“Yes, Your Honor. I apologize,” Kyle said—but not very convincingly.
“The trial shall proceed, Mr. Serpentine.” The judge glared at Kyle Serpentine over the top of his glasses. “You’ll have an opportunity to make your argument to the jury about the night vision of us older folks. Ms. Hammerly, do you have any further witnesses?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Okay, then the defense may call their first witness.” The judge leaned back in his plush, high-backed chair.
Kyle Serpentine quickly regained his composure and stood. “The defense would like to call Ella Jamison to the stand.”
Ella Jamison was 45, but looked at least ten years older. Perhaps it was Kantrell who added those extra years to her face.
Kyle Serpentine began what was obviously a rehearsed exchange. “Mrs. Jamison, please tell the court what your relationship is to the defendant.”
“I’m his mother.”
“Do you know where your son, Kantrell, was on the night of April 1, 2006?”
“Yes. He was with me and my daughter, Jolee, all night.”
“And where were you? At home?”
“Yes, we were watching a movie.”
“Okay. About what time did the movie start and when did it end?”
“It was a DVD. We started it at around seven. The movie was over two hours long.”
“Are you saying that you, your daughter, and Kantrell were together for the entire time?”
“Yes. From about seven until after nine.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jamison.” Kyle made eye contact with the jury before walking to his seat.
Angela Hammerly scribbled something on a pad and slid it over to A.D.A., Andrea Newly. Then she addressed Ella Jamison from her seat.
“You testified that you were watching a DVD. Can you remember the name of the movie?” She stood and walked to the witness stand.
“Yes, of course—it was Narnia. Jolee and I really liked it, but Kantrell was not too thrilled with it. But he still watched it all with us.”
“I see. Now, what kind of movie is that?”
“You know—it had the lion and other animals that were animated, but the people were real. I think it was a Disney movie.”
“Right. And you are certain that The Chronicles of Narnia is the DVD you watched on the night of April 1, 2006?”
Ella Jamison would not be intimidated by the D.A. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Angela Hammerly looked back to Andrea Newly, who was holding up her iPhone. She walked over the Andrea and took the device from her hand. She was trying not to smile as she studied it and walked back to the witness stand.
“Mrs. Jamison, this fancy electronic gadget can access the internet wirelessly. Now, I’ll confess that I don’t know much about these things, but the Assistant District Attorney does.” She nodded in Andrea’s direction. “And she’s looked up some information about the movie, The Chronicles of Narnia. You have testified that you, your daughter and Kantrell were watching the Narnia DVD on April 1st, yet that DVD was not released until April 4th. How do you explain that, Ma’am?”
Kyle Serpentine looked as though he wanted to object.
“I don’t know. That must be wrong.” Ella appeared a bit shaken.
Ms. Hammerly stared at Ella for a few moments, as though she expected further explanation. Then she turned toward the jury. “I see. I have nothing further for this witness, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Serpentine, redirect?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” He got up and walked toward the witness stand. “Mrs. Jamison, where did you get the DVD that you and your family watched on the night of April 1st?”
“I believe that Jolee had borrowed it from a friend.”
“So, it could have been a pirated copy—an illegal copy of the movie that someone got off the internet. It could have been downloaded before the DVD was officially released, right?”
“I guess so. I don’t know where Jolee’s friend got it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jamison. We appreciate your testimony here today.” Kyle Serpentine walked back to his seat.
11 - D.A. CLOSES
Angela Hammerly took a slow, deep breath as she collected her last-second thoughts for the closing argument. For just a moment, some doubts crept in.
Had she made a mistake in not using Daryl Felson as a witness? He would have testified that Kantrell was bragging about his plans to move to Shreveport and buy an expensive new car. That would have gone to motive, if she had presented the case as a murder-for-hire. But who had hired him? She couldn’t find any evidence to support the theory.
Or she could have called Mr. Felson as a witness, but not asked him about the money, and just focused on the fact that the defendant told him he committed the murder.
