I'll Be Watching You

by M. William Phelps

  “Oh, yes, many.”

  “And of those items, those two Styrofoam heads were one of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you see drawings on those two heads?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you happen to recognize any of the drawings on the heads that you actually did?”

  Norma didn’t flinch: “Yes. I did the one on the left.” Here we go again, Jim Rovella thought.

  Zagaja couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He asked, “The one on the left. Could you describe what you drew on the one on the left?”

  “Oh, I just drew a couple of eyebrows and some eyes with eyelashes. I don’t know if I ever filled in the lips or not.”

  “OK. Do you see that there’s markings on the left-hand–side of the head, on the neck area?”

  “Here?” Norma asked, pointing.

  “Yes. Did you draw those?”

  “No.”

  “And regarding the right hand, the head on the right-hand side of the photo, do you know if you recognize any of those drawings to be your own?”

  “Not to be my own, no.”

  “You don’t recognize any of the blue drawings on either of those heads to be yours?”

  “No, not mine.”

  “OK. Ma’am, did you make any inquiry in the last few days to determine who had drawn on the head depicted in the right-hand side of the photo?”

  “I talked to my daughter about—” Norma tried to say as Zagaja interrupted her.

  “You talked to your daughter?”

  “Right.”

  “And did you speak with anyone else?”

  “Her daughter.”

  “Her…which is your granddaughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um, was that inquiry made at the request of anyone?”

  “No. I was just trying to think who, I seemed to recall a time when I told her she could draw a face on the one that wasn’t drawn on.” Anyone looking at the photos could tell that the markings were far from being a “face.”

  “My question is, were these photos presented to you at some time over the past week?”

  “Yes.”

  “And by whom?”

  “Well, I believe Mr. O’Brien gave them to my husband.”

  “And after seeing them, did you take it upon yourself to call your daughter and granddaughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. No one had requested of you to determine who had drawn on the heads?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Nothing further.”

  The judge asked O’Brien if he was going to cross-examine Norma. “I have no questions, Your Honor,” O’Brien said. He sounded rather morose. Edwin and Norma may have thought they were helping their Neddy, but they had, in fact, slit his throat.

  II

  Over the course of the next week, Zagaja brought in his team of law enforcement witnesses to outline the search and seizure of Ned’s car, the search warrant served at Ned’s house, as well as Ned’s arrest. The trial’s most dramatic moment came when Zagaja questioned Detective Kevin McDonald, the Hopkinton PD detective who had helped the CSP and Hartford PD serve the search warrant at Ned’s house. As McDonald testified, describing how Ned was a willing party once they got him down to the barracks and agreed without balking to submit to an interview, Ned showed his aggravation by moving his leg underneath the table a mile a minute. Sources later said Ned was so enraged by what McDonald said on the stand that he couldn’t contain himself or maintain his composure. At one point, as McDonald talked about how neither he nor any of his colleagues ever misled Ned while questioning him, Ned let out a laugh.

  The judge shot him a look. As did O’Brien.

  But Ned felt McDonald was perjuring himself. Ned had never agreed, he had always said, to speak with police. It was a conspiracy. The judge. The cops. The state’s attorney. They were all in on it. All against Ned.

  After a recess, in which the jury was asked to leave the room, the lawyers and judge discussed whether the testimony was relevant. O’Brien argued that Ned was never in custody and McDonald, nor anyone else in law enforcement, had read Ned his rights. Therefore, anything he said to McDonald or anyone else should not be part of the trial.

  The judge thought about it momentarily. “All right,” she said, “the court has considered the evidence presented and the arguments of counsel and finds that given the totality of the circumstances, the court finds that the defendant was not in custody at the time he was taken to the—”

  But she wasn’t allowed to finish. Ned lashed out as loud as he could: “Can I be tried in absentia?” He wanted out of the courtroom. What a fiasco. A darn lynch mob. They were all ganging up on him and he couldn’t sit and watch it any longer.

  “Certainly!” the judge shouted back.

  Ned wasn’t finished, however. “If you’re…it’s obvious you’re not going to be neutral,” he said, which was enough to garner a collective gasp from the gallery. Did he just say that?

  “It’s obvious you have no respect for the court,” the judge lectured back, “when the rulings go against you. So if you want to be tried in absentia, we have facilities to do that, yes. But the court will not tolerate disrespect or any outbursts.”

  Ned ignored the judge and instead focused on his argument. “Detective McDonald said that I was allowed to go home after two hours,” he said in a rage. “He doesn’t remember anything about that day.”

  Zagaja and Rovella couldn’t believe it. They watched, as if it were some sort of political debate, as Ned and the judge went back and forth. They wondered how long it would be before the judge grew tired of arguing.

  “There’s no…,” she started to say and then stopped herself. Zagaja looked up. Here it comes…. “The hearing is over,” Judge Espinosa said firmly. “And when it’s over, it’s over. And when the court rules, the court rules. If you don’t like the rulings, then there’s an appellate procedure, if you’re convicted, that you can file.”

  “If,” Ned said with a snicker in his voice.

