Timmerman had told me she was concerned about Walter; she didn’t know where he was, and that was unlike him.”
“But she wasn’t concerned thirty minutes before, when you were there?” I ask.
“That’s correct. Maybe something happened; maybe she learned something. I didn’t ask. I called Steven to see if he knew where his father was.”
“You were out at the time? Is that why you used your cell phone?” I ask.
“Yes. I was in the car, as I said, I was probably running some errands.”
“But you knew his number?”
“Yes.”
“Because you had called him before?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I introduce more documents into evidence, and then hand them to Sykes. “These are Steven Timmerman’s phone records from that number for the last year. Please look at them and tell the jury which calls that you made to him. Take your time.”
He looks through the papers for about three minutes and then hands them back to me. “I don’t see any. But I know I called him a number of times. Maybe it was more than a year ago.”
“But you called him often enough that you remember the number?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you can help me. I haven’t called Steven at home because he has been in a jail cell since he was wrongly accused. When he’s released I’ll need to call him to discuss my fee, so what is his number? Just so I’ll have it.”
He hesitates, and then says, “I can’t remember now. It’s hard to think clearly when I’m being attacked like this.”
“When you called Steven, what did he say?”
“That he had no idea where his father was; that they hadn’t been in much contact lately.”
“So when he was no help, who did you call next?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Your phone records show no other calls that night.”
“Then I didn’t make any.”
“So you were worried about Mr. Timmerman, you got no information from Steven, and that eased your mind enough not to call anyone else?”
“I said that Diana was worried about him. She probably made the other calls. These were not very significant events at the time, Mr. Carpenter. My recollection is not clear.”
“Okay. I’ll change the subject to something hopefully clearer. Let’s talk about money. I was reading the terms of Walter Timmerman’s will, and basically he left his estate and share of the company to his wife, Diana. Are you aware of that?”
“I’ve read it in the newspapers.”
“If she were not alive when the estate was settled, the money would then go to Steven. Are you aware of that?”
“Vaguely.”
“But if Steven were not in a position by law to receive the money, say if he were in jail for killing his father, Walter Timmerman’s stock goes back into the company. Did you know that?”
“I did not.”
“Therefore, all the other shareholders would then automatically have a bigger piece of the company. By my figuring, and correct me if I’m wrong, your personal stake in the company would increase by over eighty million dollars.”
“I have not given it a moment’s thought,” he says.
“Wow. You must be really rich,” I say, and am pleased when a few jury members laugh at the absurdity of it. “Most people would give at least half an hour’s thought to getting eighty million dollars.”
“I am fortunate enough to be well off financially. No amount of money would make me harm my partner and friend.”
“You don’t consider sleeping with his wife harmful to him?”
“That is something I deeply regret.”
I consider whether to delve into the likelihood that Sykes knew about Walter’s DNA work, and that taking it over was a motivation for murder. I decide against it, because it would just be me accusing and him denying, and I have nothing factual to catch him on.
I let Sykes off the stand, and Richard attempts to rehabilitate him. It gives him a chance to once again vehemently deny any wrongdoing, and to rail against the injustice of being asked about minor incidents that happened a long time ago, and then having the inference drawn that his inability to answer accurately should be incriminating.
We definitely won this round, but I just don’t know if we won it by a big enough margin.
PERRY MASON HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.
Actually, I’m not sure he was ever here. Sykes did not break down and admit his guilt, nor did I get enough out of him that his guilt was obvious.
But I made a lot of progress, and no fair-minded observer could have come away with anything near certainty that Sykes was not involved in the murder. Sykes had few good answers, only denials and evasions, and in my mind he should now be universally viewed with suspicion.
The real question is whether that suspicion of Sykes will result in reasonable doubt about Steven’s guilt. I believe that it should; if a person thinks there’s a chance that Sykes did it, then that same person by definition has to
have a reasonable doubt as to whether or not Steven did.
This is the crucial question we must answer, because the time has come to decide whether or not Steven will testify. Kevin and I meet with him, and it’s the first time I can ever recall starting such a meeting without having a clear point of view of my own.
