MD02 - Incriminating Evidence

by Sheldon Siegel

  “Objection. Speculative.”

  “Overruled.”

  “That’s true,” Murphy acknowledges.

  “And therefore, by the same token, isn’t it also true that you have no firsthand knowledge of how the tape found its way onto the victim’s face in the first place, right?”

  He glances at Payne. “That’s also true,” he says.

  “In fact, except for the descriptions provided by Mr. Gates and Mr. Wong, you have no personal knowledge of whether the wadded-up tape was ever on Johnny Garcia’s face. Isn’t that correct, Officer?”

  “That’s correct.”

  It’s all I can do. Murphy is here to set the scene, not to win their case. “No further questions.”

  Joseph Wong sits in the witness box. He looks at the jury when he explains that he has been a room service waiter at the Fairmont for almost forty years. Payne asks him to describe what happened when he arrived at Skipper’s room.

  “There was no answer when I knocked on the door,” he says. He explains that he is supposed to knock twice. If there’s still no answer, he’s supposed to open the door and leave the tray.

  “And that’s when you discovered the defendant and the body of the victim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was the victim?”

  Wong takes a deep breath. “He was lying on his stomach on the bed. He was naked. He was handcuffed to the bed. His eyes, nose and mouth were covered with tape.”

  Another score for the prosecution. They’ve shown Garcia’s face was covered with tape. Payne decides to clarify one point. “If he was lying on his stomach, how could you tell that his face was covered with tape?”

  “His head was turned to the side. I could see the tape covering his eyes, nose and mouth.”

  “Could you tell whether the victim was dead?”

  “Objection. Mr. Wong isn’t qualified to make a medical determination.”

  “Sustained.”

  Payne shows the hint of irritation. “Mr. Wong,” she says, “was the victim moving?”

  “No.”

  “Was he breathing?”

  “Not as far as I could tell.”

  Payne is pleased. She’s making small points now, and they’ll do. We know Garcia was dead. She doesn’t need Wong to confirm the time of death. Rod Beckert will take care of that. “What was the defendant doing when you walked in?”

  “He was sleeping. I woke him up and he called security.”

  “And what was the defendant’s reaction to all of this?”

  “He was confused.”

  “Confused?”

  “Yes. He was disoriented. He told me to leave. He said he would take care of everything.”

  “Did you leave?”

  “No. I waited for the security people to arrive.”

  “And what did you do while you were waiting?”

  He looks at Skipper. “I observed Mr. Gates remove the tape from Mr. Garcia’s face.”

  “Did you touch the body?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did you remove any of the tape?”

  “No. Mr. Gates did.”

  “Mr. Wong,” Payne continues, “you’ve testified that the victim was handcuffed to the bedposts.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you attempt to remove the handcuffs?”

  “Mr. Gates did. He had a key. He tried to release them, but he wasn’t able to do so.”

  “Do you know what happened to the handcuff key?”

  “No.”

  “Would it surprise you to find out that the key was found in the toilet?”

  “Objection. Speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  Hillary keeps Wong on the stand for a few more minutes. Over my objections, he repeats that Skipper was confused and says at times he was belligerent. Hillary sits down. She’s gotten all that she needs from Wong, and he’s connected with the jury.

  I walk toward Wong and stand near the jury box. I don’t want to crowd him, but I don’t want him to become too comfortable, either. “Just so we understand the situation when you arrived,” I say, “the victim, Mr. Garcia, was in the bed, naked.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he was handcuffed to the bedposts and his face was covered with tape.”

  “Objection. Asked and answered, Your Honor.” Hillary is getting a little jumpy.

  “Overruled.” Judge Kelly turns to me. “Let’s keep moving forward, Mr. Daley.”

  “Understood.” I repeat the question. Wong acknowledges that Garcia was, in fact, handcuffed to the bed and his face was covered with duct tape.