  The judge ignored the remark, saying, “That’s correct. The court is not going to tolerate outbursts every time rulings go against you.” And then she read her ruling again, just in case Ned didn’t quite understand it the first time. “The court finds that the defendant was not in custody at the time that he was taken to the police station, he was not handcuffed, and that there is no evidence that at the time…which he admitted he was not handcuffed in the car. There’s no evidence that at the police station he was restrained beyond what would be necessary to maintain security of the police station. He was driven home after the interview. And the court credits the testimony of Detective McDonald that he was free to leave—in fact, he did leave. Even if the defendant was in custody at the time…that he went to the police station, the court finds that he was advised of his constitutional rights, which he admitted he had the right to remain silent.”

  But Espinosa wasn’t finished. As Ned sat and shook his head, rolled his eyes and said things under his breath, she continued. “The court finds that the statements that he made were voluntarily made. There was no evidence of coercion, threats, or promises made to him…. The defendant, in fact, did not make what he thought were incriminating statements about the murder of Carmen Rodriguez. The defendant’s credibility was impeached by his prior felony convictions, his admissions to lying to police in the past…. The court does not credit that testimony because he only mentioned asking for an attorney in response to the court’s questionings. Had he truly asked for an attorney at the time, that would have been an important fact which would have come up on direct examination.”

  She took a breath. And then let him have it. “The defendant is a veteran of the criminal justice system, having been convicted of three felonies in the past. The court does not credit his testimony that he was told that he was under arrest or he was presented with a waiver form. For all the foregoing reasons, the defendant’s motion to suppress is denied.”<
br />
  Gavel.

  Espinosa looked at Ned, waiting a moment for him to say something so she could toss him out of her courtroom. And then, when Ned silenced himself, she said, “Ready to proceed?”

  With a smile, Zagaja answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Call the jury in please.”

  If anyone thought that this was the last of the verbal sparring between Ned and the judge, they were wrong. The best was yet to come. But no one could have, of course, predicted the shocker that was about to take place.

  Ned wanted to go on record.

  92

  I

  It was easy, especially in the way that Ned was twisting the entire trial to be about him, to overlook the fact that no one would be in the room if a young woman hadn’t been brutally murdered. But it always happens during trials: the victim is forgotten, except in graphic crime scene photographs and evidence and witness testimony. For Luz and Sonia, there in court every day, they had sacrificed so much to sit and watch the man who, they believed, murdered their sister be brought to justice. Both worked third shift. That meant they spent the entire day in the courtroom, went home at around 6:00 P.M. to eat and nap, and then woke for work near midnight to begin all over again. Zagaja had kept in close contact with the Rodriguez family. He spoke fluent Spanish, which made communication between them quite clear. One day, he came out before the day’s proceedings began and said, “Hey, there’s going to be some graphic photos of your sister today. You might not want to stay for it.” And they appreciated his honesty and warning.

  Carmen’s mother, Rosa, had been sitting in on the trial, but she had to leave at certain times. The photos. The talk of Carmen’s corpse. Ned. It was all too much for her. All she did was weep. According to Luz, whenever she sat in the front row in back of Ned’s table, Luz claimed O’Brien made it hard for her to see by blocking her view. There were days when Luz just wanted to stare at Ned. Make him think about the people whose lives he had touched by killing Carmen. On those days, Luz insisted, O’Brien would complain that she stared at him and Ned with “devil eyes.”

  II

  The jury was still out. As he sat in the witness stand, Ned didn’t seem so comfortable and cocky anymore. O’Brien put him in this position so Ned could, on the record (as opposed to, say, shouting it out in open court), challenge the testimony of Kevin McDonald. Ned was outraged, of course, that he had to explain himself to anyone. Better yet the judge.

  O’Brien wasted no time getting to the point. “Mr. Snelgrove,” he asked, “were you at home on January 15, 2002?”

  Mister… it sounded so much the polar opposite of who Ned was. So professional. So respectful. Ned didn’t deserve it.

  “Only in the morning,” Ned answered firmly.

  “OK. Were you there for the execution of a search warrant on your house?”

  Ned said, “The first thing they did was, they grabbed me and took me out.”

  Zagaja shook his head. Rovella had the reports in front of him. There was no mention of such behavior. Ned had made it sound as if a SWAT team had busted into the house under the direct order of the attorney general. With goggles and rifles and bulletproof vests, they had chased him into a closet and, as if he were Elian Gonzalez, pulled him out, kicking and screaming.

  “So you were there at what time in the morning?” O’Brien asked.

  “Approximately seven in the morning.”

  “And when you say, ‘they,’ who are you referring to?”

  “Well, I later found out it was the Connecticut State Police, the Hopkinton [Rhode Island] Police Department, the Rhode Island State Police, members of the Berlin Police Department and Hartford Police Department.”

  “Did you hear Detective McDonald?”

  Ned became red-faced: “He doesn’t remember a thing about that day.”

  “Objection,” Zagaja said. “I’d ask that that be stricken.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Did there come a time…that you went from your house to Troop H?”

  Pouting, “Yes.”

  “And how did you get there?”