“I think we made substantial progress with Sykes,” I say, “and I can augment that in my closing argument. But there’s no way to know for sure.”
Kevin was more impressed than I was by the progress I made, and he says so. He is therefore now taking the position that Steven should not testify.
“Tell me the positives and negatives,” Steven says.
I nod. “Okay, let’s start with the positives. You can testify that you spoke to your father that night on Sykes’s phone, and you can say why you went to Mario’s. I can’t say those things in closing arguments; I can only talk about evidence already introduced. You can also tell the jury directly and in your own words that you did not commit these crimes.”
“And the negatives?”
“You will be asked about the evidence against you, like the blood and the gun, and you’ll have no answers to give, since you don’t really know how that evidence came into existence. You’ll also be asked about problems you’ve had with your father and stepmother, and in the hands of a good prosecutor like Richard, you’ll look bad in the process. On cross-examination, Mother Teresa could be made to look like Tony Soprano.”
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yes, it would be nice to end this on Sykes, so that he is fresh in the minds of the jury. If you testify, he’ll fade somewhat into the background. When a defendant testifies, it alters the entire trial in one direction or the other.”
“So what’s your recommendation?” Steven asks
As I’ve been talking, I’ve been developing a point of view. “On balance, I would recommend that you not take the stand.”
“Okay… you’re calling the shot.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re calling it. This has to be your decision and only your decision.”
He nods. “I understand that. And my decision is to trust your judgment.”
All there is for me to do now is prepare my closing argument, and that is what I have on tap for tonight. It’s another area in which I like to be freewheeling and spontaneous, but I also have to make sure I don’t miss anything, because I’ll have only one bite at the apple.
What I do is write the general subjects I want to cover on a piece of paper, and then I think about them one at a time. If there are any details I’m unsure of, I refer to what is now the mountain of notes and documents that make up the case file. But basically I know what there is to know, and what it is I want to say.
Laurie knows enough to leave me by myself during this prep time. I’m on my own at this point, and no one can really help.
I’m not thrilled with how things are going with Laurie. She hasn’t come to a decision, which I pessimistically view as a negative sign. I know she has always liked to think things all the way through until she is comfortable, and I’m much more spontaneous. But it still doesn’t feel right.
Also, I’m feeling like I did when waiting for Laurie to decide whether or not to go to Wisconsin two years ago. If she leaves, it will feel somewhat like she is walking out on me again. We might have difficulty surviving that.
I am starting to believe that I brought it up too soon, yet for some reason I’m not sorry I did. But at this moment I can’t let myself worry about it either way.
Whether Laurie lives in Wisconsin or New Jersey is fairly insignificant compared with whether Steven lives at home or in state prison.
Even to me.
“WHEN WE FIRST CONVENED HERE, I told you this was a simple case,” is how Richard begins his closing statement. “And nothing has been said since to change my mind. Steven Timmerman was quarreling bitterly with his father, and he resented him terribly for marrying a woman that Steven hated.
“The defense has pointed out that those arguments happened frequently over time, and this was also not the first time Walter had threatened to disinherit his son. And all of that is true.
“But resentments have a way of building over time. They simmer in some people, getting more and more powerful, more and more dangerous. And then one day, sometimes even after a perceived slight that is far less than previous ones, a person can snap, can decide that they can take no more.
“That is what happened here. In addition to the anger, you have clearly seen that Steven Timmerman had motive, almost half a billion dollars’ worth of motive. You have learned that he was seen two blocks from where the brutal murder happened, in a place where he had never been seen before.
“Scientific evidence has demonstrated beyond doubt that Walter’s blood was in Steven Timmerman’s car, and you have been told that the murder weapon was found in his loft.
“As if all of that were not enough, you have learned that Steven Timmerman was an expert in the kind of explosives that blew up his parents’ house and killed his stepmother. The stepmother whom witness after witness has said that he hated.
“I have unfortunately been involved in a great many murder cases, and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, they rarely are as uncomplicated as this.
“Now, at the last minute, the defense pointed their fingers at Thomas Sykes and said, ‘He did it.’ And when, in the face of an unexpected barrage of accusations, Mr. Sykes displayed nervousness and faulty memory, they said, ‘Aha! There’s proof of his guilt.’