  “Mr. Wong,” I say, “when you arrived in the room, isn’t it true that Mr. Gates called security right away?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he removed the tape from the victim’s face and attempted to release the handcuffs, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So although you described him as confused, he was, in fact, coherent enough to attempt to assist the victim, right?”

  Wong has no choice. “That’s true.”

  “And he made no attempt to leave the room or to flee before the police arrived, did he?”

  “No.”

  “And he answered their questions as soon as they arrived?”

  “Yes.”

  One more. “So although Mr. Gates had just woken up, it would be fair to characterize his behavior as helpful, wouldn’t it?”

  Hillary has heard enough. “Objection. State of mind.”

  “Overruled.”

  Wong nods and acknowledges, “I guess you could say that was true.”

  “Mr. Wong,” I continue, “you don’t know how the victim got into Mr. Gates’s room, do you? You didn’t see him arrive in Mr. Gates’s room, did you?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t see Mr. Gates, or anyone else for that matter, handcuff the victim to the bedposts, did you?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t see Mr. Gates or anyone else cover the victim’s face with duct tape, did you?”

  Payne objects. “Speculative,” she says.

  “Overruled.”

  Wong acknowledges that he didn’t see Garcia enter the room. And he didn’t see anyone cover his face with duct tape.

  “So,” I conclude, “you don’t know what happened in that room that night, do you?”

  He hesitates for an instant and says, “No.”

  “And it’s possible that somebody other than Mr. Gates could have brought Mr. Garcia’s body to Room 1504 at the Fairmont, handcuffed Mr. Garcia to the bed and taped his face.”

  “Objection. Speculative. Argumentative.”

  True and true.

  “Overruled.”

  Wong is perplexed. “I don’t think that’s what happened,” he says.

  I tell him that’s not what I’m asking him. I reiterate that I’m asking whether it’s possible that somebody else might have done it.

  “I suppose when you put it that way,” he says, “the answer is yes.”

  “No further questions.”

  Payne spends the afternoon questioning Dave Evans and members of the Fairmont’s security staff. They introduce the portions of the videos that show Skipper and his entourage heading for the elevators. Evans confirms that there were no other guests staying on the fifteenth floor that night. He tries to demonstrate that it would have been very difficult for anybody to get up there without being caught on camera. On cross-exam, I get him to admit that there are parts of the building that are not captured on camera.

  The security tapes provide no clear-cut winners and no big losers. I get Evans to acknowledge that there were many other people in the building. Among others, I have him point out Dan Morris, Jason Parnelli and Turner Stanford in the videos. Turner’s appearance after three o’clock in the morning raises a few eyebrows in the jury box. We volley for most of the afternoon. Finally, I run the portion of the videos that were taken at three A.M., point to Andy Holton and ask, “Mr. E
vans, were you able to identify this man?”

  He looks troubled. “Yes. His name is Andrew Holton.”

  “And he arrived at the hotel at approximately three A.M. and left a short time thereafter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you know that Mr. Holton and the victim, Mr. Garcia, had a relationship?”

  Evans pauses. “Yes. We understand that they were roommates.”

  “That’s right. And do you have any idea why Mr. Holton may have come to the hotel in the middle of the night?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Bullshit. “Do you know if Mr. Holton and Mr. Garcia were getting along?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Fair enough. “Did you know that they were also business associates?”

  “No.”

  “In fact, Mr. Garcia was a male prostitute and Mr. Holton was, for lack of a better term, his pimp, right, Mr. Evans?”

  “Objection. Foundation. Mr. Evans knows nothing about this, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained.”

  I’ll try to plant one more seed. “Mr. Evans, assuming, for the moment, that Mr. Holton was, in fact, Mr. Garcia’s pimp, doesn’t it strike you as odd that Mr. Holton showed up at the hotel in the middle of the night?”

  “Objection. Assumes facts that are not in evidence.”

  She’s right. “Sustained.” The judge instructs me to move to another line of questioning.