But Kyle Serpentine would have asked him if the D.A. was offering him a deal that would keep him out of prison. And, of course, he’d have to say ‘Yes.’ Another issue: one of the juror’s friends or relatives could have been a victim of Felson’s criminal activities, and the juror might have remembered his name. Felson had quite a record of car thefts for a 21-year-old.
If the jury had seen Felson for the lowlife that he was, they would not have believed anything he said. And she would have been giving Daryl Felson a get-out-of-jail-free card in exchange for nothing. And worse yet, she would have damaged her own credibility with the jury.
No. She had made the correct decision. She had presented a strong enough case with Arabeth Albertson’s testimony. Besides, she knew this all-white jury wouldn’t need much prodding to convict this black defendant. Personally, she hated prejudice of all kinds, but in the courtroom, if it worked to her favor, so that a guilty person would get the punishment he deserved, she rationalized that the end justified the means.
Angela Hammerly walked up close to the jury, placing her hands on the railing in front of them. She spoke so softly that observers at the back of the courtroom could barely hear her.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, Sam Spokane was a wonderful man.” As anyone could guess, she had started softly so she could crescendo to a dramatic conclusion.
“He touched the lives of hundreds of kids over many, many years at his bicycle shop. We’ll probably never know how many teenagers, at a critical fork in the road, took the right path because of Sam Spokane’s influence.
“He was a father figure to many, a friend to all. I like to think of our town as a community, a family. And our family is hurting today—diminished by the loss of this dear man.”
She pointed to the defendant, but not in a rude, intimidating way. Rather, she seemed to reach out to him. “Kantrell Jamison is also a member of our family. And as such, we hate to see him facing life in prison. But just like the uncle or cousin who can’t seem to stay out of trouble—sometimes there’s nothing you can do to help him. And he must pay for what he’s done—even though he’s part of the family.
“We have no way of knowing what Kantrell Jamison was thinking when he entered Sam Spokane’s Bicycle Shop on the evening of April 1st. But we do know what he did once he was inside.”
She began to act out what she was saying. “We know that he picked up a bicycle chain, gripped it with both hands, got behind Sam Spokane and pulled the chain tightly across Sam’s neck. We know that he pulled the chain hard enough to leave an impression of the chain links around the front and sides of Sam’s neck. We know that he held Sam Spokane in that position for several minutes.
“Now think about that. It’s not like shooting a gun, where you pull the trigger once and it’s all over. That can happen in an instant. And then there’s no way to undo it. But with strangulation, you must maintain the pressure for several minutes. The victim might pass out in less than a minute. But then you have to continue to shut off the air passage even longer to kill him.
“Kantrell Jamison could have changed his mind after a few seconds. If he had, then Sam Spokane would be alive today. But the defendant continued to pull that bicycle chain tight aro
und Sam Spokane’s neck. He still wanted to kill him after ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds, sixty seconds, two minutes. He never let up. Until Sam was dead.
“If a man makes you mad and you lash out and punch him in the face, it could kill him, if you hit him hard enough in just the right spot. Or you could push him, and he might fall and hit his head, and that might kill him. Either case might be considered an accident—if you did not intend to kill him.
“But, ladies and gentlemen, if you do what Kantrell Jamison did: wrap a chain around a man’s neck and pull back with all your might for several minutes until he dies—it’s murder. There is no way around it. The defendant purposely and brutally choked the life out of Sam Spokane.
“Why did he murder Mr. Spokane? We don’t know. And we don’t have to know. Because no matter what his motive was, the inescapable truth is that he murdered Sam Spokane—in cold blood. So, ladies and gentlemen, you have no choice. You must find Kantrell Jamison guilty of murder.”
Greg Tenorly thought the District Attorney had done a good job. But he was still not convinced beyond reasonable doubt. Obviously, someone had murdered Sam Spokane. But not necessarily Kantrell Jamison. He wondered if the other jurors were thinking the same thing.