“Let’s be clear on something, ladies and gentlemen. There is no physical evidence against Mr. Sykes, not a shred. No blood, no murder weapon, no parking ticket showing him in downtown Paterson. He is not an explosives expert, nor has the defense even attempted to give a motive for why he would kill the woman that he loved.
“Mr. Carpenter told you at the opening of the trial that Steven Timmerman’s record was clean, that there was no hint of violence in his past. Well, believe me, the same thing is true in spades for Thomas Sykes.
“So I ask just one thing of you. Please stick to the facts, and make your decision according to what makes sense. That’s all. Thank you.”
Obviously it’s important to hear the prosecution’s closing arguments, because I can then adjust my remarks to counter it, but I often wish I didn’t have to hear them at all. Richard has done a terrific job, and if I were a member of the jury I would probably be thinking, Hang the bastard. But I have to put that out of my mind, or I’ll be too defensive and therefore too cautious.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Richard Wallace is a fine attorney, and he’s done a fine job presenting his case, but he simply could not be more wrong. There is nothing simple about this case. Nothing at all.
“The perpetrator of these murders wanted it to appear simple. He planted such obvious clues that a person in his first year at the police academy could have followed them. All signs pointed to Steven Timmerman, so let’s go get him, full speed ahead.
“Of course, for it all to be true and real, Steven Timmerman would have to be not just a murderer, but also a moron. He would have had to leave his victim’s blood in his car and never bothered to wash it out.
“He would have had to make the decision to kill his stepmother by blowing up her house with an explosive when everyone knew of his expertise using that explosive. Why do that? Why not shoot her, or poison her, or stab her? Why do it the one way that would point clearly to him?
“Then, to cap off this run of stupidity, he would have had to hide the gun in the one place it could be traced to him. After wiping off the fingerprints, no less.
“But that last one didn’t work out so well, because the police couldn’t find it. So someone had to call anonymously and tell them to go back and look in the table. Who was that person? Someone Steven told? Otherwise, how could they have known? Could Steven be that dumb? Could anyone be that dumb?
“Steven Timmerman is not dumb, and he is not resentful, and
he is not violent. He took very little from his father, choosing instead to work his trade. It is ludicrous to think that he murdered so as to gain what he had spent so long turning down.
“Now I want to talk to you about Thomas Sykes. Thomas Sykes admits to an affair with Diana Timmerman. He was at Walter Timmerman’s house two hours before he was murdered, and his phone was used to place what can only be described as a suspicious call to Steven Timmerman, the first time he had ever called him.
“And Thomas Sykes stood to make eighty million dollars if Walter and Diana Timmerman died. But he would make that only if Steven Timmerman were not in a position to claim his rightful inheritance. What a coincidence.
“And, ladies and gentlemen, sometimes all the facts are not readily available, and the ones that are can only take you so far. So you have to go with your gut feelings about people and the way they act.
“Thomas Sykes looked like a deer caught in the headlights on the witness stand. He was trapped, and he sounded like it, and he looked like it.
“Now, you may not know with certainty that Thomas Sykes murdered Walter Timmerman. I’m not saying you should; he has not been investigated by the authorities, and there is much more for all of us to learn.
“But consider this: Judge Henderson will explain to you that to find Steven Timmerman guilty, you must do so beyond a reasonable doubt. If you think that there is a chance, even a relatively small one, that Thomas Sykes is guilty, then you must have a reasonable doubt as to Steven’s guilt.
“It’s as simple as that.
“Steven Timmerman is a victim. He’s lost his father, and he’s lost his freedom. His father is gone forever, but you have the power to give him his freedom back. Thank you.”
When I take my seat, Steven puts his hand on my shoulder and softly says, “Thank you; I think you were fantastic.”
“I wish you were on the jury,” I say.
He smiles. “So do I.”
I’LL NEVER AGAIN describe waiting for a verdict as the most stressful thing I have ever faced. Not after sitting in that hospital room while Laurie was in a coma, fighting for her life. Nothing compares to that, but waiting for the jury to rule is no day at the beach.
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