  “No further questions, Your Honor.” We’ll get back to this when it’s our turn.

  34

  “IT’S ALL DESCRIBED IN DETAIL IN MY AUTOPSY REPORT”

  “The prosecution is upping the stakes today. They’re going to call Dr. Roderick Beckert, the highly respected chief medical examiner.”

  —KGO RADIO. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19.

  “The people call Dr. Roderick Beckert,” Hillary Payne says.

  The following morning, the chief medical examiner of the City and County of San Francisco strides to the front of the courtroom. Beckert’s wearing his “going-to-court” uniform: a charcoal business suit with a white shirt and a burgundy tie. The white coat is back in his office. His beard has been recently trimmed. He’s been assigned to play the role of the voice of medical wisdom. The battle is now fully engaged.

  Payne has Beckert state his name and occupation for the record. She asks him how long he’s been the chief medical examiner.

  He turns toward the jury and says, “Twenty-nine years.”

  Nods from the jury box. Beckert sounds good when he’s just introducing himself.

  Payne begins the process of having him recite his credentials. I stipulate to his expertise right away. His qualifications aren’t at issue. Payne walks to the evidence cart and picks up Beckert’s autopsy report on Johnny Garcia. She asks Judge Kelly for permission to introduce it into evidence.

  “No objection, Your Honor,” I say. I try to act as if the autopsy report has about the same significance as the sports section in this morning’s Chronicle. The jury won’t buy it, of course, but it can’t hurt to try. Every nuance in court has meaning.

  Payne hands the report to Beckert and returns to the lectern. She wants to give him plenty of room to present his findings in all of his glory. It’s a smart move.

  Skipper leans over and whispers, “Is there anything you can do to slow him down?”

  “Not much,” I reply. We’re going to take our lumps for a while.

  Payne has Beckert identify his autopsy report. He holds it as if it were the Holy Grail. “I prepared this report,” he confirms.

  “And did you perform the autopsy on the victim, John Paul Garcia, on September seventh?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Could you please summarize your findings?” Payne asks.

  “Of course, Ms. Payne.” Beckert takes his glasses out of his breast pocket and puts them on. He pretends to shuffle through his report. “The victim, John Paul Garcia, died of asphyxiation between the hours of one and four A.M. on Tuesday, September seventh.” He confirms that Garcia had been handcuffed to the bed. “His eyes, nose and mouth had been covered with duct tape. We were able to confirm this because we found traces of adhesive chemicals on the victim’s face. The chemicals were identical to those on a used wad of duct tape that was found on the nightstand in the defendant’s room that night.” He explains in medical and layman’s terms that the victim lost consciousness when his air passages were blocked. “He died within minutes after the tape was placed on his face.”

  The courtroom is silent. Payne pretends she’s studying her notes. In reality, she is giving the jury a little time to digest Beckert’s testimony. Finally, she says, “How did you determine the time of death, Dr. Beckert?”

  On cue, McNasty puts a poster-size version of one of the crime-scene photos on an easel just in front of the jury box. It shows a naked Johnny Garcia, handcuffed to the bed, lying on his stomach, his head turned to the right. Beckert asks Judge Kelly if he can stand to point to the photo. She agrees.

  “It’s all described in detail in my autopsy report,” Beckert says. He points to the discoloration on the side of Garcia’s stomach and the other areas of his body that are touching the bed. He explains that when the heart stops beating, gravity causes the victim’s blood to flow to the lowest points of the body. “This discoloration,” he says, “is called lividity. In my best medical judgment, the victim, John Paul Garcia, died on this bed while he was lying on his stomach, his hands and feet handcuffed to the bedposts.” He looks triumphant. It’s almost as if he’s daring me to question his conclusion. He drones on for a few minutes about body temperature and the food in Garcia’s stomach. I steal a glance at the investment banker on the jury. He’s nodding. Sounds good to him.