Troy Blockerman’s blood was boiling. He was ready to vote GUILTY. Let’s get it over with, he thought. He didn’t want to waste another minute on that filthy animal.
12 - SLICK DEFENDER
Kyle Serpentine started to shake his head as he left his seat and walked toward the jury box. It was time to get back fully into ‘country boy’ mode. “I gotta admit it. The District Attorney is right, folks. I’m as impressed as all get-out.” He turned and looked at Angela Hammerly. “You proved it, Ms. Hammerly. You did.”
Then back to the jury. “She proved beyond a reasonable doubt that somebody murdered Sam Spokane. That person viciously ‘choked the life out of him,’ as the D.A. put it. Yes, they did. She is 100% correct about that.
“And we heard a witness testify that they saw the defendant wrap that cold, greasy bicycle chain around Sam Spokane’s neck and… Wait a minute. That’s not right. Nobody witnessed the murder. Nobody saw Mr. Spokane get strangled.
“But we’re fairly sure that some black fella did it. We did hear testimony that a black man was leaving the bicycle shop at around eight o’clock. But…” He seemed to have a revelation. “…what if that was just some guy who walked in to look at a new bike, and instead found a dead body. And what if he was scared out of his wits, and ran away because he didn’t want anybody to see him there, and think he was the murderer?
“The prosecution’s 83-year-old witness claims that the black man she saw that night was the defendant. But, come on—it was dark. Sure, she did pass her eye exam. But folks, it’s common knowledge that old people have a harder time seeing at night. Think about your own friends or relatives who avoid driving at night, now that they’re older.
“Mrs. Albertson even admitted she only went out driving one night a week—to her prayer group meeting. She made a special effort to get to that meeting every week because it was so important to her.
“But why didn’t she drive on other nights of the week? Why not make a trip to the Dairy Queen, or to visit a friend or to buy groceries? We don’t know for sure. We didn’t get a chance to ask her that question. But I think it’s pretty easy to it figure out if you just use the common sense God gave you.
“So, what do we have here? On the one hand, we have a witness who probably saw a black man leaving Sam Spokane’s Bicycle Shop. We’re not sure whether it was actually Mr. Jamison or somebody else. And we have no way of knowing whether that black man, whoever he was, actually committed the murder.
“On the other hand, we have the testimony of Ella Jamison, Kantrell’s mother. She said Kantrell was at home all night, watching a movie with his mom and his little sister during the time of the murder.
“Now in my book, folks, you’ve got a ton of doubt here. And I’m telling you: if you swallow what the District Attorney is trying to feed you, it’s gonna leave a bad taste in your mouth. It may seem good when you first take a bite—but wait ’til the aftertaste kicks in. There’s all kinds of reasonable doubt here. In fact, so much doggone doubt that it’s downright unreasonable to find my client ‘Guilty.’
“You’ll never be able to live with yourself if you go along with the D.A. This young man is innocent. And you must not take away his innocence and his future, based on evidence that’s flimsy, at best.
“I’d like to thank each one of you for your participation in this trial. I feel in my heart that you’ll do the right thing, and that justice will prevail.”
It made sense to Greg Tenorly. There was just too much doubt.
Alexander Littleton had no idea which way he would vote. He just wanted to be jury foreman. That would earn him some respect.
At 69, Nancy Olstead thought her eyesight was just fine. She had no problem seeing at night. She was not afraid to drive anywhere at any time of the day or night.
Ronnie Nalestorm was trying to listen carefully, but he kept worrying about his hardware store—and the truck driver he had just hired. The last guy did major damage to his truck and a load of lumber when he fell asleep at the wheel and went into a ditch. Fortunately, he had only suffered a few scratches and bruises. He hoped this new driver was the type of guy who went to bed at a decent hour.