  “I was taken from the house by Arthur Kershaw…and Kevin McDonald…and put in a car. McDonald drove, Kershaw was in the passenger seat.”

  Details. Ned was a man of point-to-point facts—at least when he wanted to recall them. It made him sound as though he knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “So that was a Rhode Island police car. Do you know, or was it—”

  Patronizingly, “I would imagine it was a Rhode Island police car, both of them were from Rhode Island.”

  “And did you have any conversations with Kershaw and McDonald in that car on the way to the police station?”

  “The only thing I said as I was placed into the car…,” Ned began, and then went into an explanation of the day, saying, “This is harassment,” to McDonald as they drove.

  According to Ned, McDonald then turned and looked at him. “You haven’t seen harassment yet.”

  “And then on the way to the Troop H building, McDonald tried to start a conversation,” Ned added. “He says, ‘Where you been working, Ned?’ I did not answer.”

  “Did they or either one of them read you your Miranda warnings?” O’Brien asked.

  “Not until we got to the Troop H building.”

  “So prior to getting into the car, did they read you your Miranda warnings?”

  “No.”

  “Did they tell you why you were going to the police station?”

  “The first thing Arthur Kershaw said [was] ‘You’re under arrest.’ They wouldn’t even let me put my socks on. Kershaw had me by the left shoulder and McDonald had me by the right as they let me put sneakers on with no socks and they marched me up the stairs onto the main floor right past my parents—my parents witnessed all this!—and forced me into the car….”

  “OK. So when you go to Troop H, what happened when you got there?”

  “They took me…sat me down in a conference room. They told me who they were. They told me I was under arrest for murder and they read me my rights. I immediately said, ‘I want to exercise my right to remain silent and I didn’t want to talk to them about anything and they should take me downstairs to book me.’ And they said, ‘We don’t take orders from you. We’ll take our time. We’ll book you when [we] want.’”

  Ned claimed he spent eleven hours at Troop H. He said as the day progressed, different cops came and went, each trying to break him. Not being able to get him to talk, Ned insisted, infuriated the cops. He said they fed him and allowed him to use the restroom. He was careful not to paint them as all bad. It was part of the con: slip in the points you want to make alongside some truths. Jab them here and there. Never use a broad brush. Pick one cop—McDonald—and focus on him. Continuing, Ned added, “As soon as they read me my rights, I said I didn’t want to discuss it and they should take me downstairs and book me. And, in fact, I got up out of the chair and I said, ‘Come on, let’s go to the basement.’ And Detective McDonald said, ‘No, no, no. Sit down, sit down, sit down.’ And, by the way, this is all my—”

  “There’s no question pending,” Zagaja objected. Interestingly enough was that the judge had already ruled on what Ned was now rehashing: she believed McDonald. It didn’t matter what Ned had to say.

  “Sustained.”

  O’Brien figured he might as well give Ned what he wanted: “Did you have something to add about that—”

  But Ned didn’t let him finish, saying, “My version of events is perfectly accurate and it’s backed up by my behavior from two months prior to this in November of 2001 when Detective Mike Sheldon and Luisa St. Pierre came to seize the car…. Before they showed me the search and seizure warrant for the car, they asked me, would I be willing to get in my car and drive to the Hartford Police Department? And I said, ‘No, I will not.’ Just as I would have done on January fifteenth…I would have said no.”

  “So they grabbed you, put you in a car, and took you ther
e?”

  “Absolutely. We had—my parents witnessed it.”

  After a few more questions, O’Brien handed Ned off to Zagaja, who asked, “Mr. Snelgrove, you didn’t want to discuss anything about the investigation, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And you made that clear to them, right?”

  “Very clear. And when I said I didn’t want—”

  “There’s no question,” Zagaja reminded Ned.

  “I think he’s finishing the answer to the question,” O’Brien piped in.

  “I believe he responded, Your Honor,” Zagaja said.

  “It called for a yes or no answer,” the judge advised. “Sustained.”

  “Now, back in November, with Detective Mike Sheldon, you didn’t want to speak with him, either, correct?”

  “Correct,” Ned said. “And he asked me, before he showed me—”

  But Zagaja interrupted, “There’s no question pending.”

  “Just answer the question,” the judge said.

  “Sorry,” Ned said with a bit of a smirk.

  “In fact, you had in your mind that you did not wish to discuss the matter…with any police?” Zagaja asked.

  “Correct.”

  “And you’ve had some police involvement previously, correct?” It was perfect. The ideal way for Zagaja to get Ned to admit on the record that he was a convicted killer. It was the only reason why Zagaja had been so eager to question Ned. Because let’s face it: the judge had already ruled.

  “Yes,” Ned answered defeatedly, without extrapolating at all.

  “You have submitted to questioning to other police officers in the past, correct?”

  “No,” Ned said.

  “In fact, you submitted to a deposition before Detective Watson, of the Middlesex County State’s Attorney or District Attorney’s Office?”

  “That was with my attorney present in the room.”

  “But you did submit to a deposition, correct?”

  “With my attorney present.”

  “With that said, you submitted to questioning with a police officer, correct?”