  Skipper leans over and whispers, “Can’t you object to any of this?”

  I whisper back, “We have to wait till cross.”

  Payne leads Beckert through another half hour of testimony on the finer points of his craft and his determination of the cause of Johnny Garcia’s death. I object from time to time, without consequence. Beckert is a terrific witness. Payne is a good prosecutor. She should score points with Beckert on the stand.

  I think Payne is about to wrap up when she asks Beckert to turn to page seventeen of the autopsy report. “That’s the section entitled ‘Chemical and Other Substances Found in the Victim’s Bloodstream,’ isn’t it, Doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  Hell. They’re making a preemptive strike to undercut our argument that Johnny Garcia didn’t suffocate but died of a drug overdose. I expected this.

  “Could you please tell us what chemical substances were found in the victim’s bloodstream?”

  Skipper nudges me to object. I can’t. I have no grounds.

  Beckert puts his glasses on and pretends to study a couple of pages of his report. “We found three chemical substances in the victim’s bloodstream,” he says. “Alcohol, heroin and gamma hydroxy butyrate, commonly known as GHB.” He explains to the jury that GHB is a date-rape drug that causes unconsciousness when it is ingested.

  Two of the women in the front row of the jury lean forward.

  Beckert says there was a small amount of alcohol in Garcia’s bloodstream when he died. When Payne asks him how much alcohol, he says, “Well below the threshold for being convicted of driving under the influence.”

  “And the heroin?” Payne asks.

  “A tiny amount.” He goes into detail in both medical and layman’s terms to describe the level of heroin in Garcia’s bloodstream. “It appears that the victim injected heroin at some point within the last few hours of his life.”

  Payne hones in. “Was there enough heroin in the victim’s bloodstream to cause an overdose?”

  “In my best medical judgment, no.” They go through the same analysis for the GHB. He concludes that there was not enough GHB in Garcia’s bloodstream to have caused his death.

  “Is it possible that a combination of heroin, alcohol and GHB caused a reaction or i
mbalance that could have led to Mr. Garcia’s death?”

  “Objection. Speculative.”

  “Your Honor,” Payne says, “I’m asking for Dr. Beckert’s medical judgment on this issue. Mr. Daley has already stipulated to his expertise.”

  She’s right.

  “Overruled.”

  “No,” Beckert says with Walter Cronkite-like authority. “The victim died of suffocation.”

  “One final question, Dr. Beckert. Isn’t it true that you found traces of the victim’s semen on his body and on the bed?”

  “Objection. Leading.”

  “Overruled.”

  “Yes,” Beckert says. “We found traces of the victim’s semen.”

  Payne asks him what he concluded from the discovery of the semen.

  Beckert exhales and says, “I concluded that the victim engaged in sex shortly before he died.”

  “No further questions.”

  I’m up right away. I don’t want Judge Kelly to call a recess and give the jury a chance to let Beckert’s testimony sink in. “Dr. Beckert,” I begin, “you concluded that Johnny Garcia died in the stomach-down position in Room 1504 based upon the discoloration of his body, which is known as lividity, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m going to lead him shamelessly. I want yes-or-no answers. If he starts to explain things, my goose is cooked. “And you indicated that you estimated that time of death was between one and four in the morning.”

  “Yes.”

  “Dr. Beckert,” I say, “you have testified that the victim, Johnny Garcia, died of suffocation.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you have also testified that Mr. Garcia’s bloodstream contained alcohol, heroin and a potent sleep-inducing narcotic called GHB.”

  “Yes.”

  “And both heroin and GHB are very strong chemical substances, aren’t they, Doctor?”

  “Of course.”

  I ask him to turn to the pages in his report that deal with the chemical substances found in Garcia’s bloodstream. He does so. Then he takes off his glasses and puts them back in his breast pocket.

  “Doctor,” I say, “isn’t it possible that Mr. Garcia injected so much heroin into his bloodstream that he died of an overdose?”