Many in the courtroom may have noticed that one juror, 30-year-old William ‘Sparky’ Biscayne, was looking down much of the time. It appeared as if he was about to doze off. But he was listening as intently as anyone else on the jury. He just had to dig the rest of that grease and grime out from under his fingernails. The effort was pointless. As soon as the trial was over, he would be back at his auto repair shop, rebuilding the crud he was now removing. But he was proud it was Ford and Chevy crud. He refused to work on imports.
During Kyle Serpentine’s closing, Angela Hammerly had been steaming. But she would not let that second-rate ambulance chaser throw her off her game. “If you had walked into Sam’s Bicycle Shop on April 1, 2006 and found him murdered, what would you have done? You would have called the police. If you were driving by Sam’s shop and you saw someone looking suspicious and in a big hurry to get away—would you study their appearance carefully so you could identify them later if needed? Probably. If your son had committed a murder, would you lie to keep him out of prison? Quite possibly.
“So, you see, there is every reason to believe the defendant is guilty. Let’s not wait until he kills somebody else. Get him off the streets and put him where he belongs—in prison.”
Angela knew she had just undone all of Kyle Serpentine’s damage.
13 - JURY ROOM
As the jury walked down the hallway and into the jury room, Greg Tenorly knew he could no longer avoid interaction with Troy Blockerman. What if, during the heat of an argument about the case, he stood up in front of the entire jury and declared Troy a wife beater. He deserved it. Back to reality.
Alexander Littleton quickly seized the chair at one end of the long table. He was a short, wiry fellow. A humorless little man. After 25 years in public utilities, he was finally ready to assert himself. It had been his childhood dream to become Mayor of Coreyville. He directed himself to push, prod, control and outsmart the others. He must start from a position of power. Maybe someday he would dominate the city council the same way he was about to dominate this jury. Before everyone had a chance to sit, he said, “Okay, first we need to elect a foreman.”
Mary McJohnson and Judy McPhearson were sitting next to each other. ‘The Macs,’ as they would be remembered. They looked at each other as if to say: I don’t know who to nominate. They were both 40-year-old stay-at-home moms who seemed more interested in exchanging parenting tips than deciding a man’s fate.
Elsie Olstead didn’t hesitate. “I nominate Mr. Littleton as foreman.” The widow had served on a several juries during her 69 years. She knew the drill.
Most of the jurors raised their hands. Troy Blockerman had a better choice for foreman, but the majority had already spoken. The most important thing was to do it fast, and get out of there.
Alexander Littleton said, “Alright then. Why don’t we address each other by first names, if that is agreeable?”
“Fine with me, Alex.” Troy figured it would be over soon. He could pretend for a few minutes that this nerd reject actually mattered.
“I prefer ‘Alexander.’”
They were already having second thoughts about electing him foreman. He saw himself as Alexander the Great. They saw Alex the Geek.
Ronnie Nalestorm just wanted to get back to his hardware store. “Could we go ahead and take a vote to see—”
“—let’s go ahead and take a vote to see where we stand,” Alexander said quickly, as though saying it faster would make everyone forget that Ronnie had just said it. “We each have slips of paper and a pen. We will vote by secret ballot, and then I will read the votes aloud.”
Each juror wrote down his vote and passed it to Alexander. Seven ‘Guilty,’ five ‘Not Guilty.’
Troy couldn’t believe five of the jurors were so stupid. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You know he did it!”
Sparky Biscayne chimed in. “That woman saw him leaving the scene of the crime. And he’s black. Probably in some gang.”
Greg couldn’t let that remark slide. “It doesn’t matter what color he is. And we don’t even have any gangs here in Coreyville.”
Troy said, “Look, he’s poor. He wanted some money for drugs, or to buy a car or whatever. It doesn’t matter. He waited until it was late, and Sam was there alone. Then he went in to rob the place, and he and Sam got into a fight. You know how stubborn Sam was—he wouldn’t have given up the money easily.
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set Page 4